#any of them could have taken partial command when its time

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

Personally I think in a zeldas meet au SkSw Zelda would not be the leader just because she's Hylia, because Hylia does not strike me as someone who was regularly a commander, if at all. The opening of Skyward Sword says that she "joined forces with the land dwellers", which to me sounds like Hylia (by herself, no one under her command) combined her power with people that had already started fighting back with their own leaders. Now, with Hylia being an actual literal goddess, it's more than likely at least some of them started to look to her for orders, which is why I say she had little (if any) experience in command.

I would instead suggest TP Zelda (current ruler of Hyrule, as no king is mentioned, has combat training and likely at least somewhat leads Hyrule's army) or HW Zelda (I don't think I need to explain this), with maybe Tetra (due to her experience as captain) or SkSw Zelda if absolutely necessary

[angelremnants]

A TALES OF.. l Jasmins and Prayers

OR.. Still seething with frustration from what had transpired in the cave, Loki storms into his room while cursing your damned dress that lingered in his mind. The tension inside him grows as he struggles to maintain control, and the white jasmin petals floating in his bath only heighten the ache. Caught in a whirlwind of temptation and self-loathing, he finds himself confronted by the dangerous path his thoughts have taken—and, more urgently, by the overwhelming need to act on them.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (18+—MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), Loki-centric, emotional turmoil, graphic sexual content, gratification (male masturbation), twisted fantasies running wild, oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it!), themes of norse lore and worship, edging, degradation & praise kink, choking kink, power play, dom!Loki/sub!reader, strong language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 15.1k

author's notes : Trust me when I say that I was biting my nail the whole time I was writing this—then again, I was also listening to Kiss Land on loop. The man is too hot for my well-being, Your Honor.

This is a continuation of A Tales Of Tides and Mishaps—you can also read this separately, but I'd recommend reading the first part to understand the context. This is the first time I've ever written something NSFW, so please do let me know how I did.

(ao3 version)

The torches lining the grand corridors of the palace flickered and hissed against the weight of the evening air, their golden glow casting restless shadows on the towering marble walls. The echo of footsteps—a sharp, deliberate rhythm—carried through the vast halls, announcing his approach. Loki moved swiftly, his cape billowing behind him like the rippling edge of a storm cloud, the emerald and black of his attire catching the light with each stride.

The palace was quieter at this hour, subdued under the veil of twilight, yet it was far from peaceful. Whispers of court intrigue hung in the air like smoke, weaving through every corner of Asgard’s opulent halls. It was a place that thrived on appearances, on masks as intricate as the golden carvings that adorned the throne room doors. Loki was no stranger to this game. He played it better than most—deftly, effortlessly, and always with an edge that dared others to challenge him.

Tonight, however, something gnawed at the edges of his mind, unsettling his usual composure. The weight of unspoken words lingered on his tongue, and the echo of a gaze—not his own—followed him like a shadow. He had faced gods and monsters, chaos and ruin, yet there was something about the quiet tension of that earlier encounter that refused to let him go.

The grand corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, the silence amplifying every subtle sound—the faint rustle of his cape, the barely perceptible sigh of the wind brushing against the windows, and the distant murmur of voices from somewhere deeper within the palace. Loki barely registered any of it. His focus remained inward, on the fire still simmering beneath his carefully constructed facade.

It had been a fleeting moment, no more than a handful of exchanged words, but it had been enough to unearth something he had long buried—a vulnerability he could not afford, not now, not ever. And yet, there it was, clawing at him with an unrelenting persistence.

The throne room loomed ahead, its doors partially ajar, spilling warm light into the corridor. A faint hum of voices drifted out, the low cadence of his parents and their guest among them. Loki slowed his pace, his expression hardening as his gaze lingered on the doors.

He could walk in. His presence would be noticed, his words sharp enough to cut through whatever discussion you were undoubtedly steering with your usual reckless charm. He could force himself into the center of it all, just as he always did—commanding attention, manipulating the narrative, and ensuring that no one, not even his mother, could look past him.

And yet, Loki hesitated.

The previous fire burned hotter now, threatening to consume him if he did not retreat. He turned on his heel, his movements swift and precise, and strode away from the throne room. Whatever tension awaited him within those gilded walls would have to wait. Right now, he needed to be anywhere else.

The corridors seemed darker now, the torchlight dimmer as he navigated the familiar path to his chambers. Each step brought him closer to the solace of solitude, to the space where he could strip away the mask he wore so effortlessly and face the tempest within.

His mind raced, the unease gnawing at him with increasing intensity. He had tried to ease the tension—an impromptu training session in the palace's sparring chambers had seemed like the perfect solution. The clash of blades and the heavy exertion of physical combat usually grounded him, soothed the simmering anger that had no outlet. But tonight, even the sharp sting of combat had failed to settle the fire within him. His movements had been fluid and practiced, and yet, the burning frustration lingered—nothing had worked.

As he reached his room, Loki paused for a fraction of a second, his hand resting on the cold metal of the door handle. The thoughts he had tried to suppress surged again, sharper this time, cutting through his defenses like a blade. With a sharp exhale, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, the heavy wood creaking as it swung shut behind him.

The silence of his chambers was a stark contrast to the noise in his head. The air was still, undisturbed, save for the faint scent of cedar and leather that always lingered here. Yet, even in this sanctuary, he could not escape the weight of your presence, the echo of your voice, and the pull you had over him.

Tonight, Loki realized, no amount of distance would be enough to silence the chaos your had left in your wake.

⠀⠀

The door shut behind him with a finality that seemed to press against his chest. Loki’s chambers were dimly lit, the golden light of a single lantern on his desk flickering faintly against the polished surfaces of dark wood and stone. The quiet hum of Asgard beyond his walls was muted here, but the storm inside his mind was deafening.

He took a step forward, shrugging off his cape and letting it fall onto the back of a chair. The fabric slid noiselessly to the floor, but he didn’t bother retrieving it. His boots echoed softly on the smooth stone floor as he crossed the room, every movement deliberate yet restless.

He paused near the tall windows, the view of the city below sprawling in shimmering lights. For a moment, he allowed himself to stare out at it, his sharp features etched in the pale glow of the moon. The beauty of Asgard, timeless and magnificent, failed to reach him tonight.

Instead, his mind lingered on the moment he had fled from. Your gaze, steady and unrelenting, had burned through the walls he had spent centuries perfecting. The way you had spoken to him, your tone laced with something he couldn’t quite place, had stirred something dangerous within him—something he had tried to bury beneath layers of wit and cruelty.

Loki’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He could still hear your voice, the faintest trace of challenge, or perhaps curiosity, woven through it. You had looked at him in a way that made his thoughts crumble, and for reasons he couldn’t comprehend, he hadn’t hated it. No, what he hated was how much he had wanted more of it.

It made no sense. He didn’t crave closeness, didn’t long for understanding—those were weaknesses he had abandoned long ago. But this? This was different. This was something he couldn’t name, and it terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

The tension that coiled in his chest now was almost suffocating. His body betrayed him, heat pooling low in his abdomen as he fought to chase the thought away. He let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair as if the act could dispel the intrusive images crowding his mind. He could still see you in his mind’s eye, the way your lips had curved, the way your hands had moved as you spoke. Would your hands feel as soft as they appeared? Would your lips taste as sweet as they seemed?

Loki squeezed his eyes shut, but the images only became more vivid, more intrusive. Your laughter, light and warm, played on repeat in his memory, tugging at him in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in ages. And your touch—he could almost imagine it now, your fingers grazing his skin, your breath mingling with his. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, one he couldn’t suppress.

“Foolish,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and bitter. “Utterly foolish.”

But even as he berated himself, his body betrayed him. His pulse quickened, his breathing shallow as the ache beneath his skin grew harder to ignore. He felt you everywhere—in the warm air that wrapped around him, in the faint flicker of the lantern’s light, in the silence that hung heavy in his chambers. You weren’t there, but it felt as though you had seeped into the very fabric of his being, your presence undeniable and inescapable.

Loki began to pace, his steps measured but restless, like a predator stalking the confines of a cage. His movements were sharp, the tension in his frame radiating with every step he took. His hands itched with the need to do something, anything, to dispel the storm inside him. They brushed against the buttons of his tunic, and with a frustrated sigh, he began unfastening them. His movements were quick and almost angry, as though shedding the layers of fabric could rid him of the thoughts that clung to his mind.

The cool air of his chambers kissed his skin as he pulled the tunic from his body, but it did little to extinguish the fire raging within. He tossed the garment aside carelessly, his breath coming faster now. His eyes darted back to the window, to the city below, but the view offered no solace. All he could see was you, all he could feel was the pull of you, and it was maddening.

Loki leaned heavily against the windowsill, his palms pressed against the cool stone as he stared out into the night. The lights of Asgard below shimmered in a haunting dance, indifferent to the turmoil within him.

“Why?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though seeking some answer from the vast, indifferent universe.

The question hung in the air, unanswered, like a bitter curse, and Loki squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the surge of emotions threatening to drown him. The need to control was a constant in his life, but now, it was slipping through his fingers like sand. He couldn't make sense of any of this. Why you? Why was his mind consumed by someone so... insignificant? Someone who could never understand the weight of the worlds he carried or the gods he had to contend with.

His frustration surged again, building like a pressure that had nowhere to go. He slammed his fist into the nearest table, but it wasn’t enough. The magic thrummed beneath his skin, begging for release, demanding action. And in a moment of unbridled rage, his hands flared with green energy, bright and violent, slicing through the room like a storm tearing through the air. A flash of blinding light erupted, and before he could even register what was happening, his magic shattered the nearby mirror, sending shards of glass scattering across the floor in a chaotic spray.

The sharp sound of cracking glass filled the room, and for a long moment, Loki stood frozen, chest heaving as he stared at the destruction. He had lost control. Again. The realization hit him like a wave of cold water. You’ve let it consume you. A mortal. And this is what it leads to.

A deep sigh escaped him as the weight of the situation began to sink in. He was not a man to let his emotions dictate his actions. But there it was, the undeniable truth—your effect on him was far more than it should have been. The intensity of his feelings, his desire, his frustration—they were more than he could stand. And here he was, a god, destroying things that held no real importance in the grand scheme of things.

His hands trembled, not with weakness but with the uncontrollable surge of magic. He closed his eyes, his breath shaky as he reached out with his magic again, this time not in destruction but in self-repair. With a wave of his hand, the pieces of shattered glass began to float back together, the cracks mending themselves, the mirror reassembling as if it had never been broken at all.

Once the room was quiet again, Loki stood still for a long moment, his fingers flexing as he allowed the tension to drain out of him, though it was impossible to completely erase it. The ache still gnawed at his insides, relentless and unforgiving. His breath came out in a slow exhale as he straightened his posture, fixing the collar of his tunic and wiping the last traces of anger from his expression.

He couldn’t stay here, surrounded by the evidence of his volatile nature. I need to cool off. He needed to distance himself from the fire that raged inside him. And perhaps a bath would do that—remove the tension from his body, quell the heat that seemed to pulse beneath his skin.

With a final exasperated sigh, Loki turned toward the door, his movements purposeful, though his mind still felt like a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and desires. This will pass, he thought, trying to convince himself. It’s only a fleeting distraction.

But deep down, Loki knew that you were no fleeting distraction. He had already allowed you to slip too far into his thoughts. And he hated himself for it. Yet, the ache remained, and all he could do was seek solace in the solitude of a hot bath, hoping that somehow, the water would cleanse him—if only for a moment—from the chaos you had stirred within him.

⠀⠀

As he pushed open the heavy wooden door to the bathing room, a cool breeze greeted him, the scent of lavender and cedarwood drifting through the air, mingling with the faint scent of stone and ancient marble.

The room before him was a sanctuary, a perfect reflection of Asgardian elegance—spacious, luxurious, and imbued with a sense of tranquility that seemed to pulse from the very walls. The floor was polished white marble, veins of gold tracing through the stone like lightning trapped within, glowing faintly in the low light. Tall, arched windows lined one side, offering a view of the vast garden outside, though the curtains were drawn, leaving only the soft glow of magical lanterns to illuminate the space.

At the center of the room sat a large, circular bathing tub, crafted from gleaming obsidian stone. It was deep, large enough to engulf him entirely, a perfect retreat for someone of his status. The water within was an inviting shade of blue, shimmering with an ethereal glow that suggested it had been heated by some unseen magic, its surface smooth and still, reflecting the light above.

Loki paused for a moment in the doorway, letting the serenity of the room wash over him. The tension that had gripped him so tightly seemed to ease just slightly, though the ache in his chest remained. His thoughts swirled back to you—your eyes, your voice, the way you had looked at him. He couldn’t escape it, couldn’t shake it, and it gnawed at him with every breath.

With a sharp exhale, Loki closed the door behind him and turned to face the room fully. He flicked his fingers, a subtle wave of magic rippling through the air, and the lanterns brightened, their light now casting soft pools of warmth across the marble floor. A gentle mist filled the room, adding an element of tranquility, as though the very atmosphere was designed to soothe his frazzled nerves.

His gaze moved to the mirror above a stone counter, where his reflection stared back at him, eyes intense, troubled. A god, reduced to this. His hands moved to the fastening of his tunic, slow and methodical, as though the very act of undressing held some measure of control.

Loki's movements radiated a sensual confidence, each action steeped in an intoxicating blend of precision and allure. He took his time, weaving an intimate dance with the fabric of his clothing, each piece falling to the floor like a whispered secret—soft, intentional, and laden with significance. He navigated the dimly lit room, the soft glow of flickering candles casting playful shadows that danced along the walls. He wasn’t in a rush; there was an artistry to his undressing, each piece of clothing becoming a symbol of the facade he wore, now being shed in this private sanctum.

As the fabric of his shirt slipped off his shoulders, it fell to the floor with a whisper, a soft thud against the wooden planks, almost reverent in its descent. The air was thick with a tension that mirrored the slow cadence of his movements, as though he was peeling away layers not just of cloth, but of burden. The shirt landed, joining a delicate mosaic of who he could be—each article holding memories, masks, realities.

Next came his trousers, the fabric snaking down his legs, revealing the sculpted lines of his body illuminated in the dancing candlelight. Muscles taut beneath pale skin, he moved in a way that was both sensuous and fierce, the shadows playing across his form, creating images of both beauty and danger. As the heat of the moment surged through him, he became acutely aware of his body’s response, the way his muscles tensed with anticipation, each sinew straining beneath the surface. A flicker of arousal sparked within him, causing his hardness to awaken, a subtle yet undeniable shift that added to the intoxicating energy swirling around him.

Yet, amid this heady mix of sensations, a sliver of disappointment crept in, gnawing at him like an unwelcome specter. He felt almost ashamed of his reaction, wondering how he could be so easily swayed when he prided himself on his control. It was merely the stress and the biting cold that wrapped around him, he assured himself, drawing deep and steadying breaths to dispel the tumult within. He paused for a fleeting moment, taking in the reflection of his body, the duality of godhood and vulnerability coiling within him, a tension rippling just beneath the surface, a potent mix of the primal and the divine swirling together in the glow of the flickering light.

In a final, almost reluctant motion, he let the last vestiges of his clothing fall away, relinquishing that last act of defiance. Standing there in the barely-there illumination, he felt the cool air wrap around him like a lover’s embrace, tender yet precise—inviting yet cautious. His skin prickled at the contrast, the air a stark reminder of both exposure and freedom.

With his gaze drawn to the tub—water rippling softly, steam curling sensuously into the air—he felt an anticipation unfurl within him. The promise of warmth beckoned, a siren’s call for solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. Yet, there lingered in his heart a feral tug, an instinctive hesitation, a wildness that resisted the notion of surrendering to something so simple as water. It was a battle within, between the aching need for release and the primal urge to remain untamed, unsurrendered. There was a beauty in this struggle, the rawness of his being laid bare in the stillness, poised on the precipice of either yielding to warmth or holding fast to the tempest that raged just beneath his skin.

But he was a god of control, and this was necessary. Just a moment of peace.

His magic swirled around him again, a green glow radiating from his hands as he guided the water to shift, the surface rippling softly before calming once more. He wove intricate spells, adjusting the temperature, ensuring that the water was just the right warmth—neither too hot nor too cold, but perfectly comfortable, a balm for his strained muscles and his mind.

Loki’s fingers hovered just above the water, watching the gentle ripples his magic created, feeling the subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere. With a final, sharp flick of his wrist, the water settled into perfect stillness, the surface smooth as glass once again.

A slow, almost imperceptible sigh left his lips, and he stepped forward. His body, tense from the moment before, finally released its last vestiges of resistance as he lowered himself into the tub, the cool water meeting his skin with a comforting embrace. The water rose around him, enveloping him with its warmth, soothing the ache that had burned within him for far too long.

Loki leaned back, his head resting against the edge of the tub, eyes closed for a moment as he let the water cradle him. The tension in his shoulders, his chest, and his legs seemed to dissolve as the heat seeped into his muscles, coaxing them to relax. The water, now lapping gently at the sides of the tub, seemed to hum with its own energy, resonating with his magic.

But still, the thought of you lingered, persistent as the heat in his body. He couldn’t escape it—not even in the quiet solitude of the bath. His fingers, tracing the surface of the water, clenched for a brief moment, his nails scraping softly against the ceramic of the tub. The conflicting feelings of anger, frustration, and desire—they all bubbled within him, mixing in a stew he could neither ignore nor understand.

For now, he would let the water soothe him. But deep down, Loki knew that the tension, the ache—it was only temporarily quelled. Like the magic that swirled through his veins, the thoughts of you would return, relentless as ever.

He tried to focus on the soothing embrace of the bath, the gentle ripples caressing his skin. His breath slowed as he let the water hold him, but even then, in this sanctuary of water and solitude, the thought of you crept back into his mind.

Your face, so close to his in the cave, flashed before his eyes. The way your breath had quickened, the flicker of something more than just a shared moment of tension between them. The warmth of your body, the steady pulse beneath your skin, the way your gaze had lingered on him. The hunger, the unspoken invitation. It haunted him.

Loki’s eyes snapped open, and his hands clenched around the edge of the tub, his pulse quickening as an image of you lingered—your lips so close to his, the soft touch of your hand against his chest. The thought of you in such proximity, your scent mingling with his own, sent a shiver down his spine.

No.

The word was a bitter hiss in his mind, the sharpest of rebukes. She’s mortal, he reminded himself, though it did little to quell the heat that surged within him.

His breath grew shallow, his pulse drumming in his ears as the desire swelled, thick and unyielding. It filled his chest, squeezing, suffocating. He couldn't control it—not when all he could see, all he could feel, was you.

Loki's eyes clenched shut as the thought of you intensified. His stomach twisted with frustration, his body aching with need he had no desire to acknowledge. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t let this consume him—not now, not in this moment of fragile peace.

With a sharp, exasperated breath, Loki plunged himself beneath the water, his magic swirling in the depths as he submerged his entire form, letting the cool embrace of the liquid swallow him whole. The world above disappeared, and for a moment, he was weightless, suspended in the depths of the tub.

The coldness of the water stung against his skin, sharp and refreshing, but it did nothing to wash away the images of you. They clung to him, persistent and relentless, like shadows in the depths of his mind.

Foolish.

The word echoed in his mind as he held himself underwater, his breath held tight as the world remained muffled, distorted by the pressure around him. The steady rhythm of his heart was the only sound, the only constant as he lingered in the dark stillness. Time stretched on, but he could not escape it. The ache in his chest burned, the tension in his body still there despite the cold water.

He remained submerged for what felt like an eternity, the minutes slipping away in the quiet abyss. The longer he stayed, the more he realized that the thoughts would not leave—not just like this, not with any amount of magic or water.

Reluctantly, with a slow, frustrated exhale, Loki pushed himself back to the surface, breaking through the water with a gasp, his hair plastered to his face, droplets clinging to his skin like a reminder of his defeat. He dragged a hand through his damp hair, his breath ragged as he lay there, floating in the stillness of the room.

The lingering warmth of the water against his skin did nothing to soothe the fire that still simmered inside him. As much as he tried to push it away, he could still feel the imprint of you—the way you had looked at him, the way your voice had tangled with his thoughts. And for the first time in centuries, Loki found himself unable to control the ache that pulsed through him, unable to banish the thoughts of you from his mind.

His mind began to drift again—against his will, like a tide pulling him back to the same, dangerous shore. The silence of the room felt too heavy now, too quiet, and the very stillness of the water seemed to echo with your presence. He could still feel the weight of your gaze, as though you were standing there beside him, watching him in this private moment, your eyes lingering on him in ways he couldn’t dismiss.

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, but the thought of you wouldn’t fade. It surged forward, unstoppable. The way you had leaned in close to him in the cave, how your breath had ghosted over his skin. How close you had been.

Loki clenched his jaw, his muscles tightening involuntarily. He had wanted to pull you closer, to feel your body against his, to lose himself in the heat of it. The thought of it was maddening, and yet it brought an odd thrill that he couldn’t explain.

The way you had been perched so close to him—the soft heat of your breath against his neck—had made his entire body hum with something unfamiliar, something raw. And your touch... the way your fingertips had traced the contours of his skin, leaving behind a trail of fire that burned long after you had pulled away. The memory of that touch tormented him now, echoing through his mind with unbearable clarity.

His pulse quickened as a flash of that moment surged through him once more. Why couldn’t he let it go?

Without thinking, his hand reached out to the small table beside the bath, fingers brushing against a bottle of scented oil—cinnamon and citrus, a soothing blend he usually used after a long day of training. He didn’t even register what he was doing, lost in the spiral of his thoughts.

He uncapped the bottle, the faint scent of lavender and citrus filling the air, and without hesitation, he poured a small amount onto the length of his torso. The droplets were cool and soft against his skin, but as his hand moved lower, his thoughts drifted again—back to you.

Your skin... soft, delicate. How would it feel to touch you like that? To press his fingertips into you, to feel your body respond to him in ways he had only dreamed of?

The oil dripped onto his abdomen, the cool droplets traveling from the perch of his pectorals down to the navel of his hips. Loki’s eyes squeezed shut, but the memory of your touch was impossible to push away. Your touch could be like that. Your fingers, warm and slow against my skin.

A shiver ran down his spine as the cool oil continued to trickle down his abdomen. His breath hitched when the thought came unbidden, If she had done that...

He imagined you, perched on the edge of the tub just as you had been in the cave—your body so close to his, your breath mingling with his. Your fingers, trailing over his skin, leaving a burning path in their wake. The thought was so vivid, so intoxicating, that he didn’t realize he was still rubbing the oil into his skin, his movements becoming more deliberate, more sensual, as if he were trying to mimic the sensation he had felt in that moment with you.

His fingers, almost without thinking, moved—mirroring the sensation in his mind, tracing a path down his own body just as he had imagined you doing. The movement was slow, deliberate as if he were trying to imitate your touch, to feel it against his own skin. His fingertips brushed lightly down the length of his torso, where the oil had left a trail that seemed to burn even in its coolness.

The more he thought about it, the more the tension inside him grew. His chest tightened, and his body, betraying him, responded to the fantasies that plagued his mind. Loki’s hand faltered for a moment, his thumb hovering near his navel as the reality of what he was doing settled over him.

What am I doing?

But the thought of you—the memory of how you had looked at him, how close you had been, how you had made him feel—was too powerful to resist. His chest heaved slightly, his fingers tracing the curve of his abdomen, the droplets of oil now warm against his skin as they mixed with the heat of his body. He was unaware that his movements had become more purposeful, as if trying to recreate the sensations of that moment, that touch, over and over again. His breath became shallow as the oil slid across his skin, and the fantasy, once small, bloomed into something more dangerous, more tangible.

His fingers pressed against the base of his navel, his thoughts spiraling further into the fantasy. He imagined you again, your hands on him, your body close—too close. It was like a fever, impossible to escape, a longing that twisted deep inside of him. The oil, cool at first, was now nothing but a reminder of that same burn, that same ache in his chest, the ache that he hadn’t asked for, that he couldn’t ignore.

Loki’s heart raced, his fingers slipping lower, brushing against the taut skin of his lower abdomen. His eyes shot open then, as if a switch had been flipped. The realization that he was doing this—falling deeper into a dream, into a desire that should not be his—hit him like a thunderclap.

“No,” he hissed, clenching his jaw tightly, the word coming out sharp and furious.

He abruptly pulled his hand away from his skin, the sudden action leaving him breathless. He quickly closed the bottle of oil, the small sound of the cap snapping into place echoing in the stillness of the room. But even as he tried to stop, to force his thoughts to turn elsewhere, his body refused to listen. The desire was still there, simmering just below the surface, igniting something deep inside him that he wasn’t prepared to face.

Loki sank back into the water, burying his face in his hands, as if trying to rid himself of the images, of the fantasies that had invaded his mind so effortlessly. But no matter how much he willed it away, no matter how much he tried to drown the thoughts with water, with cold, with magic—it was there, clawing at him, persistent and unrelenting.

The ache in his chest had not dulled, and despite his efforts to push it aside, the restless tension lingered, coiling in his gut. His body was on the edge of something he didn't want to acknowledge, and it only grew more intense the more he tried to deny it.

His eyes flickered over to the small decorative jar at the edge of the bath. Inside, delicate jasmine petals rested in an elegant arrangement, their white blossoms giving off the scent of calming sweetness. He reached for it, his fingers brushing over the petals with a gentleness that contrasted with the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He needed to relax. He needed something to distract him, to ground him. He closed his eyes as he sprinkled the jasmine petals into the water, watching them float gently, their fragrance filling the room.

The scent was intoxicating, subtle yet powerful, and it seemed to settle the storm in his chest, if only for a moment. He inhaled deeply, the calming effect of the jasmine wrapping around him like a soft, invisible embrace.

But even in this moment of tranquility, his mind refused to be still. The petals floated serenely on the surface of the water, their white silk-like texture reminding him of something else—someone else.

You.

He couldn’t help it. His thoughts wandered back to you, back to the way you had looked in that cave, bathed in the dim, flickering light. The way your robe had clung to your skin, almost like a second layer, leaving little to the imagination. The soft, translucent fabric—white, like the petals—had clung to your curves in a way that made his pulse quicken. He could remember how the fabric had shimmered, catching the light as it molded to the shape of your body.

Loki's breath hitched, his gaze unfocused as the image of you lingered in his mind, vivid and undeniable. The robe, almost too delicate, seemed to shimmer like gossamer threads in the soft light, so sheer that it practically beckoned to him, enticing and inviting. He had found himself frozen for a brief moment, utterly mesmerized, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of you. Your silhouette was barely concealed, each curve and contour tantalizingly revealed, igniting a fire of desire deep within him that was both exhilarating and maddening.

He could still see how the fabric draped over your body, caressing your every curve, accentuating your femininity with an intimate familiarity that sent his heart racing. The translucent material clung lovingly to your skin, almost teasing him, whispering promises of warmth and intimacy beneath its sheer veil. He had almost been envious of the way it clung to you, as if the robe shared an intimate secret with you, a bond that left him yearning to touch, to discover the warmth of your flesh nestled against that delicate barrier.

The jasmine petals scattered about like whispers against the deep water only amplified the sensuality of the memory, their pure white softness echoing the ethereal glow of your robe. It seemed as though the petals mirrored those intimate moments, each delicate blossom a reflection of the way the fabric clung to your body, effortlessly sculpting your form in a dance of elegance and allure. He imagined you gliding toward him, your skin bathed in the silvery embrace of moonlight, each step orchestrating a balletic shift of the fabric that clung seductively to you, igniting every sense within him.

Loki’s fingers tightened against the edge of the tub, the cool stone under his grip grounding him in the heat of the moment. The pull of his desire was intoxicating, an unquenchable thirst he could feel consuming him. He could almost feel the weight of your presence beside him, the heady warmth of you, the intoxicating scent of your essence wrapping around him like a fragrant embrace. He could hear the soft rustle of your robe brushing against your skin, each sound a silky promise, hear the delicate rhythm of your breathing—soft, steady, a symphony of desire that drew him in deeper.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the image of you to disappear. But instead, it grew stronger, more vivid.He imagined reaching out, the tips of his fingers grazing the fabric of your robe, feeling its divine softness beneath his touch, the warmth of your skin simmering just beneath it. He envisioned how it would feel to press himself closer, to let his lips trail along the graceful curve of your neck, to slip beneath that fragile seam where fabric and flesh met, to taste the sweetness that awaited him—his body aching with the promise of connection, longing to bridge the distance that separated them. To raise you out of that damned pool and let the thin fabric slide off on the stone, to—

Loki’s breath caught in his throat, and he suddenly felt a sharp, urgent pressure building within him. With a frustrated growl, he plunged his hand into the water, scattering the jasmine petals as his fingers clawed at the surface in an attempt to break the chain of thoughts that had consumed him. But it was no use. The image of you lingered, relentless.

“Damnation,” he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. He leaned back against the edge of the tub, his eyes burning with frustration as he tried to steady his breathing. The jasmine scent, now stronger than before, filled his senses, but it only seemed to heighten the memory of you. He could almost feel you there with him, your soft skin, the way the fabric of your robe had clung to your body most invitingly.

Loki forced himself to close his eyes again, breathing deeply in an attempt to regain control. But no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, the image of you, the memory of that translucent robe, haunted him. The petals, the scent, the softness—it all became intertwined with his hunger. He could still feel your fingers trailing over his skin, the heat of your body against his.

His body trembled with desire as he succumbed to the memories and fantasies that had been consuming him. He could no longer deny himself the pleasure that he so desperately craved.

With a low groan, he allowed his hand to wander back down his abdomen, feeling the defined muscles ripple beneath his fingers. His other hand was still clenched in the water, sending jasmine petals drifting to the surface. He trailed his fingers lower and lower, feeling the heat emanating from his body.

He closed his eyes, imagining your hands on him instead, your digits tracing patterns over his skin. With a sharp intake of breath, he slipped his hand beneath the matter, feeling the soft trimmed hairs on his lower abdomen.

Loki's breathing grew ragged as he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy, his mind filled with newfound scenes of him, of you, of an 'us together'.

⠀⠀

He envisioned himself entering a temple with quiet confidence, his footsteps reverberating against the cold stone walls as he moved toward the inner sanctum. His attire was nothing short of magnificent: garments woven with iridescent threads, shifting in color with every step, embodying the very essence of his trickster nature. His cloak, a masterpiece of fine silk, cascaded gracefully around him, embroidered with intricate patterns and symbols that spoke to his divine status.

As he crossed the threshold, his gaze was drawn to you. You sat within a large stone basin, the water steaming gently around you, its surface dotted with fragrant petals that seemed to float in harmony with the light filtering through the stained-glass windows. The sight of you struck him like a physical blow; you were even more captivating than he had envisioned.

Your infamous robe still clung to you like a second skin, damp from the water, accentuating the delicate curves of your body. The radiant Wyrmscale artifact resting against your neck glowed with soft golden light, its power pulsing through the room, almost as if in tune with your very being. Your long, damp hair was swept back, revealing the delicate lines of your face, and your eyes—those damned eyes—met his with a mixture of trepidation and something far more potent: desire.

He circled the tub slowly, his gaze never leaving you. Each step was measured, deliberate, his mind consumed by the sight of you—your beauty, your vulnerability, your submission. His pulse quickened, a quiet flutter deep within his chest that echoed through his veins. The heat of the room wrapped around you both, intensifying the weight of the moment, but still, he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from you. You were a vision, an offering he couldn’t resist.

“I’ve seen you in many visions,” Loki’s voice was low, almost a purr as he spoke, his words laced with something darker, more thrilling. “I’ve spent nights wondering what it would feel like to have you here. To see you like this—vulnerable, willing to give everything, your body and your soul laid bare. And now... here you are, offering yourself so freely, so openly. Tell me, priestess, are you sure you understand what this means?”

His fingers brushed your collarbone, the lightest touch, but it felt as though it was searing your skin. The warmth of your skin under the damp fabric sent a jolt through him, stirring something primal deep inside. His breath caught as he trailed a finger down the curve of your neck, feeling the soft pulse beneath your skin, steady and inviting. You were trembling just slightly—whether from fear or desire, he couldn’t be sure. But it only made the air between you more charged, more delicious.

You met his gaze, the challenge in your eyes unmistakable, even as your fingers tightened subtly around the edge of the tub. “I don’t know,” you replied, your voice steady but with an underlying edge, “But I’m sure you’ll be eager to show me.”

Loki’s smile deepened, his eyes glinting with both amusement and something far more dangerous. “Such confidence. But you know as well as I do, the gods take no mercy when they’re pleased,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he leaned in closer. “When I fuck you, it will be more than a mere battle of wills. It will be your surrender, your desire, your need that I feed. And when it’s all over, you’ll know exactly who owns you.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. The weight of them, the intensity of his gaze—it felt like you were standing on the edge of something profound, something that could consume you entirely. But somehow, a part of you wanted it. A part of you wanted to give in to him, to the promise of pleasure and power he dangled before you like an impossible temptation.

Loki pulled back slightly, his finger resting on your chin, lifting your gaze back to his. He gazed deeply into your eyes and lowered his voice to a husky murmur. “I’m certain you’ve imagined it, priestess. But the difference is that I make your fantasies real. What I offer you is beyond anything you could possibly have dreamt. Tell me, are you ready to be taken, to be claimed—body and soul?”

Your body tensed, but your gaze never wavered from his. “We’ll see, won’t we? Then I’ll simply make sure it’s not you who has the final say.” The defiance lingered in your voice, soft yet insistent, despite the way your breath betrayed you.

Loki’s eyes darkened, his smile widening as he stepped back, eyes alight with an undeniable hunger. “You think you have control in this game? You’ve already surrendered more than you realize.”

He ran his finger along your chin, tilting your head back slightly, his voice a dangerous whisper. “It’s time for you to do your due diligence.”

A shiver of excitement ran down your spine as Loki rose from his crouched position, striding with almost sensual slowness to his dedicated altar on which he took place. The sight of him, poised and confident, filled you with an intoxicating mix of desire and fear, emotions that tangled together in a heady rush. His dark eyes never left you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze like a tangible thing, burning into your skin. Your breath hitched as he ascended, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the room, the shadows falling just right to highlight the chiseled perfection of his form.

The air between you thickened with vibrating tension, as if the very space you occupied pulsed with the energy of your closeness. Your pulse quickened in your neck, your heartbeat erratic, and the anticipation settled heavily in the pit of your stomach. You could feel his power—dark and alluring—drawing you toward him, a magnetic pull you couldn’t escape. You were trembling, your skin sensitive under the damp fabric of your robe, which clung to your body like a second skin, accentuating the curves of your breasts and hips. Every inch of you seemed to be on fire as your body responded to his presence, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation thrumming through your veins.

Loki’s voice sliced through the air, a low, beckoning command. “Come along, priestess. Join me.”

His words were soft yet laced with an unmistakable power, a challenge, an invitation, and something darker—a promise. The tension between you grew almost unbearable, and despite the trepidation swirling in your gut, you found yourself obeying, rising from the water as though compelled by some unseen force. Your body was stiff with both reluctance and yearning, your knees weak as you took your first step toward him. Your skin, slick with water, glistened under the light, and the weight of the robe clinging to you only heightened the sensitivity of every nerve in your body. Each movement felt slower, more deliberate, as you crossed the distance between you, your every step trembling.

Loki watched you intently, his eyes narrowing slightly, a flash of something dark crossing his features, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice like velvet wrapping around you. “Come closer. Show me that you can follow through, priestess.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you fought to steady yourself as you made your way toward the altar. Your legs felt like they might give way under the weight of his gaze, but you continued forward, each step echoing your growing need, your pulse racing as you neared him. Your hands, trembling slightly, reached out instinctively, grasping the cold stone of the altar’s edge for support.

Standing before him now, you felt small, fragile even, in contrast to his towering presence. Loki’s eyes roamed over you, their gaze calculating yet filled with an unmistakable hunger. The intensity of his stare made you feel exposed, as if he were unraveling your very soul with nothing but a look.

“You’re trembling,” he said, his voice a whisper, yet every word felt like a brand against your skin. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your trembling hand where it rested on the altar. The simple touch sent a jolt of heat racing through your body, an electrifying sensation that made you want to both pull away and draw him closer.

“I can feel it,” he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re not as composed as you’d like to pretend. But do not worry, I’ll teach you how to surrender.”

Loki’s smile deepened, an expression of quiet satisfaction that made your heart race. “Don’t be shy,” he breathed, as his hands moved to undo the golden tie of your robe, fingers brushing the fabric slowly, deliberately. “Come worship your god.”

The anticipation was unbearable now, every motion seeming to stretch time, prolonging the moment between you as he loosened the knot. The robe, heavy with water, fell slightly from your body, revealing more of your curves, the soft, enticing shape of your figure exposed to his hungry gaze.

Your breath quickened, your body trembling with anticipation, but you did not pull away. Instead, you stood still, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath, waiting for him to make the next move. There was a strange mix of defiance and longing in your eyes, the embers of resistance still glowing, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were drawn to him—compelled by something darker, something you couldn’t name, and that terrified you more than anything else. You felt his presence wash over you like a tidal wave, filling your senses and drowning out any other thoughts. You were trembling, not just from fear, but from something deeper—something you couldn’t control. And with every passing second, you realized that you had already given yourself to him, even if you hadn’t fully admitted it yet.

Loki's fingers traced the curves of your hips, the delicate touch sending a shiver of anticipation through you. You couldn’t help but react to his every movement, your body trembling under his touch, as though every inch of your skin was attuned to him. His presence enveloped you, warm and overwhelming, stirring emotions you were both eager and afraid to face.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your neck, tasting the remnants of the water that clung to you. The sensation of his lips, warm and demanding, sent a jolt of heat straight to your core. Your breath hitched, the tension in your body rising as his hands roamed upward, gently parting the collar of your wet robe, exposing the smoothness of your shoulder. His fingers traced the delicate curve of your shoulder blades, making you shiver as a thrill of sensation coursed through you.

His lips followed the path of his hands, soft at first, exploring the skin of your shoulders with slow, languorous kisses. The warmth of his mouth, combined with the sensation of his hands on your skin, made you lightheaded with want. You tilted your head back instinctively, surrendering to the sensation, offering him more of your neck, and Loki took full advantage of the invitation. His tongue traced a path up to your ear, the action sending a tremor through you as a soft gasp escaped your lips.

Loki’s breath was hot against your skin, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You can feel it, don’t you?” he whispered, his hands moving down your arms in teasing strokes, the light touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His fingertips skimmed over your skin as though savoring every inch of you, his touch light yet laden with intent.

Your pulse raced, your body betraying you, drawn to him in ways you couldn’t fully understand. You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, but the tension between you was palpable, thickening the air with every passing moment.

“Please,” you let out in a shaking voice, the defiance still lingering within you even as your body reacted to him. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the strength in his frame pressing against yours, but it was the hunger in his kiss, the way he seized your lips as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, that set you completely aflame.

His mouth was urgent, claiming, and yet his hands remained gentle, pulling you closer, as if he were testing the boundaries between you. His lips moved against yours with a growing intensity, a hunger you couldn’t ignore. Your hands now timidly fisted the front of his tunic, pressing your body more firmly against his. Your heart beat erratically, a rhythm of need and desire you were now powerless to deny.

Loki’s hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and for a moment, everything around you faded away. There was only the feel of him—his warmth, his presence, the taste of his kiss—and the undeniable pull between you that neither could escape. Your breath came in quick gasps, your lips parting as you tried to steady yourself, but there was no stopping it now. Not when Loki’s touch was like fire on your skin, lighting every nerve ablaze.

Loki’s fingers traced every curve of your body with a gentle yet possessive touch, as if memorizing the feel of you beneath his hands. His fingers skimmed across your waist, sending waves of sensation through you, before slowly traveling down to your hips. His touch was deliberate, his skin leaving a trail of fire where it met yours. The sensation was intoxicating, and your breath caught in your throat as you fought to keep control, but each brush of his hand made it more difficult to resist. Your body seemed to respond of its own accord, your pulse quickening, your skin flush with anticipation.

You couldn’t help but tremble under his touch as his hands ventured lower, tracing the outline of your thighs, fingers grazing over the soft skin, sparking a flood of warmth that radiated out from your core. With each slow movement, each teasing caress, you felt as if you were being pulled deeper into him, your body writhing, arching under the pressure of his touch, desperate for more.

Loki’s voice was low and husky as he broke your kiss, his hand wrapped around your throat and his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Now, priestess, I want you to undress me. Slowly, deliberately, as if every touch is a worship of my body.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your breath hitching in your throat as you nodded, your hands trembling with anticipation. You reached up, your fingers finding the hem of his tunic, and slowly began to lift it, exposing his toned abs and muscular chest. Your eyes traced every inch of his skin, taking in the defined lines of his muscles, and the smattering of dark hair that peeked out from his Apollo’s belt.

Loki’s voice was smooth and laced with arrogance as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You should consider yourself fortunate, priestess,” he whispered, his tone dripping with confidence. “Not many are allowed to touch a god like me. So take your time. Let every movement be a tribute to what stands before you.”

A surge of boldness and desire filled you as Loki's words of encouragement caressed your ears. Emboldened, your delicate hands slowly slid up the length of his tunic, inching it upwards to reveal more and more of his godly physique inch by tantalizing inch. His skin was unveiled to your hungry gaze—you could feel the heat radiating from his very being, his muscles rippling and tensing beneath your fingertips like coiled steel as they glided across the expanse of his abdominal muscles.

Your tongue explored his heated throat as you pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck, taking your time to thoroughly savor the taste of his skin. Your lips moved lower, trailing over his defined collarbone until you reached the hollow at the base of his throat. There, you let your teeth graze the sensitive flesh before soothing the sting with a slow, firm lick.

Loki's breath caught in his throat, a ragged hitch that spoke of barely contained longing. His emerald eyes blazed with smoldering desire as they roamed hungrily over your form, drinking in every dip and curve of your body. Reaching up with a hand that trembled with need, his fingers tangled in your silken tresses, the cool strands slipping through his grasp. Tilting his head back in wanton surrender, he exposed the smooth column of his throat to your questing mouth.

"Yes," he rumbled in a deep growl that sent delicious shivers cascading down your spine. The velvet timbre of his words caressed your heated skin like a physical touch, stoking the flames of your desire higher. "Just like that."

His tone dripped with sin and dark promise, full of tempting subtext that left little room for misinterpretation. Loki's voice painted sinful pictures in your mind, hinting at secrets and pleasures only he could provide. Each low, raw word fell from his lips like a forbidden confession, igniting your blood until it burned through your veins.

Your heart pounded wildly, your breath coming fast and shallow as you leaned into the delicious friction of his fingers in your hair. The light pressure at the back of your skull sent sparks skittering across your scalp and down your nape. Loki's grip held you in place, keeping your mouth pressed to the supple skin of his throat where his pulse fluttered like the wings of a caged bird. The heat of him seeped into you, his quickening heartbeat a counterpoint to your racing rhythm.

He imagined your lips brushing against the corded muscles of his neck, feeling the coiled tension thrumming through his body like a tightly wound spring. As your phantom touch grazed his skin, he found himself arching instinctively into the sensation, craving more of that teasing contact. His thick throat flexed and undulated beneath your mouth as he swallowed hard around the lump that had formed there, fighting to control the intense reaction coursing through him.

Loki's gasps encouraged you to continue your sensual exploration. He felt you apply light suction, pulling at his skin until you could feel his pulse jumping beneath your lips. Reluctant to release him, you transferred your ministrations to the opposite side of his throat. This time, you used your teeth more insistently, worrying the flesh and nipping at his hammering pulse until you could taste the coppery tang of blood on your tongue as it beaded on his skin.

You could practically feel the heat of his breath as you traced the strong column of his neck with your lips and tongue, igniting sparks of sensation with every pass. His skin prickled with goosebumps, drawn taut and hypersensitive, as if your imagined touch had burned away every layer between you until only nerve endings remained. He strained towards the pressure of your mouth, blatant in his need for stimulation, his body an instrument thrumming with tension.

Again and again, you returned to the spot, alternating between deep, open-mouthed kisses and teasing licks and nips until his neck was mapped with darkening love bites. Each mark was a brand, a symbol of your possession, the evidence of your claim on him. You loved seeing the proof of your wanton lust decorating his fair skin.

Releasing your mouth from his throat with a wet pop, you admired your handiwork, trailing your fingers over the tender, reddened flesh. Loki's hands had found your hair, tangling in the silken strands as he held you close. His breaths were shallow, chest heaving with the force of his exhalations. The visible strain of his erection pressed against your belly, but you ignored it for now, lost in your need to taste every inch of him.

In a frenzy of lustful desperation, you wrenched Loki's tunic up and over his head with an almost violent urgency. The flimsy garment was hastily cast aside, fluttering forgotten to the floor as your hungry gaze raked over the newly bared expanse of Loki's sleek, pale skin. You drank in the sight of him with fevered eyes that glittered with unslaked craving, your pupils blown wide with desire.

The air between you felt charged and taut, thick with the promise of what was to come. It crackled with an electric tension that made your very skin prickle, so dense with want that it seemed to pulse and undulate like a living thing. The space seemed to swell, heavy and swollen with the weight of your unspeakable needs.

You began a worshipful descent down the sculpted planes of Loki's torso. You laved your tongue over his cool skin, tracing the elegant sweep of his collarbones and the dip of his sternum. Your lips brushed feather-light over the flat discs of his nipples, drawing a shuddering hiss from between clenched teeth as you suckled and nibbled, determined to wring as much pleasure and praise from him as you could. Your teeth scraped carelessly, leaving crimson blooms on his skin like stigmata.

Loki shivered and flared, his powerful frame surging beneath your ministrations. His fingers clenched in your hair, dragging you inexorably up and molding your curves meltingly flush against the hard, unforgiving lines of his body. Loki's gaze burned into your own, twin flames of liquid emerald fire that seared straight to your soul. "The pants," he commanded, his voice a rough, guttural sound edged with feral hunger. The raw command in his tone sent primal heat licking through your core, urging you onward even as it threatened to undo you utterly.

Your trembling fingers fumbled at the waistband of his breeches, clumsy with desperation. You wanted to tear them from his body, to lay him bare before you, but some distant scrap of coherence kept your movements measured. The air felt too thick to draw a proper breath, the anticipation coiling tighter and tighter in your blood until it was almost painful.

Finally, blessedly, his breeches joined his tunic on the floor. You hummed in satisfaction, drinking in the sight of him laid out before you in all his naked glory. You reached out to trail reverent fingers down the dips and ridges of his abdomen, savoring the way he shuddered and tensed beneath your touch. But you were only allowed a brief moment to admire him before Loki was surging up to capture your mouth in a bruising kiss.

As he broke your deep, passionate kiss, his piercing gaze locked onto yours, smoldering with an intense, almost feral hunger. A knowing smirk played at the corners of his lips as he made you advance towards him in a slow, deliberate manner, his voice dropping to a low, dark purr.

"Go on, priestess," he rasped, the words dripping with a sinful promise that sent shivers down your spine. "Take what is yours to worship and claim as your own."

You gulped for air, your lungs burning, fervently nodding as much as you could with the firm grip he still maintained in your hair. A needy whimper escaped your parted lips, your body yearning for more of his electric touch. 

You redoubled your descent down his chiseled body, pressing small, reverent kisses along the way. Your lips mapped a winding path over the planes of his chest, down his taut stomach, savoring the taste of his skin, the heat of him. Reaching his navel, you dipped your tongue inside, circling the sensitive dip teasingly and drawing a groan from the god and his grip tightened, spurring you on to go further.

Finally, you arrived at the apex of his thighs where his long, hard and imposing member jutted proudly towards you. Its thick length seemed to throb, begging for your worshipful attention. You knelt before him in obedience, gazing up at him with hooded eyes clouded by lust and a hint of trepidation. 

As he sat there, watching your crafted image intently with anticipation, you hesitated for a moment. You could feel his intense gaze on you, and you knew what he wanted. Gathering your courage, you slowly reached out a trembling hand towards him. Your fingers inched closer to the hard, rigid length of his cock, and as you made contact, you felt a shiver run through your entire body. The feel of him was intoxicating—hard yet silky smooth, just like the rest of his toned body.

He couldn't help but let out a low groan as you touched him—as he imitated your touch. His hand moved unconsciously to wrap around his member, mirroring your makeshift movements. You would watch in fascination as he began to stroke himself, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of power and arousal at the divine sight that he displayed.

In his mind, you’d marvel at the feel of him, so different from anything you had ever experienced before. Your fingers looked so meager that he doubted they would quite close around his girth. He imagined you, feeling even more turned on by the contrast between your delicate hand and his thick, hard cock like he was to the idea.

"Do you like that?" he asked, his voice low and husky with desire. 

You nodded, unable to find your voice at that moment. You couldn't believe you were doing this, touching him like this, but you couldn't deny how much you were enjoying it.

"Good," he murmured, his eyes darkening with lust. "Because I relish the way your touch sets me alight," he murmured, his voice velvet-soft yet edged with longing, as if the confession itself was both a gift and a weapon.

Fingertips danced along his length, tracing the prominent vein that ran along the underside—he didn’t know if it was your phantom touch or his very real one, he didn’t care for it. He’d pretend that it was yours for now, that he could trade the feeling of the rough palms of his hand for your soft ones.

You watched as his eyes fluttered closed, his breath coming in quick gasps as you touched him. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his muscles tensed under your touch. You circled the base, marveling at the size and the heat it emanated from his member. A bead of clear liquid welled from the slit, making his erection jump. Softly, reverently, you swiped your thumb over the tip, smearing the precum and eliciting a strangled groan from above.

Then, another flash: slowly, almost shyly, you leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss on his inner thigh, right at the root of his shaft. Your lips trailed up the sensitive skin, pressing soft open-mouthed kisses in their wake. A faint whimper escaped you as you tasted him for the first time, the salt, musk, and pure masculine essence of his arousal thick and heady on your taste buds.

He hissed in pleasure, his fingers tightening in your hair as he pulled you closer. You flicked your tongue over the weeping slit in response, lapping up the salty essence. Another kiss was placed right at the crown before you started to slowly circle the flared head with the flat of your tongue. You took your time, mapping every ridge and vein, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

But he wouldn’t let the exploration go on any longer, or else he’d go mad beyond reason with want. The massive hand gripping your silky damp tresses gave a sharp tug, wrenching your head back and forcing your face upwards. You let out a yelp at the sudden motion, eyes widening in fear and surprise darting up to meet the smoldering gaze pinning you in place. A deep, rumbling growl emanated from above, the sound resonating in your very bones and sending sparks of trepidation skittering down your spine.

Above you, his imposing form loomed, all chiseled planes and rippling muscle. Sweat gleamed on his alabaster skin which heaved with each labored breath. Heavy thighs bracketed your smaller frame as he towered over your kneeling form, his commanding presence seeming to fill the very air around them. Drawing in a shuddering gasp, you tried to give a jerky nod of acquiescence, your delicate throat working nervously under his stern glare.

His calloused palm dragged from the silken coil of your hair to seize your chin, fingers pressing firmly into the delicate curve of your jaw as he forced your gaze upward. "Enough games," he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rasp steeped in authority and promise. A flicker of fear danced along your spine, sharp and electric, under the weight of his piercing glare. "Open," he commanded, the single word carrying the weight of inevitability.

You could only whimper in response, breaths coming in short, precipitated puffs as his other hand guided the thick root of his cock to nudge demandingly at your parted lips. With a final, shallow inhale, you let your jaw fall slack, allowing the heavy weight to rest against your waiting mouth. He slowly thrust forward, pushing into the velvet heat past your lips and over your tongue. You could feel every rigid vein, every throb of his width stretching you open as inch by delicious inch sank into the clutching confines of your mouth and throat.

Tears sprang anew to your eyes at the sudden intrusion, but you held his gaze, giving a tentative suck as he hilted fully. The wet glide of your tongue traced over the bulbing head, dipping into the weeping slit to lap at the salty-sweet essence gathered there. Above you, you could hear the hitch in his breathing, feel the air between them crackle with building tension. 

Slowly, he began to rock his hips, sawing in and out with deep but shallow thrusts as he mentally fucked into you face as he did to his enclosed fist. Your lips worked over his length, hollowing your cheeks to suck harder as you brought one small hand up to gently fondle the heavy orbs below. You breathed harshly through your nose, tongue fluttering along the underside as he thrust between your lips.

"Norns' mercy," Loki gasped, his head falling back on a low, wanton moan that echoed through the chambers. "Your mouth is exquisite, a divine temple of pleasure."

Emboldened by his praise, you began to bob your head along his impressive length, hollowing your cheeks to suck hard as you took him deeper, feeling him hit the back of your throat. You ghosted one hand up the length of his body before lightly scrapped your nails down starting from the navel, teasing the sensitive skin. 

Losing yourself in the act of pleasuring him, you consumed yourself in carnal desires that threatened to overwhelm you. You loved tasting him, feeling the hot, hard weight of him sliding between your lips, stretching your mouth. You loved his musky, masculine scent filled your nostrils, making your head spin with lust.

Loki's grip on your hair tightened, fingers tangling and tugging as he began to speed up his thrust into the heat of your mouth, not enough to gag you, but just enough to show he was rapidly losing control. "Just like that, priestess, don't you dare stop," he growled, his voice strained with need. "You look so lovely with your lips wrapped around my cock, worshipping me like the god I am. Such a good girl, so eager to please."

His filthy words inflamed your lust to new, dizzying heights. You redoubled your efforts, taking him to the hilt and swallowing around him, throat working to milk his length. He let out a string of filthy curses in the Old Tongue, hips snapping as he chased his impending release, fucking your face with shallow thrusts.

But just as you felt him start to pulse and swell, he forcefully pulled himself from the slick heat of your mouth with a lewd pop. He pictured strings of saliva connected from your swollen lips to the engorged head of his cock as he squeezed the base hard enough to prevent him from cumming so soon. He didn’t want it to end just yet. Too soon.

He could almost hear you whine at the loss as you gazed up at Loki through heavy-lidded eyes, your plump lips glistening and swollen from his earlier bruising kisses. He imagined your enticing face flushed with pride and deep feminine satisfaction knowing you had thoroughly pleased your god, his divine favor a heady rush of power and approval. Loki's eyes gleamed molten green, his expression one of ravenous, possessive hunger as his heated gaze roved over your naked form kneeling wantonly at his feet.

"Well done, priestess," he’d purr to you, voice a dark, sinful promise. "You've more than earned your reward. I'm going to taste every exquisite inch of you until you're writhing and begging for completion."

Loki prowled forward like a wolf, his powerful body looming over her in dark promise. Calloused fingers trailed scorching paths along your quivering thighs, leaving shimmering trails of magic in their wake. You shivered and arched into his expert touch, dizzy with need.

"Please, my god," you breathed. "I'm aching for you. Make me yours."

Loki's fingers trailed down her forearm, gripping your hand and pulling you up. He pushed you down onto the marble of his altar in a smooth show of strength, admiring the way your breasts bounced from the force. Settling between your splayed thighs, the god inhaled your heady, alluring scent. "So desperate for your god's favor," he growled, pressing hungry kisses up the column of your throat. "I'm going to make you scream my name." 

With a wicked grin, he turns to you, his eyes gleaming with desire. "May I?" he asks, indicating the delicate fabric of your robe. At your nod, he rips the flimsy material to shreds, exposing your naked body to his feasting gaze. Loki's gaze lands on a part of untainted skin, and he wastes no time, sucking hard enough to leave a vivid mark. You can't help but gasp at the sensation, your body reacting instinctively. 

He continued his path of destruction down your body, licking and nipping every inch of bare skin. Reaching pert breasts, he caught a nipple between his teeth and tugged just shy of pain, to which you answered by unconsciously spreading your legs in wanton invitation, practically begging for his touch.

"Oh, my sweet [Y/N], so desperate and needy for me," he hummed, trailing his fingers down your arm. His touch was cold fire, leaving goosebumps trailing in its wake. Loki's lips curled into a wicked smirk, his voice a silky taunt as he leaned closer. "How utterly delightful. Let us see if you can endure as well as you deliver, shall we?"

He descends upon you like a starving man, licking and sucking at every inch of your damp skin. His lips and teeth marked you with dark bruise shaped like crescent moons and love bites as he made his way down your body. You writhed and moaned helplessly beneath him, your back arching as he teased your sensitive flesh.

"Mmh, perfect. Sing for me," he growls against your hipbone before dipping his head in your mound.

Loki licks a broad stripe up your dripping slit, his skillful tongue circling your aching clit without directly touching it. He parts your folds with his fingers to delve deep, pumping in and out of your fluttering walls while he laps at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your thighs trembled and clenched around his head as he devoured you mercilessly, his silvertongue more than living up to its title.

"Such exquisite nectar you have, my priestess," he’d mumble into your sex, the vibrations making you see stars. He suckled your clit and thrust two fingers knuckle deep, curling them to rub that special spot inside. "I could feast on you on my altar for ages and never have my fill."

You tossed your head back with a loud moan as Loki's skilled mouth worked you over. "Yes, god, just like that!"

He sealed his lips around your throbbing clit, suckling the sensitive bud while his wicked tongue flicked rapidly. Two fingers delved deep, curling just right to stroke that velvety patch along your front wall. "That's it, let me hear all those pretty moans while you fall apart on my face," he urged huskily, hot breath gusting over your drenched folds.

Leaning on your elbows, your gazed down at him with glassy eyes, desperate little pants falling from your lips. Your thighs trembled violently, muscles pulled taut. "Please, please," your babbled incoherently, fisting his inky locks and yanking him impossibly closer. "I need—oh!"

"Need what, pet?" His lips and tongue never ceased their sweet torment, fingers plunging and stroking without mercy. "Tell me and I'll give it to you."

"I need—ah! I need to come!" Tremors wracked your frame as you ground yourself wantonly on his face. "Make me come, please Loki!"

"What pretty begging." He doubled down, sucking your clit greedily as you bucked and thrashed. Lips and fingers worked you into a frenzy, wringing out your pleasure with devastating intent. Pressure climbed, tighter and tighter until it finally snapped.

You threw back your head with a choked scream, core clamping down rhythmically. "I'm coming, mmh—fuck!" Your back arched sharply, juices gushing to coat his cheeks and chin as ecstasy overtook you.

His hips thrust upwards as he imagined the expression you would make when reaching climax, writhing in the water as he desperately tried to hold back, not ready for the end just yet. The ripples of the water surrounding him served as a reminder of the feeling of being blessed with your sweet release, droplets splashing onto his face.

With a final thrust, he slowed down, gasping uncontrollably. He gentled his touch, mimicking how he would with you, licking broad and slow to keep you suspended in bliss. "That's it, that’s it. Ride it out on my tongue. You taste divine when you let go."

He knew all too well the effect he had on you; even your casual, teasing banter left you unraveling. His words and actions now, deliberate and charged, were designed to push you to the brink—to drive you wild in ways only he could. He made a low, hungry noise, never stopping until the last aftershock shivered through you and you collapsed back against the altar, spent.

"Good girl, you took it so well. Such a pretty picture you make in your pleasure," he praises, giving your sensitive clit a final kiss before rising to cover your body with his own. "You please me greatly, my priestess. I knew you'd be the perfect consort."

He couldn’t endure the torment he was inflicting upon himself any longer; it was unbearable, a relentless ache that clawed at his sanity. He had to put an end to it—one way or another. Loki's lips curved in a wicked smirk as he visualized him pulling back to admire his artwork, hands gripping your hips possessively. 

"Turn over," he’d command, voice rough with need. You scrambled to obey, rolling onto your stomach and lifting your hips in the air. The position left you completely vulnerable, your dripping core exposed and ready. Loki groaned at the sight, his cock throbbing. "Hands behind your back," he growled, giving your rear a sharp smack.

You gasped and complied, crossing your forearms at the base of your spine. Loki manhandled you, using his strength to pull your arms higher until they were pinned tight against the curve of your lower back, your wrists crossing one another. He nestled your chest down against the altar, leaving you arched and spread open. "Such a good little offering," he purred, running a hand over your naked form. His fingers dug into your hips as he notched the flared head of his cock against your entrance. 

"I will ravish you to the point of forgetting everything but my name." Loki declared with a salacious smirk. His eyes gleamed with determination as he charged forward, impaling you with a single, ruthless thrust. The force of his entry elicited a startled cry from you, your back arching as Loki filled you to the hilt. The exquisite stretch of his length was unprecedented, breaching depths no other had ever reached.

"There we go," he praised, starting to move. His strokes were deep and powerful, pulling nearly out before slamming back in. "Take it. Take every ounce of pleasure your god deigns to bestow upon you." You sobbed brokenly, overwhelmed by the sensations. The altar bit into your breasts as Loki used you, pounding into your pliant body. Lewd squelches filled the air, mixing with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. 

Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, Loki hauled you up by fastening his free hand to your throat, squeezing lightly as he constricted his grip on your wrists. "Look at you," he crooned while sending another mind-blowing thrust that made you almost shout. "A perfect little slut, born to be bred and used. You relish this, don't you? The sensation of being utterly filled and ravished by your god?" You had no choice but to dumbly nod with parted lips and hazy eyes, his words igniting something primal in you. Loki's hand tightened around your neck, further restricting your airflow. Simultaneously, his thrusts grew fiercer, pummeling you with relentless intensity.

"You were made for this, pet. Made to serve. I will ruin you for all others. You will adore only me, and my name will be your mantra." He accentuated each word with punishing thrusts. You convulsed, his degrading words and ruthless pace pushing you to the brink. Your cunt clenched desperately around him, trying to hold him deep. You were so close, teetering on the edge of oblivion that all it would take was a slight pressure in the right place, and you would shatter completely. 

Sensing your readiness, Loki slid a hand down, zeroing in on your swollen clit. He circled the sensitive nub with a knowing touch, keeping you vacillating on the cusp of release. "Come for me, priestess," he ordered with a gasp, voice a sinful purr. "Come apart on my cock, my little whore. Let me feel your pleasure." You couldn’t do nothing except obey, your body seizing up as your climax crashed through you. A guttering scream ripped from your throat as you came violently, cunt clenching down on Loki's pistoning cock.

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As he allowed his mind to wander, lost in the picture of you falling in the throes of ecstasy, his eyes flew open with a start. He hadn’t realized how deeply he had slipped into it until he felt a sudden jolt back to reality. His hips were moving rhythmically, thrusting as if he were actually buried deep inside of you.

His breath came in gasps, the air stolen from his throat as he imagined the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. His hips were gyrating wildly, thrusting up and down in his grasp, like a ship caught in a stormy sea. How deep had he been lost in his fantasy for his state to go unnoticed, even to himself?

The pleasure was all-consuming, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to drown him in its depths. His blood rushed through his veins like a raging river, surging downward to pool in his aching cock and upwards to flood his face with a burning heat. Stray and thin tears streamed down his cheeks, unbidden and fierce, as he gasped and writhed for oxygen, his thrusts growing wilder and more desperate with each passing moment.

“Oh, fuck—fuck!” With a final, desperate cry, he came violently in his hands, shouting his muse’s name in a reiterative and frenzied manner, as if it was a prayer made to the gods. Spurt after spurt of his release shot forth, hitting the water with a soft plink and splattering the few jasmine petals that had survived the violent waves. It seemed as if the pleasure would never end, each wave of release only serving to build the tension higher and higher until it threatened to consume him entirely.

But eventually, the storm subsided, leaving him spent and shivering in its wake. He laid there, his breath slowing as he came back down to earth. The fantasy had been so vivid, so real, that it took him a moment to remember where he truly was. The sensation was intense, a violent explosion that seemed to rock his entire body, leaving him utterly shaking from the intensity. 

Loki collapsed against the smooth, cold marble steps of the grand tub, his body spent, a haze of exhaustion clouding his senses. His breath was ragged, still trying to catch up with the frantic, overwhelming rush that had just passed through him. For a moment, he was weightless, floating on the remnants of the high he had just experienced, the delicate hum of release thrumming under his skin. The contrast of the warm water around him and the cold air against his exposed skin sent shivers racing up his spine, but it was not the chill that made him tremble.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his head tipping back to rest against the edge of the tub. The silence in the chamber felt deafening after the storm that had ravaged through him. The heat of the moment still lingered, but now, it felt oppressive. He was left with a deep, gnawing emptiness, as though a part of him had been drained away with the surge of release. But that empty feeling was nothing compared to what came next.

As the steam clouding his mind began to clear, the aftermath of his actions came crashing down on him like a tidal wave. His breath caught in his throat, and for a brief second, he felt like the room was spinning, his body still reeling from the aftershocks of the desire he had just indulged. His chest tightened, a knot of unease tightening in the pit of his stomach.

He hadn’t just given in to the pleasure of the moment. No, that would’ve been easier to accept. What had really shaken him was who—or rather, what—he had let himself desire.

He dragged a trembling hand through his damp hair, his lips pressed into a hard line as the remnants of his thoughts taunted him. A mortal, really? The thought of desiring you—so mortal, so beneath him—made him feel physically sick. His heart pounded in his chest, but not from desire this time. The heat in his veins was no longer a heady rush; it had morphed into something darker, something that made him feel dirty. He had let himself be ruled by a fleeting impulse, a mortal who—by all rights—shouldn’t have mattered to him. You weren't worthy of his attention, let alone the attention of his body. And yet, he couldn’t shake the memory of the way your presence had consumed him.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, though it lacked any humor. How could you? he asked himself, gripping the edge of the tub as if it could ground him. A sharp pang of disgust sliced through him, his jaw clenching tightly. How could I stoop so low? he thought bitterly, his disdain for his weakness growing with each passing second. The heat of his actions still lingered, clinging to him like a second skin, and he hated it. He hated himself.

As Loki's breath slowed and the weight of his actions pressed down on him, his gaze drifted to the scattered jasmine petals that floated lazily in the water. Their delicate fragrance filled the air, and for a brief moment, it was almost suffocating. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the pale petals, their soft white against the dark water mocking him with their innocence. They reminded him of that damned robe, the mortal woman who had worn it—you.

He scowled, a wave of irritation rising in him as he cursed them for being the catalyst, the one thing that had led to this moment of weakness. It wasn’t their fault, of course; it never was. But in his mind, they were the symbol of everything that had gone wrong. If only she hadn’t worn it, he thought bitterly. If only I hadn’t noticed her at all...

With a sharp wave of his hand, he dispelled the jasmine petals and the evidence of his indulgence, watching as they disappeared into nothingness, as if they had never been there to begin with. But the disquiet that followed lingered, refusing to vanish as easily as the evidence of his lapse.

Another gesture and the steaming bath turned icy cold, the sudden shock making him shudder. The chill was a reprieve—a way to snap himself back to reality, to wash away the lingering tremors still trembling his resolve.

“This means nothing,” he muttered under his breath, the words more of a command than a truth. He busied himself scrubbing away the remnants of his lapse in control, desperate to rid himself of the memory. His movements were quick, almost frantic, as if staying in the tub any longer would trap him in the thoughts he wanted to escape.

Nothing. He forced himself to believe that. He had allowed himself to be overwhelmed by his body’s basic urges, by the frustration of months of mounting stress—the endless manipulations of his “parents,” the suffocating chains of his conditional freedom, the constant reminder that his every action was watched and judged. And then, you—this mortal who had somehow wormed her way into his thoughts. You were simply an enticing distraction, an irritation that had lodged itself under his skin, and nothing more. He had no time for such trivial mortal attachments.

He exhaled sharply, dispelling the shame that clung to him like an uncomfortable cloak. It was just stress. A temporary lapse. The heat of the moment. It didn’t mean anything.

He turned his attention to the water, an escape of sorts, as he manipulated the temperature. His magic flowed effortlessly, and the warm bath transformed into an icy, biting chill. He let the cold seep into him, willing it to numb the stirring emotions that had begun to surge. But the cold only made him feel sharper, more exposed, the shock of it heightening his awareness of every thought, every tremor within him.

He couldn’t stay in the water any longer. The longer he lingered, the more the memory of what had just transpired would settle into his mind. And he couldn’t bear that. He didn’t want to acknowledge how badly the moment had shaken him.

His movements were quick, almost frantic, as he grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist. His fingers were stiff as he dried off, each movement seeming mechanical, as though he was trying to force himself back into control, back into the careful, calculated Loki that he prided himself on being.

But even as he dressed, the thoughts didn’t fade. He told himself it was nothing. He told himself that it meant nothing. But even as he stepped away from the tub, a small, nagging voice echoed in his mind. Unless?

He stopped, mid-step, his chest tightening again. Could it be that simple? Could he dismiss it so easily? His gaze flicked to the empty tub, and a deep, unsettling feeling curled in his gut. The space seemed too quiet now, too still, and he could almost hear your voice again in the silence. Loki quickly turned away, his mind racing. No. He refused to entertain it. It was stress. Nothing more. You were nothing more. Still, as he left the bathing chamber, his steps quick and unsteady, that seed of doubt lingered. He could feel it in the way his heart beat a little faster, the way his breath caught for a fraction of a second longer than it should have. And no matter how much he tried to push it away, there it was: Unless...

ending notes :

The way I was acting like that for the entire writing is SHAMEFUL. Lord have mercy on me.

Also, I'm not sorry for the length. I hope you enjoyed it thoroughly nonetheless. And get your mind out of the gutter, I'm talking about the fic, not Loki. :p

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Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

taglist : @stilleobjection — @the-fandoms-onceler .

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dividers ©️ @angelremnants + @arminsumi .

angelremnants ©️ 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, reproduce, or distribute without explicit permission.

[matthyeu]

i would rather die ― kjw.

pairing ⇢ kim jiwoong x gn!reader 

genre ⇢ angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, royal!au

warnings ⇢ violence, blood, swearing

word count ⇢ 2.8k

synopsis ⇢ it only took a near death experience for you to realize the crown prince of vuiryn wasn't all that bad.

dressing up, dancing, laughing, eating small appetizers for aesthetic purposes. they were all things you never did in your everyday life despite your position as the child of your kingdom’s ruler. in technical terms, this was supposed to be your social group, fellow children of rulers or other noble people gathered together. 

but it wasn’t. 

before being the future ruler of your kingdom, you were the leader of the military, the leader who was forced to leave behind their comrades as you attended this gala your father pushed onto you. you thought while your kingdom was at war with several other rebelling countries, you should have been in the front line, guiding the troops and making plans. your father had other plans though, leaving your second in command to handle this week’s battles.

for he thought before you were a military general, you were the future of the kingdom, meaning it was your duty to ally yourself with many other future rulers. he wanted not only an allyship, but also a union of two rulers’ children, so your kingdoms would be tied and willing to help in times of despair like this. that was why in his eyes, you were more valuable dressed up to play spoiled royalty desperately looking for a spouse. 

still, that wasn’t the kind of person you were, going up to the most known people at these gatherings, kissing up to them in hopes of seducing them to somehow grant your kingdom with surpluses of supplies to aid your losing battle. 

besides, most of these people would never want to mingle with someone like you, a known royal who physically had blood on their hands, as if they didn’t have blood on their own from their neglect. at least yours wasn’t the blood of your own people. 

“haven’t seen you for months.” 

and there was the most arrogant one of them all, the one who probably had not only his hands covered but also his entire body. there was no way prince jiwoong of vuiryn didn’t have an overflowing pool of citizens’ blood in the back of his royal palace. his demeanor and powerful aura already exemplified that of a power-hungry ruler. if his ruling was anything like his father’s, you could count on that pool becoming a whole ocean of blood, a literal red sea, once he was crowned. 

he was probably the only one your father didn’t want you to attempt to seduce. it would be favorable if your kingdom was not intertwined with the tyranny of vuiryan. it would not settle well with your people, knowing the reputation the current king had. 

it was unfortunate that he was the only one of the royal social circle to even attempt conversing with you. 

“must you always do this?” you asked, finishing the remains of the wine poured to you by one of the servers, its cost probably enough to cover important funding for your comrades’ weapons. 

“i figured you would have liked some company. you’re always off on your own world at these gatherings. wouldn’t kill you to intersect the conversations y’know?” he attempted to joke with you. 

he was always like that, playful but in a way that put himself on a pedestal to look down at you. even with his more positive attitude, you knew better than to place any trust in him. he too probably gossiped among the groups about how pathetic you always seemed when you were alone. 

there was nothing good that came out of someone like kim jiwoong. he was just another child of one of the many tyrannical rulers across the land. you could never put partial blame on them for their parents’ actions, for your own father would probably act in a similar manner if you hadn’t taken it upon yourself to lead the military to protect your citizens. 

“after all the times you’ve done this, i would think you understand i would like nothing to do with you,” you emphasized as you finished your drink, placing it in a bin of various dirty glasses to be cleaned. “now if you’re done annoying me, i’ll be going.” 

you turned your heel, beginning to walk away from him. not long after, however, you felt a harsh grab at your wrist. immediately, your eyes rolled back, nearly enough to look into the interior of your skull. was he really going to do this?

did he really have to do this when you just wanted to go off to find some unsuspecting victim to seduce into granting your kingdom the needed money to fund the troops? he was really getting on your nerves. 

“jiwoong, let go of me,” you sternly demanded, trying to thrash away from the grasp. 

the first siren went off when the grip around your wrist tightened. as much as jiwoong liked to provoke you, he would have never gone this far, bringing such discomfort to you. there was something off about this. 

your suspicions were confirmed as you felt cold metal across the skin of your neck and an equally cold voice whispering in your ear. “don’t move now, your highness.” 

your eyes immediately darted around the room where many were in the same position as you, held at knifepoint and threatened with their life. some failed to follow instructions in a panic and paid the price as a consequence. 

this was another reason you hated coming to royal gatherings. they were the perfect place to be ambushed. you couldn’t care less about leaving your kingdom without a future ruler, but to leave your comrades without a current one, that was something you could not do. 

you obeyed his commands, stilling without any sign of resistance. you would figure something out. you always did. it was just…there was no way you could pull anything off in the position you were in. any move would leave you dead, and you didn’t have anything on you to wiggle yourself out of the situation. your father was stern on not bringing anything that would intimidate the rest of the guests. if only he knew that could cost the life of his dear child. 

the only thing you could do was oblige to the commands. you could read their intentions. these people were not in it to kill. if so, they wouldn’t have let as many people run as they did. if they wanted to kill you, they already would have. they wanted ransom. you could figure out a plan once they took you to wherever they were planning. 

“UUAGH.” 

or not. the knife at your throat was lowered after your attacker was…well attacked by someone else. you looked over to see jiwoong, hands bloodied but still holding on. quickly, he grabbed you by the wrist and you two began your run, far away from the ballroom where hell had been let loose. 

“let go of me!” you yelled as you struggled against his grasp, which almost caused both of you to tumble over. 

a harsh motion was made to release your wrist, and you could see the annoyance on his face. “wow, not even a thank you. if you didn’t notice i just saved your fucking life. if you had stood there in shock any longer, you would be dead.”

you turned away from him, defeated that you couldn’t think of a witty remark to counter it. he was right. you had frozen the moment you were freed. if your attacker had gotten up, it would have been over for you. you whispered a few incoherent swears to yourself, frustrated you let your guard down so easily while at the gathering. it was not like you to do that, but now it had you on the brink of life and death. 

“thanks,” you mumbled. 

you heard him chuckle, somehow still mocking you at this moment. “can’t hear you you.” 

you sighed, rolling your eyes as you two turned a corner. you still had yet to know where you were running to. the corridors of the palace seemed endless, and you didn’t know the way out. from the looks of how the two of you continued to run, jiwoong didn’t know either. 

your lack of knowledge on the palace layout was your biggest drawback. as you turned another corner, you were met with several members of the attacker group, all armed and ready to take you down. it seemed they had shifted gears from kidnapping to killing seeing the resistance the two of you put up. 

and here was your second mistake. when your original attacker had fallen back, you should have taken his weapon. not having one rendered both of you useless in this situation. both of you backed up until there was nowhere else to back up. 

running seemed out of the question now as there was only a certain amount you two could run until fatigue caught up to you. there had been so much running involved in the earlier moments that your legs would probably give out within fifteen or so minutes of running at a fast pace. there was only a slim chance none of the six men in front of you would be still following you by then. you didn’t know how much stamina they had. 

you two looked at each other, the first time you looked at him with genuine concern. this was life-or-death, not a time for you to express your burning hatred toward him. 

“you go,” he ordered. 

“what.” 

with no further explanation, he headed into the crowd first, stalling for as much time as he could. they were too focused on him to even pay mind to you. they wanted the satisfaction of killing just one of you. 

seeing the sight, you took off. it was probably better off him than you. 

you had a whole future ahead, both for you and the army you led. you couldn’t let yourself perish now. jiwoong, he was just another prince who had no heart for others, no consideration for his citizens. if he was gone, vuiryn would not have another tyrannical ruler. this was completely fine. 

however, the more you thought about it, the more it wasn’t fine. what on earth were you thinking? when was it better off if someone was dead? the only answer was if they were a horrible person, but…jiwoong had never even proved to be that kind of person to you. sure he was annoying, but you couldn’t recall a time where he had mentioned anything cruel or unsettling. 

the overthinking made you pause in the hallway

maybe you had misjudged him. no. you definitely had misjudged him. if he was as cruel as you thought he was, why save you back in the ballroom? he had the stamina and strength to get out of there, but he had risked the extra time to help you. 

even if he wasn’t all good like royalty tended to be, there were some things you would never know about him if you let him die. 

immediately, you turned around, running back to where you had left him. on the way, you tried to scour for things to use to your advantage. the only thing you could make use of was a vase on display, but it was still better than nothing. 

your lungs were already giving out. this was the fastest you had ever ran in this type of clothing, the kind where your legs felt restricted, so you needed to use more muscle to even try to move properly. 

by the time you made it back to the scene, your arms and legs had almost made you collapse. you weren’t prepared to do this much running at a gala. 

you took a pause at the corner, gripping onto the wall to steady yourself. you only hoped you had made it back in time. your determination would have been useless if he was already gone. 

alas, you found yourself weirdly overjoyed seeing jiwoong still struggling with several men, now only two. it was impressive, but you could tell from the look of his stances he was about to lose this fight. you had to step in. 

waiting for an opening, you ran back into the scene at the first glimpse of one. both of the attackers’ backs were turned to you, but you were in clear vision of jiwoong when you slammed the vase across their heads. screams of terror were released as you used that window to kick them back into the wall. 

now, it was your turn to grab onto jiwoong to make a run for it. 

“i told you to run.” 

“a thank you would be nice, y’know.” 

he laughed at your mockery of his earlier words. the situation had completely changed. now you were the one holding onto him tight as you tried to navigate a way out of the building. 

“you seem like the type to want me dead though. change of heart?” he asked, heavy breaths accompanying his words. 

“i thought about it, and i would rather die than be indebted to you.” you would never reveal the true reason you came back. it was far too embarrassing for you to admit. 

finally, you two made it to an exit, pushing the doors out together in unison. outside, there stood many soldiers, some of them from your own kingdom. it seemed many kingdoms had dispatched soldiers to help clear the palace after the news spread. you felt pity for any soldiers who would have to find the bodies of their respective royals. 

“general!” you whipped your head around to see some of your comrades worriedly approaching, “we were worried about you once we heard the news. we had just finished our own battle, but we wanted to come make sure everything was okay.” 

you found their concern warming after such an eventful night. “of course i’m alright. i’m a military general after all.” 

you heard jiwoong clear his throat behind you. “and because i had prince jiwoong to help me through it.” 

you watched as your two comrades exchanged glances, both with each other and between the two of you. their smiles grew. “so you’ve nearly fulfilled your own mission, we see.” 

eyes widening at their statement, you realized what they were hinting. jiwoong’s eyes furrowed, opening his mouth to ask a question you could predict. before he could though, you intersected, walking over to where they were administering first aid. “let’s make sure we get wrapped up to prevent infections.” 

now, here the two of you sat, sitting across in silence as many doctors and nurses applied ointment at your wounds. there was an uncomfortable silence. neither of you knew how to start a conversation after everything that had happened that night. 

it took until your treatment was finished for you to finally ask the one question bothering you the whole night. 

“you know how to fight really well? i knew all royals had special training, but you really seemed like you knew what you were doing. i’ve never seen someone in the royal social circle be so unafraid of getting their hands dirty.”

jiwoong looked away with a smile on his face, unsure whether to take your comment as a compliment or an insult. “i’ve always wanted to be a soldier,” he admitted. 

the declaration made your eyes widen, to the point where you swore they were about to pop out of your sockets. you had never heard a royal (besides yourself) say such a thing. everyone always called you crazy for the path you chose, so you always assumed he felt the same way. 

“so, you don’t think i’m crazy?” you asked for clarification. 

he shook his head. “no quite the opposite actually, i’ve been trying to become acquainted with you all this time. i admire your work, and wanted to ask you about how you convinced your father to let you do such a thing.” 

your mouth dropped open. you were hating this man for no reason. your hatred was based on false accusations. 

“wow, i really know nothing about you.” 

“well, do you want to know more about me then?” he suggested. 

you smiled at him. “sure, i would love that.”

even though vuiryn was the one kingdom your father didn’t want you to become close with, it was hard now that you knew its prince was nothing like its king. its prince was exactly like you. he truly was the only one who could talk to you because of that. 

if that wasn’t enough convincing to allow him to become your ally, you didn’t know what would be. 

“i also have thought you were really charming ever since we met, so it’s not just that i wanted to use you for advice. i really want to get to know you.”

or maybe this was the beginning of a union. 

you hit him on the shoulder, laughing with him for the first time. “now hold on, we’re going a little fast here, buddy. let’s take it slow.”

[littlesparklight]

A little something inspired by my headcanon that Helen can mimic birdsong like she can human voices, and @red-moon-at-night lovely art of Helen with her pet birds :D

Paris cocks his head as he comes inside, the door closing quietly behind him.

He can hear the sounds of quiet conversation in Phoenician from the room across the hall, where the five Phoenician girls are working on their weaving. Their soft voices are accompanied by the gentle thump of the weft being pushed up against the already-woven cloth. It's basically impossible to pick out any noises from the upper floor from here, so if Helen is up there, he'll have to go look himself.

Discarding his cloak, Paris strolls up the stairs, humming quietly to himself.

It's been a good day so far.

Pleasant weather, he's gotten to spend some time with Hektor which has nothing to do with his brother's insistence he keep up with weapons' practice, despite that after that apparently Achaean fleet mistakenly passed them by two years ago and attacking Teuthrania instead as they heard only afterwards, none have come to bother them, or anyone else on the coast. The house has been finished for well over a year, and they're all settled in, now; Paris had been quite happy in his extended apartments, but it really hadn't been enough space when it was more than just him. This is perfect.

There's birdsong in the air when he comes up on the second floor.

Pausing there, Paris slowly smiles, softly clapping his hands together. Has to check himself - as if his body is now a sprightly stallion, eager for the grazing meadows - so he doesn't hurry down the short corridor, making too much noise. He doesn't want to disturb the birds - Helen would be able to soothe them into singing again, but by that point the moment would surely have been spoiled.

So Paris walks, and leans for a moment in the doorway to the most private parts of the house, delight warm in his chest.

Helen is seated near one of the windows, and there is only Korinsia and Astyanassa in the room with her. Not odd, given her raised hand and the bird perched on her finger, the gold band over his wings as bright and bold as his partially red little head.

Both of them are singing; bright, charming birdsong, trilling slides and rises filling the room. Expected from the goldfinch, of course, and echoed by his two companions still in the cage on the other side of the room. But Helen, too, her lips just barely parted, her throat subtly vibrating right around where the rosy shadow under her chin do not hide such a subtle detail on her pale skin, is singing just the same.

Not words, and not charmingly wordless human singing; no, it's birdsong, perfectly matched to that of her goldfinch, that's spilling past those soft lips.

It's captivating.

And more importantly, Helen doesn't stop singing; she knows he's there, of course, though she hasn't moved or looked towards him. Paris would suspect she'd known he was coming even before he'd finished scaling the stairs. She'd revealed she could mimic other humans' voices to him on their journey back to Troy, but this was a more recent revelation. Even more recent that she is willing to let him be present as she sings in this way. It's still odd to think of Helen, confident, firm, commanding Helen, as self-conscious, but in this thing, odd as it admittedly is, she is.

But it's delightful, and Paris hopes she might one day feel less embarrassed by it. Especially as it clearly brings her joy; her eyes are shining, a reflection and mirror for the unstained sky outside, her mist-coloured eyes having taken on a blue tint to match the tiniest bit of soft, upwards curl in the corners of her mouth.

The only reason Paris can tear himself from the sight is that he has an idea, and it demands to be explored.

Once more Paris has to ensure to walk calmly, so as to not spook the bird even if it mostly seems focused on its mistress. There's no need to go far; he's left one of his small lyres on the couch nearby, from yesterday evening. Taking a moment to ensure it's still tuned right, Paris strokes the finely polished cedar. With his back to Helen and the birdsong filling the room, it would be easy to think it's only Helen's pet birds that are making noise.

But it isn't.

Paris turns around only slowly, eyes closed as he listens to melodies that have become intimately familiar in the last couple years.

Of course, he's heard plenty of song from wild goldfinches, especially in the greenery of mountain meadows as he was herding, but that's one thing. He's also heard the melodies in passing in the palace; a couple of his father's concubines keep birds as pets, and the goldfinch was one of the more popular ones. It'd been easy make sure Helen could get a couple more aside from the two she's decided to bring with her. Paris had been relieved and also rather surprised - is still so, in all honesty - that the birds had taken the trip well, despite its length. But as familiar as he is with them, it's yet another thing entirely to live with them nearby, especially the few Helen like to keep in the cage in this room.

There's another room on the bottom floor that's fully dedicated to Helen's birds; she has a small collection of them now, just as she'd had in Sparta.

So, Paris is familiar with the goldfinch's song, pretty as it is. But usually he's simply listening to it.

This time, after a couple moments, he starts plucking his lyre's strings to match with the birdsong from Helen and her pet. Paris opens his eyes to a startled break in the song, Helen watching him while her bird keeps singing. Smiling, Paris arches his brows and adds a more playful trill of his own. Helen, her eyes shining, laughs softly.

She opens her mouth again, catching her bird's flagging attention as she goes back to singing. She doesn't turn back to mostly face the window, though; instead she sits facing him, the earlier lurking smile now a blooming blossom on her lips as their curious little duet fills the air with music.

[flecks-of-stardust]

Avengeance: Chapter Four

Chapter four and the final chapter of a multi-chapter Rain World short story about Artificer.

Content warning for copious amounts of gore, in particular eye trauma, and for mentions of hallucinations. Contains spoilers for Artificer's campaign; read at your own discretion.

Read this chapter on AO3.

Some cycles, she wakes with the sensation of her pups suckling at her, with her mate pressed against her back. A phantom warmth of those moments long ago, one that vanishes the moment she opens her eye to the dreary world without them. Sometimes, she keeps her eye closed, if only to savor those moments for a little while longer. 

She scratches at her left eye as she gets up, picking up her spear with her other paw. The wound scarred long ago, the skin there ridged and rugged, forever sealing that eye shut. She caught a glimpse of herself, once, when she dared approach a pool of water deep enough to show her reflection, but she turned away when her pup, with their eyes clawed out, came to sit next to her. Beauty has no use to her; all the better if her face strikes terror into the hearts of scavengers. 

The blinking golden… thing brushes against her head as she slithers out of her den, and she bats it away with a huff. “Citizen ID drone,” as that pink… metal… creature. Iterator. As that iterator had called it. She doesn’t even remember when it started following her, or why, but its incessant presence has been little more than a nuisance. It has not done anything for her but attract the attention of scavengers, which initially mistake its glimmering exterior for a pearl. Though she’s by no means unused to spears flying past her face, she would rather have more time to prepare for the onslaught. 

It at least opened the gate into this area for her, though she would have found a way in, sooner or later, if the scavengers crawling throughout this maze of a region are any indication. It matters little now, either way. She’s here, and she will see this business through. 

The closer to this area she got, the more defensive the scavengers became, almost as if they were trying to protect something. Wherever she encountered them, they would cluster around certain exits, inevitably making it so she had to dispose of their bodies first before she could explore the region ahead. The last group fought tooth and nail—quite literally, after she disarmed the last scavenger—to keep her from entering this area. She must be close. 

The stench of scavengers hits her nose the moment she emerges into bright daylight, and she snorts to clear her airways as she flings a bomb at the closest source. A yip of terror is cut short, followed by the cold sprinkling of blood onto her head; she slides out of the pipe, shaking her fur out, before wandering over to the nearest body and taking a bite out of it. The scavengers here are plumper than usual, their fur lusher than those in the areas below. It scratches her throat as she swallows, but she continues eating the corpse anyway. She can’t be bothered to skin it. 

She takes a moment to observe the distant landscape as she grooms herself, licking the blood off her paws. Never could she ever have dreamed of being above the clouds, in this strange place filled with towering structures that, despite their identical grey and red exteriors, appear to serve a purpose she does not care to comprehend. The pink creature—the iterator—proves as much. Despite being made of metal, there is something strangely… lively about it, particularly considering how it grabbed her and flung her at the exit pipe while shouting at her to leave. Though that was partially her fault; she was curious about its face. It had not taken kindly to her prodding at it. 

It had all but commanded her to deal with the scavenger population here. She had no reason to disagree, so she did as she was told. She spent a while simply killing every scavenger she met, tearing their throats out and throwing their bodies at the local lizard population, but eventually, she found her way here, some place high up above everything else. 

She climbs, squinting in the bright sunlight, up the wall of the structure in front of her and along the sloped ground beyond, and perches at the apex of the pole protruding from the top of the structure as she admires her surroundings. The endless sea of clouds, set beneath a deep blue sky… This is truly a beautiful place, even despite the endless hordes of scavengers stinking up the area. It would be nice to watch the sun set from here; whenever the rains were soft enough, her pups always enjoyed watching the sky shift between the dizzying blur of blues, purples, and reds. And, there is no rain here, so she could have let them stay up all night, watching them scamper around under the light of the moon as she laid next to her mate.

All broken dreams, none of which can be fulfilled. She scratches at her eye again; the skin there is unusually itchy this cycle. 

The reek of scavengers from below is much stronger than anywhere else she has been to in this area. She’s grown to recognize this scent marker: it is one of importance, placed where the path is heavily traversed, for one reason or another. But there is also a second smell, one that is familiar. 

She leaps down from the pole, clambering down to where the scent is most potent. Every scavenger in this area bears traces of this scent. Even some of the spears she takes from their bodies have it, a musky, putrid odor that makes her nose itch. The more recent ones she had encountered smelled more strongly of it than the others, too. Whatever scavenger resides here must hold a certain level of influence. 

A growl builds in her throat as she drops down to the base of the structure, landing right in front of a dim entryway illuminated by scavenger lanterns. The culmination of all she’s striven to do… it shall be here. She can smell it. 

The gold drone floats silently behind her as she enters the room, brushing her way past chains of pearls hanging from the ceiling and piles of spears lying on the floor. In the center of the room, atop a raised platform, is a brown scavenger wearing the most ornate mask she has ever seen. It stares at her, orange eyes burning with equal parts fury and knowledge. She returns the stare with a hiss, clenching her spear tighter as she marches closer. It has a drone, too, a dark red one that flashes at her as she approaches. Her own doesn’t react to it, still drifting uselessly behind her; she opts to ignore both. If it hadn’t been helpful before, it won’t be helpful now.

She jumps up onto the platform, brandishing her spear and glowering down at the scavenger. Unlike all the others, it continues staring at her, not making any moves to fetch a weapon. Instead, it gestures toward the exit, making an ushering motion with its paws. Its gaze is unwavering, unnervingly wise, staring deep into her. 

For a brief moment, her resolve falters. Why isn’t it attacking her? After all she’s done to its species, why would it hold back? 

… but after all they’ve done to her family, why should she hold back? With a snarl, she thrusts the spear towards the scavenger’s chest. 

No other scavenger has ever moved this fast. She barely has time to blink before it’s gone, having leaped off the platform to the field of weapons below. In a flurry of movement, it’s next to her again, spear aimed towards her neck. She knocks it away with her own, bomb jumping away as it follows the move with a second spear. A dark gratification blossoms in her chest as she lands, skidding slightly before charging back towards the scavenger, grabbing a bomb off the ground as she runs. It’s time for her to settle this. 

The scavenger is fast, but she’s faster; for every spear it sends her way, she retaliates with two, flipping over and away from its attacks. Her first few hits glance off its armor, metal clashing against tough chitin with a loud screech. But she presses on, throwing spear after spear, and as the scavenger tires, one of her spears connects, sinking deep into its abdomen. It staggers and falls to the ground, clutching at the spear; she growls in satisfaction, picking up another spear as she approaches it. 

Her left eye prickles. Instinctively, she ducks; a crackle of electricity sounds behind her. The chattering of scavengers echoes through the room, interspersed by the clinking of metal against metal. She snarls at the crowd, staring them down. She’ll kill the reinforcements too. 

But the scavengers make no further move to attack her. She glances back at the electric spear, now lying harmlessly on the floor, then back at the ornate scavenger, which is dragging itself across the floor away from her, its chest heaving. One of the scavengers steps closer, reaching for the ornate scavenger’s paw, but looks at her and backs away again.

She looks at the electric spear again. Time seems to slow as she walks towards it, picking it up and holding it in both paws. Glimmers of blue and green dance in her vision as she turns, staring down at the ornate scavenger.

All of this, all this time. It was all for her family. For her mate. For her pups. 

Even the scavengers are silent, just this once, as she approaches the ornate scavenger, tugging the mask off its face. It paws at her, fumbling for the mask, but she kicks it away. Without it obscuring its face, the fear in its eyes is obvious.

She can smell her pups, their milky scents wreathing around her. She can feel her mate, a comforting presence pressing itself into her face, against her ruined eye. 

An eye for an eye. 

She lifts the spear above her head, the tip sparking blue and white.

She will make them feel the agony they caused her.

With a shriek, she drives the spear down into the scavenger’s left eye. It screams as its eye instantly burns away, writhing on the floor; she plants her paw on its chest to stop it from squirming away from her. The smell of charred flesh wafts through the air as she draws the spear back and drives it down again and again and again, each stab sinking the spear deeper into its skull, burning its way through its eye and its brain. Blood sloshes and vaporizes and burns, the acrid smell coating the back of her throat, but she keeps stabbing, keeps driving it deeper into the scavenger’s face. 

The tip of the spear explodes, taking the scavenger’s head with it. Bits of flesh and bone splatter in all directions. The decapitated body gushes blood onto the floor, unmoving. She stands there, broken spear still raised in the air, panting. 

Slowly, she looks up. There are even more scavengers now, more in one place than she has ever seen before. They’re all staring at her, frozen in place, eyes wide with terror. 

They’re afraid of her. 

She steps closer to them, paws splashing in the blood. They begin backing away, their chattering taking on a nervous tone she has never heard before. 

They’re running away from her. 

She can’t let them get away.

The remainder of a cycle is a blur of blood and screaming as she chases the scavengers down. One by one, she kills them all, whether by a spear to the neck, a bomb to the face, or merely grabbing onto them and tearing their chest open. They shriek, they struggle, they writhe, but they all fall as she sweeps through the area, wading through blood and gore and bone. When night falls, nothing comes to challenge her. 

Now alone, she wanders. Her paws, unsteady and shaky, take her back to the pole atop the domed structure. Her fur slick with blood, she slips as she climbs, but she eventually makes her way up, clinging to the metal numbly as she stares out across the roiling sea of clouds. Her drone blinks beside her, the dull red glow mimicking the green flashes in the distant cloud cover.

She did this for her family. She did this to avenge them. She has avenged them, now. No scavenger will ever… 

Her paws slip. She lets herself slide down the pole, limply resting at the bottom. 

She has avenged them…? 

Chapter one | two | three | four

[leggerefiore]

How would the submas react if their s/o who was watching one of their battle get accidently hurt by an attack?

cw: injuries

▲Ingo▼

● The Subway Boss had invited you to ride alongside him on his line for extra company. As of late, there had been few challengers, so unless he was on the Multi line, he often felt bored and alone. The last few rides had been spent with a clipboard and pen trying to get paperwork done on the side. This time, however, he quietly enjoyed your company.

● Of course, however, the one day he decides to invite you along is the day a challenger finally appears. The young trainer tosses out her first pokemon, and Ingo responds accordingly. You know much he loves teaching younger trainers. Watching carefully, the battle quickly grows intense. They're very obviously even matched, the thrill it gives Ingo is apparent with those familiar with his subtler expressions. You get a bit closer, entranced by the fight. You get a bit too close, however.

● An ill-timed overheat from Chandelure burns you. The flames engulf your arm, hot and painful. You cry out and instantly everyone stops battling. The luring pokemon lets out a mournful cry and comes swinging beside you, yellow eyes boring onto your new injury. Ingo rushes over to you and assesses the wound. The trainer calls back their pokemon and looks around nervously. “Ah – Emmet wouldn't be proud. I failed a safety check,” you joke while hissing from the pain. The expression on Ingo's face is not amused. His beautiful silver eyes bleed with worry. He dials something into a radio used for communication around the station.

● The train makes an emergency stop and a nurse who had been on the platform looked over your arm. It was a second degree burn, which wasn't good to hear. It was rinsed with water and a burn heal was applied. It stung horribly, and you hissed. This set off Ingo, who was still panicking for it all. Chandelure's flames on their body didn't burn necessarily. They were warm, but no, unpleasantly so. You could stick your hand in their flames without risk of burns. When they attacked, however, those flames were no different from a fire lit by a spark. The poor pokemon had been crying since it happened, genuinely upset they had hurt their precious trainer's, the one that held them as Litwick while their flame was at its weakest point, partner.

● A bandage was applied, and you are commanded to take some painkillers and not mess with it. Specifically commanded not to pop the blisters or put ice on it. You nodded as walked over to Ingo. Chandelure backed away from you, their eyes sad. “It's alright,” you reassured the chandelier pokemon, “this wasn't your fault. I'll get better!” The ghost-type still was sheepish about it. You directed your attention to your guilty looking boyfriend afterwards. “Ingo, don't blame yourself. I shouldn't have got so close,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

● “I should have noticed sooner and told you to move back,” Ingo took a shaky breath, “I hate the very idea that I caused you any pain, my love. I‐” You silenced him with a kiss before nuzzling your nose to his. A deep eye contact was made. “Ingo, if you want to make it up to me, how about we get lunch together? And some ibuprofen. My arm hurts.” He nodded. Chandelure was called back into his ball. The hand of your uninjured arm when taken into a soft hold, the fabric of his gloves pleasant. “Now, where would you like to go?”

▽Emmet△

○ You were on his line, as he usually has you for one reason or another. Recently, it had been partially due to his lack of challengers and how lonely he had felt on it. You leaned your head onto his shoulder while he pulled you close. A soft hum reverberated through his body as the train's sway was a pleasant sensation. Should anyone walk in, it would be much better than what had happened the other times.

○ Though, your thought seemingly summoned someone as the door slid open. The trainer grinned at Emmet, clearly a repeat challenger. The younger twin hopped up to their silent challenge. Four pokemon took to the field, and an intense battle began. You were completely stunned by how evenly matched the battle was. Emmet clearly enjoyed the thrill that he could actually lose. Wrestling a victory was always more fun than an easy sweep. Your interest moved you closer to the match.

○ This, unfortunately, put you close to his Eelektross, who was too caught up in battle to notice how close you had got. A use of discharge by the electric type led to you getting shocked. One moment, you were awake and alert, then in the next you were lying on a bench in the on train with a panicked Emmet leaning over you with glossy eyes. Tears hit your face as you shook your head. Emmet's hands cupped your face, “Darling, you're awake! Oh, darling! How many fingers is this?” He held up two. You answered him, and he cooed. Carefully, you were sat up. The challenger sat on the other side with a relieved expression.

○ The train stops at an emergency platform, and Emmet walks you off, your steps are unsteady, so you lean on him. You are walked through a series of tunnels until you're back at the main station. A nurse who was on her lunch break looks you over and deems you alright, but still recommends visiting a doctor as soon as you could. You just hold on to Emmet. One of his pokeballs shakes until Eelektross comes out. Never before have you seen such a sad eel. They cry and wrap their limbs around you, making odd groans and growls. Emmet panics and goes to recall them, but you stop him. You coo at the pokemon and reassure him you're fine, and it isn't his fault. The pokemon cries more and holds you closer.

○ Eventually, Emmet sends Eelktross back into his pokeball, and you giggle as he latches on to you instead. Kisses are dotted across your face while he whimpers and sobs quietly, begging for your forgiveness. “I failed to do a safety check! You could have died!” He cries, leading you away to his office. You shake your head. “Em, I'm fine, aren't I? Don't blame yourself,” you coo back at him with a weak kiss to his forehead. He grasps you tighter. At least half an hour is spent cuddling on the couch in their office. Once the younger twin feels confident again, he pulls away.

○ “I'm taking you to that nice bakery!” He announces, writing down something and laying it on Ingo's desk, “You can buy whatever you want there.” You laugh. Emmet would use treats to cheer you up. “Mmm… I'll put you into debt,” you warn jokingly. He shakes his head and places his hands on his hips firmly, “Gladly! I want you happy!" His hand grasps yours lovingly as he leads you away from the office. You still needed to see a doctor.

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Songbird Part 2

Part 1 here

Just remember… you asked for this.

@im-a-wonderling and @shieldmaiden-of-gondor thanks for all your advice and letting me break your hearts on this one ❤️

TW: implied violence, blood, general angst

—————

12:54pm- Villain abandoned Hero to Supervillain’s mercy, his ears ringing with her final taunt: I had a canary once… had to clip its wings.

1:17pm- Villain burst through the doors of his lair, shouting for Sidekick and his henchmen to gather for a rescue mission.

2:25pm- Sidekick physically restrained Villain to keep him from going after Supervillain plan-less and powerless.

2:32pm- Villain contacted the Hero Agency, demanding immediate action in rescuing of one of their most valuable heroes.

4:58pm- A letter arrived informing Villain that Hero was no longer an employee of the Hero Agency due to blatant disregard of Agency orders concerning the destruction of a certain superpower-duplication device, and as such was no longer their concern.

4:59pm- Sidekick and 5 henchmen pinned Villain to the ground before he could attempt to obliterate the Hero Agency. He gave two of his henchmen a bloody nose with his flailing limbs before they convinced him that storming the Hero Agency’s base while he was powerless would do nothing to help Hero.

5:28pm- Superhero appeared at the back door of Villain’s secret lair, murder in her eyes as she ripped the Hero Agency’s message to shreds and demanded to know what the plan was.

5:49pm- Superhero crossed out 90% of their plan, insisting that henchmen casualties were still casualties.

6:31pm- A mutually satisfactory plan was agreed on by all parties. A plan that depended on Villain regaining his powers.

6:54pm- Superhero and Sidekick ran the plan from every angle, trying in vain to distract Villain from the thought of all Hero could be suffering.

8:09pm- Villain felt the first thrumming of power in his fingertips.

8:14pm- Superhero set their plan into motion as she attacked Supervillain during her business dinner across town.

8:17pm- Villain blew a hole in the roof of the research and development building on Supervillain's base.

It had been seven hours, twenty-three minutes, and fifteen and a half seconds since Villain had abandoned Hero to Supervillain’s mercy.

And six seconds since Villain had re-entered the prison block to rescue his songbird.

Blue emergency lights flashed along the ceiling as Villain strode through the halls of the prison. He ignored the panicked henchmen that streamed around him, racing for the exits as the radiation sirens blared throughout the compound.

Superhero had been adamant that Villain only create enough radiation to set off the alarms, but if Hero wasn’t alive—he almost choked on the thought—he would make enough radiation to melt the entire block. If there was anything left to melt after he destroyed Supervillain’s nuclear reactor. The last few stragglers darted past him, either not registering who he was or not wanting to become the target of his wrath, as he slammed open the final door that stood between him and the cells where he’d last seen Hero.

The white row of cells glowed eerily as the blue lights continued to flash. He darted to the cell where he’d left Hero.

It was empty.

The air burned in Villain’s lungs and he grasped the bars, closing his eyes to block out the sight of a dark stain shining black in the dim light, partially obscured by a discarded blanket. The metal began to melt beneath his fingers as his head fell against the bars, the rage within him building to explosive levels.

Then, in the silence between the alarm's blaring, he heard it. A small shuffling sound, the rustling of feathers. His eyes flew open, desperately scanning the bright walls and dark shadows.

There.

A tiny ball of feathers and blue-black hair was burrowed in the shadows beneath the shelf-like cot.

Hero.

His eyes flicked back to the dark stains before returning to the quivering form.

Barely aware of his actions, Villain melted the lock off the door and nearly wrenched it off its hinges in his desperation to get to Hero.

He skirted the dark stain and crouched beside the cot.

“Hero.”

Wide dark eyes blinked up at him, tears of fear and pain mixed with blood in messy streaks across too-pale cheeks.

Hands that had melted solid metal now gently pulled his songbird from her little nest. He cringed at her whimper of pain as what must have been her broken wing caught against the support.

When she was finally free, her eyes found his. Her voice was a rasping whisper. “You came for me.” Her thin arms wrapped around his neck with surprising strength and hot tears soaked into his shirt as she clung to him. “You came for me.”

It was difficult to pick up Hero and stand upright at the same time, but Villain managed it. But the movement cost him a cry of pain from Hero that ripped at his soul.

He turned to face the door, but looked down at the thought of tripping on Hero’s long wings.

Villain’s stomach churned as he gazed down at the place his boots had disturbed the blanket on the floor. But it wasn’t a blanket. It was a pile of midnight-blue feathers.

“Hero—”

She shook her head and buried her face in his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut against the reality of her long dark flight feathers scattered across the floor.

The sirens cut off and the device in his ear chirped, forcing his attention away from the ruin of Hero’s wings that lay scattered on the floor.

Sidekick’s voice in the earpiece cut through Villain’s horror and fury. “Supervillain is on her way back.”

Villain narrowed his focus to the task at hand. Hero’s safety was his first priority.

“ETA?”

“6 minutes.”

Villain was already out of the cell and heading for the door, trying not to acknowledge the reason he had no need to worry about tripping over Hero’s wings.

“Sidekick.” His voice was ice.

His right hand was instantly on alert. “Yes, boss?”

“Make preparations to revert to Plan A.”

“Superhero’s not going to be happy.”

Villain studied the ragged ends of Hero’s wing feathers. The dark tips were completely gone, leaving only the smaller pale blue feathers coating the bones and muscles of her wings. Feathers speckled in blood.

“I don’t care.”

————

A black van skidded to a stop in front of them as soon as they crossed through the outer doors of the prison. Sidekick poked his head out the window, his face hardening as he took in Hero’s trembling form. “Get in.”

Later, Villain would have words with Sidekick about the chain of command and who gave the orders.

Now, he slid open the side door as he asked, “How many are left?”

Sidekick checked one of his devices. “A dozen maybe? They’ll be clear in a minute or two.”

Villain lifted Hero into the van. Or he tried to. Her arms tightened around his neck when he attempted to set her on the bench seat.

He reached up and gently tugged at her grip, needing her to let go, but unwilling to force her. His efforts simply made her shift closer, burying her face in his chest.

“I’m sorry, but you need to let go. I have to go and—” Her head shot up, catching him sharply on the chin.

He jerked back and Hero’s hands finally released him, only to twist themselves into the fabric of his shirt. Though she didn’t utter a word, her thoughts were plain as day:

You’re going to leave me again?

The sharp pain in his chest at the betrayal in her large eyes fought against the molten rage coursing through his veins.

Everything was in place. The compound was empty. He simply had to touch the nuclear reactor he’d created for Supervillain and her base would be no more than a bitter memory.

Sidekick would get Hero to safety, and with any luck, Supervillain would be caught in the blast.

Hero’s slender fingers fell away. Her head was down, her shoulder-length black hair forming a curtain around her face as she shrank down on the seat.

Villain glanced around the deserted base. Then with one quick flick of his wrist, the door of the van slid shut.

Villain settled onto the seat next to Hero, ignoring Sidekick’s surprised eyes in the rear view mirror as they sped off into the night. Hero’s arms found him again, and he pulled her into his lap, running his hand down her hair.

Villain’s words were a quiet murmur in Hero’s ear as they streaked through the darkness.

“I came for you.”

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@im-a-wonderling @shieldmaiden-of-gondor @watercolorfreckles @distance-does-not-matter @onestopheroxvillain @lolafaiy @chaoticgoodandi @1becky1 @tobeornottobeateacher @himynameisorla @superherosweet @brekker-by-brekkerr @crazytwentythrees @great-day-today @sunflower1000 @selectivegeekwithstandards @chibicelloking @trantolette @sapphiques @jinpanman @genesissane @wish1bone1 @amongtheonedaisy @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @glitterythief @jinx1365 @cherrychewingbrat @in-patient-princess @coolninjavoid @canigetanamenforbritney

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[writing-in-april]

Erotica Explained

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Summary: Spencer discovers his girlfriend’s writing.

A/N: Hey Heyyy- this is my twenty-sixth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April! It’s based on this request- and I did end up using a small snippet from one of my other fics! Sorry this ones out late too lol had a very difficult day. Feel free to leave me an ask here (I promise I don’t bite) Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Sub!Spencer, Unprotected sex, A little bit of grinding, A little bit of overstimulation, Creampie

Main Masterlist Word Count:1.7k

I don’t use technology often, if I can help it I don’t use it at all. But, I had to use it right now, there was something I needed to look up on the computer. It wasn’t for a case or anything, I was just too curious and too impatient to wait to go to the library.

Because I don’t use technology often at all, I didn’t own a personal laptop. The only one I regularly used was the one I was given at work, and that was done begrudgingly. Though I couldn’t use that one right now as I was at my apartment I shared with my girlfriend. My girlfriend however, happened to have a laptop that she wouldn’t mind me using.

When I opened up her laptop, it was already unlocked with a tab already opened. My eyes unintentionally quickly glazed over the page, my eyes widening as I flitted across the page. It was some sort of story, one that contained things that made me blush. At the end of what was visible without scrolling down it read,

His fingers twitched at his side when you blew cool air onto his length, you sneered again, “If you touch me I’ll stop.”

My own trousers started to grow a little tight after reading that, then confusion made its way into my face, wondering what in the world I was reading. I clicked around, not really knowing what I was doing and I fell into a wormhole of reading. It wasn’t until I glanced up to see who owned the documents it all clicked together. They were my girlfriend’s stories.

They were her stories about a slew of characters that already existed in other media, the first one I had read even happened to be about a Star Wars character- Poe to be specific. Once it all clicked together I slammed the computer shut, feeling like I had invaded her privacy. Then I swiftly got into a cold shower, ready to freeze my arousal and wash off my shame.

—-

My foot was tapping even crazier than normal as I sat next to my girlfriend. We had decided on a night in, choosing to order take out and watch a few movies on a rare night off for me. It was her turn to choose, and unsurprisingly she chose Star Wars.

“What’s wrong?” She asked me when I started to basically vibrate when Poe came onto the screen. I couldn’t keep it in any longer, the guilt was eating me alive sitting here while I watched a constant reminder of what I read.

“I’m sorry-“ She was about to open her mouth to probably ask me why I was apologizing, but I steamrolled over it by ranting, “I looked at your writing- the erotica you write. I- I think it’s about already existing characters? Which I hadn’t heard about before-“

She finally did get a chance to cut me off by calling out my name, getting me to stop my nervous rant, “Are you mad- that I umm am writing about someone who’s not you?”

“No! It’s natural to be attracted to different people even while you’re with someone…” I was already falling down into another rant, this time however I caught myself and found the point I had been looking for, “I actually think it’s kind of hot.”

“Oh yeah?” Her eyebrows had shot up almost high enough that they were up into her hairline. I flushed a little at that, feeling vulnerable under her gaze even though I knew she always kept me safe.

“I- um actually was wondering if you could do to me-“ The words died on my tongue when my eyes met hers again, and just by her eyes I could see that she knew what I wanted. She just wanted me to say it out loud.

“What do you want me to do to you?”

“Wh-hat I read- can you umm-?”

She didn’t let me stumble any longer, cutting off my stuttering, “You want me to do the things you read about to you?”

I nodded vigorously, but that wasn’t enough for her. She leaned forward, grabbing my cheeks between two of her fingers, then prompting me, “Use your words.”

I whimpered at that, remembering seeing it in one of her writings. I learned from the character, who had mouthed off in the fanfic, instead breathily answering, “Yes, I want you to use me like you wrote.”

Soon enough my clothes had been taken off by me as I had to follow her command to ‘strip’. She did so as well, then straddling me, starting immediately to grind on my cock. I moved my hands to her hips to try to get her to do something more, but they were quickly pushed off. She then pinned them above my head, leaning forward to whisper into my lips, “No you don’t get to touch unless I tell you too.”

“Yes, Miss!” I gasped out instantly, wanting to be perfect for her.

“Mmmm good boy.”

That made me keen even more, loving the praise she gave me a dash of, I craved her showering it onto me. She kept her course of action, grinding onto my cock until her own arousal completely soaked it. All it would take was for the head of my cock to notch at my entrance, she was so wet I could slip in easily. But, all I could do was wait until she let me have her. I’m sure if I begged she’d only smirk at me, so I kept my mouth shut and took what I was given.

She finally sunk down onto my cock, though it was excruciatingly slow. I tried to fight my instincts, keeping my hips flush with the couch so I wouldn’t get scolded for moving without permission.

When the backs of her thighs finally hit the tips of mine, I groaned unintentionally. She seemed to love it, starting to buck her hips enthusiastically at my response. My hands balled up into fists, knuckles turning white from how hard I was gripping them. It was taking so much to not cum already, her hands pinning me and how beautiful she looked above me making it overwhelming.

“Awww are you already so close? You love getting used like this don’t you?” She goaded once she realized how much I was fighting my release with my squinted eyes.

It took me a minute to find the words, as all my mind could focus on at the moment was how she felt around me. My IQ was completely slashed to 60, but I did eventually get out, “Yes miss”

She sped up her pace at my words, alternating from grinding down into me hard and bouncing vigorously on top of me. When she lent forward to give me a bruising kiss, she swallowed all the noises I was making, until she dipped her head down to mark up my collarbone. It was all too much; I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on.

“You’re such a good boy for me Spencer.” She gasped above me, writhing on my cock while she continued to bounce. It was getting so hard to bear, especially with more praise, but I wanted to wait until she came. She looked like a goddess, especially just as she was about to cum, which she soon signaled by saying, “Oh god baby, you’re gonna make me cum!”

All I could do was watch as she removed one hand from where they were wrapped around my own to rub circles into her clit. She tipped her head back, mouth dropped open in a moan, and thighs shaking as her orgasm washed over her. She shook above me for a minute, hips stuttering as she tried to continue the pace she built while her orgasm was ripping through her. Once she had come down from her release she then focused on mine, building the pace back up to be even faster than her original one.

“Go ahead and cum baby boy.” With one more swivel of her hips, I fell off the edge at her command, filling her all the way up with my release. She held my hands up above my head still and still moved her hips while I rode out my high. When she stopped her movements once I whimpered loudly out of overstimulation, she finally let go of my hands.

I let myself relax as she slumped over onto me, resting her head onto my still somewhat heaving chest. With my hands once again free I wrapped my arms around her middle, entrapping her this time.

Looking up I then noticed the movie was still going, completely unobstructed by our actions. It was towards the end of the movie already, telling me how long we had been going at it. Though I didn’t care that I missed it, I got to act out a partial storyline from it, even if it was a made up one. The movie could only hold my attention for so long, there was someone far more interesting with me.

“So are you gonna write some with me?” She giggled out while tracing her fingers up and down my chest, lingering over my sternum. Her proposition was an intriguing one for sure, especially now that she explained some of it to me. Though, I think my writing style is more suited for more of an academic setting.

I snorted a little, giggling a little myself, then brushing my hair out of my eyes so I could see them more clearly. When I tipped her chin up with my fingers and their eyes met mine, they were full of mischief. She was definitely trying to get me riled up again, but I had a quip back of my own, “I don’t think I’d be good at it- but maybe you’ll let me read from now on? I wouldn’t mind editing some as well, it sounds fun.”

Ask Me Anything

——

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Sub Spencer: @thatsonezesty13 @pastathighs @virtualpeanutartisanjudge @calm-and-doctor @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat

[marmarparadoxa]

Hi, I just saw a sorta controversial take on twitter and I really wanted to know your opinion over this- "Isayama only ever saw Hange as a comic relief character and never bothered giving them any sort of depth throughout the story." This was said in reference to how Hange was never seen venting off their frustation about Levi's decision in serumbowl(which they were clearly against), how they never expressed their anger and how this shows that Levi and Hange's dynamic supposedly turned bitter because of this. While its clear that post ts Hange was very heavily sidelined and we barely got much of their pov as compared to many other characters, but reducing them to a comic relief when they're so nuanced and layered just seems so off. What do you think? thank you so much for answering!

Hello! Hmm, I’m having difficulty picturing what exactly Hange “venting off their frustration” and “expressing anger” over Levi’s decision would have to do with them being given depth as a character...but more than anything, I don’t see what they could have to do with their character at all. Why would Hange, a grown-up mature soldier, vent off their assumed frustration and anger like some sort of vacuous resentful teenager?

As you said, Hange was clearly against that decision - they didn’t hold back from stating it. In front of Levi and everyone else, they unambiguously said they thought they should have chosen Erwin. But, immediately after, they also made clear that they respected Levi’s decision nonetheless. It was Erwin to entrust that choice to Levi, and Hange’s readiness to accept it was a sign of their respect for the military command chain, and for Erwin’s judgement in assigning the serum bowl to Levi.

It would have been interesting if Isayama had explored a bit more Levi and Hange’s feelings after that moment, how did they coped with the loss of their friend, after the serum bowl. Whether Levi ever told Hange why he chose like he chose. After Levi made his decision, I think Hange might have felt disappointed, and confused. Most of all, I think they were grieving, because they lost another friend, because they lost their guide. They were starting to realize that new responsibility which had fallen upon them. But I don’t see Hange holding any grudge against Levi afterwards. I think they always trusted him, and I think they respected, and eventually accepted his decision on that occasion too.

"this shows that Levi and Hange's dynamic supposedly turned bitter because of this" Hmm yeah, I guess that Levi and Hange being always together and by each other's side post time-skip, Hange risking their life without hesitating to save Levi’s, or their goodbye can all be taken as unmistakable evidence of how their dynamic turned bitter after the serum bowl lol

"its clear that post ts Hange was very heavily sidelined and we barely got much of their pov as compared to many other characters" I only partially agree with this. Yes, with the exception of chapter 123, Hange (and Levi) disappeared from the story from chapter 116 till the end of 125, and that’s quite some time. But I wouldn’t say they were sidelined post time-skip. If anything, their new role as commander, their new burden and struggles, the (ideological) position in which they found themself throughout the story provided Hange character with a new focus, new challenges, and an interesting development, which, even though a lot of fans didn’t appreciate, was something that, in my opinion, other characters from Paradis lacked, which gave Hange’s character new insights. If you’re interested, you can read my thoughts about Hange’s role post time-skip here.

And of course Hange was not only a comic relief character; they represented so much more than that. In a world dominated by hate and prejudice, they represented the value of learning, curiosity and understanding, of the wonder at the unknown. They embodied the spirit of the SC, and they also were a profoundly human individual. They were strong-minded, resilient and an idealist. They were brilliant and creative. Under a surface of apparent flippancy and their chaotic personality, Hange was tremendously serious about their fighting, unwaveringly determined, and yet still vulnerable. They suffered incredible losses like everyone else in their world, but they didn’t let this harden their heart. They gave strength to other people, they helped them stand up for themselves, and live with dignity in their lives. In spite of every defeat, in spite of all the grief, they always kept on being kind, trying to overcome hostilities, and never losing hope. They gave hope to themself, and donated it to other people too. In a story such as SnK, it was so important to me that a character like them existed.

[kiwikipedia]

In Where Plo's Sticker Habit Saves More Than Morale

Chapter 1: The Pros And Cons Of Point Giving

Chapter Summary: The Pros are that teamwork and positivity ride high. The cons are that the Pack doesn't know if they can count a thumbs up as equal to a sticker or if it should be more points.

Rating: T (Language)

Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (References to the Prequels)

Pairing: Kit Fisto/Plo Koon (Heavily Implied/its there and i guess no one comments on it), Anakin/Padme (But literally who didn't know that)

Extra Notes: Also on AO3 || AO3 Series Index || Original Post on my Writing Account

1/7 || Next >

Me, creating another fanfic out of the blue? more likely than you think.

forewarning, the consistency of using full vs partial names (either given or last) is next to inconsistent with everyone except like. Anakin, Obi-wan, Kit, and Ahsoka. I don't know why but sometimes my brain goes "it cant be just Shaak in this sentence. it has to be Shaak Ti"

And just like Turning Tides, this series will have a number of further notes at the end on top of my usual ending notes. These are totally optional, they just explain my writing process and why I chose certain points to put in. On AO3 this is posted under the series with the same name on my profile.

Is this somewhat crack taken seriously? yes. It's based on a post I made and the following conversation made via reblogs. Not sure if I'll have an actual update schedule for this one since its a more "at my leisure" thing at the moment

Edit: Hiiii just a reminder to yall that this is a repost from when i originally posted it on my writing account around a year ago. As of right now, a lot of my past ideas have changed but I didn’t want to change the original writings when i reposted! either way, enjoy the story!

No one's quite sure when it started, but everyone in the GAR (and some outside of it too) is aware of it.

'It' being the sudden appearance of a colorful (sometimes not, black isn't exactly the most colorful thing in the galaxy) and quite silly looking adhesive image attached to one's personal belongings— or even on their person.

And 'it' also being the sudden appearance of a certain High Council Jedi to hand you said adhesive image.

Jedi Master Plo Koon called them "stickers" and for as long as anyone could remember, he had been doing his task of handing them out as a sign of congratulations, of a job well done.

(x)

It was no surprise to anyone to hear Echo and Fives getting into a debate again— it was quite normal among the 501st, really. Everyone was used to it because that was just a sibling thing to do. It was something batchmates did and no one minded. That said, this time Anakin wasn't really sure what it was the two were going on about.

As he and Ahsoka walked over to the two ARC Troopers, he caught wind of the words "104th" and "Sticker Chart", which was already something that perked his interest no matter the context.

The 104th, aside from being known as one of the most fiercely protective Battalions (and one of the most likely to take any stray Clones in), was a battalion that always had something interesting going on within their ranks— outside of combat, of course.

(Or at least, according to some of the other Clones. Rex seemed to know the ins and outs of the Wolffepack.)

Glancing to his Padawan, who shrugged in return, the two of them approached the two clones— well, five, really, Hardcase and Jesse were sitting back and watching the two argue while Rex shook his head.

"What's going on here, Rex?" Ahsoka asked and Echo whirled around to both salute and speak to them. Rex didn't have time to respond, just shaking his head still as Echo cut in.

"General, commander!" he greeted before launching into his question. "Can we have stickers when we do a good job on missions?"

That made both Master and Padawan blink, looking at each other before back to the clones. They both knew what Stickers were— hell, they had gotten a number of them before from the so-called Sticker Giver when they were both initiates— but they had no idea where this had come from.

(The truth was that the two of them were still getting stickers, Ahsoka got them for basically breathing in Master Plo Koon's vicinity. Anakin got them for when "you haven't been outrageously reckless, young Skywalker. Congratulations on a mission well done" and also for out-snarking Obi-Wan, which was a reward in and of itself usually)

"I don't really have an issue with doing that, I'll have to see if I can get some from Master Plo Koon," Anakin started when he realized he had been silent for too long and Echo and Fives were still looking at him with expectant and curious looks. "But where did this idea come from?"

Fives sighed, shifting his weight onto his other foot and crossing his arms. "Echo here caught wind of the 104th's 'Good Behavior' board. Apparently, every week, General Koon gives stickers to his battalion every time a mission goes well."

"Master Plo gives out stickers if you do anything that betters yourself in a good way in front of him," Ahsoka pointed out with a chuckle before blinking in realization. "Wait, Master Plo's battalion has a what?"

"Is the 104th a dog pack that needs a good behavior chart or something?" Anakin asked at the same time. Rex snorted.

"General, they are called the Wolffepack, remember?" he pointed out and Anakin sighed.

"I'll see about getting some from Master Koon," he said, shaking his head.

Ahsoka and Echo— and Tup, who was listening in, apparently— cheered.

(x)

Every Bendunday was, for the most part, always a wild day in the 104th and no one ever believed anyone who told them as such. Of course, the 104th had a reputation to uphold outside of the barracks— a reputation of a battalion who was fiercely protective and all teeth and claws to enemies. A reputation that made some initiates scared of their General by default, though it wasn't as if Plo Koon was looking to take on a padawan a the moment.

(They weren't so frightened to climb up next to him as he meditated or so frightened that they wouldn't ask him for a story about the one time Wolffe and the others suffered through a certain golden droid's story.)

Still, the reputation that the 104th— that the Wolffepack— garnered made people who didn't know Plo Koon and the 104th personally wonder if Kit Fisto was insane when he talked about having fun with them when he wasn't on duty.

The Nautolan really didn't know what was so far-fetched about it, though.

Really, the Clones were just teens and early twenty-somethings in standard years. The only difference is that they were stuffed in adult bodies and forced to act like perfect little soldiers for the Jedi and the Republic.

Kit knew that Plo Koon, gods above bless his compassionate heart, never would've ordered his men to do something like that.

"If you can save yourself, save your vod, save innocents, do it before you attempt to save me."

He remembered hearing the older Jedi Master say as such the first time they worked a joint mission. He knew that because he treated his battalion like his sons, the pack's downtime was never boring. Especially since Sinker decided that it was a good idea to put a giant (and by giant, Kit does mean wall to wall giant, over a hundred clones' names had to fit across the top of it) page of flimsiplast across one of the walls of the barracks' break-room like rooms.

(Kit thinks that they were originally made for planning, but Plo was more likely to do a mission brief in the large common area so all of his men knew what was going on.)

Sinker had shared the reason for his suggestion, of course. Armor could be shattered, broken, and tossed out. And water and sand and dirt could get into them, the stickers— those the little mementos and gifts from their general for a job well done— would get ruined that way. With the board, the stickers could stay undamaged.

Some of the clones, of course, still had some on their armor, sometimes they were too hard to peel off and stick on the board. And of course, what counted as a job well done was anything under Coruscant's four moons.

(Kit knows. Kit's gotten a few for muttering that Mace was pissed during one of the council meetings. Plo had slipped him a sticker depicting a cartoony Talz on it the moment Mace turned to talk to Saesee.)

But it was the noise that made Kit poke his head into the break-room. A debate was going on between a number of the vod with Commander Wolffe right in the center of it. In truth, it wasn't just the noise that drew him— the debate was loud in the 104th's barracks, but it wasn't like he could hear them all the way in the 272nd— but rather the fact that he was looking for the said commander.

He had been sent on his way over by one of the 104th's medics— his name was Ghost and he kept trying to sneak up on Kit, hence the name— who had known why he was at the 104th while they were on leave from the front. Or at least had a suspicion. It was always hard to tell with that one.

Still, if Ghost or any of the others didn't know where he was, then Commander Wolffe normally knew where Plo Koon had taken off to if Kit couldn't find him himself. And Ghost hadn't known this time so he had sent him to find Wolffe.

So, with all that said, Kit really hadn't had any trouble finding the room that Ghost was talking about.

"—Look, all I'm sayin' is that I have the most stickers this week," The Commander of the 104th was saying and the Nautolan Jedi blinked.

What in the sweet name of Chaos were the Troopers talking about this time?

Sure, Kit knew all about Plo Koon's sticker-giving habit (who didn't?), but despite that, he had no idea what Wolffe was talking about, really.

He, himself, had gotten more than a few over the time the two of them were serving on the Council together. Though in the beginning, Kit was certain that half of them were to make him feel more comfortable with serving with the Mace Windu.

(Of course, Kit had been nervous at first! Unlike some of the other Knights, Kit hadn't really talked with Windu prior and he was famous. For various reasons, and he had admired the other Master's strength. Though now Kit could plainly state that those reasons were overblown and Mace Windu's so-called "steely gaze" was because he was suffering internally.)

Sinker seemed to be the only one who had noticed his appearance as Kit stepped into the break-room. Everyone else in the room (only about seven others) were busy either taking part in the debate or watching it.

Still, the white-haired clone gave him a slight salute before moving over to him.

"Good to see you, General Fisto," he greeted— Sinker always was more casual about greeting him. Once again, because of the 104th reputation, one wouldn't have expected the easy-going Kit Fisto to get along with the serious and fierce Wolffepack, but here he was.

Besides, it wasn't as if Kit was super subtle about how he treated their General. More subtle than Anakin would ever be (seriously, he didn't know the kid well but even he knew he either had the hots for or was already in a relationship with that senator from Naboo) but still, he wasn't that subtle.

Maybe he got let off the hook because he was naturally friendly and flirtatious. But either way, he was glad that Sinker felt at ease enough to act as casual and friendly towards him the same way that he was with Plo and the rest of the Pack.

"Nothing much, Sinker," Kit told the trooper, waving his hand in an 'at ease' motion, though he was already dropping his arm. "Any idea where your General might be?"

Sinker blinked, thinking for a moment before shrugging and smoothing down a wrinkle in his grey-colored, casual clothes. Well, uniform, really.

"He should be back soon," Sinker started with a hum. "Said he was going to…" he made a gesture with his hand. "Do something."

In other words, he wasn't in the barracks and Sinker had no idea where he was. Kit sighed but gave the Clone a slight grin.

"No matter, friend," he said easily, crossing his arms as he looked past him at his brothers.

"And I'm sayin' that you're an asshole," Boost was saying to Wolffe and honestly that was a bit fun to see as the two faced off.

Sinker glanced back as well. "Arguing over who won bragging rights for tonight," he explained without prompting, grinning a bit. "Boost's just sore since he has nothing more to go off of than what's on the board."

And considering what was on the board was a large number of stickers, Kit was curious about what exactly "anything more" could mean.

"But did Plo-Buir give you candy, Commander?" a Clone that Kit thinks had the name Comet (though he wasn't a hundred percent sure) shot back and he raised a nonexistent brow at the mando'a term. And grinned.

Now he had something more to throw in Plo's face whenever the Kel Dor was down (about his age, or his appearance, or not being able to keep people safe enough, or whatever got the older Jedi down) to probably cheer him back up.

Force knows that the Clones wouldn't be able to call Plo Buir to his face until the war was over.

"How about them pastries, bark-boy?" Warthog added on, arm slung around Comet's shoulders. "I think I win this one, this week, Commander."

"Wait if we're counting those Iced Doughnuts then I'm definitely in as a contender, those weren't just yours, 'hog," another Clone spoke up, brows furrowed.

"Check the datapad, Cable!" a second called and the clone before grunted.

"But I'm right here."

"Not talking about you, Data."

"We need a better name for you."

Kit chuckled, tilting his head a bit as the clone called 'Cable' looked up from the datapad they had been idly scrolling through. Sinker seemed just as amused as his vod scrunched his nose up a bit.

"Do we have a record of the extra actions buir has done this week?" 'Data' asked, arms crossed and Kit leaned against the wall by the door, settling down to watch the Wolffepack debate some more. Sinker did the same, apparently resigned to not winning this week. That or he knew he was winning and didn't want to spoil the fun yet.

"At various times this week, General Koon gave Decker a folded-paper star, Jumper got pats on the back, and I think Nex got a tunic," Cable started to read off, "Oh and Warthog and Data's pastries, though those were shared between them, Blink, Sweetie, and Ghost. Chilled and Wolffe both ate lunch with Buir, and Bell and Tine both got a thumbs up. And Comet got candy."

Cable paused, hitting a few buttons before shrugging. "But even with the conversion chart… Wolffe's still ahead of Warthog and Nex by two stickers."

Groans and yells erupted from the group, along with Wolffe grinning like a mad man with a shout of "I told you so!" directed at Boost. He saw Data sigh and shake his head, patting Warthog on the shoulder with a mutter of "guess we'll tell the others once Boost and Wolffe are done arguing" and Sinker snorted before snapping to attention as the door slid open— though none of the other clones seemed to hear it.

Kit glanced over his shoulder as Plo Koon stepped in, a brow raised behind his goggles.

"And what is going on in here?" the Kel Dor asked and Kit just chuckled. Sinker dropped his salute with a slight shrug.

"Sticker chart, General," he told him. "Just counting up the totals."

Plo Koon hummed, though with his mask it sounded like a reverberating rumble— almost purr-like and it made Kit a bt giddy inside.

"How close was the score this time?" the elder Jedi asked.

"Wolffe won by two stickers over Warthog and Cable, I think," Kit offered, "Whatever that means."

"Ah."

The two Jedi Masters lapsed into silence before Plo Koon glanced at him. "Was there something that you needed me or the 104th for, Master Fisto?"

Ha! As if the Kel Dor didn't know why he was there.

Ah, but then again, Plo was more reserved than Kit was, and he respected that. At this point, he wasn't sure if Plo Koon was just interpreting the Code differently than the others, or if he was straight up ignoring part of it. He also had no idea how many of Plo's "boys" knew or not— because Shaak Ti did and he was pretty sure Mace and Yoda did too, but once again, no one really said anything about it.  Maybe it was because neither of them were obsessive over the other— or that Plo Koon would literally take a blow from the GAR, because over half the Clones would follow him if he had to leave the Order.

Kit chose to wave off the question instead, however. "Nothing pressing," He told him easily. "My attempt to bother Mace into another duel was thwarted by one of his migraines and I prefer to not be on the business end of his lightsaber."

Another hum came from the Kel Dor before tilted his head a bit. "We should go and check on him, perhaps."

"Hey, I just said that I don't wanna be on the other end of his lightsaber," Kit huffed, but Plo paid him no mind as he turned and opened the door again.

"Oh and Sinker?" Plo Koon called after they had stepped outside of the meeting room, glancing over his shoulder. "Give Wolffe my congratulations."

"Yes sir!"

Sinker grinned as the door slid closed as Kit followed Plo out despite his earlier comment about not wanting to deal with Mace Windu, hands swinging in an at ease manner at his side.

He fell in step with the older Jedi easily, sparing a glance down at the smaller male next to him. In comparison to him, though, Plo's hands were resting inside the sleeves of his robes, clasped before him as he walked. He faced forwards again, humming a bit as they walked.

He blinked suddenly, as a thought came over him and he turned to look back down at Plo again.

"Hey, you haven't given me a sticker in a while."

Plo Koon snorted. "Oh please, Kit," he said back loftily. "You know that's a lie."

Kit only grinned. "Yeah. But I still want one. And maybe something else too."

The Kel Dor only hummed. "Perhaps if you don't cause trouble during the Council Meeting tomorrow."

"My version or your version of causing trouble?"

"No bringing live fish into the meeting and eating them while staring Obi-Wan in the eyes, he has enough on his plate, don't give him another reason not to sleep."

"It was one time!"

"One time too many, Kit."

Hey im PloKit trash because I love my boys and thats the fucKING TEA.

Anyways, Plo's age is funky at best. Dorin has a really similar rotation to the standard one, Plo states hes 382 in Kel Dor Years (Dorin years), but Plo is apparently accepted to be Qui-Gon's age? I don't get it. Math is hard. IMO, Plo's very old but that's a discussion for later.

Further Notes:

In Numerology, Water generally corresponds to the vibrations 2, 7, 22 and sometimes 1 and 8. From what i can find, Kit didn't have an official squadron, but Monnk's Company is assigned to him for the battle of Mon Cala. If they were his official company or not, I have no idea, but here they are because I love All Of The Clones. They also had no number, hence the 272. So now Kit's got a Company in the 272th.

WAS NO ONE GONNA TELL ME THAT KIT'S 6'4" THOUGH? I THOUGHT HE WAS LIKE 5'7" OR SOMETHING

Also yes, there are going to be a number of oc clones because not everyone in the battalions and such are named.

edit: I've made some adjustments to the timeline because as Ive been writing it I decided I wanted Plo and Kit's relationship to be pre geonosis in the start and Kit wasn't on the council until after TCW started

[crowfootwrites]

Bruises | Part II [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

Part II of the Nestor two-shot. This part is significantly longer than the first part, but we get to see Nestor takin' care of business, so. Also, there's a Marcus cameo.

Warnings: implied violence; gun usage; language | Words: 1,861

Part I of Bruises

Two days later, you’re back at work, opting for a floral catsuit to keep your bruising covered. Your sides, back, and thighs are starting to look pretty gnarly.

Nestor had indeed taken you to the hospital and stayed with you while doctors performed a series of ultrasounds and CT scans to check for any internal hemorrhaging; he was on the phone for a while and you could hear snippets of angry conversation, likely with Miguel or Marcus about finding the guy that did this. When you were given the all-clear, Nestor had taken you home, insisting on you taking it easy. He had made dinner and curled up with you on the couch, trying to avoid jostling you at all costs. When the two of you had finally made your way to bed, his fingers gently caressed you and he pressed soft kisses against the deep violet bruises blooming across your torso. You saw the quick flash of heartbreak in his eyes at seeing you hurt, and you had curled against him, falling asleep safely in his arms.

It’s a Tuesday and it’s early, so the club is still fairly slow. You’re bartending tonight, thankfully, glad to have a large slab of wood between you and everyone else. You’re not sure what progress Nestor has made on finding the guy, but you still have your job, so you count your blessings and don’t ask questions.

Another blessing: the other bartender for the evening arrives, and it’s an intimidating-looking girl you’ve worked with a few times named Morgan. All but the most confident (or the stupidest) patrons find her pin-straight black hair, severe makeup, and perma-frown a little daunting. No one ever fucks with Morgan and you’re glad to have her beside you for the night.

Things start to pick up around 11 and suddenly, it’s busy, even for a Tuesday. Morgan leans over to remind you about the drink special your boss is promoting, and you groan internally, knowing the tips are the only thing making it worth your while. You and Morgan make a good team, supplying drinks at a breakneck pace while club lights flash around you, obscuring most of what’s happening past the first row of patrons at the bar.

You’re throwing together a Jack & Coke when you hear it. The voice sends panic jolting down your spine as it requests a Budweiser. You stare at your trembling hands, a lime wedge clutched between your fingers.

You force your eyes upward and it’s him. The same slicked back brown hair, the same oily smile, even the same leather jacket. Your eyes widen and he looks back at you with a calculating gaze. Your immediate reaction is a desire to run. But as soon as the thought appears you dismiss it. The club is packed, and it would be easy for him to try something in the middle of a throng of people. No, the safest place for you is behind the bar, where other people can keep their eyes on you.

You force a smile that you’re sure comes out as more of a grimace.

“Sure thing,” you tell him, the pitch of your voice just a little too high. You hand the Jack & Coke to its owner, managing to spill a little on your shaking hands, then head over to the cooler for the beer.

You can feel his eyes on you and your stomach turns, bile burning in your throat. In the dark corner of the bar, shielded partially from view by Morgan, you can feel yourself breaking down. Your eyes flash around you in a panic. Everything and everyone feel too far away. You don’t see the bouncer by the door, and there’s no escape route that doesn’t take you past the man staring at you from the end of the bar.

You’re not sure what to do so you call the person you trust the most.

Nestor answers on the first ring. “Amor?” His voice is, understandably, apprehensive.

A whimper steals through your lips before you can get the words out. “He’s here.”

“Are you inside?” Nestor’s tone has lost all sense of worry. His words are clipped, business-like, and you know this isn’t going to end well.

“Yeah, I’m working the bar with Morgan,” you mumble, dropping your head into your hands as Morgan looks over at you with concern.

“Stay behind the bar,” he commands. “If he tries anything, break a bottle, get a paring knife. Whatever you gotta do, mi amor. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

The line goes dead and you take a couple deep breaths, glad that, despite what’s about to happen, Nestor is coming. You grab the Budweiser out of the cooler, pop the cap and plunk it on the bar top in front of him, not meeting his eyes.

“How’s your night going, babydoll?” The words slither out of his mouth deviously and you swallow around the knot in your throat. Your eyes glance to digital clock beside the register. Thirteen minutes to go.

“Busy,” you grind out through gritted teeth. You move to the middle of the bar to help a waiting customer, and the man’s eyes follow you as you make drinks. He doesn’t leave the bar. He sits and leers and you wonder if he thinks that he’s going to follow you out again at the end of the night. As if you wouldn’t have learned your lesson? Good thing he won’t be here ‘til closing, you think, as your eyes flicker obsessively to the clock, counting down the minutes until Nestor arrives.

Nestor, apparently, makes very good time when he’s angry, because you see him come through the door of the club with two minutes to spare. An audible sigh of relief passes your lips as his eyes find yours over the crowd and he makes his way to the bar. You bite your lip as your gaze lands on Marcus talking to the bouncer who has returned to his post. The bouncer, the same one who was working the night you were attacked, glances at you, then nods to Marcus. Marcus disappears into the crowd behind Nestor. You can’t help the tightening in your chest. This is going to be bad.

You come to stand in front of the man so Nestor knows who to see about their little assault problem. The man, still unaware of Nestor and Marcus’ approach behind him, winks nauseatingly at you and just as he reaches over the bar for your wrist, a firm hand clenches around his forearm and pulls back. The man jerks back on the bar stool and spins to face two vicious looking men in suits.

The man sputters, trying to yank his arm free, but Nestor has no intention of letting him go. “Who the fuck are you?” the man yells. You glance at Nestor’s hold on the man’s arm, his knuckles turning white as his grip intensifies.

Marcus paces around to the other side of the man’s stool, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. “We hear you like to hit women,” he says nonchalantly, bringing his mouth close to the man’s ear. His one free arm flies up, trying to hit Marcus, but Marcus was expecting it. He grabs it and yanks it behind the man’s back. Marcus steps back just slightly, drawing out his gun, keeping it low so as not to alarm the crowd. You see the added length of a silencer on the end of it as Marcus shoves it into the man’s side and you step forward.

“Not in here, please,” you beg, and Marcus smiles at you benevolently.

“Mija, what do you take me for? I would never,” he says, and you cock an eyebrow, knowing full well he would.

Between the two of them, Nestor and Marcus hustle the man outside as he yells frantically over the crowd. He can’t really be heard over the music, and no one appears to notice, likely assuming security was removing him. They take him to the back, towards the back door of the club that leads into the alley where he attacked you. The heavy door slams shut with a note of finality, and you try to put it out of your mind. It’s out of your hands anyway. It was out of your hands the minute you told Nestor about it.

You see Morgan looking over at you as you try to get back to work, willing your hands to be steady. She seems to know better than ask, though, and you’re grateful for that. Thirty minutes later, Nestor comes back in through the front door of the club, nodding at the bouncer as he passes. The crowd has thinned out and the bar is considerably less busy. Nestor makes his way over and you run out from behind it to wrap yourself around him in a hug. The fingers on your right hand find their way to their usual spot around one of Nestor’s braids and you give it an affectionate tug. It’s slight, but you feel him sink into your embrace, seemingly as relieved as you. You pull back and scan him from head to toe, your heart racing. He appears unscathed, but you do notice the tiniest drop of blood on his dress shoe and point it out to him. He frowns and grabs a cocktail napkin off the bar and leans to down to rub it off, as you release a tired chuckle. He crumples the napkin and puts it in his pocket, then caresses your cheek, tucking you against his body.

“He won’t be bothering you anymore,” he murmurs.

You sigh, partly relieved, partly concerned for Nestor. “¿Lo mataste?” you ask hesitantly, not sure if you’re ready for the answer.

Nestor pulls away to look at you dubiously, as though he can read you like a book. “You really want to know?”

“I feel like I need to,” you say with a shrug, but your grip remains tight on Nestor.

A hard look passes briefly over his eyes before he gazes back down at you with a lopsided smile. “We made sure he won’t be touching anything he’s not supposed to anymore.”

Your face contorts as you wonder what they did with the fingers, but you opt not to ask.

“And he’s not gonna come back?” you ask, your voice small. You’re sure Nestor can feel your heartbeat clamoring against his chest.

“Not unless he wants to die,” Nestor whispers soothingly, and you let out a heavy exhale. “And I talked to Jimmy at the door. He gets anywhere near this place, they call me or Marcus.”

Tears sting your eyes, and you sniff as you pull Nestor tighter against you. “Thank you,” you mumble into his lapel. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“So, what now?” you ask, unsure what a person does after they dismember someone in the darkened parking lot of a club.

Nestor pressed a kiss against your forehead, and you could feel his lips curling into smirk against your skin. He pulled away and met your eyes with a shrug. “Now we go home.”

[craomy]

A Serendipitous Encounter Genshin Impact: Xiao x Reader (Fluff/Agnst)

Genshin Impact: Xiao x Reader (Fluff/Agnst)

AN: Xiao is one of my favorite characters and I’m really excited for him to appear in the 1.3 update. This is one of the ideas I’ve had in my head for a while, and after writing it all, I realized that this story is pretty lengthy, so please bear with me haha. 

Please enjoy :)

Word count: 15,894

Trigger warning: There’s very descriptive writing of gore and mentions abuse.

-=+=-

Xiao wasn’t always known for being the Adeptus of Liyue. There was a time when the Yaksha wasn’t fulfilling orders from the oldest archon of Teyvat. A time where Morax had never appeared before him was when Xiao was suffering the hardships of endlessly slaughtering innocents, commanded by an evil archon. Although Xiao is around two thousand years old, he too had faced naivety and had blindly served as a puppet to perform cruel acts. With this, he had no solid foundation of what it truly takes to feel mortal emotion. Just what exactly did it mean to him? What could it all do to him?

✦

Red.

Xiao gazed upon the blood-soaked battlefield. The crimson colors of those he massacred was something he was very familiar with. Having felt no remorse nor any guilt of these deaths caused, everything felt nothing but natural to him. 

“You are an evil being. With that being said, you must continue to slay all of them to demonstrate your power until you reach your full potential.” The archon would remind the young warrior constantly. Although Xiao had obediently listened to his archon, he couldn’t help but feel curious when brought to the question of what it meant to be... free.

Mindlessly killing another town, Xiao’s piercing gaze had shot daggers through a woman who had clung to the feet of the demon. With begging eyes, the elderly woman had desperately reached her hand to grab his robes, “Y-You poor soul.” as she then dropped to the floor. Xiao was continued to stare down the now lifeless corpse as he repeated the woman’s last words.

“Poor soul?” Xiao uttered slowly. Confused, he took a step back for himself and looked back up to the burning houses. Realizing that he was no longer in his demonic form, his gaze lowered from the destruction he had caused. 

Did he really do all of this?

Since when has he been holding all of this adeptal power to himself?

“That’s right. You caused all of this.” A voice from behind stated.

Xiao turned around and had immediately knelt on one knee to bow to his puppeteer. The archon that stood before him had smirked, “Good. You’ve been so compliant with my requests, I just had to give you a lovely reward. More power.” he laughed as he awed at the marvelous sight in front of him. The disarray in the city along with the screams of innocents had brought nothing but music to the evil archon’s ears.

“Well done here. This is exactly what Teyvat needs. Soon, the other archons will have nothing against me. Having brought turmoil upon thousands really must be one of your specialties.” The archon turned his back on the young man. Xiao listened carefully to his archon’s next orders. “You know... I’ve been wondering about what your thoughts of these mortals are. With you killing them on my behalf, I ponder if you know what it means to understand their pain.” The archon went on, carefully eyeing how the demon would react to his words.

“They’re lowly beings of Teyvat. With no real intentions of their futures, they continue to slowly eat up everything they can get their hands on. They’re selfish humans that step on others to get what they want.” Xiao dutifully answered.

The archon was amused. He truly does learn well from what he had taught him.

“Well if that’s the case, there’s one last thing I’d like for you to do for me.” The evil archon turned back around to Xiao, grabbing Xiao’s chin to make direct eye contact with the demon’s amber orbs.

“I want you to learn what it means to love.” He ordered, making Xiao’s eyes widen slightly. “What? You mean the pathetic things those mortals do?” Xiao became befuddled. All this time, the evil archon he followed after instructed him to be wary of human emotions and to avoid them at all costs. Just exactly what made him think of such an absurd idea?

The crackles of the flames burned in the midst of the battlefield they stood in. The stench of blood was something Xiao was used to. Hearing the voices of humans pleading and begging for mercy was mundane. Looking at the mortals in the eye with his jade spear as they face death was what he was best at. To think that his last lesson is to... love?

“That’s right. I want you to find out what it’s like to love. There’s something great I must witness once you’ve achieved that, and it will all be a new experience for you to accomplish for me. Can you do that?” The evil archon let go of the young man’s face and stood tall before him.

Xiao must not question his archon’s intentions. With wincing eyes, he looked at the blood smeared grass with a pinch of doubt. This was nothing he wanted to take a part in, but if it means that this would be the last time to commit acts like this, then so be it.

“Your wish is my command.” He submissively answered.

✦

Some time had passed since the command of the evil archon. Xiao had been ruminating the words he’s been told and continued to think about what his true intentions might be. There was only one place where he can get his head out of the clouds and it was none other than the foundation of Plaustrite, the shrine that resided in the sky above Qingyun’s highest point.

Up there was the only place where he could feel...

What was the word?

The word “nothing” doesn’t quite fit what he was looking for.

Nevermind that. It won’t matter anyway.

As Xiao made his way up to his secret sanctuary, he made eye contact with dull (E/C) colored orbs. Liquid crept out of the young girl’s eyes as it dripped down her rosy cheeks. The way her (H/C) hair had been disheveled yet still perfectly framing her face was more than beautiful as it swayed in the gentle gusts of wind from above. The clothing she wore looked partially torn and shredded at the ends while remaining to compliment her beauty.

White.

She was wearing a pure white dress. A wedding dress, if Xiao could remember correctly. With the way she gazed back at the young adepti, Xiao recognized it as fear.

As expected. Many mortals would cower from his presence. But this time was different. His objective wasn’t to kill anymore.

“Worry not mortal. I’m not here to hurt you.” He stated with no ulterior motives behind his words.

The young girl that stood before him had felt tense but then sighed in relief.

“Thank goodness. You don’t look like one of the people he had sent.” The (H/C) haired girl had said out loud. Xiao had raised an eyebrow as he observed the mortal’s surprisingly calm features. What had she meant by that? Was she being chased?

The girl had taken another step back.

“I guess I can finally be free now.” She said with a solemn smile.

The young adepti didn’t understand her words.

Free?

The (H/C) haired girl had taken a decorative hair ornament out of her well-done braids and tossed it on the stone floors of the floating shrine. Xiao’s attention was still stuck on the alluring human in front of him. With the sun setting right behind her, Xiao’s eyes had suddenly darkened. His amber eyes widened at the realization of what this human was trying to do.

The young girl had taken a final step backward, feeling no more room for her to step on. Her graceful figure was something Xiao really couldn’t take his eyes off of now.

She...

She fell.

Xiao’s body had a its mind of its own now. Without even thinking, he leaped off of the edges of the Foundation of Plaustrite. His mind was racing as he took his plunge into the sky.

What the hell was that girl thinking?

At this height, she’s going to end up killing herself!

The adepti was in a race against time itself. It’ll only take mere seconds until the girl will face her inevitable death. White flowers that were woven in the girl’s dress had been falling out of place, but she paid no attention to it. In the midst of seeking out for her answer of freedom, she couldn’t help but think how peaceful it was to fall. The breeze had begun to feel harsh against her skin. The force around her began to pick up as she saw her teardrops flying past her. 

At least now she’ll be free.

She shut her eyes, thinking that she could finally accept death.

...Or so she thought.

As the girl plummeted through the clouds, her eyes had widened when she saw the young man diving after her. Time felt like it had slowed down for both of them.

Xiao’s head must be playing with him. He really is risking his life right now for a mere mortal. Yet, something in his chest felt like if he didn’t do this, he would regret it. Perhaps it was because he’s never seen something colored so brightly. The color of white, that is.

What was the word that could describe it?

The young adepti had made his transformation in mid-air, his mask giving him enough power to increase his descending speed to match with the falling angel. That dark aura of his had been able to surround him into what many people of Liyue would think of as a monster. An indescribable beast that’s comparable to a demon itself, at that. Xiao had tightly grasped the girl’s waist with one arm, pulling her close to his chest.

The girl had blinked in astonishment. She was completely stunned. She examined the man that wore the intimidating mask that concealed his true facial expressions behind it.

“Hold on tight!” He commanded, his voice slightly corrupted as he could feel his demonic form consuming him. The girl had nodded, holding on tighter to the young demon. In Xiao’s other hand, he swiftly summoned his jade spear and his eyes darted to his surroundings.

By the time he scoped the environment, he couldn’t find any other way to make a soft landing for the human. They were both about to meet the ground if he doesn’t come up with an idea to stop their fall.

Xiao clicked his tongue, finding the situation to be quite irritating.

All because of this foolish mortal.

With his jade spear, he quickly began to make a straight plunge into the earth. His grasp around the girl’s waist became tighter. He had a slight twinge of concern in his body. Seeing the way she reacted to him wasn’t what he had expected. Will he be strong enough to absorb the impact? Will this even contribute to his mission? Seeing that she’s wearing a wedding dress, perhaps she has an idea of what “love” is.

Yes. This mortal will do.

Xiao was focusing his energy when all of a sudden he directed his attention towards the girl and had became confused once more.

She’s... crying?

A loud crash could be heard from a far distance. The young demon’s weapon had cracked deeply in the crust of Liyue’s grounds. The collateral damage of the both of them with the field could easily be mistaken for an earthquake. The sounds of crumbling dirt had rumbled around Xiao as he tightly held onto the young girl, holding her bridal style in his arms. He huffed, feeling a little bit dizzy from using his demonic form. It was almost like his health was slowly deteriorating. 

Xiao stared intently at the remains of their fall. He couldn’t shake the thought that he had gone through so much trouble to save this suicidal girl.

The girl, on the other hand, couldn’t stop staring at the man who saved her. 

She’s never felt such gentle hands until now. She’s never seen such a mysterious being before either. Surely no one could have saved her from that height, so what was he exactly? Instead of fearing this new type of unknown, she couldn’t help but feel comforted by it. Xiao’s aura began to diminish on its own. As Xiao’s huffing slowed down, his mask had crumbled away into the air.

The girl couldn’t break eye contact with the handsome demon. She couldn’t help but notice the splatters of blood on his cheek. Was it his own blood?

Slowly, yet hesitantly, she brought her warm hand to Xiao’s cheek. With her thumb, she gently removed the small streak of blood on his face.

This confused Xiao once more. With the young adepti’s pride, he turned away from the pitiful human’s soft hands. “Why aren’t you scared of me?” He asked in a harsh yet bewildered tone.

The girl hadn’t shown fear around him at all, which was something new to Xiao. Usually, they would run away or cry for mercy, but this human was different than the others.

After all of the hardships that the girl had gone through, she was able to catch a glimpse of familiarity in his eyes.

“You looked like you were hurting.” She answered honestly.

The man was taken aback once more.

Xiao dropped the girl in his arms. She landed on the ground with a thud, no longer stuck in a trance. Xiao turned his back on the girl, trying to think of what she had said.

Hurting?

He doesn’t have any external injuries. Right?

The (H/C) haired girl turned her head and saw the jade spear pierced through the ground. Her eyes darkened, remembering why she had wanted to end her life again. “I can use this instead,” she muttered, grabbing ahold of Xiao’s weapon, trying to pull it out on her own with her own strength. The black haired man with teal undertones put his hand over the girl’s smaller ones, his gaze hovering over the suicidal girl.

“Just what are you planning to do with that?” He looked down on the girl with a serious atmosphere. She made eye contact with the man who had saved her without flinching. “You mortals are more than fragile. Why in the world would you jump off of the highest point in Qingyun Peak?” He scoffed, wanting to find out her reasoning behind all of this.

Ignoring his question, she glared at the man in the eyes, “I want you to kill me. Put me to rest.” in which he clicked his tongue again in annoyance.

“Why do you constantly wish death upon yourself?” He inquired, attempting to put up with this stubborn girl.

“Because I want to be free.” She said so confidently.

What did she just say?

Xiao was more than curious now with this human. A young girl who wants to kill herself for freedom? Impossible.

He let out a sigh, picking up his jade spear with little to no effort. “Fine. I’ll kill you myself.” Xiao flipped his weapon from the ground and around his arms to point it straight back at the girl he had just rescued. The girl had stared straight towards the man as he pointed the sharp weapon towards her neck. She had not feared him at all whatsoever, which irked the demon a little bit. If anything, she was more than delighted to have an opportunity to be liberated from this terrible world.

She was ready to face death head-on.

This bothered Xiao.

“But before I kill you, tell me what they call you.” He said, referring to her name.

She closed her eyes, “They call me (Y/N). At least, that’s what I want to be referred as.” she complied, awaiting her eternal slumber. Xiao shook his head, withdrawing his spear and casting it in the air to disperse. No longer in his possession, he had other plans with this human.

“Well then, lowly (Y/N). I order you to teach me what it means to be human. You don’t seem to be having much to do, so to make the most use out of you, you will explain your human ways. Only then, I will grant your wish.” Xiao finalized his train of thoughts with those words. Standing his ground, he continued to watch this human’s reactions towards his demanding request.

(Y/N) had no other choice but to comply with him. At least she’s in a better position now if she can somehow be protected by this powerful deity. Maybe she did want to do one final thing before she goes off into the other side.

“Since you stopped my death from occurring, I suppose I have no other options... but there’s one thing I would like to do first.” (Y/N) said with certainty. She wiped her tear stained cheeks as she wore a strong front. As she slowly rose on her own, she couldn’t help but notice the man in front of him wore a very elegant attire. The man wore a white sleeveless shirt with a black collar, dark purple pants, and dark purple boots. He wore black and dark turquoise gloves with gold decals and a necklace that looked ancient. Around his left arm, he bears a white and gold sleeve with red linings. The man had worn an Anemo vision on his left glove. As for his physical features, he was quite good looking. His tattoos had no longer glowed brightly as it did before, and all that was left was his amber eyes piercing through (Y/N)’s entirety.

The young adepti will find this girl to be beneficial to his mission.

(Y/N) turned around and was about to lead the way until she spoke.

“Also... Thank you... for catching me.” She said loud and clear for Xiao to hear. Without a sound, he nodded, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to see his gesture as he slowly followed her from behind.

✦

The two of them didn’t make much conversation along the way. It seems that the adepti preferred to keep his distance from the young girl. (Y/N) has seen that look on his face before. It was the look of someone who has been strong enough to endure such sufferings. She wasn’t quite sure if she should be getting to know him, but as of now, she was able to make peace with his presence.

“We’re here.” She noted out loud.

Xiao had glanced around his surroundings. It was nothing but burnt down houses and crumbled ruins. Completely deserted and sullen, it had somehow brought peace to (Y/N). Curious as to why they’ve arrived to this wasteland of a town, he continued to put up his guard.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, “Everyone! I’m back home!” she hollered, a shout that could be echoed far off in the distance. Xiao raised his eyebrows once more as he crossed his arms, “Are you even hearing yourself? There’s no one here.” the man bluntly commented based on his observations.

The girl shook her head, “I’m sure there’s someone here. I have faith in my family.” she said with a hopeful look. He slowly nodded, letting her believe in what she wanted to.

Suddenly, a tiny head had popped up out of nowhere. One of the kids climbed out of the debris of a fallen house and had gasped out loud. The young child had quickly jumped out of her hiding spot and had begun tearing up. (Y/N) quickly bent down as she opened her arms out for the child to run into.

“(Y/N)! You came back!” The little girl cried out in disbelief as she tightly hugged the older girl. (Y/N) had embraced the child, holding her close to her chest while stroking the child’s hair. Her strong demeanor seemed to twinge a little bit as she felt a wave of relief wash over her. After she pulled back from the hug, she smiled back at the little girl, “Oh come on. You think I would leave you that easily? I wouldn’t do that to you.” she cooed, a lump in her throat building up.

The little girl stopped sniffing and had beamed brightly, “Everyone! It’s safe to come out now!” she exclaimed, loud and clear for everyone in the ruins to listen to.

All of a sudden, many kids began to pop out of their hiding spots. From each angle and corner from the collapsed houses, children ranging from many ages had leaped out of their spots to come and tackle (Y/N) with loving hugs. 

“(Y/N)! Where have you been this entire time?!”

“You’re finally here..! We thought we would never see you again...”

“What about those bad guys that took you away? Where are they?! I’ll roughen them up if I have to!”

“Who cares about them? I’m just glad that our (Y/N) is back home!”

Xiao examined them all carefully. If he could remember, his puppeteer told him of something like this before.

That’s right.

This is what a heartfelt reunion is supposed to look like.

Xiao had stood on the side quietly as he watched unfamiliar facial expressions on the children. There were around twenty kids that had surrounded the (H/C) haired girl, happily welcoming her back home. What did (Y/N) possibly go through to find herself here? The adepti wondered what would have happened to these children if he hadn’t caught the falling angel. What would their reaction be?

Feeling a little tug on his sleeve, Xiao peered down at a little girl, no older than four, to be looking up at him. Not knowing what to do, he just stood there, staring back at the child playing around with his robe.

“(Y/N), who is that man standing right next to you?” One of the kids asked while pointing at the young demon. (Y/N) stood up with a child in her arms, “That man is... erm... His name is Xiao! He’s the one who rescued me from those bad guys.” The girl had quickly made up as the rest of the kids had gasped in wonder.

“What? Foolish human, I bear no title such as that. I am only a weapon of destruction and-”

“H-His name is Xiao! He was only pretending because you all like to play as pirates.” (Y/N) had laughed nervously as she walked up to the young man, “Please play along, they’re very innocent with no knowledge of what you’re talking about.” she had whispered, which made Xiao groan in annoyance.

How irritable.

“Fine. If that’s the case, then so be it. It is I, Xiao, the Mighty and Illuminated Adepti.” the man played along with a serious tone. To his surprise, all of the kids had gasped in amazement from what he had said. All of the children began to jump around him and ask him questions.

At first, (Y/N) thought of him to be a very cold-hearted person, but after seeing him interacting with the kids, maybe he wasn’t so bad.

“Wow your dress is very elegant! You look like you’re about to get married!” A little girl pointed out, amazed by how splendid (Y/N) had looked. “Who are you marrying? If it’s that mean looking guy over there, I’ll beat him up!” A little boy screamed as he ran over to Xiao and softly punched his leg.

This disgusted Xiao. Oh how much he wanted to kill this child right here and right now for thinking he had the right to insult him with such an act. His dark aura began to surround him until he looked back at the (H/C) haired girl. The kids must be very important to (Y/N) if the last thing she wanted to do was to see them.

Putting his pride to the side, he took a deep breath and looked down on the young boy that punched his leg. Instead of brutally injuring the boy in front of him, he walked and stood next to the young bride that took care of all of the kids.

“That is correct. She’s marrying me.” He said with seriousness laced in his voice.

(Y/N) had blushed, becoming flustered. “W-What are you saying?? Xiao, I am not-”

“She is. I brought her back here safe and sound. You mere mortals should be thanking me for sparing her.” Xiao stated, wrapping one arm around the girl’s waist.

(Y/N) flushed red, shocked at what this man was saying. He has to be out of his mind.

The boy that initiated the punch towards Xiao had his mouth dropped wide. Xiao sent a smug look at the child, claiming victory in his head. If he couldn’t win against him by making him succumb to death, then he will win by claiming (Y/N) as his own.

All in all, the kids had a lot of fun messing around with the young adepti, and (Y/N) was glad to be back.

✦

After tucking all of the kids into their ragged sleeping bags, (Y/N) was able to loosen up from her stress bit by bit. Xiao continued to watch her as she went to tend to her things. The young girl would get up and hum the children to sleep, while some she had talked to them and reassured that she was fine. The boy that had punched Xiao earlier came up to (Y/N) and tugged on her dress a little bit to gain her attention.

“Yes, what is it, Caihong?” the (H/C) haired girl smiled ever so gently towards the young boy. “Could you fix up my arm for me? The wound started to open up again.” he quietly murmured. (Y/N)’s (E/C) eyes widened slightly as she saw the size of the cut on his arm. This looked like a cut of a sword.

“Who did this to you?” she asked in concern.

“One of the bad guys,” Caihong quietly said. “but I didn’t lose! I scared them off so that they wouldn’t come to our hideout.”

Xiao watched intently as he leaned against the stone wall. Without any comment, he continued to stare and observe what mortals do in their conversations. 

(Y/N) sat the boy down on a chair and had plucked a translucent white flower from her ragged wedding dress. The scent it radiated was... pleasant to Xiao’s senses.

“What flower is that?” Xiao had inquired, aweing how it bloomed on its own. (Y/N) looked up at his direction and down to the lovely flower in her hands. “Ah, this is the Qingxin flower. It grows on only the highest peaks of Liyue and can serve as a remedy for some injuries.” the girl answered, giving Xiao one for himself to keep.

He took the offering and twiddled it by the stem. Curious, he brought it up to his nose to take a sniff of it. Its fragrance was nothing like the stench of blood. This scent was certainly heavenly.

After (Y/N) had finished taking care of Caihong, she tucked him in one of the only sleeping bags they had and sat down next to Xiao. The distance between them was enough for him to be comfortable. (Y/N) stretched her arms and had leaned her back against the stone wall with the adepti right by her side.

“Sorry for all of the commotion earlier. These kids aren’t in the best condition, but seeing them smile is enough for me to get by.” (Y/N) apologized with a peaceful smile.

“Where are their parents?” He inquired, wanting to know the bits and information to this mortal’s story.

(Y/N) turned away from Xiao, looking up to the sky above them. “They’ve fought and died bravely in the wars they partake in. Some of the children have been abandoned or found injured when I walk around the ruins. Kids of war need a happier childhood, so I decided to be the one to look after them. As the oldest orphan, I felt like I had a duty to fulfill.” She shifted her head to look back at the young adepti.

“I’m sure you must have a duty to fulfill, right?” She grinned warmly towards the young man. He stopped making eye contact with her and looked at his hands, reimagining if it was him on a battlefield. He thought about the mission his evil archon ordered him to go on about and thought about how he had always served as his god’s weapon.

Knowing that (Y/N) might be frightened if he told her what he did in the past, he answered her question with a nod. It felt a little bit conflicting for him to be around these abandoned kids when it’s most likely Xiao to be the one that annihilated those children’s parents. All of the orders he had received during war-- he had to fulfill them all. Even if it meant bloodshed among innocents.

(Y/N) could only admire how the night sky had glistened above them. “The sky looks better here when I’m at home,” she commented, resting her head against the wall.

Xiao looked around and could only see what meets the eye. “This place is a dump. This is not a proper place to call a home.” He bluntly stated. (Y/N) could see what he was getting at, but shook her head.

“Sure, this place looks terrible, but it’s those who reside in the place that can make it a home. Home could mean a peaceful and quiet place where you can happily live in. It’s somewhere that you know you can come back to, feeling cared for, respected, and loved.” She passionately spoke with fire in her eyes. That strong determination that shined in her (E/C) eyes was nothing like before. The time that he had rescued her from falling to her death, her eyes looked like they were filled with anguish.

Xiao tried to remember if there was ever a time if he felt what a “home” was. 

“I’ve never had a home before. Someone like me doesn’t deserve a place like that.” Xiao had closed his eyes while folding his arms. (Y/N) looked back at the young adepti with serious eyes, “That’s nonsense! Of course, you deserve a place like that. Everyone deserves to be loved.” she retorted, unconsciously holding onto both of Xiao’s hands.

A part of him had made him defensive, a bit startled from the sudden contact. Nothing fails to surprise him, at this point. This (Y/N) girl was full of surprises.

“Exactly what is that word? What is ‘love’?” Xiao thought out loud for her to hear. 

She looked a bit confused. Does this man really not know what love is?

“Well... love is when you cherish something so dearly. It’s when you have a special connection between you and another person. When you become so used to that, it’s like something you feel like you have to protect no matter the cost.” (Y/N) answered without a doubt.

That concept was nothing but foreign to the young demon.

“I don’t recognize it as a need.” He said straightforwardly.

She tightened her grip on his hands slightly, “One day,” she started. Xiao looked up to meet his eyes with the bold girl in front of him, “you’ll suddenly realize it. I’m sure of it. Everyone gets to feel it in some way. Once you do, I’m sure you’ll realize that it’s a very powerful feeling.” (Y/N) brought his hands to her head. It almost looks like she was trying to pray for him to find this peculiar light that he couldn’t see.

Xiao slowly nodded, still trying to get used to the human emotions that she constantly radiates. Maybe from now on, he’ll really try to understand her. Xiao looked back down, his hands enveloped in an unfamiliar warmth. He slowly pulled away from her hands and given her one of the blankets, putting it over her shoulders.

(Y/N) blinked in confusion, watching him walk away. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’m going to keep a lookout for you. Get some rest so you can continue looking after the children in the morning.” Xiao stated, summoning his spear out of thin air and piercing it in the floor. He stood his ground as he looked beyond the fields. (Y/N) smiled, wrapping the blanket around her even more.

How considerate...

“Thank you, Xiao.” she quietly whispered, finding herself to fall asleep in no time.

The young man’s ear twitched, hearing the name that she had given him. Not even the evil archon of his had given him a name. He looked back up at the night sky, holding onto the Qingxin flower that (Y/N) had given to him.

“Xiao, huh?” he repeated the name out loud.

That (Y/N) girl had been nothing but trouble to him and yet, a part of him wanted to thank her for giving him something that no one had ever done before.

✦

A couple of weeks went on as Xiao continued to stay by (Y/N)’s side. When he wasn’t around her, he would practice fighting with his spear outside. Some of the kids would watch him as he perfected his fighting stances and his attacks. In the beginning, Xiao could only feel stiff around the little kids running around him. He knew that he was a very powerful entity and a part of him didn’t really want to hurt this group of young mortals.

Sure, he was definitely cold towards the children in the beginning, but after hearing what (Y/N) had to say about them, he tried to understand them more. (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel grateful for him to be around her. Something about him made him much different than the other men who had tried to interact with the young beauty. Then at night times, Xiao would spend his time listening to the lonely girl and would ask her questions about what it meant to live as a human.

Xiao concentrated on his attacks while he continued to think about the past conversations he’s had with (Y/N).

“Happiness is vital to everyone. It’s something you can obtain in various ways, but in the end, it’s like a feeling you have when you sit back at the end of the day and remember those fond memories.”

“Sadness is when you feel a part of your heart missing something. Usually, it’s a reaction to something, for instance, a painful event. Eventually, that something fades away and becomes a memory. When that happens, you can’t help but miss that something that’s now unobtainable. It’s natural for everyone to go through it.”

“Loss? Well... Loss is when you realize that something you loved is no longer with you. It’s something irreplaceable and you’ll find yourself grieving over it for a long while.”

“Marriage? Well... I think it’s supposed to be something that brings you joy. You make a special connection with someone in a way that no one else can, and they can always be the one to be there for you. It’s where unconditional love begins to sprout and you realize you’d want to spend the rest of your life with that person.”

Xiao paused, stopping his spear in mid-air to remember something (Y/N) had said last night.

“It was horrible. A group of bandits were threatening my family. At first, I didn’t know what to do, but then I remembered something very important.” She spoke while walking alongside Xiao by the shore. Xiao stopped walking as he continued listening to the (H/C) haired girl.

“I remembered that I had a home. It wasn’t the best home that other people could think of, but I knew deep down that all of those kids needed me. They’re the ones that I love and I... I wanted to keep that. I wanted to protect them all from the dangerous world. So with that... I... I let the bandits kidnap me and sell me as a slave.” She smiled, but it was a different type of smile. It was a very somber smile.

Xiao was trying to register the emotions that he was feeling. He watched as she continued to keep up a brave front and as she continued to tell her story. “One of the noblemen in Liyue had passed by the slave carriage and had purchased me with his filthy mora. I was sold as a slave and this group of men began to... hurt me... in different ways. One day, one of the men had ridiculed my family and I became... very furious. There was no other way to escape but I continued to throw the rest of my words at him. It was all I had left to fight with. That’s when he decided to...” the girl had found it difficult to continue talking.

In the middle of her words, she couldn’t help but cry.

It was a very natural thing for humans to do.

Right there, she cried in front of Xiao, slowly losing the energy to stand up and just sat down with her knees to her chest. 

“I can’t forget the pain they’ve caused me. I’ve gone through so much abuse that I’ve forgotten what all of the other emotions felt like. It’s been so long since I had seen daylight, and by the time I was able to see the sky, it was on my wedding day...” She wept softly, her voice cracking. Xiao bent down, not knowing what to do. 

“I did what I had to do to escape. I had to poison him. Then in that very moment, I fled the ceremony. I ran as fast as I could to escape and I climbed further than I thought was humanly possible. In the end, I was able to reach the highest point of all of Liyue in the floating shrine above Qingyun Peak and right there... I found only peace. The world felt still at that moment. I couldn’t hear anything and couldn’t find the energy to think about the hardships I had overcome. If I had died then and there, it would have granted my selfish wish.” (Y/N) sniffed, burying her tears against her sleeves.

So this was the freedom she was talking about on the first day that they met.

Again, Xiao’s body begun to move on its own. He had slowly wrapped his arms around the shaking girl. She looked like she could shatter so easily. Someone so frail, yet someone so strong. A mortal that could continue fighting on, managing to survive after all of that. Xiao felt his heart beating a little bit faster once he made contact with the crying girl. If he could look in his reflection, what kind of face would he be making right now?

“Everything... will be alright. I’m right here for you.” He quietly murmured, digging his face into her neck as he embraced her completely. (Y/N) had been strong enough. She slowly brought her arms up to Xiao and hugged back.

Her (E/C) colored eyes shimmered as she tightened her hold. Her mouth quivered, then she felt her breath draw disoriented.

She bawled. Almost like a newborn baby. She shed many tears, it would be enough to fill a river. She clung to Xiao like it was the last thing she could ever hold. Xiao was enveloped in her warmth. This was different than him holding onto her when she was falling in the air. Now the time they’ve spent together had felt more special than before. He was a man of very few words, but his actions can tell a whole story. The young adepti comforted the (H/C) haired girl, not knowing what this emotion was in his chest.

“I’ll protect you, (Y/N). I won’t let those bastards lay a hand on you anymore.” Xiao promised, his heart tightening when hearing the girl weep. Hearing that some awful humans could do this to an angelic person had made him swear vengeance. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to wipe away her tears and hold her in his arms. He wanted to cherish her and make her smile.

He wanted to love her.

He wanted to be the one to make sure that she received all of the love she deserved. Xiao pulled away, missing the Qingxin fragrance she radiated. He looked at her with determined eyes, kneeling on one knee and one Qingxin flower on the other.

“(Y/N)... I swear that I’ll protect you. I’ll curse anyone who dares to stand in your way.” He spoke with conviction. Xiao has never knelt down to a mortal before. He knew exactly what the repercussions would be if he betrays his loyalty for his archon.

Xiao didn’t care anymore.

He wanted to be with (Y/N).

“(Y/N)... I--”

“Xiaooo? Are you there?” Caihong hollered, standing in front of Xiao. The young man had snapped his head out of the clouds. He looked down to see the little handful of a child looking at him ever so daringly. Out of all of the kids, he was the only one that was brave enough to mess with him.

“What is it, boy?” Xiao questioned as he stabbed his spear to the side, causing it to disappear in thin air. Caihong still awed in amazement from a very strange sight, but then shook his head. “(Y/N) wanted me to tell you that she needed some more Qingxin flowers to treat the injured kids she found. Since she has a lot of things to do, she was wondering if you could collect some for her.” Caihong told the young adepti his orders from (Y/N).

His eyes softened when he mentioned her name. 

(Y/N)...

He looked into the distance where he could see (Y/N) taking care of the young ones. She grinned cheerfully towards the children, then making eye contact with Xiao. To think that she was the same girl that had broken down in his arms that very night...

(Y/N) is stronger than she looks.

Xiao smiled.

Caihong couldn’t believe his eyes. The stern and serious man was able to smile??

“Xiao! You’re smiling!” Caihong shouted in disbelief. Were his eyes deceiving him? The young demon had stopped staring at (Y/N) and ruffled the boy’s hair. “I’m not smiling. Your eyes are deceiving you.” He spoke, denying that he was able to make such a facial expression.

“Oi! Don’t ignore me and pretend that I’m not here! Let go of my hair!” He cried out, shooing the adepti’s hands away from his head. The boy has never seen Xiao like this before. Perhaps a grumpy guy like Xiao really did need someone as bright as (Y/N). Caihong’s eyes lit up, remembering something important. “Oh yeah! (Y/N) said that she has something important to tell you tonight! I think she’s going to prepare her special almond tofu dish for you!” He happily exclaimed.

Xiao nodded, wondering what that would taste like. Well, if it’s anything that (Y/N) prepares, he’ll have no choice but to like it.

Maybe this is what happiness felt like.

In the past, Xiao wasn’t allowed to imagine things. The evil archon forbade it. Pondering and creating scenarios in his head wasn’t something he couldn’t do often, but he couldn’t help but think of her. 

He thought about what the girl had said about marriage. Would she be happy if he said he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with her?

As he made his way to get prepared to collect Qingxin flowers, he couldn’t help smiling to himself the entire way.

✦

Qingxin flowers can be found at any high point in the lands of Liyue. Xiao had no trouble leaping towards high spots in the air. For once, he had enabled his demonic form for something that wouldn’t cause bloodshed. He allowed his demonic form to make him lighter as he continued to collect the translucent white flowers that blossomed at his touch. Although he had felt a little bit of pain from maintaining this form, he knew that (Y/N) would be back at home to take care of him again.

With (Y/N)’s contrasting approach to life, the world seemed to become a bit... brighter. Xiao no longer drowned out all of the sounds to his ears as he did on the battlefield. For once, he allowed himself to hear the chirps of the birds and watch cranes fly above peacefully. 

Yes, yes! That was the word!

Peace.

He was able to find peace.

It was all because of (Y/N). He was able to allow more room for growth. She let him realize that maybe a part of him really was human. Xiao had held the Qingxin flowers tighter, thinking about the very significant mortal he looked after every day. Maybe he should get something special for her today.

He couldn’t get the thought of her out of her head. Especially after last night.

How could he tell her how he felt?

The way she makes him feel warm was different than any ordinary blaze.

The way she tells him with determined eyes that even he deserves a home.

The way that she somehow got the children to enjoy his company and make him feel like there are more things in life worth protecting.

The way she smiles so fearlessly in the face of danger.

He wanted to protect it all.

He wanted to protect her.

“Enjoying yourself?” a voice came from behind.

Xiao immediately dropped everything he was holding and withdrawn his jade spear in an instant. He pointed his weapon at the voice, only to realize that it was the evil archon himself. The young demon took a step back, “What are you doing here?” he spoke with a contentious tone.

This archon right here... Xiao never noticed this before, but he could feel the heinous aura that filled the atmosphere. Something about this random encounter with his puppeteer felt sinister.

“I’m just here to observe your journey. I’ve watched you from afar and seen you acting abnormally. Have you perhaps fallen in love yet?” The archon inquired, leaning in to detect if the young demon would react in any way. At the moment, Xiao was a bit hesitant to answer his question. If anything, he began to question why he continued to obey this archon’s evildoings. What if something he said would bring danger to (Y/N)?

If he says yes, the archon might be able to let him go and free him of his duties. No. That’s just him trying to be optimistic. There’s a high chance that the archon could use that as leverage against him as well.

“No. I have not.” Xiao answered, glaring with threatening eyes.

The evil archon chuckled, “Is that so?” as he began to burst out in laughter.

Xiao was a bit unnerved from hearing the evil archon laughing hysterically. Looking for a way out, he grabbed the flowers that he had been collecting when all of a sudden he felt a stinging pain in his abdomen. Xiao choked out blood, feeling his body being pushed against the grass.  His jade spear was summoned without his permission and had been pierced through his body. 

“Liar.”

The black haired man remembered this pain as he winced at the sharp object that’s causing his crimson blood to spill out of his stomach. He hissed at the discomfort the wound is giving him and he raised his head, daring to look at the archon in the eyes.

“Oh my. I knew this was a good idea from the start but I didn’t think it would turn out this good.” The archon brought his hand to pull up Xiao’s chin. 

“You love that girl, don’t you?”

Xiao’s amber eyes widened in realization. He knew where this was going.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” He shouted with anger seething out of his attitude.

The evil archon smirked at his puppet. “Don’t worry. I won’t lay a hand on her,” he chuckled, looking down at the young demon that was beneath his feet. “but I know they will.”

Xiao writhed under the pressure of his spear that pierced him. He needed to escape. He needed to get out. He needed to go to her.

“My my! What has gotten into you, my puppet? Since when did you start to think about the lives of mortals that you’ve been slaying this entire time? What makes her different from the rest, hmm?”

“She shows no mortal arrogation! She’s not selfish nor filthy like the others!” He retorted with conviction in his voice.

“Who gave you the right to feel this way? Think about it. After all of the times you’ve slaughtered those innocent people, you’re nothing but a murderer.”

“You ordered me to do it! I had no other choice but to obey!”

“You had free will, did you not? At any time, you could have easily stopped your killings and put an end to everything yourself. It’s all your fault. You did this to yourself.”

“You’re wrong!”

“So are you saying that you’re right?”

Xiao paused, refusing to show his face to his archon. 

“I’m saying that you’re quite adept at manipulating people. It doesn’t matter what you think of me. I know that (Y/N) will still be by my side.”

“How can you be so sure? Have you even told her what you’ve done to the parents of the children she’s taking care of? Do you think that she’ll just accept you because in the end, you found a way to hide your past instead of confronting her about it? Of course not. She’s a human, and you’re a demon. You two are nothing alike, and because of that, you’ll never find a way to truly be close to her. You’re an atrocious monstrosity.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re delusional, boy. There’s nowhere else for you to go where anyone can accept you. Once that girl, (Y/N), catches the wind of the truth, it’s over for you.” 

The evil archon stepped off of the adepti, causing Xiao to gasp for air. He was slowly weakening. His fingertips touched the liquid that protruded out of his stomach.

Damn it. His weapon was laced with poison.

Xiao felt helpless as he laid on the grass on top of the mountain. All ounces of energy he had was now depleting at a fast rate. Out of frustration, he took a handful of Qingxin flowers and clenched it to his stomach.

“Ah, this is the Qingxin flower. It grows on only the highest peaks of Liyue and can serve as a remedy for some injuries.”

Xiao could remember her words as if it was yesterday.

(Y/N)...

Black dots danced around his vision as the last thing he saw in his sight was the smirk of the evil archon. After his final attempt to fight against the poison, his body had refused to keep up with him, causing him to lose consciousness.

✦

Bit by bit, Xiao’s eyes opened up. For once in his lifetime, he had dreamt a dream. He squinted, trying to see if he was seeing correctly. The gaping hole in his stomach was no longer there. Bloodstains remained in his clothing as proof of his encounter with the evil archon.

Xiao urgently got up from his fallen state and could see the sun fall setting in its place. His fists clenched the Qingxin flower that had once prospered greatly on its own. Its white color was tainted, no longer pure. Crimson smeared the edges of the petals as it slowly wilted.

Was he regenerating faster because he had more power?

Nevermind that. Xiao couldn’t afford to lose another second. Who knows what could have happened to (Y/N) during the time that the young demon had been passed out. He was quick with his feet, leaping off of the summit of the mountain with the thoughts of the (H/C) haired girl filling his thoughts.

He clenched his teeth.

He should have known that the evil archon was merely using him.

If it weren’t for (Y/N) to guide him to his morals, he definitely would not be where he was right now.

Xiao felt his stomach twisting. This time, he was able to distinguish it as an emotion. It wasn’t a physical pain caused on the outside, but the unsettling feeling that lets him know that something is wrong.

His instinct was more than correct.

In the distance, he could already see smoke releasing into the air. Combustions and explosions can be heard, along with very familiar cries that he has heard before.

“Kids of war need a happier childhood, so I decided to be the one to look after them. As the oldest orphan, I felt like I had a duty to fulfill.”

No.

Xiao used his lemniscatic wind cycling to lunge forward in mid-air, then proceeding to dive down and make an impact with the ground. He shifted his eyes hastily, many bodies of children to be mercilessly killed. The kids that he had surrounded himself with during his time with (Y/N) were all slaughtered. She cared for them. She put her time and energy spending it all on the young ones rather than looking after her health. Xiao’s grip tightened around his polearm.

“Loss? Well... Loss is when you realize that something you loved is no longer with you.”

He clenched onto the hem of his robe.

 “It’s something irreplaceable and you’ll find yourself grieving over it for a long while.”

Xiao had quickly sifted through the debris of the broken down house. The blazes had raged, mocking the young demon in a taunting way. Bits of ash had already flaked through the air. The pyre had devoured his line of sight.

“Well... love is when you cherish something so dearly. It’s when you have a special connection between you and another person.”

His breathing had stopped. This can’t be. 

“When you become so used to that, it’s like something you feel like you have to protect it no matter the cost.”

His blood ran cold. He felt asphyxiated.

(Y/N) was dead.

(Y/N) was dead.

(Y/N) was dead.

(Y/N) WAS DEAD.

A nobleman had walked into view, smirking as he saw a leftover orphan who he assumed was the last one they were looking for. “Hey, boys! We missed one right here.” The man with blood splattered across his rich attire spoke with arrogance. “That bitch should’ve realized who she was messing with when she poisoned me during the ceremony. I guess that’s just what happens when you buy a cheap slut in the market. Let’s finish this last one up and then drinks are on me.” The man had blurted with cockiness. The nobleman pulled his sword out of a lifeless boy’s body, kicking it towards Xiao like a ragdoll. It was... Caihong.

The young man’s breathing had hitched. 

He felt his ears ringing.

His hair covered his glowing amber eyes as he stared at (Y/N)’s lifeless body.

Xiao went numb. 

His heartbeat was the only thing he could hear and it was hammering against his ribcage like it was about to burst.

“What’s death? Well... death is what makes life worth living. It tells us that we have a certain timeframe to do everything we ever wanted to accomplish. It’s inevitable, and in some cases, different forms of life end sooner than expected. Most often, we lose someone we love so much during the process, making us feel all sorts of emotions. That’s just what makes us human.” (Y/N) had beamed, looking at the vast sky. She turned to lean her head on Xiao’s shoulder.

“Especially you, Xiao. You might not know yourself very well, but I can just tell.” She hummed in delight.

Xiao cocked his eyebrow, “What does that mean?” he asked with a puzzled look.

(Y/N) smiled into his shoulder, catching him off guard once more.

“You’re human. Just like me.”

A monstrous gust of wind had discharged where the adepti once stood. Xiao’s demonic form had materialized in a blink of an eye. The men that had terrorized his home had been knocked off their feet, meeting an intense force that propelled their bodies against the dirt of Teyvat. With their confusion, they tried to see where the assault came from and had realized that the young man that stood before him was a force that should not be reckoned with.

Xiao had flashed past the group of men, rapidly puncturing his spear between all of their hamstring muscles behind their knees, ensuring that none of them could ever walk again. Many of them writhed in agony from the jade spear that had still been laced with poison.

“What the hell was that?!”

“My legs! I can’t get up!”

The young demon had swiftly teleported behind the largest guy in the group and had grabbed a hold of his entire face with his gloved hands. Xiao then proceeded to bring his spear to pierce the center of his neck. Crimson liquid had spewed and sprayed from the bandit’s neck as he gargled on his own blood. Still seeing that he was alive and conscious, Xiao demonstrated his inhuman strength by lifting the man’s body and tossing it up in the sky. Violence plagued his mind as he lacerated the man with thousands of cuts in a single second, the demon maneuvering perfectly in the air before dismembering the man entirely. As the body parts separated, the large clots of blood had sprinkled the atmosphere like rain. 

Finally, Xiao teleports right above the mutilated masterpiece as he spiraled down towards the ground, erupting a treacherous impact that would inflict true agony. Not only was the man pierced by Xiao’s jaded spear, but he was also spiked by the shadow fragments of all of the times he’s ruthlessly murdered other polearm users. 

This was no force to be going up against.

This is true fear.

With this mask, Xiao remembered just why he had detested mortals so much.

“No! Stop! It hurts!” One of the men begged for mercy as Xiao had just begun. He dashed towards the bandit and coiled into a form of wind, opening up his stomach with a clean cut. The black haired man with teal undertones teleported behind the man, bending his arm in an unnatural way until it snapped. The audible crunch could be heard by everyone there, allowing them to freely imagine what their doom would be like. The man coughed in his own blood, but that didn’t stop Xiao from holding his arms from behind his back and kicking the back of the bandit’s torso. Choking in blood, the bandit couldn’t scream for help as his organs helplessly collapsed out of his body. Dumping the body to the side, he heavily breathed in and out.

This was a different type of hatred that resided within his entirety.

The animosity that radiated through the adepti’s mask was evident as it glowed darkly. One by one, Xiao had performed cruel acts towards the sinners that wreaked havoc on his home. Whether it was plucking their eyes out or bashing all of their bones, Xiao couldn’t find a resolution to his resentment.

All that was left was the nobleman that had forced (Y/N) into an arranged marriage. The thought of such filth laying even a finger on his (Y/N) was more than enough to greet the tip of his spear. Xiao looked down at the mortal that cowered beneath him. Emotions are fickle in the face of danger.

“Stop don’t do this! I can pay you ten times the price I paid for that slave! I can give all of the mora you ever want! Please just spare me!” The prideless man begged as he couldn’t feel his legs at all. Xiao stepped on the man’s torso, his piercing amber gaze had been strong enough alone to silence the sinner. The demon’s dark aura increased as Xiao collected his distributed rage into his jade spear. 

“Your mora can’t even compare to (Y/N). Not even in the slightest.” Xiao’s spear was enchanting as it collected stacks of power from the built up anger. The adepti stomped on one of the nobleman’s kneecaps, an audible crunch filling the air. He screamed at the top of his lungs, feeling the excruciating pain throughout his entire body. Xiao wanted to make his death as long as possible. Even if the man were to pass out, the demon could slip some of his corrupted aura into his bloodstream to ensure he stays awake.

The young man grabbed a hold of the nobleman’s wrist, shattering the bones in his arm completely. Another defenseless howl erupted from the shameless man. Xiao remembered (Y/N) saying that they had hurt her in various ways, even those that she couldn’t bring herself to say. The thought of the group of bandits exploiting the pure girl had driven him to the brink of no return.

“You won’t be needing these anymore.” The man wailed in agony as Xiao dislocated the joints in the nobleman’s fingers. With his spear, he had begun cutting off each and every finger of his at an antagonizing pace. His screams weren’t enough to satisfy him.

Xiao ripped off the man’s arm in one effortless pull.

Another scream.

The demon looked down at the human in disgust. Why were so many mortals so repulsive? The jade spear he had was stabbed in the man’s chest, but not all the way. He made an incision that was thin enough for Xiao to open up the skin of the man’s torso. Without any hesitation, the adepti bent open the nobleman’s ribcage in the most unnatural way.

“Please... s..stop.” The bandit pleaded.

“You didn’t stop when she told you to. Hypocrites like you must rot.”

The polearm user gutted out the rest of the organs that were left in the man’s body.

“You deserve this.”

He punctured one of the man’s eyes with one of his thumbs.

“You don’t have the right to live.”

Xiao clenched his teeth, going back to think about (Y/N).

Seeing her lifeless body near one of the burning houses. It... It evoked true calamity from the young adepti.

“You took her away from me.”

Xiao summoned his charged spear from thin air. The nobleman was disfigured already. His body was beyond recognition after what Xiao had done to him. Yet, it still wasn’t enough.

The young adepti clenched onto his jade spear, “N̶̻̽ő̸̘̠w̸̗̖͗ ̴̲̓I̴̝̓’̸̗̭̾̽m̵̩̤͠ ̸̺͒͜g̷̛̳͍̈́o̵̮͒i̴͉̕͘n̶͎͗g̸̦̺̀̂ ̶͔̫͛t̷̯̓͊o̵̻̽̓ ̷̹͖͌̕t̴͍̚a̸͙͝k̵̯͝ẹ̶̒ ̷͕̈̏ė̸̜͜͝v̸͕̲̆ế̶͚̪ŕ̸̢͕ỳ̷̺t̸̥̆h̴̹̠͌̇ḯ̵̫̙n̶̜̉g̵͙̮̋̏ ̴̧͈́̂ȧ̸̬̗w̵̤͇̄á̵̺̣ŷ̵̢͘ ̴̞̂͌ͅf̷͎͐r̶͉͕̈́o̸͙͠m̷̖͚̿ ̴̯͓̈̉ỳ̶͖̂o̴̬̾u̴̖̔͝,̸̢̐͘ ̶̹̏s̷̜̑̀ţ̷̌a̸̯̽̂r̸̗̄͝ṭ̷̈́͠ḭ̴͆n̸̘̈́g̶̭͂ ̵̦̱͋̚w̷̺̉į̷̻̾̅t̴̜̿̇h̶̞͖̍ ̴̜͇͐̚ỵ̶̓o̴̥̗̿͐ụ̴́r̶̖͂͂ ̸̬͊̊d̶̙̬͌̕r̴̮̒̕e̸͜͝ͅa̷̲̓m̴̻͆s̶̲̐” he growled with bitterness. The polearm user slowly hunched over the mangled human, preparing to remove his mask to begin devouring the man’s dreams when all of a sudden he heard something in the distance.

All movement stopped.

Xiao heard someone calling out his name.

Snapped out of his bloodthirsty trance, he pulled his head up.

“(Y/N)?”

He paused, stalling the death of (Y/N)’s capturer. He couldn’t tell if he was hallucinating or not. 

“Xiao!”

The young man dropped everything he was doing. That filth is going to die anyway. The most important thing right now is trying to look for (Y/N). He stood up from the bloodied body and had staggered towards the direction the (H/C) haired girl was.

He felt his rage settling down as he began to search for that gentle voice. The soothing hums of (Y/N) could be heard from behind one of the stone pillars that had collapsed next to the body of the young girl.

Xiao rushed towards (Y/N)’s body. He pulled her into his embrace, trying to see if he could get any reaction. Something. Anything that could tell him that she was alive. A part of him wished that he could feel her arms rise up and hug him back.

He pulled away and slowly checked her heart by lowering his ear against her chest. The anticipation for the young adepti was torture. Time moved slowly as he sharpened his hearing.

One second passed.

Xiao’s grip on the girl grew tighter.

Two seconds passed.

He felt the world crumbling beneath his feet.

Three seconds passed.

“Please...”

Four seconds passed.

Xiao lifted his head from her chest and stared at her soft features. She still looked gorgeous. It was like he was seeing the girl again for the first time. On the day that he fell for her, he didn’t realize he would fall this hard.

He froze in place.

There was a subtle movement in her fingertips. Xiao’s amber eyes had shone light in itself once more. The (H/C) haired girl let out a cough, slowly shifting out of place. “X...Xi..ao..?” she weakly whispered with wincing eyes. The gash on her head was a very dangerous cut. The adepti felt alleviated. Relief washed over him as he held the girl tightly while burying his face into her soft (H/C) hair. The girl couldn’t see very well, but she could never mistake Xiao for anyone else. Slowly her frail arms wrapped themselves around Xiao’s body.

“Welcome home.” She whispered shakily with little strength behind her voice.

Xiao didn’t know how to express how grateful he was to see her still alive. He had thought that he had lost all hope. “I’m home, (Y/N). I’m back at home...” He sniffed, not realizing that he had been tearing up this entire time. (Y/N)’s eyes couldn’t properly see it, but she could feel that his heart was aching.

She brought her thumb to his cheek, wiping the tear that threatened to spill on his face. Something in his chest had felt like it was suffocating him as he saw (Y/N) in this current state. 

Xiao’s heart... hurt. She did the same exact motion on his cheek when they first met.

Hurt?

How many times has he finally discovered the words behind the meaningful things he couldn’t describe today?

So this is what she meant by he was hurting. All of a sudden, Xiao was able to understand everything now. He was able to feel his emotions. Him of all people. The demon slayer that slaughtered innocents. All of the burdens he didn’t realize he had on his back had suddenly begun to tumble onto him.

This was very painful to watch.

(Y/N) was dying in front of him.

He knew exactly what was going to happen. On the battlefield, it was all the same thing. Death by killing, death by injuries, and to those who are caught up in the middle of it all. Xiao knew this all too well and he was holding onto his significant mortal. He scoped around the burnt down place they had called home and had hissed at himself for failing to save the little ones. Their lifeless facial expressions were frozen in fear and anguish. Xiao protected (Y/N) from witnessing the horrible sight behind him by draping his long robe to block her vision.

He needed to find another way to protect her.

She was going to end up like one of them too if he didn’t.

She was going to wind up in the same inevitable fate that all humans face when they meet their end.

“Remember when I said I... I was going to tell you something, Xiao?” The fragile girl voiced out, hands trying to navigate where the young adepti’s hands were. “I have a surprise for you... but we have to go to the Foundation of Plaustrite” she muttered, closing her eyes, a bit exhausted than she thought she would be.

The blood that dripped down the side of her head had most likely resulted from a severe concussion. Not only that, but the large cut in her abdomen was alarmingly frightening to the young adepti.

The demon was trembling, “But you’re extremely injured. You need treatment.” he twinged at the thought of (Y/N) leaving him again. A part of him felt like if he didn’t do anything now, (Y/N) would die easily to her injuries. Of course, the young demon would see it like that. He had forgotten that he had stronger regenerative abilities than the average human.

“Please. It’s my final wish.” (Y/N) prayed quietly. She attempted to open her eyes but stopped when Xiao covered her eyes with his own hands. “Don’t open your eyes.” He advised.

Xiao hesitated, afraid that he might accidentally hurt her if he picked her up wrong. There’s no way that he could reject her request. Haltingly, he bent down to carry the girl in his arms in one full sweep. He no longer felt tired. He felt as if he was granted all of the strength he needed in all of the lands of Teyvat.

“Is this comfortable?” 

“...In your arms? Always.”

The black haired man with teal undertones carried the girl with ease. Before parting ways with their home, he looked back at those who had wronged (Y/N). Their bodies are now beyond recognition. As a man who’ll do anything to protect what was his, he had decided to leave the dead men behind like it was nothing.

Seeing (Y/N) breathing again was enough for him to calm down.

“...What happened to the children?” The (H/C) haired girl asked. A gruesome image flashed into Xiao’s head when mentioned. “They’re in a better place. I made sure that they’re comfortable in their new home.” He lied through his teeth. He wanted to spare her feelings.

“...What about the... bandits?” (Y/N) showed a hint of worry. The only thing he could think of was the way he had eliminated every last one of them. “They were also taken care of. I decided to go easy on them.” Xiao lied once more.

(Y/N) appreciated the thought of the young man attempting to keep her hopes protected from what just happened. The smell of iron was already enough to tell her what happened at their home.

Slowly, he began to walk towards their destination. Along the way, he couldn’t help but notice the girl continuing to hum as she was on death’s door. Xiao’s eyes never left the sight of (Y/N). If he didn’t, then it would feel like she could vanish without a trace.

“Xiao?”

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“...Have I ever told you how much color you’ve brought into my world?” She wistfully breathed.

The man ascended a trail that made its way up. Paying attention to (Y/N) at the same time, he wore a composed face.

“No, you haven’t,” he replied with a gentle voice. He had to stay strong. Strong for (Y/N).

“Really? I thought I told you before... but maybe it was all a dream.” (Y/N) shut her eyes. The moment between both of them had felt so serene. “I remember telling you all about the new recipe I had prepared. There was also a time where I gave you a Qingxin flower crown... Did you like it?” She asked as her thoughts were jumping everywhere. She was barely conscious, but she still managed to voice out all of her silly concerns.

Xiao didn’t have a clue about what she was talking about. When imagining those random scenarios in his head, he could only pretend like he had experienced that all with her.

“Yes. I liked it a lot.” He went along with what she was saying.

“I see. That makes me very happy.”

Xiao hoisted her in his arms bridal style again, making sure that he doesn’t harm her. Even now, (Y/N) looked so angelic in his arms. The blood that dried up around her body smelled like iron.

“You know... sometimes I feel like meeting you was too good to be true. A dream, even.” (Y/N) rambled freely, pushing her head against Xiao’s chest.

His grip on the girl grew tighter, “I could say the same thing for you too. You don’t understand how much you’ve taught me how colorful the world was.” he pressed her head as close as he could to his neck as he made his way up the mountain.

“Hey... Do you know what the difference between ‘I like you’ and ‘I love you’?” (Y/N) weakly inquired.

Xiao didn’t know how to reply.

“It’s like flowers... When you like a flower, you just pluck it. But when you love a flower, you water it daily.” The girl told the adepti. He grabbed one of (Y/N)’s hands to hold, keeping his warmth closer to him.

“...If you were a Qingxin flower... I would gladly water you every day.” (Y/N) confessed as she began to lose her train of thought.

Xiao’s heart skipped a beat. No one has ever expressed their concern to him before.

She was able to genuinely say that to Xiao with confidence. Her devotion stayed true to him until the end. Her tender touch was enough to tell him that everything was going to be okay, even when he knew damn well that it wasn’t going to be. Xiao wanted to surpass this new and unknown obstacle. He wanted to continue watching over (Y/N) and make sure that she gets all of the love that she deserved.

Xiao leaped onto the floating platforms that lead up to the floating shrine.

This was where he had first met (Y/N).

The setting stayed the same, along with the way the sky was painted similarly as before. This time, it was all different.

Xiao was able to comprehend his mortal emotions.

(Y/N) wanted to live.

Their pasts would contrast with their present now.

“We’re here...” Xiao whispered to his beloved.

The adepti carefully set the frail girl to lean against the stone seat. The warm hues reached her eyelids as she could feel the rays of light shine on her. Xiao had sat down beside her, no longer keeping a distance from her like back then. He couldn’t find the heart to act coldly towards her. Steadily, he stared off into the sunset. It was the same as before.

“It’s so warm here.” (Y/N) noted out loud, resting her head against Xiao’s shoulder. A part of him wanted time to freeze at this moment so he could spend the rest of his life with (Y/N). He felt his heart finding the moment to find momentary peace. If there was a god out there that could stop the entire universe, Xiao would trade anything he had to spend all of the time he could with the girl he held dear to.

“Do you want to know where your surprise is?” (Y/N) softly spoke, her strength dissipating.

The young demon grabbed a hold of one of (Y/N)’s hands. “Where is it?” He asked with a lump in his throat. He could tell in her tone of voice that she was already departing to the other side.

“My little surprise is in that book on the stone slab of this place. There’s a Qingxin flower as a bookmarker so it won’t be that difficult to find. You can go read it now if you want.”

“No.” Xiao clutched her hand.

“I wish to spend the rest of your time with you.” He declared quietly, not wanting to think of anything else. The intrusion of dark thoughts could no longer reach him up here. There was only peace.

(Y/N) hummed, “I see.” as she twiddled with Xiao’s bigger hand. Without thinking, the girl had slid her fingers between his palm, entwining fingers.

“Xiao... I think meeting you was...a serendipitous encounter... We both weren’t anticipating to end up like this. When we both met, we were both looking for something. There’s never been a time where I regretted being with you.” (Y/N) smiled with tranquility as her truth.

The adepti’s heart stung by her sweet yet bitter words.

“You don’t regret being with a demon like me?” He slipped out, throwing out a side of him that he never showed to (Y/N). He was afraid of rejection. What if she really despised him because of what he’s done?

(Y/N) let out a gracious laugh, “You’re not a demon, silly... You’re just as human like me. That’s all there is to it. You’re just like me, Xiao.” she indulged him by embracing him with one last hug.

“I don’t know who told you that but I know for a fact that you’re not a demon. If anything, you’ve acted like a guardian towards me. I value you very much and I wouldn’t want to hear you say otherwise.”

Xiao was amazed at what lengths (Y/N) would go for him. He was never used to her close contact, but for these last moments, he couldn’t help but wanting to savor it all. No one has ever told him that he was someone worth being cared for. They all only looked at him like a weapon of war. With the hands of his, (Y/N) saw it as inviting rather than dangerous.

(Y/N) was definitely different from the rest.

Xiao’s amber eyes had already started to tear up. This was an unfamiliar mental state that he was in. Never had he ever thought that he would make it this far to understand human emotions. Xiao was always a well guarded person who would always distance himself from anyone getting near him and yet...

(Y/N) was always there.

The sentimental words have reached the young adepti. He no longer felt ashamed for expressing how he felt. A slip of a tear fell from his cheek, “(Y/N)..?” he called out again to make sure she was still there.

“...Yes... Xiao?” She replied slowly.

Xiao tugged her closer to him. No one in the world could make him resort to these human senses of him. He only wanted to stay by her side and her side only. 

“I love you.”

(Y/N) pulled away from his hug and saw his somber yet grateful facial expressions. Now that she could see his entire face, she realized she couldn’t put up her strong front anymore.

She began to cry, realizing the weight of their situation.

“I... love you too.”

Xiao felt something that he had forgotten he had in his pocket. Curious as to what it was, he pulled it out and realized it was the flower crown that (Y/N) was talking about.

Had he always have this in his pocket? Where did this come from?

He went back in his thoughts to try to remember where he got this from. All he could remember was that he had felt this object in his pocket after his dream earlier that day.

The black haired young man with teal undertones had carefully knelt down in front of her. With one hand, he grabbed (Y/N)’s other ones as he placed a soft kiss on top. It almost felt like he was a knight preparing to give his vows.

“(Y/N). There’s been a question I’ve always pondered to ask of you. I’m not very sure if we can make do with what little time we have remaining, but I’d appreciated it if you allowed me to have the opportunity.” Xiao started, feeling the girl’s tender gaze upon him. “From the day we’ve met, I had only thought about how foolish mortals were. There was a part of me that refused to take a part in opening up to a newer side of the world. I was more than afraid if you were going to shut me out entirely. I’m just a shell of a sinner... It almost feels morally wrong to even stand near you. But that all had shifted once you sat down next to me under the starry night sky. You were the only one who could change my perspective, and I am eternally grateful for how you’ve healed me.”

He swallowed. What was he saying? He was a bit doubtful if he worded his sentences correctly but he had no choice but to continue.

“...I can’t imagine growing old with anyone else, nor do I want to. When I think about you, I know that no one will hold my heart the same way you do. With you by my side, I feel at peace, and when you’re gone, I’m constantly looking for a way to get closer to you. I’m sure that you’ve had bad memories of this, but I’d like to overwrite those memories with something genuine... (Y/N)... Will you marry me?” Xiao confessed with sincere, heartfelt words. His heartbeat seemed to synchronize at the same time as (Y/N)’s. The atmosphere never felt so enchanting than now. Time was running out for both of them. 

The weakened girl in front of him had no words to say other than yes. Instead of accepting the flower crown that he had held in his grasp, she had caressed the adepti with both of her hands on each side of Xiao’s face. They both met each other’s eyes. His amber ones looking into her (E/C) orbs, perhaps asking for permission before he could continue. (Y/N) slowly nodded, blushing when Xiao had finally leaned forward and had pressed a gentle kiss against the girl’s soft lips.

It was all but peaceful.

Finally.

Xiao was able to get these feelings off of his chest. He gazed at the sunset once more before he picked up (Y/N) again and sat her against the stone bench where he held her by the waist.

“I’m... feeling... tired...” The girl had said with complete honesty.

Xiao couldn’t help but feel pity when he saw his lover. She was deteriorating faster than he would’ve imagined. It was like he was watching another Qingxin flower lose its petals. She slowly hummed again, a harmonious tune that would ingrain into Xiao’s memories.

“Are you... afraid of death?” The adepti watched with attentive eyes. As someone who inflicted death among others, it would certainly be a different experience if he had asked someone who was about to go through it.

(Y/N) shook her head. “...When I’m with you...? Never. I’m not... afraid.” She wheezed a little bit, leaning her head on Xiao’s shoulder once more. Although time was running out, she kept wearing her brave smile as she fell drowsier.

“...Smile... for... me?” (Y/N)’s voice ran out as she was clinging onto life for as long as she could. Her final wish.

Xiao’s most difficult task to do. During this time as he watched everything he had developed with this girl slowly bloom throughout his heart. From all the times they’ve stayed up watching after the kids and talked until the dead of the night. Through the harsh rains and cold days, Xiao would continue to stand by her side. It was something worth protecting. He was given a reason to continue on with a more fulfilling purpose. She had given it all to him with open arms.

He trembled, but continued to wipe his tears. Taking a deep breath, he blocked out all of the worst thoughts that could flow into his head. He had to do it for her now. He has to answer her prayers.

There he was. The man that had worn his composed and calm features had been able to send (Y/N) one last smile. His lips quivered as he attempted to hold a brave front. He has to commend (Y/N) for having that special ability. The (H/C) haired girl shut her eyes. Yes... This was all she ever wanted.

She never felt so free until now. The freedom that she had always wanted was now granted to her.

The adepti had endured the last bits of time he could spend with her. With the way that (Y/N) grinned with no regrets, he felt the seconds going by like hours.  This was all he could do for her now.

...So this was love.

What a strong emotion. No wonder why mortals fight for what they believe in. Before he met her, he was just an empty husk with no concept of what it takes to be human. Now that (Y/N) showed him the ways of how life could be spent, it would be the end of her journey.

It was just two companions that were dreaming alongside each other. Two contrasting people that come from two different backgrounds. No matter how far he came with her, he couldn’t help but notice what solitude truly was when something he cherished was now gone.

Xiao just wanted to remain with her until her final moments.

Before Xiao could completely doze off, he planted the well-crafted Qingxin crown on (Y/N)’s head, gently planting a kiss on her forehead, bidding his reluctant farewell.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” He whispered to her for the last time, fulfilling her first request he hadn’t answered in the beginning. The lump in his throat was building up his regret, remembering how he promised to kill her so she would be put to rest and be free. He didn’t know how badly he wanted to go back in time and convince her to fight and live on.

He shut his eyes, not recognizing how hard it is to let go. He couldn’t envision the idea of her leaving him behind until now. After she had held onto his hand for so long, it seems that the last chapters of (Y/N)’s life has come to an end. The adepti pressed his forehead against (Y/N)’s, hoping that his words could somehow reach her. It was thanks to her, he was able to live like he was alive. He shut his eyes tightly, praying that somehow he could reach out to her again. 

“...I’ll miss you dearly, my love.”

✦

-=+=-

Epilogue | Adeptus’ Retirement

(Y/N) had always known.

She knew that Xiao was a weapon of war.

When searching around remnants of fallen towns to take care of more children, some wandering travelers would tell rumors of the demon that would ruthlessly kill thousands. (Y/N) never paid any attention to it until she heard a tale of an evil archon utilizing him for his own selfish needs. 

She thought to herself, “I will find a way to save him.” as she continued to roam and travel by on her own to find a way to free him. The week before (Y/N) had broken down in front of Xiao, she had already climbed up to the Foundation of Plaustrite once more, hearing that an archon of contracts would appear one fateful night.

When she did encounter that archon, she had first spoken to him like she was talking to an ordinary human. The archon, Morax, had listened in on her story as she explained how Xiao was forced to commit these heinous acts of violence.

“He had helped me realize that I wanted to continue living. I came up here in hopes that I could find this God of Contracts and tell him my wish.” She said with a brave heart.

Rex Lapis listened intently in his human form. This would benefit all of Liyue if he could save the young demon from the evil archon. 

“I wish that he could be as free as a crane. I wish for him to find something worthy to protect. I wish for him to be proud of a name that he can tell others.” (Y/N) prayed while looking at the moon with the archon next to her.

“What name did you give him?” The god inquired.

She smiled, “Xiao.” while looking down at her feet. She knew that it had a few different meanings like “demon”, but she could only see the name to be fitting for someone heavenly.

The archon crossed his arms, knowing that this human girl was going to be the one to change history.

“It’s a deal.”

✦

She was sent into a dream realm. Her body seemed to feel lighter than ever, and she could only see a field of pure white flowers that blossomed on its own. In the distance, she could see the young adepti, laying peacefully in the field. (Y/N) had laid down on the grass right next to the dreaming demon.

Her time was about to come.

In order for her contract to be fulfilled, she must give up her life.

(Y/N) held Xiao’s hand tightly.

It was a wish she knew was worth protecting.

“I want you to be free. I want you to feel human. I want you to feel loved.”

The girl didn’t know death could be so alleviating. The other side was now beyond her reach, and she could slowly feel herself falling asleep. Even so, she continued to talk to Xiao like he was awake. A part of her hoped that she was somehow connected to Xiao in her dream.

She talked about the special almond tofu that she was supposed to be preparing and she had crafted a Qingxin crown while she rambled on. To her surprise, she felt a hand grab her arm. Turning around, she made eye contact with the young man who she thought was resting.

“Please...” He muttered in his sleep, turning over to come closer to the girl.

(Y/N) was taken aback, but then had smiled wistfully. Maybe she did have one more thing to do before she left this world to meet death. Without thinking, she had carefully tucked her Qingxin crown into the side of Xiao’s pocket.

“As proof that I was here... I’ll give this to you.”

She hovered over the resting man and had laid on top of him with a gentle hug.

If she could go back in time and relive every moment with him, she would.

...

She woke up.

That’s when she saw Xiao in front of her at the raid of her home. Well, what was left of their home. She knew that there was an attack launched when she was unconscious in the dream realm. Morax had informed her that the evil archon would order the bandits to come to kill the rest of her family at the ruins they lived in. It was also a consequence that the contract came with.

But it doesn’t matter anymore.

(Y/N) wanted to be selfish again.

“Welcome home.”

✦

When Xiao woke up, he no longer felt a presence next to him. Wondering what could have happened, he knew that he shouldn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he opened up the notebook that (Y/N) had left behind for him. With the Qingxin bookmarker, he had flipped open the book to read what (Y/N) left behind for him.

At that moment, he could no longer hold back the flow of tears.

After reading the truth.

After reading the contract.

After reading her sacrifice.

Xiao let out a blood-curdling scream. 

Never in his life had he ever heard his voice come out of his throat like that. Never had he ever thought that (Y/N) would be so important to him. He couldn’t help kneeling down on the floor of the shrine and curling up while holding the notebook to his chest.

After everything she’s done for him, he couldn’t let it all go in vain.

“I’ll fight. I’ll fight again. I’ll fight and make sure I grant your wish, (Y/N). I’ll do anything if it means that you can see me from wherever you are!”

Xiao missed her.

He missed her so much.

He missed (Y/N).

✦ 

Xiao fought. He no longer served under the evil archon and had pledged his allegiance to Rex Lapis. There was a long period of time, peace for Liyue, the type of peace that (Y/N) had wished for.

The guardian yaksha had sat on the Foundation of Plaustrite once again as he looked off and into the sunset. A thousand years had passed since (Y/N)’s passing. War never ended fast like how he hoped it would, but he continued to hold onto the feelings he had for (Y/N) until the very end.

The yaksha was now around two thousand years old. Although he distanced himself from the mortals he swore to protect, his memories were far from faded from the day he had serendipitously encountered the ethereal angel, (Y/N).

Between adepti and humans, he knew that relations between them were very possible. He couldn’t forget (Y/N)’s scent. As he sat on the stone slab, he could almost feel (Y/N)’s soul. It was almost like she was leaning her head on his shoulder again.

He placed the Qingxin flowers he had collected from the highest points of Liyue and rested them beside him. The atmosphere felt a little bit nostalgic as he watched the sun go down.

Xiao had peered at the little desk of books that were piled on each other over the years that had passed. With careful eyes, he picked up the worn out notebook that (Y/N) had left behind for him. Every time he felt like he was losing himself, he would flee to this floating sanctuary that he once met (Y/N) at.

He felt the cover of the book, not realizing how much time had passed as he continued to live on as a proud yaksha.

Slowly, he turned the book cover open and began reading the pages again.

“Dear Xiao...

Did you like the gift I gave you? I wasn’t sure what to do when I first heard that you were being enslaved by a cruel archon. I did everything in my power to make sure that I could somehow make my wish for you a reality.

Rex Lapis was a compassionate archon I never thought I would meet. He listened to my tale and had decided to make a contract with me so you could be set free. At that moment, I knew that it was going to cost the lives of our entire family and I.

I’m sorry.

I knew that if I had told you my plans, you would do everything within your power to stop it.

It’s funny how I wanted to die so badly.

The day that we both met was a very fortunate day.

I believe that everything happens for a reason.

You were my reason.

So with that, I hope that you’ll feel as free as a crane. I hope that you’re living to protect something important again. I hope that you’re opening up to humans more and face them with no hostility. Even when you’re around children, I find it adorable that you had somehow kept a soft spot for them. I hope that you’re doing well and living the rest of your days with peace.

Maybe one day we can meet again.

And if we do meet again...

I hope you’ll fall for me one more time.

Love, (Y/N).”

The man had sighed to himself, closing the book and resting it in his lap. A part of him wanted to thank the evil archon for telling him to love. He knew that the archon wanted to use Xiao’s resentment to multiply his power during the war, but it didn’t turn out how he thought it would.

The moon began to rise in the night sky. Out far in the distance, he could see all of the floating lanterns from where he rested. Xiao knew that the beginning of the lantern festival had begun. The guardian yaksha was grateful to be the only one to know why the festival was hosted on this very day.

It was in memory of (Y/N).

The floating lanterns glowed from afar, making Xiao slowly smile to himself. If what (Y/N) said in her writings were true, then he would gladly await the day he would meet her again.

With a new age of Liyue and with no calamity threatening Teyvat, Xiao was able to sit back and relax as he watched the lanterns float in the sky.

This was the beginning of an Adeptus’ retirement.

-=+=-

AN: My god. This took about three full days for me to write. I hope that you’ve enjoyed reading this. I spent so much time thinking, writing, and crying over this idea for Xiao for the longest time. I’m so glad that I was able to tell myself to post this, ignoring the fear that no one would like it at all. With the new year that’s about to come, I can’t wait to see experience and see the next chapter of my life could be. Thank you for reading this. I wish you to stay safe and hope that you’ve enjoyed this piece of writing I have left to give. You don’t have to like or reblog the post, but if you really feel like this had resonated in you, I would deeply appreciate it if you could like or reblog it. I want other people who love Xiao to read this if they could. It would mean a lot to me. Again, thank you for reading up to this point, and I wish you a happy new year.

[peralta-guaranteed]

hc of jake and amy hand holding before dating (i’m convinced they did a few times before they ever dated) and also in the beginning of their relationship + getting teased by the squad 🥰

(this has definitely turned out far more emotional than you’d probably thought, anon, but I don’t make the rules when it comes to fic inspiration)

Amy Santiago is sitting in a booth at Shaw’s, laughing at something one of her friends has said, and she feels a warm hand slip into hers under the table. Jake Peralta is laughing next to her, too, but then he’s also smiling at her only, and his hand wrapped around hers squeezes three times. It hits her like a brick to the face, those three little squeezes. She finally understands them.

-*-

He’s lying in a hospital bed, and Amy thinks she’s never seen something more unsettling than a quiet Jake Peralta. The only sound in the room is the beeping of some monitors he’s hooked up to, and the only movement is his chest rising slow and steady. Something it didn’t do about two hours ago, when she was kneeling over him in some alley and screaming while the medics finally arrived and brought him back. It was a fairly ‘minor’ injury in the end, one bullet wound that the doctor’s had to close up, but it had hit some sort of vein that was important and that lost a lot of blood and that stopped his heart for the few moments she remembers stretching like hours in her mind. She doesn’t remember much else, especially not the medic’s or doctor’s explanations. They’d taken her along in the ambulance, because she was his partner, and she was allowed to sit in the hospital room he was recovering in now, because she was his emergency contact, too. She could’ve been nothing after today. Because the bullet from that gun wasn’t aimed at Jake before he pushed her to the side.

Amy looks down at her hands, folded in her lap, pinching each other to remind her she’s awake, she’s here, and so is Jake. Not awake, but here. Still here. They’re squeaky clean, her hands, because she’s spent a good fifteen minutes in the hospital public toilets scrubbing them free of his blood after he was rushed into surgery and she was left behind, alone in the waiting room, her sensible grey pantsuit coloured red all over her arms. She had a list of things to do in her head - contact Captain McGintley to follow the chain of command, and Terry so something would actually get done. Figure out how and who can transport Peralta home and take care of him, if he gets to go home. (He will. He has to. She will take him.) Call Rosa to find out if they booked the perp properly, and that they add assault with a deadly weapon to his rep sheet (not murder, although that’s what he did, that’s what happened). But she couldn’t do any of that, because she was still shaking, her heart was still racing, and all she could see was his blood on her hands, warm and sticky and dark and drying into a rotten brown shade already. So she washed them clean, and then scrubbed some more, and some more, until she felt as red and raw as the wound in his chest had looked in the ambulance when they got his shirt off. (The jacket of her suit is rotting away in the toilet trashcan now, and she’s shivering ever so slightly in only her short-sleeved blouse, but it is clean and there is not a hint of Jake’s injury anywhere anymore, except in his gaunt cheekbones and the pale colour of his face, and the silence of the room.) His hand twitches while she’s staring at her own, and if it’s instinct or reflex of whatever that makes her reach out and grab it immediately, she doesn’t care. His hand is warm under hers, and it twitches again and then wraps its fingers around her and holds her, steady and calm. He blinks awake, a little disoriented, but then he focuses on her and - smiles.

“You’re okay.” He says, and that’s what breaks her in the end.

She doesn’t outright sob or anything, but she does let her head drop so her hair is hiding her face, hiding the tears he doesn’t need to see first thing after waking up from literal death. She feels his hand pull on her to make her look at him, though, and she can’t deny him, even if her tear-streaked face is probably not a good view.

“Hey, no- don’t-” He rasps, his voice still coming back, “I’m okay too.”

She laughs through her tears, a short little snort, but it helps calm her down - and him too, it seems, because he smiles again.

“You’re far more than just okay, Peralta.” She smiles back, and feels his hand tighten around hers, three little, but distinct squeezes.

-*-

She shouldn’t feel this nervous. She’s a cop, a detective. A good one. She’s done this before, and it’s never been nice, but it’s always something she’s gotten through.

But she fears tomorrow’s court date more than anything else in her life right now, which is why she’s trying to drown the thought of it at Shaw’s. The hangover will probably not be helpful with her witness statement that could possibly make or break this ruling, but her panic demands more alcohol. However, the next beer she orders at the bar is intercepted by a larger, more calloused hand than hers.

“Alright, Santiago, that last one was your sixth, and I really don’t need to deal with Seven Drink Amy tonight.” Jake says as he settles down next to her, hands the beer over to Rosa, who leaves them alone at the bar before Amy can whine and complain.

“I need that drink, Jake. It’s my only friend right now.” 

“We both know that’s just Six Drink Sadmy speaking.” He pats her arm as she spreads out over the slightly sticky bartop and whines some more.

“You’re worried about tomorrow.” He continues, reading her thoughts like he sometimes does, which is such an annoying thing he can do. His hand is still on her arm. “You don’t have to be.”

“That girl’s entire life is at stake. And the gang boss is going to kill me and her if he gets off-”

“He’s not going to get off. Not if you tell them exactly what you told the lawyers taking your written statement.”

“Says you.”

“Says Sofia.” There’s a weight to those words that hits her stomach, and it’s only partially the fact that a damn defense attorney is on her side. The other part of why those words from the woman Jake started dating just recently hurt her, she doesn’t want to think about. “Look, I’m gonna drive you home, you’re gonna take a hot shower to detox, then you’re gonna get your perfect 8 hours of sleep, show up at court tomorrow in your best, darkest pant suit, and rock this like you rock everything else.” His hand has wandered down her arm to her hand, now, flips it over to hold it, and it’s pure coincidence that their fingers spread and interlock, surely. “Okay?” He asks one more time, and she sighs.

“Teddy can pick me up-”

“Teddy’s at that conference, remember.”

Oh, right. Something that had been lost to memory between drink three and four, the fact that her boyfriend had booked himself into a seminar the week the court date was announced. It’s a really good one, he’d said, if she wasn’t already busy he would’ve asked her to join, too. Already busy. Regular Amy doesn’t get punchy a lot, and maybe it’s her closeness to Seven Drink Amy right now that makes her want to knock him out for that, but she felt that way when she helped him pack his luggage two days ago too, and she was stonecold sober then.

“Okay.” She nods and tries to get off of the barstool, wobbles quite heavily. “Take me home, Peralta.”

He snorts a laugh and obviously swallows down some sort of joke as he pulls her into a standing position, their hands still locked together. She thinks she imagines it at first, but even after she’s sobered up the next day, she remembers those three short, tight, almost painful squeezes before he let go and steered her to his car.

She doesn’t have much time to think about it, or about how she basically held hands with her best friend while both of their partners were out of town, either. Or how he helped her into her apartment and waited until she was showered and had downed some water and aspirin before tucking her into bed. She can’t think about any of that, because she has to get ready for court.

And when she sits down in the witness’ chair, the gang boss on the bench before her staring her down with murder in his eyes, she notices a set of dress blues in the otherwise thin crowd of people who were allowed in to watch the trial. Three rows down, Jake gives her a silent thumbs up when their eyes meet, and she feels the phantom of his hand again, squeezing hers three times before she begins to speak.

-*-

They’re gonna die. She’s certain. They’re gonna die in here, in this cramped little closet, wedged between some industrial shelving and a broken down sink.

Jake had pulled her in and locked the door behind him, squished her against the wall and himself against the door, and killed the radio on her shoulder as well as his own. The last thing they’d heard crackling through it was “four officers down”. Someone had fallen behind her when she ran for safety, and for a second she thought it had been Jake. That he was standing here now, almost pressed against her in the tight space she would usually panic in, that she could feel his erratic breath on her ear, his racing heart under her hands, was pretty much the only comfort she had left.

She wonders how long it’ll last.

The mission had been an absolute bust. They had expected a gang. They had not expected a well-armed mafia. And now officers were wounded, or dead, and they couldn’t use their radio to find out anything, for fear of being discovered. She can hear gunshots and shouts from further away, and it’s only her paranoia that make them sound as if they're getting closer, but Jake is listening just as intently. Amy thinks of Rosa and Charles, who were on the other side of the building. She thinks of Terry, who’s probably trying to reach any of them by radio from his station in the surveillance van. She thinks of Holt, and can’t see where he might be right now, still next to Terry or commanding whatever backup might be coming in or-

She feels Jake’s hand wrap around hers, still pressed against his chest, and realises that she’s been hyperventilating. If she gets any louder, she’ll give away their position. His forehead against hers is cold, colder than he usually is, clammy with sweat, but the simple pressure of it helps her focus. She can hear him breathe deep, slow, exaggerated, and understands that he’s doing it for her. He probably thinks she’s having a panic attack because of her claustrophobia, or maybe all things at the moment combined. He’s not that far off. She breathes with him, feels the air from their exhales swirl between the few spaces were they don’t connect. There aren’t many. If she looks up, she could kiss him. She’s not quite that sure that she’s going to die in here anymore, but she would definitely hate herself if she did and never found out what that felt like, or if her last kiss on Earth was really from Teddy the night before they broke up. But when she moves her head, she meets his eyes instead, pupils blown wide in the darkness around them. He looks scared and terrified, and his heart under their combined hands is still racing, and the last thing he needs is for Amy to confuse him before they go out in a hail of bullets, action-movie-style, which he’d probably love if it wasn’t so real right now. She wants to say something, anything to calm him down, but she can’t speak, and not just because there are footsteps approaching outside their door.

She feels his hand tighten around hers, three times, faster than before. And then he pulls her into a close hug when the door behind his back opens to reveal blinding light, and she realises he’s shielding her, has been ever since he pushed her first into this storage space. He only lets go when they both hear Terry’s voice, and the Captain’s, the first telling them they are safe, the second immediately trying to update them on the situation with the SWAT team. He holds her hand a second longer than the rest of her, and the three squeezes that follow are far softer and slower than the ones before.

-*-

Amy Santiago and Jake Peralta are sitting in a booth at Shaw’s, laughing at something one of their friends has said, and she feels his hand slip into hers under the table. For only a split second, she’s tempted to pull her hand away. It’s still so new and shaky and unsure, their whole thing, yet at the same time it isn’t. It’s been growing for so long, between them and around them, it feels like it’s always been there. But the rest of the squad is still pulling excited faces whenever they get a little closer, Charles still squeals at every mention of their ‘evenings together’, and Rosa has rolled her eyes so hard she almost strained a muscle the first time she heard Amy refer to Jake as ‘babe’ in front of her. It’s all a little bit embarrassing, and sometimes she wishes they’d stuck to just one of their rules, of not telling anyone until they figure it out. But then she wonders, what was there left to figure out? She was with Jake, and she wanted to be with Jake, and deep down, she could see none of that change at any point in time. Forever, possibly.

Charles is still talking, riding the wave of getting their laugh, but then Jake’s smiling at her only, and his hand wrapped around hers squeezes three times. It hits her like a brick to the face, those three little squeezes. She finally understands them. She remembers them from before, from tense moments and situations of fear, from where he’s been there for her at the worst parts. Holding on tight and feeling the three little bursts of pressure, only wondering a long time later if he did it on purpose, or if it was some sort of reflex.

She feels it again now, and she can finally hear it.

I. Squeeze. Love. Squeeze. You. Squeeze.

[craziest-in-the-guild]

Point Rain

Chapter 3 of the Long Night series

Word Count: 5251

C/W: 18+ Description of severe injuries; medical treatments. Sex, unprotected p in v, oral sex (m and f giving/receiving), cream pie. Alcohol use.

A/N: Thank you all for reading this far! This one picks up on the action, both on the battlefield and behind closed doors. I did use vod in a way that I'm not quite sure is correct, feel free to leave notes on that for me to reference in the future. Hope everyone enjoys it!

_______________________________________________________

The assault on Geonosis was being initiated to regain control of the planet and destroy the new droid factory. Generals Skywalker, Mundi, and Kenobi were leading a three pronged attack in hopes that the factory could easily be taken.

Our forces were under fire as soon as we launched. The noise from the laser blasts, other ships, and our own gunship was excruciatingly loud. I put a hand to my helmet in discomfort.

“Here, let me help you adjust the sound filtering,” came the modulated voice beside me. Rex took my helmet, adjusted something and handed it back.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, much, now I can hear myself think,” I laughed nervously. The sound filtering had dampened the blasts and roar of the gunship.

The gunship beside us was hit several times by cannon fire and exploded, rocking our ship. I could feel my heart rate speeding up and I tightened my hold on the grab bar above.

Our ship was the next to be struck by a blast, causing it to lurch sideways. I lost my balance and fell into Rex. I quickly returned to a standing position and he placed one arm around my waist to help me brace. I could see smoke and flames streaming past the side door. The pilot yelled over the comm for everyone to brace themselves; we were going down.

The ship picked up speed as we hurled towards the ground. We struck hard, enough to knock the breath out of me. Once the burning hunk of metal came to a stop, I scanned quickly to see if everyone was ok. No one was down and we all evacuated.

“Are you good, Doc?” Rex yelled over the noise.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little shaken!” I yelled back, ducking as laser blasts flew overhead.

“Draw your blaster and stay with Fives, Jesse, and Tup, I’m going with the General and Commander.”

“MEDIC! Man down!” cracked across the comms. That didn’t take long.

“What’s your location?” Jesse asked.

The injured clone was close, so we diverted to his location. His vod had dragged him behind a rock outcropping for cover. He had been hit with three blaster bolts to his left arm.

“I can’t move my arm,” he said frantically.

There was little bleeding from the wounds. I removed his armor and cut the sleeve of his blacks to get a better look. His radial pulse was strong, a good indication that no major circulation had been disrupted. I wrapped the injuries with bacta impregnated dressings.

“Clankers incoming!” Jesse yelled. Tup pushed me further behind the rock outcropping just in time to dodge a blaster bolt that ripped through the rock where we had been standing.

I drew my blaster and we both peeked around the edge of the rock. I had a clear shot at a few droids, so I took it, taking out three of them. Tup congratulated me.

Overhead, a severely damaged gunship streaked by, hit the ground, and rolled, coming to a rest not far from our position.

Tup and I ran to Fives as he and Jesse fired on the last of the droids. We advanced towards the gunship crash site.

As we approached, we could hear the screams of pain. Called over comms for additional medics and a tank for evacuation. There were none available, everyone had suffered heavy personnel and equipment loss.

A trooper approached, pointing me in the direction of an injured brother.

“Is anyone else alive?” I inquired.

“I don’t think so, sir,” he said.

I reached the trooper and swiftly pulled my backpack off, reaching for two tourniquets. One leg had been fully amputated just above the knee and the other leg was partially amputated below the knee. Blood was pouring from both legs.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered.

“Jesse, I’m going to need you to help me so he doesn’t bleed out. Put this one on the left leg and I’ll take the right leg.”

I slid the tourniquet on and yanked the strap tight before cranking the windlass. The trooper screamed in pain.

“I know it hurts, but it’s going to save your life,” I said.

Jesse and I both got our tourniquets secure and the bleeding quickly stopped. I dressed what was left of his legs with two large bacta trauma dressings.

Next, I pulled out a syringe filled with pain medicine.

“This is going to help the pain, but make you sleepy. We’re going to get you out of here. You’re going to be ok,” I assured him. I removed his helmet and his skin was pale, clammy, and cool. His carotid pulse was thready. I pulled the IV kit out and started a like in his jugular vein. This would have been a great time to have blood or plasma, but fluids and bacta would have to suffice.

“Jesse, he’s going to need evaced now or he’s not going to make it.”

“I’ve already called for them to come get him, they finally have a tank in the area and it should be arriving any minute,” he said.

I hadn’t looked up from my patient until now. I wish I hadn’t. A couple meters away laid a trooper that had been completely transected. I continued scanning the area, seeing dead trooper after dead trooper.

My concentration was broken by the sound of moaning. I got up and started searching for the origin. I found a trooper who’s arm had been completely amputated and a large piece of metal debris was crushing his lower half. Judging by the amount of blood on the ground, he was close to exsanguination. I knew there was no saving him. I removed his helmet and was surprised to find he was still semi-conscious. His carotid pulse was barely palpable and his chest rise was short and shallow.

“Help….me...p..p..please,” he pleaded, in between gasps for air.

“I will, don’t worry. It’s going to be ok.”

I pulled out another syringe of pain killer and injected his neck, in hopes of easing his transition to the next world. I removed my helmet so that the last things he would see would not be cold, unfeeling plastoid. I held his head on my lap and gently stroked his hair watching his honey colored eyes struggle to stay open. A few seconds passed and his eyes closed and his chest was still.

I felt a hand under my elbow, pulling me up.

“C’mon, Doc, there’s more of my vod that will need you,” Fives urged in a somber tone.

For hours, Fives, Jesse, and Tup took me from injured trooper to injured trooper, dodging and fighting the clankers and bugs. I was exhausted and covered in blood and dirt and vomit.

“Rex needs us to join up with General Skywalker, he needs help taking down the wall,” Fives said. “It’s going to be tight in that gorge, so you need to keep your head down and stay right beside me.”

“Understood. Let’s go,” I replied.

__________________

General Skywalker’s forces were pinned down in the gorge by the laser blasts coming from numerous guns mounted on an insurmountable wall. It would need to be destroyed so that we could advance and meet the rest of our forces at Point Rain.

We took cover with the General, Commander, and Captain Rex. I was relieved to see that Rex was unharmed.

“Ahsoka and I will go to the top of the wall and destroy it from within. Rex, you and your men keep their attention down here,” General Skywalker ordered.

“Yes, sir!” Rex responded.

Rex came over to me.

“Are you doing ok?” he asked.

“Oh, you know, just living the dream,” I replied with a weak smile as I motioned to the mess on my armor.

“Good, stay here where it’s safe,” he ordered as he left cover to lead his men.

There were so many clones being shot down, but I could not reach them safely.

“Fire on the droids on top of the wall,” came Rex’s order over comm.

I looked out around the rocks I was behind to see General Skywalker and Commander Tano fighting the droids on top of the wall. The Jedi were mesmerizing to watch. I then noticed someone else had joined them. It was Rex.

“Take cover, the wall is about to blow!” He yelled over comms. Then I heard him scream. All I could see was three bodies falling from the top of the wall. The explosives detonated and I quickly took cover. I wondered if Rex had survived the fall.

As the smoke cleared, I noticed there were considerably less laser blasts. I started checking on the wounded troopers. There were very few survivors.

I patched up what injuries I could before we advanced.

After another intense firefight, we finally made it to General Kenobi’s position at Point Rain. The General was injured, but had already been given a bacta injection. I moved on to help load and evacuate the rest of the wounded.

I was kneeling, wrapping a trooper's head wound when I felt a presence behind me. It was Rex. I was relieved to see he was uninjured.

“I know there’s a lot to be done here, but we’re ready to move out and start the direct assault on the factory. We’re going to need you,” he said.

I finished securing the dressing.

“I need to restock my bag, but I’m ready,” I said wearily.

Rex reached out a hand to help me up. I took it, my aching joints thankful for the assistance. He led me over to two lifeless bodies.

Unfortunately, there had been two medics who had not survived. I hesitated next to them momentarily.

“Go ahead and resupply from what they have left. It’s all we have,” Rex said.

I took their supplies and got ready to move out.

_________________________

Unfortunately Rex was right, they did need me. General Skywalker led an assault straight to the front doors of the droid factory, in an effort to distract the droids while Commander Tano and another padawan destroyed the factory from inside. The plan worked, but it left many casualties in its wake.

I worked with the other medics well into the night. We were exhausted by the time the last gunship left.

I shuffled back to camp, in search of somewhere to rest. There were a number of fires with troopers sitting around them. Some groups were boisterous, others somber.

Then I saw him, sitting alone by a fire that was separated from the others. I made my way to Rex.

“This seat taken?” I asked

“Nope, sit down and rest,” he said as he patted the seat next to him. The seat being the ground with rocks to lean on.

“You look awful,” he said as he scrunched his face.

“You don’t look so great yourself,” I quipped.

Rex smirked.

“You’re no longer a shiny after today, but that doesn’t mean you need to be covered in blood and vomit, either,” he retorted.

He took me to the deconn area and helped me scrub away the reminders of the day.

“You had a busy first day.”

“Yes, too busy.”

I put my clean armor on and we returned to the fire. We sat in silence for what seemed like hours, watching the flames dance and listening to the cracking of the fire. I was somewhere between exhausted and unable to sleep. I had seen bad injuries in med bay, but nothing like I’d seen today. I needed time to process everything.

Rex touched my shoulder and I was jolted out of my spaced out state.

“C’mere,” he said, beckoning me to lean up against him. He removed his chest plate so I could rest directly on him and not on plastoid.

I was so tired that I didn’t hesitate. I sat down between his legs and snuggled into his chest. It was definitely better than laying on the ground.

_________________

He watched her stare at the fire blankly for some time. She was no doubt replaying the events of the day. She’d held her own, but he could see it had taken a toll. He knew the feeling all too well.

Rex wanted to comfort her; let her know she wasn’t alone. He wasn’t sure what possessed him, but he offered her to rest with him.

She came to him, laying her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. He wondered what it would be like to actually hold her without all the kriffing plastoid between them. She quickly fell asleep.

“Oh, cyar’ika,” he whispered into her hair.

————————————

The faint, pre-dawn light on my face was enough to wake me. I rubbed my eyes, trying to bring the blurry world into focus.

No one else was stirring, but I knew it wouldn’t be long. I thought it best that the Captain wasn’t caught snuggling the medic.

“Rex, Rex wake up,” I said quietly as I gently touched his face. His facial features were striking. His cheeks, chin, and jaw were perfectly defined. I held his face in my hand and ran my thumb over the slight stubble that had grown in.

“Hmmm?” He inquired.

“Rex, it’s nearly dawn, everyone will be awake soon.”

He squeezed me closer.

His voice was still gruff from sleep.

“Kriff. Better not get caught like this,” he rubbed his eyes and we both stood up. “We should be shipping back to the Resolute today. Do you want to, uh, meet me in my quarters later? We can debrief and, uh, have a drink.”

Rex looked a little sheepish, which was funny to me, since most of the time he was a brave, tough, clone.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” I smiled and left to see what needed to be done before departure.

——————————

We were back aboard the Resolute in the early evening, just in time for dinner. I sat with the boys, listening to them discuss how many clankers and bugs they killed. I hadn’t seen Rex since arriving on the ship. He was probably stuck in his quarters working on reports.

“I took out 70!” Fives boasted.

“Yeah? Well I took out at least 100, probably more!” Hardcase stood up and pretended to be firing his rotary blaster cannon.

I was sipping my caf and enjoying the banter.

“Did any of ya bother to ask our new medic how many clankers she took out?” Jesse asked.

“Oh, uh, well, it’s nothing compared to your counts,” I said, waving my hand dismissively.

“Tell us!!!” Hardcase coaxed.

“Ok, I took out...three.”

“Woooo! Hell yeah!” They all started cheering and giving me high fives.

“That’s pretty good for a shiny medic who’s not even trained for combat. Makes my heart proud,” Hardcase sniffled, pretending to wipe a tear.

“Doc ain’t shiny after that battle,” Fives pointed out.

“Sure isn’t. To Doc!” Hardcase said as he raised his glass in a toast.

Everyone followed and raised their glasses.

“To Doc!”

I smiled, raising my cup of caf.

“Welcome to the family, vod,” Fives said, slapping me on the back.

“Thank you, my vod,” I smiled. I knew what an honor it was to be considered one of their vod.

I caught something out of the corner of my eye and looked towards the mess hall entrance to see Rex standing in the hall, just far enough back from the mess entrance so that it was unlikely his men would see him. We made eye contact and he tilted his head, motioning me to come to his quarters. I could feel the butterflies stirring in my stomach.

I pushed back from the table. “Well boys, I’m going to hit the fresher and call it a night.”

————————————

I stopped at my quarters to grab a change of clothes to take with me. I hoped he would be fine with me using his shower. I had become quite attracted to him, but I was afraid if I delayed meeting him, I might lose my nerve.

I made my way to his door and rang the buzzer. He answered the door in just his blacks. I couldn’t help but notice how well they clung to him. It was nothing short of glorious.

“Would you like to come in, or are you going to stand in the hall all night?” He asked, breaking my trance.

“Yes, I’d love to come in. Can I use your shower?”

“You can. I’m going to finish up these reports while you shower.”

His fresher was much bigger and nicer than mine. I took off my armor and my dirty blacks and turned the water on. I was still grimy from the mission and eager to get clean.

The first drop of hot water touched my soul. I didn’t mind being on a mission, but not being able to shower was unpleasant. My hair was caked to my head, tangled, even though it had been braided. Thanks, helmet. The water at my feet ran grimy with dirt, sweat, and blood. I scrubbed until the water ran clean.

I dried off and reached for my clothes. I saw a robe hanging on the wall and changed my mind. My heart was racing and the butterflies returned as I stood there, thinking about wearing Rex’s robe, and only his robe.

“Be bold, you can do this,” I whispered to myself.

I made up my mind and grabbed the robe. It was soft, but not plush. It stopped just below my knees and the sleeves extended to my fingertips. I tied it shut and opened the door.

Rex looked up from his reports with one eyebrow raised. He laid the datapad on the table.

“Would you like a drink?” He asked as he moved to the small liquor cabinet in the corner.

“Yes, please,” I said as I sat down on the couch, knees to the side.

“Whiskey fine? It’s really all I’ve got.”

He handed me the glass and sat down beside me. I swirled the amber liquid and took a sip. There were notes of vanilla, caramel, dark fruit and wood and it finished with a slight spice of pepper.

“This tastes expensive”

“It is, but I thought this evening was the perfect time to share it,” he brought his glass to his lips, slowly sipping. It was then I noticed how the whiskey matched his brown eyes.

His hand was laying in the space between us. I reached my hand out and laid it on his, gently stroking. Rex took my hand and raised it to his lips.

“Come here, mesh’la.”

I straddled his lap. Maker, his cock was already hard beneath me.

He brushed my hair behind my ear and then pulled my face to his, kissing me. His mouth tasted spicy, yet sweet, from the whiskey.

He moaned and thrust his tongue into my mouth as I rocked my hips back and forth against his erection.

Rex loosed the tie at my waist and pushed the robe from my shoulders. He gently moved me into an upright position.

Rex’s eyes trailed up and down my naked body, stopping every so often to linger. His hands moved from my hips to cup my breasts.

“Last night while I was holding you, I tried to imagine how soft and warm you were beneath the cold, hard plastoid.”

His thumbs lazily passed over my nipples, demanding the soft flesh to stand at attention.

“It’s better than I imagined, cyar’ika.” His hands slid down and squeezed my ass.

I pulled his shirt off and ran my hands down his solid chest and abdomen to the waistband of his pants. A deep “V” ran from his hips to somewhere below the waistband. I traced it with my fingers, leaving goosebumps in my wake. I glanced up from my work to make eye contact. He understood my unspoken request and lifted his hips from the couch, sliding the pants down, cock springing free from its confines.

I wrapped my hand around him, admiring the girth. I used my thumb to tease the head as he had teased my nipples. The leaking precum aided my hand in sliding over his length.

I stood, then knelt on the floor between his legs, taking his cock into my mouth. It was rock hard, but the skin was silky. Rex let out a sharp inhale as my tongue flicked against his sensitive head. He squirmed as I took him fully into my mouth, deep into my throat. I cupped his balls and his hands shot to the back of my head, grabbing my hair. He was gentle, but needy, thrusting into my mouth.

After a few minutes he stopped and pulled out.

“My turn, mesh’la.”

He stood and led me to his bed. I laid down on the edge and he quickly pushed my legs apart. His hand slid down to my swollen clit, rubbing slow circles.

“Maker, you’re already soaking wet,” he said as his fingers moved lower, sliding up and down my slit. He thrust one large finger in, causing me to grab the sheets.

“That ok?”

“Yes, it’s…wonderful,” I said breathlessly.

He curled the finger up, easily finding my g-spot. I pushed my hips into the bed. Rex smiled as he lowered his head to my clit. Shockwaves pulsed through me as his tongue licked my clit while his finger pushed and rubbed my g-spot.

“Gonna...cum,” I squeaked out.

He sped up the pace, pushing me over the edge. A white hot warmth ripped through my abdomen and my walls clenched tightly around his finger. He didn’t let up, causing me to orgasm in waves. All I could see were flashes of light behind my clenched eyelids. I reached for his head, looking for something solid to grasp. My fingers clawed, trying to find a hold, but his hair was short. The last wave was more like a tsunami and I squirted onto his chin and into his upturned palm.

“Mmmm,” he moaned.

He slowed his pace and finally stopped, removing his finger from my sensitive slit. He licked my squirt from his hand.

“Maker, I’ve never known anyone to do that,” He complimented, pleased look on his face.

“Takes someone special to make me do it,” I answered.

“Ready for more?”

“Mhhmm.”

He flipped me over onto my stomach and entered from behind. His girth alone nearly made me orgasm again. I took several short breaths in an attempt to hold back. He thrust fully into me and I whimpered.

“Too much, mesh’la?”

“No, just, sensitive. Maker, you fill me up.”

He started thrusting slowly until he was certain I was ready for more. His hands gripped my hips, sliding me forward and back on his thick cock.

The thrusts intensified and the waves of orgasm washed over me again.

“Mmpph,” he groaned behind me, struggling to move against my spasmining.

My orgasm let up and I could feel his thrusts becoming more urgent and sloppy. I pushed my hips down and back repeatedly.

He moaned loudly, filling me with warm cum. Rex leaned on top of me, hands reaching around to hold my dangling breasts. My thighs and midsection were still tingling with aftershocks.

Rex placed a gentle kiss between my shoulder blades and stood, withdrawing his cock. I could fill the hot stickiness of his orgasm dripping out of me. I could see him watching, before he disappeared to the fresher and returned with a towel.

Rex laid down on the bed while I finished cleaning up. I couldn’t help but to stand and stare at him laying there, naked, eyes closed, one arm above his head. He looked like an ancient sculpture of some tragically handsome warrior. I tossed the towel to the side and crawled in beside him.

————————-

I laid with my head on his chest, enjoying the sound of his heart and gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“Bzzzzzz,” came the annoying noise of the doorbell. It was followed by a voice.

“Captain? It’s Fives.”

Rex sighed. Fives was going to be the reason he had a stroke one day.

“I’ll go to the fresher so he doesn’t know I’m here,” I said. It was better to keep things concealed for now.

“Grab my spare pair of blacks out of that drawer so you don’t have to wear your dirty ones,” he said as he pulled on his pants.

I hoped up and grabbed the shirt and pants and headed for the fresher. I couldn’t leave my armor behind, so wearing my personal change of clothes wasn’t an option.

Rex crossed the room to the door, wearing only the lower half of his blacks.

“Yes, Fives?” He sounded slightly annoyed.

“ Have you seen Doc anywhere? One of the men has a shoulder out and was hoping to see her and avoid med bay.”

“Shit,” I whispered. I started getting dressed as quietly as I could.

“Did you check her quarters?” Rex asked.

“Yes, sir, she’s not there, the mess, or med bay. Not answering her comm either.”

“Uh, give me just a minute to get dressed, and we’ll go find her,” Rex said.

————————

Fives waited outside the door while Rex dressed. He smiled and chuckled to himself. Rex was smart, but he’d forgotten to move the second whiskey glass off the table. Fives was certain he knew where she was.

He was proud of his captain. Rex never let himself have fun, and Fives knew he needed it. Fives was just wondering how he’d manage to land her when his own charm in med bay had never won her heart.

Rex came to the door, now fully dressed.

“What’s funny, Fives?” He inquired, squinting his eyes in suspicion .

“Uh, nothing, sir. Let’s go find her”.

——————————————-

As soon as they were gone I dressed at lightning speed. I opened the door and peeked into the hallway. Thankfully it was empty, since it was late at night.

Now, where should I go? My comm flashed and I turned it on. It was Rex and Fives talking.

“Let’s check her quarters, the med bay, the hangar, and the mess again, in that order,” Rex said.

I took that as my sign to make my way to the mess. That would give me enough time to get there, grab some caf, and come up with a story.

The mess was once again empty, which was good as there’d be no one to say I had just come in.

I grabbed a cup of caf and found a comfortable seat, trying to act relaxed.

About five minutes later, Rex and Fives entered the mess.

“Hey guys, want to join me?” I asked, pretending to be surprised to see them.

“Where ya been, Doc? I thought you were headed to the fresher and turning in hours ago?” Fives asked, squinting at me.

“Oh, well I got cleaned up but couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk around the ship and then decided to stop here for some caf.”

“Uh huh,” Fives was not convinced. “I’ve been trying to get you on comms for an hour.”

“Ummm damn thing must have been malfunctioning, I never heard a thing,” I shrugged my shoulders.

Rex decided to interject, before Fives could interrogate me further.

“Fives says one of the men has a shoulder out and wants to see you. Go with him to the barracks and see what you can do,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

I followed the pair to the door. Rex turned to head back to his quarters.

“Sweet dreams, Captain!” Fives said in a sarcastic tone, waving ridiculously.

Rex didn’t even turn, he just held up his middle finger.

I stifled a laugh until he was out of sight and then Fives and I both laughed.

We composed ourselves as we headed towards the barracks.

“So, you and the Captain, eh?” He elbowed me.

“I have no idea what you are talking about? Me and the Captain what??” I tried to sound offended but the heat in my cheeks was giving me away. Fives could see right through me.

“I saw the second glass on the table in his quarters. It’s the only reasonable place you could have been since none of the clones on watch saw you. You and the Captain are bad liars,” he had a sly smile, as if he’d just uncovered a major separatist plot.

I looked down at the floor, embarrassed that I’d been so transparent and that I’d forgot to move the glass.

“It’s no big deal, Doc. I won’t tell anyone your secret. You two don’t need to go to such trouble to hide it. I’m just glad to see the Captain getting some ass!” He laughed and I socked him hard on the shoulder, the pain in my knuckles making me instantly regret my decision.

“Don’t be mad, cyar’ika, it’s all in good fun.”

“I’m not mad, you just deserved it for being a cheeky bastard,” I gave him a sly smile.

“You know you love me,” he grinned from ear to ear as he put his arm around my shoulder.

“So, whose shoulder is out?”

“Tup.”

“And how exactly did he manage that?”

“Hardcase.”

I placed my palm on my face in exasperation. You’d think the battles were enough fighting for them that they wouldn’t need to rough house in the barracks.

We arrived in the barracks to find an injured Tup, sitting on his bunk, guarding the injured left shoulder.

“Ouch, Tup, that’s definitely out of socket,” I observed as I palpated the injury. “Sure you don’t want to do this in med bay with a sedative?” The muscles were spasming and I knew it was extremely painful.

“Nah, I’ll be alright,” he grimaced.

“Ok, will you boys help him lay on the floor, please?”

“I thought a lady would prefer to do it in bed,” Fives quipped.

“Fives, you’re on thin ice,” I joked as I gave him a fake serious look and the “I’m watching you” motion with my fingers. He just laughed, as did his vod.

I worked to manipulate his arm, hoping the shoulder would pop back in with little resistance.

I rotated his arm 90 degrees at the elbow, rotating the shoulder outward as I gently pushed. After several minutes, I felt a pop as the humeral head relocated.

Tup breathed a sigh of relief and sat up. We helped him back onto his bunk.

“Thanks, Doc, that feels a lot better.”

“I’m going to give you a bacta injection to reduce the inflammation. I’m also going to put a sling on that arm tonight to give it time to rest. You should be good as new by tomorrow.”

The clones that had gathered to observe had started to disperse now that the excitement was over.

“Alright, Tup, I think you’re good to go. Try to get some rest, but comm me if you need me. As for the rest of you, try not to get hurt between now and revelry; I’m tired,” I yawned and rubbed my eyes.

I made my way back to my quarters, stripped, and flopped down on my bed. I just closed my eyes when my comm started beeping. I sighed and started to get up, assuming someone needed something.

“Might as well answer and get it over with,” I grumbled as I pressed the answer button.

“Nuhoy pirusti, cyar'ika.”

Sleep well, darling.

[aknosde]

Omnes Una Manet Nox

The chronologically first installment of my Reyna Swap AU, Alea Iacta Est // Reyna Avilla Ramírez-Arellano // Fluff & Angst, but minor on the angst // the night before Reyna disappears //  tw: mentions past minor character death // light swearing // 4.4k

ao3

—————

“That went well, didn’t it?” Jason asks with that familiar, absently intense energy. They’ve just descended the steps of the Senate after their monthly meeting with the consuls.

The two consuls, in their late thirties, oversee all of Camp Jupiter. Of course, the legion manages their own grounds and budget, under Jason and Reyna’s command, but the little oversight they do get is from the consuls.

Johnson was one of New Rome’s praetors, a few years back. He doesn’t care much about the legion, being from a legacy family and largely skirting his training and service, and he never ceases to make that known. Malhill is the one that always gets under Jason’s defenses. He’s good on policy, good on veterans, good on kids, everything that they could want. But he was the legion’s champion only ten years ago. A direct son of Apollo, a talented archer but an even better bender of light, a legion praetor, and he’s had his eyes on Jason’s career since day one. Reyna’s seen the way he eyes Jason whenever she and Jason are in New Rome, already pegging him for a consul position once Jason’s old enough.

“It went well, Jace,” she says. “Your mission plan is flawless, the only thing that could make them happier is if you’d go on it.” She regrets the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth.

Her remorse is tangible, visible in the line of his spine, the way he taps the place in his pocket where Ivlivs would sit if they were not inside the Pomerian Line, the subtle flick of his wrist.

Not for the first time, she thinks about Mount Othrys. Everything it took from her. Sometimes when she sleeps–not often, but enough–it plays over in her head. But something is always wrong.

She’s leading the charge, but suddenly it’s Jason next to her instead of Michelle. Or Jason and Michelle run into the throne room, but when she closes the door behind them it locks. She makes it into the throne room, slaying all of the Dracaena, but when she enters Atlas is holding Jason over his head, instead of fighting him hand to hand. On the good nights, Michelle isn’t dead when she bursts through the door, on the bad, she watches Michelle die. The one constant is Jason, gold ichor dripping down his face in a horrific mask. When she and Jason land the killing blow, together, she can always see it.

He doesn’t talk about it, of course. Not about Michelle, not about his election, not about the mountain. But she can see it weighing on him through the big things, like how he hasn’t been out of camp borders since the battle, and the small things, like how he glances up at the stars, as if one will come down and crush him any moment.

She rolls her right shoulder, feeling the ligaments shift, as if it will rid her of the thoughts, prepare her for a topic of conversation that often hits a little too close to home.

“Did you hear how Johnson pronounced my name? He’s even worse than you.” Maybe the small huff of a laugh Jason expels is worth it. “‘Miss Ramírez-Arellano,’” she continues, in a nasally imitation of the consul.

“I don’t say it that badly.”

“You say it like a white boy who didn’t know Spanish was a language until two seconds ago.”

“Ramírez-Arellano,” he says, better than consul Johnson, but she still hates hearing it. That girl is long gone, the only thing connecting her to Reyna is Hylla, and although Reyna loves her sister, she’s grateful for the distance that keeps Hylla from being a constant reminder.

“‘We were– were very, erm, dazzled, by your most recent proposition.’” She continues the impression until they are walking through the Praetorian Gate, Jason half hanging off her shoulder and giggling like they’re thirteen again.

He has a nice laugh. A friendly one. It seems to feed off of her volume, her effort, fluctuating the longer he goes. He shouts at her to stop several times, but he’s doubled over in armor, snorting, and all she wants to do is make him laugh like this forever.

It only gets worse on the steps of the Principa, when he decides a good revenge plan is to trip her. The building is dark like the rest of the legion. Two lamps, invisible under the light of day, flank the double doors, but the light is faint and barely makes its way to the stairs, washing everything in a pale yellow. She side steps his foot–his sneakers have reflective decals on them for the sake of the gods, he’s an idiot–but he’s shifted his weight so much that he ends up tripping himself.

They stumble through the doors, still chuckling, and make their way across the great hall as quickly as possible. They must have gotten a new tender for the Principa, because the lights are off like they forgot that people actually live here. Only two people, but still. The darkness makes the place unsettling, and now she’s counting on Jason to keep her occupied. A job he seems all too willing to fulfill as he runs through the next set of doors, still in full armor, clashing against the wood.

Upstairs is worse, she decides. The abandoned lounge reminds her of her childhood living room. Any moment her father could rise from one of the low couches, ready to scoop her up and throw her in her room, that crazed look in his eye.

Something clangs and she jumps.

“What the heck is this?” Jason’s whisper-shouting when she catches up with him in the hallway outside their rooms. He’s partially on the floor–hands keeping him from being face flat–and something is crinkling under his knee.

For some reason all Reyna can say is: “Did you just say ‘heck?’”

“Shut up,” he whines, and she wishes the lights were on just so she could see his ears turning red.

“Of course, farm-boy.”

He’s sitting back on his heels now, she can see the object’s dark outline as he holds it up, rustling in his hands.

“Seriously, what is this thing?” he asks, looking up at her.

“A bag with my old clothes,” she says, squinting. “I was going to see if any legionnaires need some.”

“And you have it by your door so you don’t forget,” he says, explaining for her. In the stress of running for office, of war, she forgot the ways in which they are attuned to each other. She forgot that she doesn’t have to explain and defend her every little action to him. It’s sad that it’s taken her almost two months to remember.

He sets the bag back down, nudging it into almost its exact spot, and hefts himself to his feet with a sigh. His brow furrows once he’s standing, looking out into the middle distance, but he sees the quirk of her brow and quickly explains himself, “We have that meeting with the centurions tomorrow after breakfast.”

Jason is a social person. A true extrovert. He hates being alone, working alone, and the quiet that comes with both. So what he’s really saying is that he has work left to do and wants some company. And who is she to deny him that? “Do you want to work in the main hall, office, or my room?”

He grins, clapping his hands and then raises his palms to the sky. “Bedroom, praise Fortuna.”

“Five minutes, Sparkplug,” she says, bumping her shoulder into his own as she sidesteps him into her room. His eyes follow her as she goes, like she’s his North Star, and damn him for making her heart skip a beat, because in the empty space Venus’ words always echo. She stomps them down, before her face can fall, before the hollow silence can fill the hallway, and in their place she jams a smirk. “If you’re lucky I’ll even edit your speech.”

As her door clicks behind her she can hear him groan, “I just prayed to Fortuna.”

She stands with her hands on her hips, briefly surveying her room to decide what to do first.

Being praetor has its perks, like private bath and bedrooms across the hall from her best friend and king sized beds, but it also means she is no longer in the practice of keeping her space ready for inspections. Her comforter is pulled up, but her bed isn’t made, files are scattered across her desk and on her dresser, and her wardrobe is wide open.

She decides on doing everything at once, which involves a crooked path across her room as she shucks off armor, not bothering with her armor stand, and changes out of the nice clothes she wore to meet the consuls. All the while she turns on lights, puts on sweats, makes her bed, and tucks away files.

Jason knocks on her door five minutes later, that ever punctual bastard, just as she’s zipping her hoodie over her tank top.

“Help me, Reyna,” he says, holding a typed copy of his speech out to her in both hands like some sort of trophy. “You’re my only hope.”

She snorts, snatching the pages out of his hands. “Nice reference.”

He cocks his head to the side, brow furrowed, and she bets if he were actually a wolf one of his ears would be turned as well.

“You just made a Star Wars reference,” she says, but he looks just as confused.

“What’s Star Wars?” He asks warily.

She swears to herself in Spanish, because otherwise he’ll tease her about the legion’s anti-swearing policies, collapsing dramatically back on her bed, and sighs. “It’s a movie trilogy, wolf boy.”

“Ah.”

Another thing she forgot, apparently, is how little Jason knows about basically anything outside of camp. He says he arrived when he was three, and wasn’t even allowed into the city until he was eight, which apparently means he’s never been to a movie theater.

By now he seems used to her telling him about the more innocent aspects of the mortal world, and at the very least takes his lack of knowledge in stride. If only he would watch the movies and shows she’s downloaded on his laptop for him.

When she looks up after reading his introduction he is sitting at her desk, picking at some invisible blemish while subtly putting highlighters away, and looking around her room.

“If you start cleaning I’m throwing you out.”

He grumbles to himself, but she makes out a yes ma’am somewhere in the mix, so she decides to throw him a bone.

“If you want to occupy yourself I have a speech about legion veterans you can fact check,” she says, faux casual, not that he can tell. He needs to do something before he starts picking at his nails instead of the wood.

“Sure.”

“It’s in one of the red folders.”

“Would that be the one on the floor under your desk or the one on your dresser,” he says, sounding far too cheeky.

“The one on my dresser, and stop pretending you’re better than me, asshole.”

He clutches his chest dramatically, walking to her dresser. “Better than the best? How could I be?”

“Mmmhmm,” she responds, half ignoring him in favor of his speech, aware of the ticking clock.

It’s truly impossible for him to stay awake past ten, a fact that is only proven the next time she looks up and he’s asleep at her desk, pen still in hand and a research paper opened on her laptop. No matter how often she reminds him that the regimented lights out of the legion no longer applies to them, he just can’t seem to break the habit.

“Jason.” She nudges his shoulder, extracting the pen at the same moment so he can’t smudge her speech.

His head jerks, eyes alert, but voice groggy when he says, “What’s going on?” All legionnaires wake up in a similar manner, but for some reason it only strikes her as amusing when he does it.

She hadn’t thought of what she was waking him up for, besides a need to do it, and her mind wanders to the Forum, wondering if her favorite café would still be open at this hour. She’s starving, she realizes. Their meeting with the consuls had been pushed back and they had had to skip dinner to make it.

She grins. “Are you hungry?”

“Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

“Roof s’mores?”

“Reyna,” he drags out the last syllable, fading it into a sigh. “That takes energy.”

“Okay, but–” She holds her hands out, weighing them. “Would you rather spend the energy to just walk across the hall and go to sleep, or climb up to the roof with me and roast us a couple marshmallows?”

Jason looks at her like is that a real question? which had been her intention. She folds her hands into a pleading gesture and pouts emphatically–he’s always more flexible when she acts a little silly. “Please, Jace. I got that cheap chocolate you like. I’ll even get the stuff myself, you can go straight up.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes and she smiles, satisfied, and already on her way out the door.

The praetorian kitchen reminds her of office break rooms on television, besides the fact that it looks perpetually unnatural, mostly due to the fact that only three people go inside–her, Jason, and the Principa tender–and it’s always pristine. The only things actually kept in there are coffee, tea, and of course: her and Jason’s secret stash of s’more supplies, buried in the back of the cabinet with the untouched bowls.

By the time she’s through the roof access door, conveniently placed to hide it from the view of anyone on the ground, Jason is already sitting by the dark spot of ash that signifies their pastime. Because, yes, they started coming up here long before either of them were elected Praetor.

He’s a dark outline against the night sky, sitting criss-crossed and looking down at the façades of the other legion buildings, and briefly she has the thought that somebody could make a painting out of this. She slides her old Camp Jupiter ID back between the lock and door jamb, willing the thought to disappear with the potential of the fire alarm going off.

She shivers as she sits next to him, nose wrinkling with the cold now that she’s fully vulnerable to the elements. Without a word Jason removes his sweatshirt and passes it to her.

“I’m already wearing one.”

“Mine is thicker, trade me.”

And because he’s Jason, she does.

It’s slightly big on her, his shoulders just a few inches broader than her own, and a forest green. On the back is a printed vine of purple flowers and a date. She recognizes it as one of the prizes of the Ludi Florae, or Games of Flora, from Floralia last year. The festival sits right between April and May, and last year’s was the grandest of all. Or so Jason says. Everyone had been anxious about Mount Othrys, and apparently all of that energy had been funnelled into the events.

Reyna herself had been busy running for praetor. All she remembers from the festival is campaigning. And Jason, running up to her looking flushed, this sweatshirt thrown over one shoulder.

“Remember when I told you that you were the best, Jace,” she says sweetly once she is safely swaddled in his hoodie. He’s right–it is thicker.

Jason grins up at her, wrapping his hands around two marshmallows. “I may recall something along those lines having been said a long, long time ago.”

“Well, I just want to inform you that I retract that statement, because this sweatshirt is ugly and the cuffs are burnt.”

The electricity that had been slowly coursing over the ridges of his fingers flares for a second, and his hands fly open as if he was handed metal straight from the forges. “Oops.” Both of the marshmallows are burnt, but his lips are turned up in a poorly concealed smirk.

“I forget you’re a heathen,” she says primly, sticking her nose in the air instead of saying any of the less wholesome options at the back of her throat.

“Does liking burnt marshmallows make me a heathen?”

She pretends to mull it over for a second, extracting the rest of their supplies. “Yes. You have to buy the next bag because you’re mean and I say so.”

She takes the burnt marshmallow regardless, sandwiching it between her own chocolate and graham crackers. Jason takes three squares of the Hershey bar he likes for absolutely no good reason, and does the same. She shakes her head. He’s the fucking all American boy who sticks with the classics even when he doesn’t know they’re the classics. She has no idea how he does it.

They don’t talk while they eat, regrettably the silence reminding her of her childhood, no matter how hard she pushes against it. She looks up at the stars, trying to forget the cold kitchen, cold house, even in hundred degree heat. It’s times like this when the ring, and the chain she wears it on, weigh heavy on her neck.

It feels like a noose right now, just as much as it feels like freedom, like power, every other second of her life. Like a sentence, compelling her to pay for her crimes, to confess to them, to wreck her world so terribly that she would lose up from down and die. A fair punishment.

“What are you thinking about,” Jason asks a while after they’ve finished. She looks at him, sitting back on his hands, looking at her, not the sky. It’s dark on the roof, but the light from the street lamps seems to center around him. It glints off his hair, visibly blond even in the night, and pours into his eyes. They’re always so blue. So blue it looks fake. But they never cease to pull Reyna in. Sometimes she swears she can see lightning arc across his irises.

He’s always asking her questions like this. Innocent and curious, no ulterior motives, no goals. He genuinely wants to know. And if she doesn’t answer, he’ll drop it, because he always does. It’s not something she’s used to, even after all these years; this place she has in his mind, if not his heart. A place of utter respect. He doesn’t question her because he knows what she is thinking, and when he doesn’t, he accepts her. Would he still, if he knew what she did to her father?

She breaks his gaze with that thought. It’s too much. “My sister,” she says instead, and it doesn’t feel right to look back. Under oath, Reyna would say that Jason is the most important person in her life. Her best friend; the person she sees every day, talks to every day, eats with and works with. He is the closest thing she has to a family here. And she– And she loves him. Maybe as a little more than a friend. But talking about her sister while looking him in the eye feels too intimate, too intense. “She would like you.”

It is something to say, simply to say something, but maybe she isn’t wrong. There is something in Jason that reminds her of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and not in the way that haunts her nightmares and twists her sheets around her until they become bonds she can’t quite break free of. Being on Blackbeard’s crew, that’s how Reyna learned hard work, in a way she never had before. It had instilled a drive in her, to change everything, to rewrite systems, to make something so beautiful it was unrecognizable. And perhaps Jason doesn’t have that same drive, but he knows the work. He goes out of his way to do it dirty and hard and long. He refuses to take the thousands of shortcuts he’s offered. And Hylla would admire that, she thinks.

“I had a sister,” he whispers.

For a second–just a second–she’s stuck. “What?”

“I had a sister.” He picks at a loose thread on his jeans for a moment, and that’s how she knows he’s serious, because he hates ripping his jeans more than almost anything else. He’s refusing to meet her gaze. “Thalia Grace.”

He says her name soft and tender. She can imagine him, standing over a hearth, cradling the name between his palms and looking at it the same way he first looked when he was gifted Ivlivs. Big, round eyes.

“That’s really nice, Jace,” she says, because he rarely surprises her, and for once she doesn’t know what to say.

He looks up at her, smiling tightly. His eyes are sad. Is that how she looks when she thinks about Hylla?

“You can tell me about her, if you want,” Reyna says when the moment becomes two, and then three, because Jason doesn’t bring up things he doesn’t want to talk about. But Jason also has his own ideas about debt, about worthiness, and it is clear to her that he told her about his sister in exchange for Reyna talking about her own.

He smiles at her. A real smile, if small. She feels warm, and it’s not from his extra thick sweatshirt.

“I don’t remember a lot about her, but… She had black hair. So dark, like the night. And her eyes, they were amazing. Bright blue, like a perfect sky. Sometimes I can see them, in this half-memory half-dream, and they’re so strong they look like how an electric shock feels.”

“Like yours,” she whispers, and Jason hums in a way that makes it frustratingly unclear if he heard her or not. She hopes not.

“When I was little,” he continues, after another moment of staring wistfully over the Twelfth Legion, “I used to imagine she was looking for me. That one day she would find me, here, be proud of me for– I don’t know what. Love me, or something. All that stupid shit.” He trails off again, picking at his nails, but she can’t bring herself to chide him.

There are things that she knows about Jason, true as the sun rising in the east and the pull of the moon on the tides and the sound of imperial gold on whetstone. She knows that he works hard, works with the public, flushes under the compliments of people older than him because he has never had a concrete parental figure. Not even one to hate, to fear, to mourn. She knows that he never trusts praise from these people because he knows his parentage, knows they know, knows that he is connected to his father in the eyes of these people in a way he doesn’t feel himself, and never will.

Truths of Jason that are pillars in her understanding of him, that were pivotal in their relationship. But like so many supports, they were never acknowledged. Truth has no need to be stated, and she has no compellence to state that which is unnecessary. He talks of Thalia, telling Reyna that he wants his sister to want him, to find him, and to love him not because he is a son of Jupiter, but because he’s him.

She doesn’t say, I don’t care about you because you’re the son of Jupiter, I care about you because you are my best friend. And she doesn’t say, I care about you because you listen to people, because you care about them and what happens to them so instinctively that I cannot understand it. She doesn’t say, I’m proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself.

She doesn’t say those things because he knows them, because they are truths, and truths do not need to be said.

But still, something must be done.

She– She’s always been bad at the physical things. She can do a handshake, a fist bump, but she has never been a hugger, no matter that Jason is. She’s never managed a hip-check, or a shoulder pat, or ruffled his hair in any way that wasn’t rough and meant to hurt.

But that doesn’t mean she can’t try.

She goes slow, leaning over slightly, feels the cool breeze breaking on her knuckles. Gently, perhaps more gently than she has done anything in her life, she takes his hands, detangles them, presses her finger pads against the bleeding bits where he’s torn his skin away. She closes her hands around his own, cups them in her palms.

He looks up at her, tears welled on his water line but nothing has spilled, and she feels his hands move in her own, feels him latch on, like when they were young and late for assignments, running across the grounds and refusing to leave each other behind. She looks into his eyes, wide. Electrifying. Just like she knew they were.

She waits for the moment to stretch and break, like moments oft do. Her last move is to give his hands a squeeze, hopefully reassuring, and he gives her another small smile and moves to wipe his eyes with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, the one he’s still wearing.

“We should probably be going to bed,” she says, because she doesn’t have anything else to say. He laughs, wetly, but in that way everybody laughs when they’re told something they already know. It makes her smile; it’s special when he does it.

Everybody isn’t wrong, she thinks as she and Jason part ways outside their rooms, Jason Grace is special. But not because he is the son of Jupiter. He’s special because Reyna had never wanted friends, and here he is, her best. He’s special because he does things, normal things, and they make her smile. He’s special because he does everything in his power to ensure he deserves the love he receives. And gods, she thinks, does he deserve it.

She slips off her necklace and gets under her duvet cover, curling up and fiddling with the cuffs of his sweatshirt. Chunks of the polyester-wool fabric are hard and melted from undoubtedly unfortunate rendezvous with electricity. She finds one, right where his thumb would rest, and rubs it between her own thumb and index finger as she falls asleep.

When she wakes up, she’s on a school bus.

—————

Others in this series: Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur

[synnthamonsugar]

Savathun's Trip to the Last City

Now that we have a clearer picture of what’s going on with Savathun I decided to compile the last year’s worth of her POV lore pieces together.

This is super long, and has spoilers for Path of the Splicer VI / Beneath the Endless Night VII, so I’m putting it under a cut.

Credit to @xivuuarath for reading through this and adding some of their ideas! We talked about more beyond what’s posted here, but this is getting long, so maybe that would be better saved for a part two.

1. Traveler's Chosen (Season of Arrivals)

This piece is told from the POV of a narrator viewing the events through an "ossific den". Based on later lore pieces, I'm certain the narrator is Savathun. Given that ahamkara bones have been compromised by her, and that Shaxx has an ahamkara skull slung up in his station, it’s safe to assume this is Sav’s vantage point.

That said, I don't believe Savathun is observing Shaxx, but rather Zavala, struggling in the wake of the Darkness' encroachment on the system and his colleagues' refusals to evacuate to safety. She seems pleased to find Zavala in a desperate state, and watches as he has a silent conversation with the Traveler. Of note is that she's waiting for it to respond.

He waits for a response and I do as well, tense, curious. [ . . . ] It is no time at all for me, but for him, the hours creep by in silence.

I am ready to choke the voice of his Traveler if it answers him, but there is nothing.

2. Harbinger Mission (Season of the Hunt)

Thank you to @xivuuarath​ for pointing this out since I didn’t include it the first time around. During the Harbinger mission Savathun’s forces are attempting to secure a Shard of the Traveler in the EDZ. Of note is that they aren’t trying to destroy it, but rather siphon the Light from it.

Given that the Shard of the Traveler is what allowed our Guardian to jumpstart their Light when they lost it during the Red War, and is what allowed Uldren Sov to break into the Dreaming City during the events of Forsaken, we can assume it’s useful to lightbearers and mortals alike. Make note of this, because it becomes potentially relevant later on.

2.5. Hawkmoon (Season of the Hunt)

From an unknown vantage point, Savathun watches The Guardian and Crow celebrate their defeat of her Taken at the Shard of the Traveler. Unlike Zavala, she can find no weak points in Crow or the Guardian, only happiness. This awakens something in her.

What is this feeling? I did not ask for it. I do not understand it. I do not want it.

Which gets repeated throughout the lore piece. This is our first glimpse of Savathun having feelings that don't fall into the range of "malevolence" or "plotting". She yearns for her youth with her siblings and the warmth of her old life, and feels burgeoning regret for the people she betrayed.

There is a growing kinship here. Against better judgment.

This is ambiguous enough to be a comment on Crow’s and The Guardian’s relationship, or herself and The Guardian and/or Crow. She's called us her friend before but this might be the first time she's actually had friendly feelings for us.

3. Books of Sorrow: New Verse (Season of the Hunt)

This hasn't actually been posted on Ishtar Collective and I'm too lazy to track down a transcript online, so pardon the source. There's a lot to unpack here.

I walk in a city made of delicate hopes.

Savathun has moved beyond occupying ahamkara bones and is actually physically present.

I hear my name everywhere. [. . .] The sound is nourishment.

Imbaru machine on-line?

I am more than I ever was, and less than I will ever be.

Make note of this line.

I am many and none. I'm a man who sits alone in a cavernous office counting my failures. I'm a woman looking at a silent god. I'm a lost soul on a cold moon. I'm a broken mirror of a man who tries to steer the ship.

Comparing (?) herself to Zavala, Ikora, Eris, and back to Zavala again?

I'm a familiar stranger, flitting between them all, hiding my face.

Again, I think she's speaking literally here.

The people here are small krill dwarfed by the enormity of oblivion.

A neat little comparison of humanity with the krill, who we established in her last appearance she's beginning to feel regret for.

4. Retrofuturist (Season of the Chosen)

Savathun watches a Crucible match, and judges Guardians for being reckless with the gift of immortality. The tone of this piece reinforces the idea she is actually out and about in a corporeal form.

I'm mostly interested in her perspective on Ghosts here. She calls them "A perfect being", and describes their ability to revive the dead as miraculous. She isn't happy that the spectators don't appreciate the gravity of this. Weird sentiment for a hive but ok.

I look up into the blank white face. I feel its Light on my cheeks. It no longer burns me.

The Hive are repelled by the Light. Savathun has grown to tolerate it. Something has changed in her metaphysical composition.

@xivuuarath​ made the excellent observation that she might have been at least partially successful in the Harbinger mission - that she may have secured enough Light to build up an immunity, allowing her to be physically present in the City without being hurt by the Traveler.

Each revival is a choice. I know what to do.

Tuck this away for a moment.

5. Beneath the Endless Night: VII - Ripe (Season of the Splicer)

Okay this whole page is insane so excuse the massive infodump here.

I walk through the City on broken legs. I am conspicuous, but the people here grant me many affordances. I chose this form well.

Confirmation that our girl is actually bumping about in a human-form.

I open my eyes and search the faces of the people around me for familiarity. I did not mean to. I twist inwardly with disgust.

She's sympathizing with the humans of the City. She does not like this, but she is!

When they first reached for me, I reached back in acid mockery, and they opened themselves to me in stupid, naked innocence. I was giddy. My fingers raked their minds. I forced my will through them using only words and met no resistance.

Now I reach as often as they do, and when they reach back, I am thankful. I speak with them. I seek their company. Their companionship.

In case it wasn’t obvious already, Savathun has been running a psy-op on the residents of the Last City, which may explain some of the particularly erratic and troubling behavior from individuals / groups this season.

However the interesting thing is, while Sav used her powers of suggestion to manipulate, the humans unknowingly manipulated her in return. Not through any magic - simply through their kindness.

Savathun is doing more than observing the people of the Last City, she is living with them, getting to know them. Savathun is making friends and it’s literally changing her.

This is not pity, for I know pity. What is this—

A call back to the Hawkmoon lore with her trying to make sense of budding positive feelings.

I clench the gangling black mass that threatens to unspool recklessly from within this shell of flesh. My new arms are too thin, too weak. My new shell still bound with thick mucus. Not yet, I say.

I suspect that the “new shell” she talks about here is not her human-form, but rather something else growing inside it.

A man places his hands on me, on my shoulders, on my back. He asks if I am ill, and he sees my flat eyes, my teeth black with ripeness, and he prepares to scream. I let him keep his mind. I push breath up and through my ruined mouth and speak a simple lie. He stops, smiles, laughs. Shakes his head. He points a finger at me in mocking admonishment before walking away.

A few things to unpack here.

Savathun is physically deteriorating... badly. @xivuuarath pointed out that the body horror of this particular scene mirrors the Emissary’s description of a world with no darkness and creatures that are incapable of death even as they physically fall apart, and if you follow that line of thinking you may infer that she’s forcing herself to live through light alone.

She's approachable enough that some rando would see her in trouble and want to help her, reinforcing the point that she's been wandering about the City and vibing with its residents.

She could have done worse to the good samaritan but chooses not to. She does her mind trick and lets him go about his business. She’s showing mercy... which is something we know the hive absolutely must not do at the risk of being consumed by their worm.

Even here, basted in deception both ample and rich, the Worm cries ravenously. It has grown grotesque, skin taut, overfed, and still it howls for more. It commands me to keep it alive.

I look up, beyond the flickering net of darkness, and see what rests just beyond. Waiting for me. The Worm roars.

NOT DISCONCERTINGLY AMBIGUOUS AT ALL that we don't know if the worm is roaring in terror, pleading or triumph.

TL;DR of what I think is going on.

Savathun came to the City to destabilize it through manipulation, but could not be physically present until she hardened herself to the Light. Camouflaging herself in a human form, she spent time with the residents of the City, and found herself manipulated in return by their kindness. She's resisting the positive emotions, but they're there, which is something we've never seen between hive and humans before. You can't have a crisis of conscience if you don't have a conscience, and Savathun does.

I think Savathun is trying to shed her current form and be reborn in some capacity. I think she's going to try to use the Light to rid herself of the Worm and bootstrap herself into something new. If you'd asked me before reading this lore, I would have insisted that she wanted to become a thought-entity, but the cocoon-like imagery makes me second-guess this assumption.

There are outstanding questions at this point.

Why did she want to prevent Eris and/or The Guardian from communicating with the Darkness in Season of Arrivals? Is there a purpose to the Endless Night beyond eroding willpower and sowing division? Is she trying to save only herself, or attempt to undo the millennia-old injustice she inflicted on her people?