#no connecting thread from beginning to end

[lumitoiile]

☆ :  xiao headcanons

summary : happy lantern rite!! literally just fluffy bf drabbles... falling in love with the vigilant yaksha. gn! reader, (no pronouns.) ╱ word count : 914.

he's scared at first

love is a very foreign thing to xiao. he's heard the term before, he's seen couples stroll through the streets of liyue harbor, but he's never truly understood the concept—not really.

not that it mattered. such attachments never appealed to him anyway. love was a distraction, a vulnerability he could not afford. for as long as xiao could remember, his purpose had been clear: to protect liyue. to shoulder his karmic debt, and atone for the blood staining his hands.

he'd spent centuries alone, tethered to his role as the conqueror of demons... and he was perfectly okay with that.

but then you appeared, threading your way into his life with a softness he didn't know how to guard against. initially, he thought nothing of it. you were simply just another kind soul, one whose time in this world would pass in a blink of an eye. he convinced himself that whatever it was drawing him toward you would fade, just as all things eventually do.

except it didn't.

instead, you lingered. in his thoughts, in his days, in his heart. you had an air of resilience about you, a kindness that extended even to someone like him.

you didn't flinch at his cold demeanor, nor did you try to pry into the shadows of his past. instead, you offered him something he never knew he craved: patience. understanding. acceptance.

it confused him greatly, this persistent and unfamiliar pull. xiao had always lived within the confines of his duty, firmly rooted in his solitude. he'd mastered the art of suppressing his emotions, locking them away so they would never interfere with his purpose.

yet here you were, a mere mortal, breaking him out of his shell little by little.

this would not do. he'd already decided the best course of action was to avoid you entirely. surely, this was the answer—distance himself, cut off whatever thread of connection that had been woven between you.

it should have been simple. keep his distance, let these feelings fade; it's what he felt was best. you didn't deserve to be burdened by someone like him, after all. but the more he avoided you, the more it hurt, the ache in his chest only intensifying the further he pulled away.

and when it finally happens, the realization strikes him like the sharpest of blades. the adeptus is no stranger to pain, but this feeling is something far too gentle to be compared to as such.

he didn't know what to do with the warmth that bloomed in his cheeks whenever you smiled his way, or the ache of longing that tugged at him whenever you left. he realized that the thought of keeping you at a distance suddenly felt unbearable.

oh. is this what humans call "love"?

xiao is not one for words, so when the confession finally slips past his lips, it is raw and unpolished. a quiet admission, barely above a whisper. he braces himself for rejection, for the weight of his existence to be too much for you to endure.

but you don't turn away. instead, you give him the same unwavering warmth that has undone him from the beginning, and that's when he knows it will be alright.

loving xiao is a lesson in patience. unfamiliar with tenderness, he hesitates in his affections. but that doesn't mean he won't try in whatever ways he can manage. he keeps watch over you as you sleep, urges that you call his name whenever danger arises, and offers lingering touches that make it seem as though he's afraid you'll slip past his fingers.

physical touch is definitely a learning curve for him. he startles the first time you take his hand, and stiffens whenever you lean against him. in the early stages of your relationship, he was often prone to pulling away—what if he does something wrong? what if his karmic debt ends up hurting you by mistake?

but even in his hesitance, you are patient. you never push, and you never demand more than he can give. and somehow, that makes him want to try; to be better, to be someone worthy of the warmth you offer so freely.

he's... he's learning. what it means to love, and to allow himself to be loved.

his affections are subtle, but they are there: his lingering gaze when he thinks you aren't looking, how he hovers nearby even when he insists he isn't worried. small yet significant moments where he allows himself to reach for you first—be it a quick brush of fingers or the silent way he rests his forehead against yours.

he's still not the best with words, either. but over time, he finds his own way of saying things that he can't. "be careful," really means "i worry about you." when he says "call my name if you need me," he means "i will always be there when you need it."

and on the rarest nights, when the world feels quiet and safe, he whispers the words he once thought he'd never be able to say to another. hushed and reverent, afraid the syllables will crumble if spoken too loudly.

"i love you."

for the first time in his long, weary existence, love does not feel like a weakness. with you, it is neither a curse nor something to guard against. it is a soft, enduring thing. a promise. unspoken, but deeply felt.

and for xiao, that is more than enough.

© lumitoiile. please do not copy, steal, or edit my work.

[sevenmothz]

Anyway, if you want to play a game with a genuinely really fan-fucking-tastic storyline, a custom protag you can play as you like (complete with a cast of characters you can boink), a really bitching world it all exists in with a lot of lore of its own, that is ALSO really fun to play, may I suggest Cyberpunk 2077?

[nostalgicatsea]

Help. What do you do when you have two viable directions a fic can go (which inevitably lead to two different endings) and you love both so much so you can't pick one over the other? 😩

[teaandspite]

The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 1)

Context: For many years now, I have been collecting funny lines from Goodreads reviews to share with my coworkers. (I do collection development, reader's advisory, and weeding at a public library, so I read a LOT of reviews)

Are some of these, perhaps, rather mean? Yes, but they are also very funny, and come from a place of honest frustration. In the tradition of Bargepole threads and lists everywhere, names and titles have been censored.

"First, I want to say that I understand how hard it is to write a book and how amazing it is when it is actually published. Congrats to the author for that accomplishment. That said--"

"Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred."

"I found myself feeling really, really annoyed with the world that this book is allowed to exist. We live in a universe where the passenger pigeon is extinct but this book goes along merrily being read by unsuspecting lovers of words and ideas and stories? It just seems like too much, you know?"

"Don't do it. Don't spring the cash for the hardcover. Instead, eat an entire bag of Twizzlers, spend some money you don't have at a high-end department store, look up on Facebook the shady college boyfriend that made you cry, research the current value of your home or 401K and then read all about how the big hedge fund managers are faring during the economic crisis. You'll feel about the same stomach pain if you waste your time reading this book."

"This wretched novel begins with the mugging of an old lady and it appears I may be in the process of repeating that loathsome crime as [author] was 78 when she wrote it. It is not nice to put the boot into such a poor defenseless old creature lying there with only a damehood, a Booker Prize and a few million quid. It’s a nasty job but somebody has to do it."

"I think this is the way dead people would write, if they could."

"I am considering setting up SPABB: Society for the Protection of Accurate Book Blurb. This blurb appears to have been written by someone from the publishers who met [the author] the night before, got very drunk, lost his notes and then constructed something in a fug of hangover the next morning."

"I congratulate [the author] on the early half of his book, which was thoroughly fun and made me laugh and think. I congratulate [the author] on the second half of his book, for finishing it. It reads like that was difficult."

"…a woman whose taste in contemporary literature has roughly the same batting average as a pitcher in the National League."

"The author is a pompous windbag."

"Recommends it for: No one. Recommended to me by: A friend who apparently wished to cause me great suffering."

"Makes me wonder: is it possible to obtain similes at a volume discount?"

"The repeated phrases made me want to mail a thesaurus to the author."

"I'm disappointed in myself for finishing this book."

"if the author described [character's] eyes as "obsidian" one more time I was tempted to write her and ask if her thesaurus broke."

"They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would, if given infinite time, eventually produce the complete works of William Shakespeare. [This book], on the other hand, would probably take the average monkey just under two hours."

"I can't imagine what the author had to do to get this nadir of Western literature printed on innocent trees, but he does seem to know a LOT about being well-connected in New York."

"This book is so bad it is almost worth reading just to make you appreciate the other books you are reading."

"Reads like it was written by a brilliant author, the night before it was due."

"raises interesting questions, like: can a book be so bad as to constitute an act of terrorism"

"has this author ever spoken to a human woman"

"This acorn has fallen so far from the tree that it can’t even see the forest."

"I’m guessing they are touted as ‘beach reads’ because no one will care if they get dropped into the ocean."

"This book begins with all the energy of a hand vacuum near the end of its battery life, and the pace doesn't quicken much from there."

"At least everybody’s eyes stayed the same color this time around.”

Part 2

Part 3

[mononijikayu]

amnesia — ryomen sukuna.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.” You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: sfw, fluff, angst, romance, hurt/ comfort, post - break up, amnesia, hurt, physical touch, memory loss, sadness, pain, pining, slowly getting back together, light-hearted, happy ending, getting back together, depictions of amnesia, depiction of pining, mention of grief, mention of accident, mention of pining, ex-boyfriend! sukuna, amnesiac! ex-girlfriend! reader, domestic uncle sukuna!, nephew!yuji;

WORD COUNT: 9.9k words

NOTE: the entire chapter is a sequel to drunk tonight and is set five years later. sukuna won second place at the poll again and i feel like this is my apology for sukuna for always making him an angst main lead. this was inspired by a filipino film called amnesia girl and its a funny drama-romcom. its available on youtube, but i dont know if there's subtitles!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy this and i hope you know how much i love yall 🫶🫶🫶

ADDENDUM: so......so long sukuna??? (manga readers iykyk)

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 1000;

if you want to, tip!

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HE LIKED TO THINK HE COUNTED THE HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN WELL. Five long and painful years ago, you and Sukuna parted ways in what felt like an explosion of unresolved emotions and unmet expectations. Your relationship had been a tempestuous blend of fiery passion and constant turbulence, a rollercoaster of intense highs and devastating lows. From the beginning, it was clear that both of you had strong personalities, often clashing in ways that seemed impossible to reconcile.

The reasons for the breakup were numerous and complex. There was the perpetual danger that came with Sukuna's world, a constant reminder that you were living on the edge, with no guarantee of safety or stability. His life was fraught with peril, and the reality of that danger had taken its toll on both of you. You both knew that living under such stress was unsustainable, and it began to fray the bonds that had once held you together.

Your expectations, too, weighed heavily on the relationship. You had dreams and aspirations that seemed at odds with the life you were leading alongside Sukuna. The demands of his world often overshadowed your own needs, leading to a sense of neglect and disillusionment. It felt as though you were always putting yourself second, trying to accommodate the chaos that was Sukuna's life while struggling to maintain your own sense of self.

Despite the chaos and the inevitable breakdown, there was an undeniable connection between you—a bond that neither of you could completely sever. It was a connection that defied logic, a thread that seemed to pull you back together despite all efforts to move on. Both of you had tried to let go, to walk away and start anew, but the lingering feelings and shared history made it nearly impossible to fully break free.

Sukuna, in his own way, struggled with this as well. Even though the relationship had reached its breaking point, he found himself unable to completely let go of what you had shared. He was deeply aware of the toll that the relationship had taken on you, and he knew that you needed to prioritize yourself, your own well-being, and your own path forward. It was a painful realization, one that left him feeling hollow and lost, but he was determined not to be the reason you couldn't move forward.

In his mind, letting you go was the only way to truly show his love for you—to give you the space you needed to heal and grow. Even if it meant enduring his own misery, he accepted that it was a sacrifice he had to make. He knew that holding on would only serve to drag you both down further, and he wasn't willing to be the obstacle in your pursuit of happiness.

So, as time passed and the separation became a part of your history, Sukuna endured his own internal struggle. He remained in the shadows of your life, silently wishing for your happiness while grappling with his own feelings of loss and regret. He respected your decision and tried to move forward, even as he kept a part of himself tied to the memories of what once was.

But even then, you were truly something that made his life more than it was. You were the blossoms of his youth, the hope and vibrancy that had once colored his world. Your presence had breathed life into the mundane, transforming his days from mere existence into something filled with possibility and wonder. 

His elder brother Jin had seen it all those years ago, recognizing the profound impact you had on Sukuna. Jin had often remarked on how you were a beacon of hope, a light that guided Sukuna through the darkest corners of his life. Your influence was undeniable, a force that had shaped him in ways he could hardly articulate.

Yet despite the depth of his feelings and the significance of what you had shared, Sukuna couldn’t escape the gnawing belief that he had ultimately failed you. He carried with him the heavy burden of the notion that he wasn’t good enough—never had been, never would be. The weight of this conviction was a constant companion, a shadow that loomed over every thought and action.

He remembered the countless moments of doubt, the times when he felt that his flaws, his imperfections, and the dangers of his world were too great a burden for you to bear. It was a painful realization, one that left him grappling with feelings of inadequacy. He wanted to be the person who could give you everything you deserved—love, stability, safety. But he feared that he fell short, that he could never truly be the partner you needed.

Even as he watched you move forward, find your own path, and build a life without him, he was haunted by the belief that he had let you down. He was acutely aware of all the ways he had failed to meet your expectations, to protect you from the chaos that had once defined your life together. He thought that perhaps he had been too caught up in his own struggles, too consumed by the demands of his world to fully appreciate what he had with you.

In his quieter moments, Sukuna wrestled with the idea that he would never be good enough for you, that he would never be able to offer you the kind of love and life you truly deserved. This belief became a part of him, shaping how he viewed himself and how he measured his worth. He felt that he had lost you not because of any one mistake or shortcoming, but because he was fundamentally flawed, incapable of providing the kind of relationship you needed.

And so, even as he grappled with his own pain and regrets, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were better off without him. The memory of what you had shared lingered like a bittersweet echo, a reminder of what could have been and what was lost. He had to come to terms with the fact that he might never be able to offer you the life you deserved, and that acceptance was a hard, painful lesson he had to learn.

Sukuna's struggle with these feelings was a testament to the depth of his love for you, a love that, despite its imperfections and its failures, had once been a source of profound meaning and transformation in his life. Even as he moved forward, he carried the weight of this truth with him—a reminder of what you had meant to him and the painful realization that, perhaps, he would never truly be good enough to have you back.

Sukuna sat in the corner of the room, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, as he listened to his friend's banter. The atmosphere was lighter than it had been in years. Gojo, with his usual grin, was recounting some ridiculous tale of his latest escapade, while Uraume, ever the quiet observer, occasionally chimed in with dry comments that had the others laughing.

But Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention. His mind kept drifting back to you—to the way your eyes had softened when you told him you wanted to give “us” a real chance, to the way you’d leaned into him, trusting and vulnerable in a way that made his chest tighten.

“Oi, Sukuna. You’re….” Gojo’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, bud. What's got you all broody, huh?”

Sukuna blinked, realizing he’d been staring into his glass for who knows how long. He knows he spaces out when he’s thinking, but when he’s thinking of you — he suppose the time can go on and he wouldn’t even notice. He looked up to find Gojo’s bright blue eyes fixed on him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Uraume was watching him too, their expression unreadable but attentive.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Sukuna muttered, taking a sip of his drink. “Just thinking.”

“That’s a first from you, hm.”  Uraume teased, earning a snort from Gojo.

“Come on, spill it!” Gojo pressed, leaning forward with that infuriatingly playful grin. “Is it a girl? I don’t mind if it’s a guy, I know you swing that way too! Oh, wait… don’t tell me it’s the girl.”

Sukuna’s dark scarlet eyes narrowed at him. “What are you talking about?”

Gojo’s grin widened. “The one you’ve been moping about for the last five years. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Sukuna. You’ve been different at work lately—quieter, more… I don’t know, introspective.”

“Gojo–san’s right, Sukuna–san.” Uraume added, their tone softer. “You’ve changed. It’s like you’re finally letting go of whatever it was that had you so wound up.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of their words settle over him. He wasn’t used to being the one on the receiving end of their scrutiny, and he didn’t like it. But he also knew they weren’t wrong.

“Yeah, well……” Sukuna began, his voice rough, “I haven't seen her in a long while.. Five years, I think. But I heard…I heard she’s been around. She’s moved around town.”

Uraume raised their eyebrows. “Five years? That’s a long time, Sukuna–san.”

“Yeah. We were together throughout our senior high school and college. Then we broke up after we graduated.” Sukuna sighed, taking a long sip of his drink. The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat, but it did little to ease the ache that had settled in his chest. “It’s been a long time, but… hearing that she’s moved here just brings back a lot.”

Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise. “Was that breakup really that bad?” His usual grin faded, replaced by a look of concern as he sensed the gravity of Sukuna’s words. “What happened?”

Sukuna nodded, his gaze drifting away from Gojo’s intense stare. The room seemed to grow quieter as he delved into the past, the weight of his memories heavy in his voice. “We had multiple breakups. It wasn’t just one—there were several. But the last one was particularly rough. We both cried a lot, said things we didn’t mean. It was messy.”

Gojo leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Why was it so difficult?”

Sukuna’s face tightened as he struggled to find the right words. “If I’m being honest, it’s my fault. I wasn’t secure in myself. I was jealous, possessive. I couldn’t handle the idea of her moving forward or being happy without me. And that jealousy, that insecurity—it hurt her more than I realized.”

There was a long pause as Sukuna’s confession hung in the air. Gojo’s usual bravado was replaced by a rare, contemplative silence. He took a moment to process Sukuna’s admission, trying to reconcile the man he knew with the vulnerability being revealed.

“That’s a lot to carry,” Gojo said finally, his voice softer than usual. “But it sounds like you’re taking responsibility, which is more than a lot of people do.”

Sukuna’s expression was a mix of regret and acceptance. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t change the past. I know I hurt her, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for that fully. But seeing her again… it’s brought everything back. The pain, the regret, and the memories of what we had.”

Uraume, who had been quietly listening, spoke up, their tone gentle. “It’s clear you’re still affected by this. Maybe it’s a chance for you to make things right, or at least find some closure. People change, and sometimes, revisiting the past can help us understand ourselves better.”

Sukuna nodded, though his expression remained somber. “Maybe. I’m not sure what will come of this. I just know that seeing her again made me realize how much I still care, how much I’ve changed, and how much I wish things could have been different.”

Gojo leaned back, his eyes thoughtful. “It sounds like you’ve been through a lot, and maybe this is a chance for you to show her the person you’ve become. It might not fix everything, but it could be a step toward healing—for both of you.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Yeah, maybe. It’s worth a shot.”

The room fell silent, the playful atmosphere dissolving as the weight of Sukuna's words sank in. Even Gojo, who was usually quick with a joke or a teasing remark, seemed at a loss for what to say. His usual bravado was replaced with something more thoughtful, almost solemn, as he processed what Sukuna had just revealed.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft clink of ice in Sukuna's glass as he set it down on the table. He could feel the eyes of his friends on him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the drink, not ready to meet their concerned looks just yet. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken emotions.

“I hope the best for you, man.” Gojo finally muttered, leaning back in his chair as he exhaled slowly. His tone was softer than usual, lacking its typical teasing edge. “You deserve to be happy too.”

Sukuna snickered. “You must be drunk being this nice to me.”

“Hey! I am nice at all times.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Uraume, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward slightly, their expression gentle and understanding. They had always been more in tune with Sukuna's moods, more aware of the nuances in his behavior than Gojo, who often masked his own sensitivity with humor.

“If you bump into her again, though….” Uraume asked, their tone devoid of judgment, only curiosity and concern. “Would you try and talk to her, then?”

Sukuna finally looked up, meeting Uraume’s gaze. There was a hesitance in his eyes, as if he was still grappling with the reality of it all. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low, almost as if admitting it aloud made it more real. “I would. In a drop of a hat.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all the unspoken feelings that had built up over the years. It wasn’t just the fact that you had come back into his life; it was the realization that despite everything, despite the time and distance, Ryomen Sukuna had never really let go of you. He had buried those feelings deep, tried to move on, but now that you were here again, they had all come rushing back to the surface.

Gojo watched Sukuna carefully, his usual smirk gone, replaced with a rare expression of empathy. He knew Sukuna better than most, knew how much pride had always driven him, how hard it had been for him to admit his feelings even when things were good between the two of you. For Sukuna to open up like this now, it meant that whatever he was feeling ran deep.

“I get it.” Gojo said, his voice unusually quiet. “I mean, you guys were… well, you were everything to each other. It makes sense that she’s still on your mind.”

Uraume nodded in agreement. “It’s not surprising that you still think about her, Sukuna–san. What you had wasn’t just something you can forget, even if you wanted to.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, staring off into the distance as if trying to collect his thoughts. “It’s just… weird.” he finally said, his voice thick with the frustration he’d been holding back. “I’ve been trying to move on, to put all of that behind me. But I just….I want to see her again. Even just one more time.”

Gojo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded Sukuna with a serious expression. “Maybe you’re not supposed to forget, man. Maybe this is your chance to figure out what you really want, to make things right.”

Uraume added quietly, “It’s not too late to change the narrative, Sukuna. If you still care about her, if she’s still on your mind after all this time, maybe there’s something there worth exploring.”

Sukuna closed his eyes for a moment, taking in their words. There was truth in what they were saying, and he knew it. He had spent so long trying to bury his feelings, convincing himself that it was over and done with. But the truth was, he had never truly moved on. And now, with you back in his life, even in this new, unfamiliar way, he couldn’t ignore the pull he felt toward you.

When he opened his eyes, there was a resolve in them that hadn’t been there before. “You’re probably right.” he admitted, his voice steady. “I’ve been running from this for too long. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I need to see this through. I owe it to myself, and… to her.”

Gojo’s grin returned, but it was softer, more genuine. “That’s the spirit, man. You’ve got this. Just… don’t screw it up this time, okay?”

Sukuna let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.”

Uraume smiled softly, a rare display of emotion from them. “We’re here for you, Sukuna–san. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

Sukuna nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn’t alone in this. With Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he could face whatever came next, even if it meant confronting the feelings he had buried for so long.

One more drink and  the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, the tension that had hung in the air slowly dissipated. But the resolve in Sukuna’s heart remained, stronger than ever. He knew what he had to do, and for the first time in years, he felt ready to face it head-on,

As the night wore on, Sukuna couldn’t help but think about the future—about what it would be like to build something real with you this time, something lasting. The thought scared him, but it also excited him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Maybe, just maybe, this time he could get it right. And with Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he wouldn’t have to do it alone. But the hour is late. And they’ve got things going on in their lives too. So they pay their bills and wave him goodbye.

As he watches his comrades pair off, he is forced to confront a painful truth. Despite years of searching, no one has been able to replace you. The women he's met, the flings he's had—they were all distractions, mere shadows compared to what he had with you. Each time he tries to move forward, your memory pulls him back, the echo of your laughter, the way you challenged him like no one else ever did, and the warmth you once brought into his life, all refuse to fade.

In quiet moments, when he's alone, Ryomen Sukuna wrestles with the possibility that his true love, the one person who could truly understand and match his intensity, might have been you all along. The very thought frustrates and angers him, but deep down, he knows it's true. The idea that you could be happy with someone else, that you could have moved on, is a bitter pill to swallow.

But what can he do? Could he really go back to you after all this time, after all the hurt and pride that kept you apart? The thought of reaching out, of admitting that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you, is terrifying in its vulnerability. Yet, the more he tries to resist, the more he finds himself wanting you back in his life.

Sukuna has always been a man of action, but this...this is different. It's not about power or control; it's about something far more fragile—his heart, his pride, and the chance of losing you all over again. The question that haunts him now is whether he can swallow that pride and take the risk, whether he can open himself up to the possibility that, just maybe, what he’s been searching for all these years was right in front of him all along.

And that possibility, terrifying as it may be, is the only thing that has ever truly scared him.

Sukuna's inner turmoil grows as the days pass. The world around him, once filled with the thrill of battles and the allure of endless conquests, now feels hollow and cold. He notices how his friends look at him, their eyes reflecting pity and concern. They know him too well, aware that behind his sharp words and defiant attitude, something is eating away at him.

He tries to brush it off, burying himself in work, in fights, in anything that will distract him. But no matter how hard he tries, his thoughts keep circling back to you. The memories come unbidden—your smile, the way you used to tease him, the way you understood him in a way no one else ever did. It's maddening, the way you haunt him, and yet he can't bring himself to let you go.

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IT WAS UNEXPECTED. It was that sort of day once again. Sukuna found himself in charge of his energetic nephew, Yuji, who had just been picked up from school. With his brother Jin and sister-in-law Kaori and Choso tied up with commitments for the weekend, Sukuna was left to manage Yuji. Given that he didn’t have to hit the gym or deal with work obligations that day, it seemed like a manageable task.

Ryomen Sukuna’s house was usually a quiet refuge from his chaotic world, but today it felt oddly empty. He doesn’t really like decorating that much, mostly because he has no time and mostly because he really doesn’t feel like it. But his nephew doesn’t seem to mind it every time he’s here. If there was something to distract the brat, then he doesn’t pay attention to everything else. Well, that and food. As he settled Yuji into the living room, Yuji’s curiosity quickly turned to hunger.

“Uncle Sukuna, I’m starving.” Yuji announced, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Do you have any natto? I could really go for some.”

Sukuna blinked, momentarily confused. “Natto? I don’t think I have any. Let me check.”

He shuffled into the kitchen, opening the fridge and peering inside. His search yielded nothing but a few cans of expired beans and a half-eaten pizza box. Sukuna eats out most of the time, because of work. If he does buy anything, it would be from the last time Yuji was here. And that was….a while ago. And just as much, there was no natto in sight.

“Uh, brat, I think we’re out of natto.” Sukuna said, returning to the living room with a sheepish grin. “And it looks like the rest of the fridge is pretty bare.”

Yuji’s eyes widened in disappointment. “But I was really looking forward to it!”

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Looks like we’ll need to go out for groceries. How about we make it an adventure?”

Yuji’s face lit up at the prospect of an outing. “Okay! Can we get some ice cream too?”

Sukuna chuckled, relieved that Yuji’s mood had brightened. “Sure, ice cream it is. Let’s get going before your hunger turns into a full-blown meltdown, brat.”

As they left the house, Sukuna and Yuji made their way to the nearby supermarket. Yuji’s excitement was palpable, his small hands gripping the shopping cart handle as he eagerly pointed out various items he wanted to add to the list. Sukuna, trying to keep up, found himself both amused and exasperated by Yuji’s relentless energy and enthusiasm.

In the aisles of the supermarket, Sukuna pushed the cart while Yuji darted from one section to another, collecting snacks, fruits, and—of course—several packs of natto. Sukuna grabbed a few essentials and, true to his word, added some ice cream to the cart.

As they approached the checkout line, Sukuna glanced at Yuji, who was happily munching on a sample cookie from the store. The small bit of chocolate on Yuji’s cheek made him look even more cherubic and endearing. Sukuna’s lips twitched into a small smile, a rare moment of warmth slipping through his usually stoic facade.

“You know, I think I might need to keep a better stock of food for next time,” Sukuna said, his tone light.

Yuji, still with cookie crumbs on his face, grinned up at him. “And more natto!”

Sukuna couldn’t help but chuckle. The idea of having to stockpile natto just to keep his nephew happy was a new one, but it seemed like a worthwhile endeavor. He ruffled Yuji’s hair affectionately, feeling a soft, genuine affection for the boy.

“You’ve got it, brat. More natto it is.” Sukuna agreed, a rare, relaxed smile on his face.

As they loaded their groceries onto the conveyor belt, Sukuna glanced around, realizing how normal and mundane the experience was compared to the high-stakes, dangerous life he usually led. The simplicity of shopping for food and sharing a lighthearted moment with Yuji was both refreshing and oddly comforting.

Yuji, ever the energetic child, started pointing out items in the store with increasing enthusiasm. “Uncle Sukuna, look! They have those gummy candies you like!” 

Sukuna gave a half-hearted, amused shrug. “Sure, toss them in. I guess I can indulge a bit today.”

As they made their way through the aisles, Yuji chatted away, filling the silence with stories about school and his friends. Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention, his mind elsewhere, when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

There, at the end of the aisle, stood a familiar figure. The sight stopped Sukuna in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief. It was you.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. He watched as you browsed through the shelves, seemingly lost in thought. Your presence, once a distant memory, felt so strikingly real that Sukuna’s heart skipped a beat. The years seemed to melt away as he took in the sight of you.

At first, he didn’t recognize you. It was just a fleeting glimpse, the way your hair caught the light, the familiar way you moved. But then, as you reached for something on a high shelf, he saw your face, and his heart stopped.

It was you.

He couldn’t believe it at first. He thought maybe it was someone who just looked like you, or perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, dredging up memories he’d tried so hard to bury. But the more he stared, the more certain he became. It was you.

Yuji, noticing Sukuna’s sudden pause, looked up. “Uncle Sukuna, what’s wrong?”

Sukuna swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. “Uh, nothing, brat. Let’s just finish up here.”

But his gaze was fixed on you, unable to look away. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and Sukuna fought with the urge to approach you, unsure of what to say or do. The familiar mix of excitement and anxiety churned within him, a reminder of the past he had tried so hard to reconcile.

Yuji, still unaware of the significance of the moment, tugged on Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go over there? I want to check if they have those chocolates I like!”

Sukuna nodded absently, allowing Yuji to lead him towards the end of the aisle where you stood. As they drew closer, Sukuna braced himself, trying to steady his racing heart. He needed to act normal, to approach you calmly despite the flood of emotions.

Without thinking, he handed the shopping basket to Yuji and began walking toward you. The world around him seemed to blur, the noise of the supermarket fading into the background. It was just you and him, the years that had passed suddenly meaningless.

When he reached you, he hesitated, unsure of what to say. His mind raced, a thousand questions and emotions fighting for dominance. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility of seeing you again. But now that you were right in front of him, he couldn’t just walk away.

“Is that you?” He finally said it. He finally said your name. He could feel his entire body shake from nervousness. He didn’t notice until he said it that his voice was rougher than he intended.

You turned to him, blinking in confusion. Your eyes met his, and for a brief, electrifying moment, Sukuna saw the spark of recognition. It was fleeting, but it was there—an almost imperceptible flicker that hinted at a shared past. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a polite, detached expression.

“I’m sorry, but…” you began, your voice soft and apologetic. “Do I know you?”

The words hit Sukuna like a punch to the gut. The confusion on your face made no sense to him; how could you not remember him? The realization was like a cold wave crashing over him. He scanned your face more closely, noting the faint scar near your temple and the way your eyes seemed to search his face for something familiar but found nothing.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.”

You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Amnesia. The word hit him like a ton of bricks. All the anger, hurt, and regret that had simmered in him for years suddenly evaporated, replaced by something he couldn’t quite name. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t remember anything about your life together, the love you shared, or the pain that had driven you apart. He stared at you, struggling to process what you’d just told him. The person he’d spent years trying to forget had forgotten him completely. And it hurts. It burns. It…it kills him.

Sukuna’s heart sank as he struggled to process your words. The memories of the past, the shared moments, the intense connection—everything seemed to blur together in a confusing haze. He tried to hold onto the hope that maybe, somehow, there was a chance you might remember him later, but the reality of your situation was clear. You had no recollection of your time together.

“Right…” Sukuna muttered, his voice thick with emotions he didn’t quite know how to handle. “No, it’s… it’s fine.”

“I just… I feel like I’ve upset you,” you mumbled back, your eyes filled with sincere regret. “It’s been like this for a while. I’m really sorry.”

“No, no… it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. It was my fault,” Sukuna said, shaking his head, though the words felt hollow against the weight of his feelings.

You nodded, your gaze sympathetic. “No, please. It’s not. I understand. It must be hard to run into someone who doesn’t remember you. I’m truly sorry.”

There was a quiet moment between you, the weight of lost memories hanging heavily in the air. Sukuna, feeling the sting of both your absence and the reality of your condition, struggled to find the right words. He wanted to bridge the gap between what had been and what was now, but he found himself at a loss.

Before you could turn away, Sukuna took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak. “Um… could I… could I have your number? Maybe… maybe we could talk sometime. If you’re okay with that.”

You looked at him, a flicker of surprise crossing your face. For a moment, you seemed to weigh his request, and then you nodded slowly. “Sure. I can give you my number. I’d like that.”

As you exchanged contact information, Sukuna felt a mixture of hope and apprehension. The act of sharing numbers was a small step, but it felt significant. It was a bridge to the possibility of rebuilding a connection, even if the past was shadowed by the uncertainty of your memory.

“Thank you,” Sukuna said quietly, his voice carrying a note of genuine gratitude. “I appreciate it.”

You gave him a warm, understanding smile. “Of course. I’ll be happy to talk whenever you’re ready. It’s… nice to have some help with my memories, even if it’s just a little.”

Before he could speak, Yuji tugged at Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go home now? I’m tired.”

Sukuna glanced down at Yuji and then back at you, his heart heavy. “Yeah, Yuji. Let’s head out.”

As Sukuna began to walk away, he felt your gaze on him. The pain of seeing you again, only to find that you had no memory of their shared past, was almost too much to bear. The bittersweet encounter left him with a mix of longing and resignation. You smiled at Yuji and then to him. Yuji grinned back at you and waved back. 

“Take care.” you called softly as he left the store with Yuji. Sukuna gave a small, subdued wave in response, his mind reeling from the encounter.

Once outside, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Yuji, noticing his uncle’s somber mood, looked up with concern. “Uncle Sukuna, are you okay?”

Sukuna forced a reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, Yuji. I’m fine. Just… a little surprised. Let’s get home.”

As they drove back, Sukuna’s thoughts were filled with the echoes of the past and the present reality. The encounter had stirred up old feelings, and the realization that you had lost your memories of him was both heartbreaking and profoundly unsettling. Yet, despite the pain, there was a strange sense of closure, as if seeing you again, even under these circumstances, had helped him come to terms with the unresolved aspects of their past.

As you walked away, Sukuna stood there, frozen in place, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Yuji came up beside him, his eyes wide with concern.

“Uncle Sukuna, are you okay? Who was that?”

Sukuna glanced at Yuji, then back at the aisle where you’d disappeared. He didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t know how to explain that the person he’d never been able to forget had forgotten him entirely.

“That,” Sukuna finally said, his voice hollow, “was someone I used to know.”

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HE DOESN’T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED AFTER. The days that followed were a blur for Sukuna. But he couldn’t help it.  Your encounter in the supermarket had shaken him in a way he hadn’t expected. He tried to push it aside, tell himself that it didn’t matter, that you were just a part of his past. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, the way you looked at him with no recognition, no anger, no pain—just blank politeness. It haunted him.

Yet, fate seemed determined to keep throwing the two of you together. A few days later, he saw you again, this time at a coffee shop. You were sitting by the window, a book in hand, oblivious to the world around you. Sukuna hesitated, debating whether to approach you, but before he could decide, you looked up and caught his eye. There was that same polite smile, and he found himself walking over to you before he could think better of it.

“Hi again.” you said, looking up at him with that same soft, apologetic expression. “We keep running into each other, don’t we?”

“Yeah…..” he replied, his voice rough. He wasn’t sure what to say. The awkwardness between you was palpable, the weight of the past pressing down on him in a way you couldn’t feel. But you didn’t know that, couldn’t know that, so you just smiled and gestured to the seat across from you.

“Would you like to join me?” you asked, your voice gentle, offering a small, tentative smile as you gestured to a nearby café table.

Sukuna hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was doing or why he was putting himself through this, but there was something about being near you, even if you didn’t remember him, that soothed the ache in his chest. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” he finally said, his voice betraying the mix of emotions swirling inside him. He sat down across from you, the familiarity of the scene almost too much to bear. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. 

You giggled. “I don’t mind. Not at all.”

As you both settled in, the air between you was filled with an odd mix of tension and familiarity. You began to talk—small, inconsequential things at first. You mentioned how you liked the café’s atmosphere, how it had become one of your favorite spots since you moved here. Sukuna nodded along, trying to focus on the present moment rather than the flood of memories threatening to overwhelm him.

“You know….. “ you said after a moment, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, “it’s strange. I feel… comfortable with you. Like I’ve known you for a long time, even if I can’t remember it.”

Sukuna’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the years of pain, regret, and longing he had carried since you’d been apart. But he knew it wouldn’t be fair to burden you with memories you didn’t share anymore. So instead, he offered a small, wistful smile. 

“Maybe it’s just one of those thing.” he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. “Some people just click, I guess.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on his face as if you were trying to piece together a puzzle. “Maybe. But still, it feels nice. Like I can trust you.”

Sukuna swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his emotions in check. “I’m glad,” he said quietly, his voice betraying the depth of his feelings despite his best efforts. “I’d like to be someone you can trust.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that, and the tension slowly eased. You talked about your life, your work, and the things you enjoyed. Sukuna listened intently, hanging on to every word, savoring the sound of your voice even if the stories were new to him. 

As the minutes turned into an hour, Sukuna found himself relaxing. The ache in his chest dulled, replaced by a warmth that he hadn’t felt in years. It was as if, for the first time since you had parted ways, he could breathe a little easier. There was no rush, no pressure to define what this was or what it could become. Just the simple pleasure of being in your company again, however different it might be from the past.

When you finally stood up to leave, Ryomen Sukuna felt a pang of reluctance, but he knew this wasn’t the end. You had exchanged numbers, after all, and there was a possibility that this could lead to something more. 

“I’m really glad we ran into each other.” you said, giving him a sincere smile. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Me too.” Sukuna replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d like that.”

As you walked away, Sukuna remained seated for a moment, staring at the now-empty chair across from him. Despite the uncertainty of the future, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to make things right—to show you the kind of love and care he should have given you all those years ago. And as he left the café, he found himself smiling, a feeling of lightness in his chest that he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Like the wind, the days brushed by into weeks, these accidental meetings became more frequent. He’d see you at the park, at the grocery store, at the small bookstore you frequented. Each time, you greeted him with the same warmth, and each time, he felt the walls he’d built around his heart start to crumble a little more.

It was during one of these encounters, when you were sitting together on a bench at the park, that Sukuna realized something had changed. He wasn’t just dwelling on the past anymore. He wasn’t just seeing you as the woman he used to love, the one who’d left him behind. You were still that person, but you were also someone new, someone who’d been through their own struggles, their own pain.

And he’d changed too. He wasn’t the same man you’d walked away from five years ago. The anger, the recklessness, the pride that had once driven you apart had mellowed. He’d grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, sitting beside you, he realized that he wanted to make things right.

There was one afternoon where after you’d both finished your coffees at that familiar café, Sukuna finally found himself gathered the courage to speak again. He’d been thinking about this for days, the words tumbling over and over in his mind until they felt like second nature.

“Hey….” he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “What is it?”

“I know you don’t remember me, or anything about… us, but I want you to know that I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve changed. And I want to try again.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I want to make things right for you.”

There was a long silence as you absorbed his words. He could see the confusion in your eyes, the way you were trying to piece together something that felt like a missing puzzle in your mind. You wanted to know what it was. How to be complete, and yet you didn’t know how. Not even if your past thought he was what complete was. Finally, you spoke.

“Sukuna, I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t remember anything about us, about our past. But I can see that this means a lot to you, and that you’ve been carrying it with you for a long time.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, and then back at him. “I don’t know if I can ever get those memories back. But I do know that I enjoy spending time with you, that I feel comfortable around you. And maybe… maybe that’s a good place to start.”

His heart leapt at your words, hope flickering to life in a way it hadn’t in years. This was a second chance, an opportunity to rewrite the story that had once ended in heartbreak. He didn’t know what the future held, or if you would ever remember what you once had, but for the first time in a long time, he felt something close to peace.

Sukuna reached out, his hand brushing against yours, and you didn’t pull away. “Then let’s start there, hm?” he said quietly. “No pressure, no expectations. Just… us.”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that sent a wave of relief through him. “Just us,” you agreed.

And for the first time in five years, Sukuna felt like he was finally on the path to something real, something lasting. It wouldn’t be easy, but he was determined to prove that he could love you the way you deserved—this time, the right way.

As the weeks turned into months, Sukuna and you continued to meet, slowly rebuilding a connection that had once been lost. Each encounter felt like a tentative step forward, a cautious yet hopeful attempt to bridge the gap that had formed between you over the years. Yet, instead of the intense and sometimes overwhelming passion that had defined your past relationship, there was a newfound sense of calm and understanding between you both.

There was an ease between you now, a natural rhythm that felt different from the intense, almost chaotic bond you’d shared in the past. In the beginning, it was subtle—a shared smile over a mundane joke, the comfortable silence that fell between you as you walked side by side, the way your conversations flowed without the need to fill every gap with words. The pressure that once loomed over your relationship, demanding definitions and clarity, had dissipated, leaving space for something more genuine and unforced.

You found yourselves slipping into each other’s lives in small, almost imperceptible ways. Sukuna would pick up your favorite coffee without being asked, remembering the way you liked it just by heart. You’d invite him to a quiet dinner at your place, cooking together in the kitchen as you talked about everything and nothing. There were no grand gestures or declarations, just a quiet, steady presence that felt reassuring and right.

This time, there was no rush, no urgency to define what you were to each other. It was as if both of you understood that whatever this was, it needed to grow at its own pace. You’d learned from the past, from the way things had unraveled before, and there was an unspoken agreement that you wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. You allowed the relationship to unfold naturally, letting each moment build upon the last, like carefully stacking stones into a tower that could withstand the test of time.

Sukuna, too, had changed. The man who once wore his emotions like armor, who had always been so guarded and intense, was different now. There was a softness to him that hadn’t been there before—a willingness to listen, to be patient, to let things unfold without forcing them into place. He no longer felt the need to control every aspect of his life, and that included his relationship with you. He had learned to let go, to trust that if this was meant to be, it would be.

And in that trust, something beautiful began to grow. Your conversations deepened, moving beyond the surface-level topics that had once dominated your interactions. You talked about your dreams, your fears, the things that kept you awake at night. Sukuna shared pieces of himself that he had kept hidden for so long, opening up in ways he never had before. And you, in turn, felt safe enough to do the same.

There were moments when the past would resurface, like shadows lingering at the edges of your newfound connection. Memories of heated arguments, of painful goodbyes, would flicker in your minds, reminding you of how things had once gone wrong. But instead of letting those memories drag you down, you faced them together, acknowledging the hurt while choosing to move forward.

It wasn’t always easy. There were still days when doubts crept in, when the fear of repeating past mistakes threatened to pull you apart. But each time, you chose to stay, to work through it rather than run away. And with each challenge you faced, the bond between you grew stronger, more resilient.

Sukuna, who had once been so afraid of vulnerability, found himself looking forward to the moments he spent with you. The walls he had built around himself slowly crumbled, replaced by a quiet confidence in what you were building together. He no longer needed to prove himself, to assert control over his emotions or over you. Instead, he allowed himself to simply be—with you, in the present, without the burden of past regrets or future expectations.

You, too, noticed the change in yourself. The tension that had once gnawed at your heart, the constant questioning of whether you were enough or if this was right, had eased. You felt more secure, more at peace with where you were and where you were going. You trusted Sukuna in a way you hadn’t before, not just because he had changed, but because you had changed too.

As the months passed, the connection between you deepened, solidified by the quiet moments of understanding and the shared experiences that had brought you closer together. There was a sense of contentment that neither of you had anticipated—a feeling that, for the first time in a long time, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And so, you continued to meet, to grow together, allowing whatever this was to take shape in its own time. There was no rush, no urgency, only the quiet certainty that what you were building was worth the patience and the effort. You both knew that the past would always be a part of you, but it no longer defined you. Instead, it had become a foundation upon which you could build something new, something lasting.

In each other’s presence, you found a kind of peace that had once seemed elusive, and in that peace, you discovered the possibility of a future that was not just better than the past, but truly, deeply right.

Sukuna found himself looking forward to your meetings, the mundane moments that had once seemed trivial now holding a new significance. Whether it was a simple walk in the park, browsing through books together, or sharing a meal, these moments began to stitch together a new story between you, one that was quieter, more deliberate, and infinitely more meaningful.

But beneath the surface, Sukuna wrestled with his own emotions. The more time he spent with you, the more he realized just how much he had missed you—how much he had missed being close to someone who truly understood him. Yet, there was also the constant reminder that you didn’t remember him, that the memories of your past were locked away, possibly forever.

One afternoon, after you’d both finished a long walk along the river, you sat together on a bench, watching the water ripple in the sunlight. The conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence, and for a moment, Sukuna just watched you, taking in the way the light caught your hair, the serene expression on your face.

“Can I ask you something?” Sukuna finally said, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, nodding. “Of course.”

“Do you ever… feel like something’s missing? Like there’s a part of you that’s still out there, waiting to be found?”

You considered his question carefully before responding. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “There are moments when I feel like I’m on the edge of remembering something important, something that’s just out of reach. But I’ve learned to let go of the frustration. I’ve had to accept that those memories might never come back.”

Sukuna’s heart clenched at your words, the weight of your shared history pressing down on him. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the story of your love, the highs and lows, the way you had been everything to each other and how it had all fallen apart. But he held back, knowing that it wasn’t his place to force those memories on you.

Instead, he reached out and took your hand in his. “I don’t want to push you more than I already did.” he said quietly. “I just want you to know that I’m here, whatever happens. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

You squeezed his hand, offering him a gentle smile. “I know, Sukuna. And I appreciate that. I’ve come to trust you, even if I don’t remember our past. What matters to me now is the person you are today, the one I’m getting to know all over again.”

Those words gave Sukuna a sense of hope he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He was no longer the man who had let his pride and anger destroy something precious. He had grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, he had a chance to show you that.

As the days passed, he became more intentional in his efforts to be there for you, to support you in ways he hadn’t before. He listened when you spoke, offered comfort when you needed it, and gave you space when you needed to process your thoughts. There was a quiet strength in the bond you were forming, a steady foundation that was being built brick by brick.

One evening, after you’d invited him over for dinner, you sat together on your couch, a comfortable silence settling between you after a long day. Sukuna glanced at you, his heart full of things he wanted to say but didn’t know how to put into words.

“I’ve been thinking….a lot.” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “About us.”

His breath caught in his throat, but he stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue. He could feel his heart pounding, the silence between you filled with unspoken tension. You looked at him tenderly, and those eyes—those eyes he had once loved so fiercely—held a warmth that stirred something deep within him. But this time, there was something different in your gaze, something he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t the same love he remembered, the love that had once consumed both of you. It was softer, more distant, as if it had been tempered by time and the loss of memories.

Sukuna wasn’t sure what that look meant, but he longed for the days when your eyes had been filled with nothing but love for him. He yearned for the intensity, the passion that had once been theirs. But deep down, he knew those days were gone, that you had changed, just as he had. And even though he wished for the impossible, he understood that the love you had once shared might never return in the way it had before.

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping, from wanting you to look at him like that again, to feel that love again. But he knew, with a sinking certainty, that it was unlikely. Maybe this was his punishment, the price he had to pay for the mistakes he had made, for the years he had spent without you. Maybe fate was just that cruel, giving him a second chance only to remind him of what he had lost.

“I don’t remember our past, Sukuna.” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice was gentle, but there was a sincerity in it that made Sukuna’s chest tighten. “But I do know that I feel something when I’m with you. It’s not just comfort or friendship… it’s more. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels right, being with you.”

Sukuna’s heart swelled with emotion, a mix of relief and longing coursing through him. He had waited so long to hear those words, to know that there was still something between you, even if it wasn’t exactly what he had expected. It wasn’t the grand declaration of love he had secretly hoped for, but it was something—a spark, a glimmer of the connection that had once bound you together.

He searched your face, looking for any sign of the emotions he had once known so well. But all he found was that same tender expression, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. It wasn’t love, not yet. But it was something. And for now, that was enough.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” he said, his voice thick with the emotions he was struggling to keep in check. “I don’t want to rush things, or push you to remember something that might never come back. I just… I want to be here with you, whatever that means.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I want that too, Sukuna. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’d like to find out—together.”

He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, the heavy burden of his regrets and fears easing, if only a little. This was far from the ending he had imagined, but it was a beginning, a chance to rebuild what had been lost. And maybe, just maybe, if he was patient and if he allowed things to unfold naturally, there could be something new between you, something that was just as meaningful as what you had once shared.

As you both stood there, the world around you fading into the background, Sukuna couldn’t help but think that perhaps fate wasn’t as cruel as he had feared. Maybe this was his second chance—not to reclaim the past, but to create something new, something even better than what had been before. And for the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope that this time, he wouldn’t let it slip through his fingers.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

epilogue 

A few weeks after your heartfelt conversation with Sukuna, you find yourself at a park on a sunny afternoon. Sukuna had asked you to meet him there, mentioning that his nephew, Yuji, would be joining. You had heard a lot about Yuji from Sukuna—how the kid was full of energy, always getting into something, and how Sukuna had taken on a sort of protective role in his life. You were curious to see this side of Sukuna, the man who had once been all sharp edges and intensity.

As you approach the park, you spot Sukuna first, sitting on a bench with a somewhat exasperated look on his face. Beside him is a young boy, who is clearly trying to balance on the back of the bench with one foot, arms outstretched like he’s performing some kind of circus act.

“Careful, you brat.” Sukuna warns, his tone stern but not unkind. “You’re going to break your neck.”

Yuji, grinning from ear to ear, just laughs and hops down with a flourish. “I’m invincible, Uncle Sukuna!”

“Yeah, well, let’s not test that theory.” Sukuna mutters, but there’s a fondness in his voice that catches you off guard. “Your mom and dad will kill me.”

You approach them, smiling as Yuji notices you and waves enthusiastically. “Hi! You must be the one Uncle Sukuna’s always talking about!”

“Yuji!” Sukuna snaps, looking mortified. “I do not—”

Yuji doesn’t miss a beat, cutting him off. “He totally does! He’s always like, ‘I wonder if she’s gonna remember me today,’ or ‘Maybe she’ll cook something nice again.’”

Sukuna groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Kid, do you ever stop talking?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange, and Sukuna’s embarrassment only makes it funnier. “Nice to meet you, Yuji!” you say, crouching down to his level. “Your uncle’s right, though. You should be careful on that bench.”

Yuji shrugs, his smile never fading. “Uncle Sukuna’s always careful too, even though he acts all tough. But he’s really soft, especially when I get hurt. You should see him panic when I stub my toe.”

“Yuji!” Sukuna’s voice is a mix of frustration and resignation, clearly regretting bringing his nephew along.

You stand up, grinning at Sukuna. “I see you’ve got a little soft spot, huh?”

“Don’t listen to him.” Sukuna mutters, glaring at Yuji, who just laughs and runs off toward the playground. “He’s a menace.”

“Sure, sure.” you tease, nudging Sukuna lightly. “But you love it.”

Sukuna sighs, watching Yuji with an expression that’s a mix of exasperation and affection. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble.”

You slip your hand into Sukuna’s, squeezing it gently. “You’re doing a great job, Uncle Sukuna.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Don’t start calling me that too.”

“No promises.” you reply, laughing as you both watch Yuji play, his laughter filling the air. It’s a side of Sukuna you never expected to see, and you find yourself growing more and more fond of the man who, despite his rough edges, is soft in all the right places.

[onelastkiss4you]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Just Went From A Good RPG To One Of BioWare’s Most Important Games

In light of BioWare scattering some of its most foundational veteran talent to the winds, Dragon Age: The Veilguard sure reads like something made by people who saw the writing on the wall. The RPG leaves off on a small cliffhanger that could launch players into a fifth game, but I’m skeptical that we’ll ever get it. The quickness with which publisher Electronic Arts gutted BioWare and masked it with talk of being more “agile” and “focused” shortly after it was revealed The Veilguard underperformed in the eyes of the power that be makes me wonder if BioWare was also unsure it would get to return to Thedas a fifth time. Looking back, I’m pretty convinced the team was working as if Rook’s adventure through the northern regions of this beloved fantasy world might be the last time anyone, BioWare or fan, stepped foot in it. But that may have only made me appreciate the game even more.

Yeah, I might be doomsaying, but there’s a lot of reasons to do so right now. The loss of talented people like lead writer Trick Weekes, who has been a staple in modern BioWare since the beginning of Mass Effect, or Mary Kirby who wrote characters like Varric, the biggest throughline through the Dragon Age series, doesn’t inspire confidence that EA understands the lifeblood of the studio it acquired in 2007. The Veilguard has been a divisive game for entirely legitimate reasons and the most bad-faith ones you can imagine on the internet in 2025, but my hope is that history will be kinder to it as time goes on. 

A Kotaku reader reached out to me after the news broke to ask if they should still play The Veilguard after everything that happened. My answer was that now we are probably in a better position to appreciate it for what it was: a (potentially) final word.

The Veilguard is just as much a send-off for a long-running story as it does a stepping stone for what (might) come. Its secret ending implies a new threat is lurking somewhere off in the distance but by and large, The Veilguard is about the end of an era. BioWare created an entire questline essentially writing Thedas’ history in stone, removing any ambiguity that gave life to over a decade of theory-crafting. As a long-time player, I’m glad The Veilguard solidifies the connective tissue between what sometimes felt like world of isolated cultures that lacked throughlines that made the world feel whole. But sitting your cast of weirdos down for a series of group therapy sessions unpacking the ramifications of some of the biggest lore dumps the studio has ever put to a Bluray disc isn’t the kind of narrative choice you make if you’re confident there’s still a future for the franchise. 

Unanswered questions are the foundation of sequels, and The Veilguard has an almost anxious need to stamp those out. Perhaps BioWare learned a hard lesson by leaving Dragon Age: Inquisition on a cliffhanger and didn’t want to repeat the same restriction. But The Veilguard doesn’t just wrap up its own story, it concludes several major threads dating back to Origins and feels calculated and deliberate. If BioWare’s goal with The Veilguard was to bring almost everything to a definitive end, the thematic note it leaves this world on acts as a closing graf summing up a thesis the series hopes to convey.

Pushing away the bigotry that has followed The Veilguard like a starving rat digging through trash, one of the most common criticisms I heard directed against the game was that it lacked a certain thorny disposition that was prevalent in the first three games. Everyone in the titular party generally seems to like each other, there aren’t real ethical and philosophical conflicts between the group, and the spats that do arise are more akin to the arguments you probably get into with your best friends. It’s a new dynamic for the series. The Veilguard doesn’t feel like coworkers as The Inquisition did or the disparate group who barely tolerated each other we followed in Dragon Age II. They are a friend group who, despite coming from different backgrounds, factions, and places, are pretty much on the same page about what the world should be. They’re united by a common goal, sure, but at the core of each of their lived experiences is a desire for the world to be better.

This rose-colored view of leftism doesn’t work for everyone. At its worst, The Veilguard can be saccharine to the point of giving you a cavity, which is far from what people have come to expect from a series in which Fenris and Anders didn’t care if the other lived or died. It also bleeds into a perceived softening of the universe. Factions like the Antivan Crows have essentially become the Bat Family with no mention of the whole child slavery thing that was our first introduction to them back in Origins. The Lords of Fortune, a new pirate faction, goes to great lengths to make sure you know that they’re not like the other pirates who steal from other cultures, among other things. I joked to a friend once that The Veilguard is a game terrified of getting canceled, and as such a lot of the grit and grime has been washed off for something shiny and polished. 

That is the more critical lens to view the way The Veilguard’s sanitation of Thedas. To an extent, I agree. We learned so much about how the enigmatic country of the Tevinter Imperium was a place built upon slavery and blood sacrifice, only for us to conveniently hang out in the common poverty-stricken areas that are affected by the corrupt politics we only hear about in sidequests and codex entries. But decisions like setting The Veilguard’s Tevinter stories in the slums of Dogtown gives the game and its writers a place to make a more definitive statement, rather than existing in the often frustrating centrism Dragon Age loved to tout for three games.

I have a lot of pain points I can shout out in the Dragon Age series, but I don’t think one has stuck in my craw the way the end of Anders rivalry relationship goes down in Dragon Age II. This is a tortured radical mage who is willing to give his life to fight for the freedom of those who have been born into a corrupt system led by the policing Templars. And yet, if you’ve followed his rivalry path, Anders will turn against the mages he, not five minutes ago, did some light terrorism trying to free. In Inquisition, this conflict of ideals and traditions comes to a head, but you’re able to essentially wipe it all under the rug as you absorb one faction or the other into your forces. So often Dragon Age treats its conflicts and worldviews as toys for the player to slam against one another, shaping the world as they see fit, and bending even the most fiercely devoted radical to your whims. And yes, there are some notable exceptions to this rule, but when it came to world-shifting moments of change, Dragon Age always seemed scared to assert that the player might be wrong. Mages and Templars, oppressed and oppressors, were the same in the eyes of the game, each worthy of the same level of scrutiny.

Before The Veilguard, I often felt Dragon Age didn’t actually believe in anything. Its characters did, but as a text, Dragon Age often felt so preoccupied with empowering the player’s decisions that it felt like Thedas would never actually get better, no matter how much you fought for it. While it may lack the same prickly dynamics and the grey morality that became synonymous with the series, The Veilguard’s doesn’t just believe that the world is full of greys and let you pick which shade you’re more comfortable with. It’s the most wholeheartedly the Dragon Age universe has declared that the world of Thedas can be better than it was before.

Essentially retconning the Antivan Crows to a family of superheroes is taking a hammer to the problem, whereas characters like Neve Gallus, a mage private eye with a duty-bound love for her city and its people, are the scalpel with which BioWare shifts its vision of how the world of Thedas can change. Taash explores their identity through the lens of Dragon Age’s longstanding Qunari culture, known for its rigidness in the face of an ever-changing world, and comes out the other end a new person, defined entirely by their own views and defying others. Harding finds out the truth behind how the dwarves were severed from magic and still remembers that she believes in the good in people. The heroes of The Veilguard have seen the corruption win out, and yet never stop believing that something greater is possible. It's not even an option in The Veilguard's eyes. The downtrodden will be protected, the oppressed will live proudly, and those who have been wronged will find new life.

That belief is what makes The Veilguard a frustrating RPG, to some. It’s so unyielding in its belief that Thedas and everyone who inhabits it can be better that it doesn’t really entertain you complicating the narrative. Rook can come from plenty of different backgrounds, make decisions that will affect thousands of people, but they can never really be an evil bastard. If they did, it would fundamentally undermine one of the game’s most pivotal moments. In the eleventh hour, Dragon Age mainstay Varric Tethras is revealed to have died in the opening hour, and essentially leaves all his hopes and dreams on the shoulders of Rook. After our hero is banished to the Fade and forced to confront their regrets in a mission gone south, Varric’s spirit sends Rook on their way to save the day one last time. He does so with a hearty chuckle, saying he doesn’t need to wish you good luck because “you already have everything you need.” He is, of course, referring to the friends you have calling to you from beyond the Fade. 

Varric, the narrator of Dragon Age, uses his final word to declare a belief that things will be okay. This isn’t because Rook is the chosen one destined to save the world, but because they have found people who are unified by one thing: a need to fight for a better world. But that’s what makes it compelling as a possibly final Dragon Age game. Reaching the end of a universe’s arc and being wholly uninterested in leaving it desecrated by hubris or prejudice is a bold claim on BioWare’s part. It takes some authorship away from the player, but in return, it leaves the world of Thedas in a better place than we found it.

The Veilguard is an idealistic game, but it’s one that BioWare has earned the right to make. Dragon Age’s legacy has been one of constantly shifting identity, at least two counts of development hell, and a desire to gives players a sandbox to roleplay in. Perhaps, as Dragon Age likely comes to a close, it’s better to leave Dragon Age with a game as optimistic as the people who made it. I can’t think of a more appropriate finale than one that represents the world its creators hope to see, even as the world we live in now gives us every reason to fall to despair.

In my review for The Veilguard I signed off expressing hope for BioWare’s future that feels a bit naive in retrospect. Would a divisive but undeniably polished RPG that felt true to the studio’s history be enough when, after 10 years of development, rich suits were probably looking for a decisive cultural moment? That optimism was just about a video game. Having lived through the past 32 years, most of the optimism I’ve ever held feels naive to look back on. I think I’m losing hope that the world will get any better. But even if we haven’t reached The Veilguard’s idealized vision, I’ll take some comfort in knowing someone previously at BioWare still believes it’s possible. - ken shepard, shepardcdr.bsky.social

[satori-runa]

—In fates eyes

Summary: You're the victim of a weird red string that won't let loose of your finger. And you don't know that your stalker is wrapped at the other end, already on the chase.

Tags: Soulmate AU, slight stalking

Words: 0,5

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Ever since you landed in this strange place, you couldn't rid yourself of the pesky scarlet string tied around your pinkie.

It clung stubbornly, snug but not tight enough to cut off your circulation. You’d tried everything—cutting it, biting it—but whenever you attempted to sever it, the string seemed to turn to steel, defying your efforts and leaving you frustrated. It stretched on through the strange landscape like a guiding line, silently inviting you to follow it. Whether you chose to do so was up to you.

What you didn’t know was that someone else was on the other end of the string, far away in another room. Mr. Scarletella had grown quite fond of the little red thread wrapped around his own pinkie. He understood what it meant—it tethered him to you, his beloved. With eager determination, he followed the string’s pull, feeling it occasionally go taut or slack, each shift only deepening his resolve. To him, the string wasn’t a nuisance; it was a blessing.

In your desperation, there was even a moment when you tried to sacrifice your finger to Mr. Gap, thinking it would free you. But to your astonishment, the string merely shifted to another finger, as if mocking your attempt. That was when you realized: you were stuck with it. Perhaps it was time to accept that fact.

Unbeknownst to you, Scarletella was closing in, watching from afar. He wondered if you were following the string as well, and hoped your curiosity would lead you to him. Eager to nudge you along, he tugged on the thread, leaving subtle hints in his wake. Yet you continued to ignore its presence, pretending it wasn’t there.

Scarletella’s patience, while immense, was not without its limits. The string was a bond he cherished, but the lack of response from your end was beginning to gnaw at his resolve. Each time he tugged, hoping for even the smallest acknowledgment—a pause, a turn of your head—he was met with silence. It stung more than he’d care to admit. Still, he pressed on, following the crimson line like a lifeline, his anticipation tempered by a growing desperation.

Meanwhile, you trudged forward through the unfamiliar terrain, the string tugging ever so gently at your finger, a persistent reminder of something—or someone—waiting at the other end. Yet, your wariness of this unexplainable connection kept you from fully committing to its path. What if it led to something dangerous? Or worse, something you weren’t prepared to face?

The chase came to an abrupt end when he suddenly appeared behind you, his eerie smile stretching wider as his excitement overtook him. Before you could react, you found yourself pulled into his arms, a crimson umbrella unfolding above to shield you both, casting everything around you in its scarlet glow.

Truth be told, he never needed the string. It was merely a symbol, a connection that fate had woven between you. But he was content—no, happy—that destiny had decided you were meant for each other. The string was just a reminder that, in the end, he had always been right where he needed to be.

[acciotaitlynn]

⋆˙⟡ As a humble lady's maid to the princess of Philos, you often find yourself crossing paths with her charming brother, Prince Xavier. His piercing blue eyes and mischievous smile never fail to catch your attention, and soon, he begins to pursue you relentlessly. His courtship is overwhelming and exciting, but as you grow closer, you realize his intentions may not align with your own desires. You can't bear the thought of living a life where your love must be kept hidden, so you make the difficult decision to end things with him, breaking his heart in the process. As Xavier stands at a crossroads between his love for you and his duty as future king, he wrestles with the weight of choosing between tradition and true love, unsure if he can bear to live without you or if he will risk everything to have you by his side as queen.

“This flower, much like the one who now holds it, is unique and precious beyond measure," he continues, ignoring the curious stares and whispers of those around you. Stepping closer, his next words are meant only for your ears, a secret shared under the watchful eyes of the court. "And just like this flower, you were meant to be mine."

── .✦ prince xavier & fem!reader

── .✦ sexual content, 18+, porn w plot, forbidden love, Angst, there's a wedding! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ i gave xav a sis & parents, really possessive/dom xavier + sub fem!reader, sweet & spicy, dancing, masturbation, oral;꒰f&m receiving꒱ fingering, public sex/consummation ceremony, exhibitionism, slight breeding kink/mentions of pregnancy, xav is... experienced ¬‿¬ teasing, edging, a little marking/claiming, kitty play, bondage/sight deprivation, sensory play, sadomasochism, light paddling, face-fucking, angel/my love/good girl/princess & my prince/your highness used, pls let me know if I missed anything importantㅤ♡

⊹ 22k wc; i even cut some ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ i really hope you like it <3

You thought you had known true beauty—the kind that steals your breath and makes you question all you hold true. You were certain you had seen it in the wild, untamed waves of a stormy sea or in the soft glow of a fire as you warmed your damp body later that night. But now, perfection stands before you with pale silver hair that glimmers in the sunlight and delicate features that seem almost ethereal. He's like a sculpture come to life, every contour and curve crafted with impeccable precision. As he bends over a budding bloom in the palace gardens, his graceful movements seem to match the gentle swaying of the nearby trees. The contrast between his pale skin and the vibrant blue forget-me-nots he holds is striking, highlighting his flawless complexion.

His long, slender fingers—every bit as achingly beautiful as the rest of him—reach out to gently caress the petals of the flower, almost as if it were a precious jewel. The intense urge to move closer to him nearly overwhelms you, but a sliver of reason remains, reminding you to maintain your composure. So instead, you retreat silently, seeking cover behind a nearby tree to watch from a distance. Though you’ve only served as the crown princess’s lady’s maid for a week and haven’t yet met everyone in her circle, there is no mistaking this man's identity—he’s her older brother, Xavier. And in this moment, surrounded by nature's splendor and with such a breathtaking sight before you, you understand why she always speaks so highly of him. He truly is a vision of beauty and gentleness beyond compare.

A voice inside you screams in warning to stay hidden, predicting that any interaction with the prince before you will result in a catastrophic change to your existence. Your heart races as the fear takes hold, containing the unknown terror that grips your mind and soul. A powerful magnetic force seems to pull at every fiber of your being, connecting you to the prince standing before you through an invisible thread. Overwhelming panic consumes you, pushing you back towards the safety of the palace at lightning speed. With each step away from Xavier, you pray for the unexplainable connection to break, desperate for it to end before it destroys you completely.

A sudden, honeyed warmth washes over Xavier, penetrating deep into his bones and drawing his attention towards your retreating figure. With each step you take towards the grand castle looming in the distance, he feels a thrilling rush of energy coursing through him. His fingers tingle with anticipation as they release the delicate flower they were holding, almost reaching out towards you unconsciously as the heavy doors close behind you with a resounding thud.

Xavier is struck by the sheer beauty of your presence. Akin to the way you felt upon seeing him, it’s as though he's witnessing something truly perfect for the first time. The way the sunlight caresses your silky hair and smooth skin sends shivers down his spine. But it's not just your physical appearance that captivates him - it's your radiant aura that draws him in, beckoning him to pluck a delicate pale pink flower from its resting place before darting towards you with a renewed sense of urgency. His feet carry him faster than ever before, driven by an overwhelming desire to be near you.

As he strides confidently through the grand hall, every eye is drawn to him like moths to a flame. Some curious, some envious, and others full of surprise and confusion at his sudden halt before you. It’s rare to see their prince show any interest in a woman past those he seeks out for carnal pleasures, and even then, he lacks emotion in the encounters that are merely a means to an end.

As you stand there in your humble working-class uniform, you can't help but feel self-conscious under the jealous stares and deprecating glares from those around you. This was exactly why you had tried so desperately to avoid this encounter. The grand hall's luxurious air only emphasizes the stark contrast between your simple attire and the opulence surrounding you. The chandeliers above cast a warm glow on everyone in attendance, highlighting their extravagant clothing and elaborate jewelry. You feel like a small pebble in a sea of diamonds and silk, but despite it all, you hold your head high and meet the prince's piercing gaze with determination.

Xavier's heart races and his mind goes blank as he stands before you. He can barely remember how to think or breathe, completely consumed by your presence. His piercing azure eyes scan every detail of your face, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he basks in the warmth radiating from you. Despite his usual guarded demeanor, he feels himself melting under your gaze, giving in to a vulnerability he never knew he had.

As soon as your eyes meet, his grin widens into the most charming, heart-stopping expression of joy you've ever seen. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as his gaze lingers on you, admiring every inch of your being. Your eyes pass over the critical faces around you before settling back on him. It's then that you blurt out, "my prince..."

It's a vulnerable moment, one that lays bare your feelings for him. And as if reading your mind, he can see the shame and sadness in your voice as you question whether he needs help with something. His heart clenches at the thought of causing you pain, and he realizes that perhaps this introduction should have been saved for a more private moment.

But it's too late now. The curious gazes of those around make it clear that no one will forget what they've witnessed here today. And news of Xavier's newfound interest in you will likely spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom before the sun sets. Despite all of this, he can’t resist the urge to get closer to you. He shakes his head softly, his cheeks turning a faint shade of red. "I saw you, and I just..." He trails off, struggling to find the right words before finally admitting, "The thought of you getting away from me was unbearable."

As he reaches out to tuck the delicate pink flower behind your ear, his fingers brush against your skin with a feather-light touch. You feel a sudden warmth spread through your body at his gentle gesture, and you can't help but be drawn in by the intensity of his gaze. "For you," he murmurs, his voice soft but firm, leaving no room for refusal.

A small smile graces your lips in response, and he feels a surge of satisfaction at having brought even the slightest joy to your face. His fingers linger against your cheek as he pulls away, unable to resist the urge to touch you just a little longer. "This flower, much like the one who now holds it, is unique and precious beyond measure," he continues, ignoring the curious stares and whispers of those around you. Stepping closer, his next words are meant only for your ears, a secret shared under the watchful eyes of the court. "And just like this flower, you are meant to be mine."

The possessiveness and determination in his declaration send a shiver down your spine, the weight of his words and their significance settling deep within your core. Your heart races as you struggle to find the right words in response. "Your Highness..." you begin, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to compose yourself. "I'm honored by your words and this beautiful gift," you finally manage to stammer out, your gaze dropping to the floor before lifting to meet his steady stare. In this moment, all that matters is him and the invisible thread that seems to pull you together. The intensity in his expression ignites a fire within you, a yearning for something that seems unattainable yet irresistible. But as much as you crave him and this forbidden connection between you two, the judgmental glares and expectations of the court weigh heavily on your mind. "We both know that's not possible," you murmur, attempting to make your way past him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, your sister is expecting me..." His grip on your wrist tightens ever so slightly, stopping you in your tracks.

The heat of his touch sends a surge of electricity through your body, paralyzing you despite the warning bells ringing in your mind. "Wait," he whispers desperately, his ocean blue eyes searching yours with pleading intensity. His thumb traces circles on the soft underside of your wrist, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume all reason and logic.

"Don't deny what's between us. It's as real as the ground we stand on and as tangible as the air we breathe. I know you can feel it too," he asserts, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans in closer to you.

Every fiber of your being is drawn towards him, yearning for his touch and his words to be true. But a part of you still knows better, knows the danger and consequences that come with giving into this forbidden connection. With trembling breaths, you meet his gaze once more, your resolve weakening under the weight of his unwavering passion. Fighting against the surge of emotions within you, you force out a lie through gritted teeth. "I don't know what you're talking about, Your Highness… Please..."

Your denial hangs heavily in the charged air between you, but your rapid pulse beneath Xavier's fingers betrays your true desires. A knowing smirk plays on his lips as he releases your wrist, though not completely letting go. "Very well," he concedes with a hint of amusement lacing his velvety voice. Stepping back, he gives you the space you claim to need, but his piercing gaze never leaves yours. "If that's what you choose to believe, then I'll respect it... for now."

His words send a shiver down your spine and leave an ache in your chest as he loosens his hold on you. With a graceful bow that leaves you breathless, he steps aside to let you pass. "But this isn't goodbye," he adds with a sly smile, his voice carrying a taunting promise that stirs something deep within you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your back as you walk away, a physical presence that consumes your thoughts and sets your heart racing. Clutching the delicate pink flower he gave you, you hold it close to your chest as you navigate through the crowded room. Despite trying to push Xavier and his words out of your mind, they continue to haunt you relentlessly like a seductive spell. You tuck the flower into your pocket, a secret treasure hidden away from curious eyes as you continue with your tasks.

As the weeks pass, Xavier finds himself irresistibly drawn to the quiet corners of the palace, where the echoes of laughter and whispered secrets fade into a hushed stillness. In these moments of solitude, he allows himself to indulge in thoughts of you, his imagination flourishing with possibilities. He envisions your arms wrapped around him, your lips pressed tenderly against his as you sway beneath the stars in a dance meant only for the two of you. He dreams of intimate conversations shared beneath the soft glow of moonlight and stolen kisses exchanged in the shadowy embrace of dawn. Each day brings new challenges and duties that demand his attention, but also new opportunities to catch glimpses of you, to exchange guarded smiles that set his heart ablaze. As he navigates through the labyrinth of politics and intrigue, his mind constantly wanders to you, your face etched upon the canvas of his thoughts.

And while you go about your own tasks and duties, your mind often drifts to fantasies of you and Xavier lost in passionate embraces, your hearts beating as one. These forbidden desires both tantalize and terrify you. You try to focus on your responsibilities, immersing yourself in mundane tasks that occupy your days. Yet every corner of the palace seems to hold memories of your brief encounter with Xavier, each whisper of wind carrying an echo of his voice. During quiet moments alone, you often take out the flower he gave you – its delicate petals now slightly wilted – as a constant reminder of your connection.

The halls buzz with whispers and speculation, their echoes reaching even Xavier's ears. Your name, once just a faint murmur on the wind, now seems to reverberate through every corridor and chamber, igniting curiosity among the court at your sudden rise to his affections. Before long, Xavier finds himself seeking out those same quiet corners where he knows he will find you. When your encounters do occur, though brief, they are filled with a charged energy that crackles in the air like lightning before a storm.

As your shift comes to an end, you take a leisurely stroll through the garden under the shimmering light of the full moon. The silver glow casts a mystical aura over the delicate blooms surrounding you, their petals swaying gently in the cool night breeze. You feel Xavier's presence before you see him, a tingling sensation at the base of your neck that sends shivers down your spine. His movements are fluid and graceful, emerging from the shadows like a ghost gliding through the moonlit foliage. His voice, barely audible above the rustling leaves, whispers your name. Every step he takes towards you is slow and cautious, as if he were a predator stalking its prey in the forest of desire. His intense gaze locks onto yours, mirroring the storm raging within him. As his hand reaches out to caress your cheek, his touch is tender yet possessive, revealing the hunger that consumes him. "I can't stay away from you," he confesses in a low, raw tone, "Nor do I want to. Every moment apart feels like an eternity, a cruel punishment inflicted upon my restless soul."

Your heart races at his words, your body responding to him like a finely tuned instrument played by a master musician. With each gentle stroke of his fingers, he ignites a fire within you that threatens to consume you completely. Overcome with happiness, you utter his title like a sweet melody on your lips: "My prince." Your fingers twitch with an uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch him, to ease this growing need within you. But even as you speak softly and timidly, asking why he is doing this, your response is like music to Xavier's ears, filling him with warmth and joy that radiates through his entire being.

His long, slender fingers trace the delicate curve of your jawline, igniting a burning trail of desire in their wake. His intense gaze holds yours captive as he speaks, his voice unwavering and filled with devotion. "From the very first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were destined to be mine," he declares, his words laced with a conviction that sends shivers down your spine. "You have become my everything - my sun, my moon, my stars - the very air I breathe."

His other hand cups your face with gentle tenderness as he speaks, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in a soothing caress. He leans in closer until his lips are just inches from yours, teasing you with the promise of passion that lingers between you. "I want to spend every moment with you, bringing life to your dreams and creating new ones together. To hold you close through the darkness and when the weight of the world becomes too heavy to bear."

His confession of love and longing strikes deep within your soul, like a familiar melody whispered on the wind and written in the stars. With each gentle touch, warmth spreads throughout your body, igniting a fierce flame that burns with an intensity you've never felt before. As Xavier's hands cup your face, you lean into his touch and close your eyes, savoring the comforting sensation. Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest as his lips draw even closer to yours, the anticipation almost unbearable. You don't push away or pull him closer; instead, your hands rest lightly on his chest as if trying to resist him. But as your gaze slowly rises to meet his, he can sense your surrender. As he lowers his mouth to yours in a tender kiss, the outside world fades away, and it's just the two of you lost in a sea of desire.

The kiss is a slow burn, filled with longing that matches the depth of your feelings. His tongue teases gently at the seam of your lips before seeking entrance, his hand cradling the back of your head to draw you impossibly closer. He pours every ounce of love, desire, and devotion into the kiss, hoping to convey the depth of his feelings and erase any doubts that may linger in your mind. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer as the kiss grows more passionate with each passing moment. Eventually, you both break away, breathless and trembling. Foreheads still pressed together, hearts beating in sync, your eyes meet and see the same love and longing reflected in each other's gaze. For a brief moment, nothing else exists except for the two of you caught up in a whirlwind of emotions. But reality intrudes upon this stolen moment, reminding you of the relentless march of duty and responsibility. Reluctantly, your arms release Xavier from their hold as you murmur softly, "I should go."

Xavier's heart plummets like a boulder as he feels the weight of your rejection. It hits him with such force, stealing his breath and leaving him speechless. His eyes widen in shock and disbelief, but he understands your hesitation and the gravity of the situation. Still, a wave of deep sadness and frustration washes over him, threatening to drown him in despair. He nods slowly, unable to find words as his throat tightens with emotion. Gently, he removes his trembling hands from your neck and steps back, putting distance between you. His mind is swirling with thoughts and emotions that he dares not speak out loud, fearing that they may lead to regret or expose the depths of his heartache.

You turn away without a word, heading back towards the sprawling castle that has been your home for so long. Each step takes you further from the love that has consumed your thoughts and left a void in your heart.

As you disappear through the grand palace doors, a sharp pang of loneliness pierces Xavier's chest. Suddenly, his extravagant surroundings feel hollow and meaningless compared to the ache in his heart. He retreats to his private chambers, feeling utterly alone despite being surrounded by lavish furnishings. As he paces restlessly across the marble floor, he wrestles with the harsh reality of your situation - duty, family, crown - all weighing heavily on his shoulders and making it difficult for him to justify pursuing a relationship with someone of a lower status.

But even as logic tries to dictate his actions, his heart rebels and refuses to accept a future without you in it. Taking a sip of rich burgundy wine, Xavier tries to drown out the bleakness that clouds his mood before setting aside the goblet and collapsing onto his bed with a frustrated sigh. Memories of your laughter fill his mind as he yearns for you with an intensity bordering on madness. His imagination ignites the flames of desire between you as he seeks solace in one of the most private acts imaginable. Guilt lingers at the edge of his conscience, but he pushes it away and allows himself to succumb to waves of pleasure that crash over him. He whispers your name with longing as he reaches climax, feeling his heart race in time with the pumping of his wrist. Exhausted and emotionally drained, he falls into a restless sleep, haunted by memories of stolen moments and clinging to hope for a future that may never come to fruition.

As you drift off to sleep yourself, Xavier's presence wraps around you like a warm and protective blanket, shielding you from the darkness of the night. And even when you wake, that comforting warmth lingers as you go to Princess Meira's chambers.

As you tentatively step through the grand doors of the breakfast hall, a wave of fear crashes over you, threatening to send you fleeing in the opposite direction. This is a rare occasion for the King and Queen to join their children, Meira and her brother Xavier, for breakfast. You find yourself wishing that Meira had given you some warning beforehand, but then again, why should she? She has no way of knowing the depths of your heart's yearning for Xavier. With a deep breath, you give a gentle smile to the room, attempting to ignore the intense gazes of both the prince and his parents. Instead, you divert your attention to Meira with a cheerful expression and a graceful curtsy. "My Lady," your voice chirps softly, trying to convey a sense of ease despite the fluttering nerves within you. For a brief moment, your eyes meet Xavier's and you are momentarily lost in their depths before quickly looking away, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

As Xavier watches you move around the room, his heart rate increases and his pulse pounds in his ears. Seeing you among his family members, especially after your late-night encounter just hours ago, sends shivers down his spine. He exchanges a polite nod with his parents, their keen gazes flickering between the two of you as they pick up on the subtle signs of your shared secret.

Meira senses the tension and jumps in with a bright smile. "Good morning! I requested cherries for breakfast today!" Her delicate ivory fingers gesture towards a bowl piled high with fresh cherries, causing warmth and gratitude to wash over you at her display of kindness. Since starting as her lady's maid, Meira has insisted on treating you as an equal, trying to learn your favorite things and surprise you with them. Despite your short time together, it feels as though you have known each other for years, often losing yourselves in hours of conversation and fostering a blossoming friendship.

With a sly smirk and a glint of mischief in her eyes, she teases, "Funny... Cherries are Xavi's favorite too! So I made sure to get extra." Her gaze lingers on Xavier, who meets it with narrowed eyes and a simmering warning. But she remains cool and unfazed, her amusement evident in the way she brushes off his glare. "I'm sure you guys won't mind sharing though, right?" She passes the bowl to him, her infectious grin grating on his nerves.

Meira is known for her sharp wit and ability to gather information about everyone around her. She knows the latest gossip that threads through the court like poison, including the rumors about you and her brother. At first, she didn't believe them, but her hesitation was not due only to your differences in standing. As she observed Xavier closely over the years, she realized he had always believed that love was not meant for him, a fact that Meira could see clearly in his eyes when he stood outside the throne room after a conversation with their father about marriage arrangements.

She remembers his soft voice promising her, "At least one of us will marry for love. I'll make sure of it." At that moment, she vowed to do everything possible to make that dream come true for him, too. She firmly believes someone as wonderful as her brother deserves to be loved and cherished, not forced into a joyless partnership.

For Meira, love is something written in the stars and soulmates truly exist. And she will not rest until she can convince their parents to understand this as well. Raising awareness about your situation is just the beginning for her.

As Xavier takes the bowl from her hands, he can't help but appreciate her unspoken support and understanding, the weight of her touch heavy with unsaid emotions. The cherry in his fingertips is plump and dark, its deep red skin glistening under the soft lights of the palace. He examines it thoughtfully before popping it into his mouth, the burst of sweetness overwhelming his senses. His thoughts drift back to the previous evening, the memory of your lips and the taste of your skin still fresh in his mind. He offers you the next cherry with measured grace, the simple exchange infused with a deeper meaning. Your eyes meet as your fingers brush against his, accepting the fruit, and the air between you crackles with an undeniable energy.

Xavier notices his parents' prolonged interest in you, their gaze a mix of curiosity and speculation. Meira's well-intentioned efforts succeed in heightening their awareness of your relationship, though Xavier dares not speculate on their true intentions. When the royal family retires to the gardens for a stroll, he discreetly ensures that you walk close together. The fresh air is fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle trickle of a nearby fountain adds to the serene beauty of the flora surrounding you. It's a welcome respite from the confined atmosphere of the palace, allowing you both a fleeting glimpse of normalcy amidst all the expectations and regulations.

"You handled that earlier scene with such poise," Xavier comments softly, his voice filled with appreciation and admiration. "Though I can't help but think we may have given my parents cause for concern." He casts a discreet glance toward the monarchs, who seem engaged in their own discussions, but he can't shake off the feeling that they're listening closely to every word exchanged between you. "I must confess...it's becoming increasingly difficult for me to maintain proper distance when I'm in your presence," he admits honestly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of understanding or reciprocation.

Despite the overwhelming impossibility of acting on your feelings, you can’t resist meeting his gaze with a longing of your own. The intensity of your mutual desire hangs in the air between you, palpable and unspoken. In an attempt to banish the weight of your forbidden emotions, you playfully tease Xavier as you continue your stroll together through the gardens. “I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much trouble, Your Highness.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Xavier's lips, grateful for the lightness and joy you bring to what is otherwise a troubled mind. "It's not trouble," he murmurs softly, locking eyes with you. "It's a complication...but one I'm willing to navigate for the reward." His words linger, heavy with emotion and unspoken promises. As the sun begins to set, casting a warm golden glow over the garden, the conversation shifts to less intense topics. As you rejoin the group, Xavier feels the weight of his duties settling back onto his shoulders. With one last lingering gaze at you, he returns to his responsibilities, cherishing your radiant smile in his mind.

As the day wears on and your duties and tasks for Meira consume your attention, thoughts of Xavier constantly consume you. And as night falls and preparations are made for bed, you both find yourselves retreating to your individual quarters - yearning for each other's presence in the quiet moments before sleep. The silence in your rooms serves as both a comfort and a cruel reminder of your separation; every tick of the clock echoing the distance between you.

Lying in bed with tangled covers, your hearts ache with longing and fear for what lies ahead. Unable to find rest, memories of your time together play on a continuous loop in your minds as you wait for the first light of dawn. Desperate for solace, you rise early, slipping into a simple robe and grabbing a book from your personal library before making your way to a secluded spot in the castle gardens.

The morning air is cool and carries the sweet fragrance of dew and blooming flowers. As you walk, trying to lose yourself in the words on the page, you eventually come across a tranquil spot under a tree with heavy white blossoms cascading down its branches. Settling onto the soft grass, you allow the peacefulness of your surroundings to calm the turmoil in your heart.

As the sun slowly rises and casts its warm, golden light through his own bedroom window, Xavier feels an inexplicable pull towards the gardens. With careful steps, he makes his way towards the secluded spot, almost as if he can sense your presence awaiting him. When he finally reaches the spot beneath the blossoming tree where you sit peacefully, he is overcome with a sense of belonging unlike anything he's ever felt before. Without saying a word, he takes a seat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he instinctively reaches for your hand. "Do you come here to escape?" he asks in a soft whisper, barely able to contain his emotions.

You look up at him in surprise, but any initial shock quickly fades away as you feel your heart swell with happiness at his presence. The touch of your hands together sends sparks flying between you, and you can't help but lean into it, closing your eyes and savoring the warmth of his touch. "Yes," you answer quietly, your gaze shifting down to where your hands are now tightly interlocked. "Do you have somewhere safe to escape to, Xavier?"

Your question brings a soft smile to his lips as he looks down at your entwined hands, feeling a sense of purpose and determination wash over him as he gazes upon the image of your connection. In a hushed voice, he confesses, "For so long, my refuge was in books and knowledge. I sought solace in the stories of others and the wisdom of ages past. But now..." He trails off, struggling to find the right words to express himself, yet knowing that sharing these thoughts with you is important. He takes a deep breath and continues, "Now, my sanctuary is with you. Every moment we steal away, every secret touch, every shared laugh or whispered confession - these are the things that give my life meaning and make all of the struggles worthwhile."

He raises your intertwined hands, his soft lips brushing against your knuckles before returning them to his lap. Leaning into you, his head rests against your shoulder as you sit in peaceful silence, taking in the tranquil surroundings of the gardens. You find a moment of true peace together in this secluded corner of nature, surrounded by its beauty and serenity.

It's a fleeting moment, fragile like a butterfly's wings, but it allows you to let your guard down just a little. Your hand instinctively travels up Xavier's neck, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingers. Without hesitation, you lean in to press your lips against his in a tender kiss. He responds immediately, melting into your embrace and pulling you closer.

His arms wrap around you protectively as your fingers continue to play with his silky locks. In each other's arms, lost in the depths of your love for one another, time seems to stand still.

Breaking the kiss, his eyes lock onto yours, his intense gaze reflecting the same fierce longing and adoration that fills your own heart. With a gentle touch, he traces the soft curve of your cheek, marveling at the beauty that radiates from within and without. Time seems to hold its breath at this moment, captured in the blissful seconds between heartbeats. Your lips hunger for more, your body yearning for his touch. But all too soon, the sound of approaching footsteps shatters the tranquility, pulling you back to reality.

With a quick glance around to make sure no one has witnessed your intimate moment, you quickly straighten and offer Xavier a hand up. "We should return to the castle," you murmur regretfully, torn between the desire to stay in his arms forever and the weight of your responsibilities awaiting you. Reluctantly, he allows you to guide him to his feet. As you walk back towards the castle together, your hands remain intertwined for a fleeting moment before separating due to the demands of propriety.

Your heart is heavy with conflicting emotions - guilt for indulging in this forbidden love, fear of being discovered and facing the consequences, and longing for more stolen moments like this with Xavier. Even inside the safety of the castle walls, the taste of his kiss lingers on your lips, a tantalizing reminder of what will never be fully yours. Needing space to process these emotions, you slip away unnoticed.

As the days slip by and your paths continue to intertwine within the castle's imposing walls, each encounter with Xavier is a delicate dance between longing and caution. The air crackles with tension as he watches you from a distance, his gaze tracing every graceful step and subtle gesture as you navigate the corridors of the palace. Your demeanor speaks volumes, guarded yet wistful, and it draws him in like a moth to a flame. He can't help but notice the way your hand trembles ever so slightly as you arrange a vase of flowers or the way your smile holds a tinge of melancholy. Each detail only fuels his fascination with you, stirring emotions he never knew existed. But beneath the exhilaration of these stolen moments lies an undercurrent of urgency, a sense that time is slipping away too quickly.

In the grand library, as you peruse through stacks of books, you can sense Xavier's presence before he even approaches. His warmth envelops you from behind, sending a flush to your cheeks and making it difficult to focus on anything else. You stammer out a greeting, trying to compose yourself in his proximity. But his nearness lingers, filling the room with unspoken desires and yearning. Your heart races as you struggle to maintain some semblance of composure.

"Can I help you find something, Your Highness?" Your words are formal and polite, but your eyes betray the depth of emotion bubbling just below the surface.

Xavier's breath catches in his throat at the sound of your voice, his entire being consumed by the intoxicating essence of your presence. He can't resist leaning in closer, his lips brushing against the delicate shell of your ear as he murmurs, "Actually, I came searching for something far more elusive." A heavy pause hangs between you, filled with palpable anticipation, before he continues in a low, deliberate tone. "Your understanding, perhaps?... Or maybe just a glimpse of that radiant smile that haunts my dreams?" He pulls back slightly, locking his gaze with yours, the electric connection between you igniting like a live wire.

In the dimly-lit library, your eyes are pools of liquid moonlight, reflecting the depth of your longing and the risks you're both willing to take for each other. "Even the simplest moments with you feel like an eternity," he confesses reverently, his sincerity and adoration shining through his words. "And yet, I find myself yearning for more - to lose myself in your eyes, to hear your laughter echoing through the night." His voice trails off, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him as he bares his heart to you.

You can feel his honesty wrap around you like a warm blanket, igniting a fire within your soul. Once again, you are acutely aware of the risks you take by being together, but you find yourself powerless against the strength of your feelings for him. His lips graze against your neck in a tender caress, sending shivers down your spine and leaving you momentarily speechless.

Your trembling hands grasp onto the edge of the bookshelf, seeking any support available as you give in to the overwhelming longing. Fatigue weighs heavily on your body, tired from the constant struggle to resist the alluring effect he has on you. Every fiber of your being aches for him, for what you know you want and need. With a soft voice, you murmur his name, feeling the resistance that once held you so firmly begin to dissipate. A small smile tugs at your lips before they meet his in a long-awaited kiss.

Xavier feels a wave of euphoria wash over him at your touch, filling him with an indescribable sense of triumph and love. Your lips part, allowing him to taste the sweetness of your yielding mouth. The exchange of breath and warmth between you leaves both of you breathless, lost in the moment's intensity. With a groan that's part relief and part desire, he presses you against the bookshelf, your bodies aligning as if drawn by some invisible force.

The weight of your breasts against his chest sends a jolt of pure lust coursing through his veins. His arms wrap tightly around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens and intensifies.

The heat between your bodies is palpable, a fiery intensity threatening to consume you both. You can feel yourself completely opening up to him, surrendering to the desires that have been building inside you for weeks. In this moment, all your defenses are laid bare as you grip him tightly, unable to hold back any longer.

"Kissing you has been consuming my thoughts for days," you breathe against his lips, your voice almost desperate with longing. Your thumb traces his bottom lip with a featherlight touch, savoring the softness and perfection of his mouth. "These lips, my prince...do you have any idea how perfect they are?" You kiss him again, losing yourself in the pleasure of his plush pink lips against yours. Your words ignite a fire within Xavier's soul, soothing the wounds left by the cruel hands of fate. He smiles against your lips, his heart pounding in his chest as he reciprocates your fervor with an intensity born from weeks of repression and desire.

Your unrestrained touch sends waves of pleasure crashing through him, and he moans softly, his fingers clutching at your hair as he kisses you harder. As you break apart for a moment, gasping for air, your eyes meet in a mirrored reflection of the intense passion that burns between you. You whisper against his skin with a soft smile, "This is dangerous, Xavier." Your words only serve to fuel the desire between you as you nuzzle into his neck, your fingers slipping under his shirt to trace delicate patterns along his back, feeling the muscles shift and flex beneath your touch.

Xavier's entire body trembles, your touch igniting a fiery desire within him, threatening to consume him whole. Your voice, husky and charged with danger, only adds to the already intense arousal that courses through his veins. With one hand, he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, taking in the sight of you with hunger and longing in his eyes. He sees a hint of uncertainty and resistance lingering in your gaze, but it's overshadowed by a deep love and longing that seems to eclipse any doubts. Empowered by your admission of risk, Xavier captures your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue teases at the seam of your mouth, seeking entrance, while his hands roam freely over every curve and contour of your body with a reverence bordering on worship. As his fingers trace the hem of your dress, just barely slipping underneath the soft fabric, he meets your eyes and silently seeks permission. Your heart pounds in your chest, hesitating in the face of such intense desire. But you make no move to stop him, leaning into his touch as if unable to resist its temptation.

With a soft sigh of relief, Xavier allows his fingers to slip under the hem and explore further - tentative and searching, tracing the contours of your midriff with light touches. He continues a slow journey upward, following the curves and dips of your ribcage with careful attention. In this dimly lit library, guided by the rhythm of your breaths, he feels acutely aware of the fragility of this moment; knowing that every second spent together is precious and fleeting. Yet despite this realization, he remains resolute in his determination to savor every moment, to etch these memories onto his heart and soul.

The intensity between you is palpable, a tangible force that binds you together for better or worse. Your heart races faster as his fingers trail down your body, leaving sparks of electricity in their wake.

You see the fire burning in the depths of his eyes, a reflection of your own desires. Knowing that your feelings are mutual, that you are both willing to fight for this love, gives you the courage to surrender completely to him. With a soft nod, you grant him permission to continue exploring your body.

Leaning back against the bookshelf, you sigh softly as his hands begin to undress you. The contrast of cool air against your exposed skin and the warmth of his touch sends shivers down your spine. And with each layer of clothing shed, your trust and vulnerability deepens within Xavier's senses.

Kneeling before you with reverence and awe, he places feather-light kisses along the column of your throat. His fingers work deftly at the clasp of your bra, revealing the smooth expanse of your stomach and the delicate lace beneath.

He cups your breast in his palms, feeling the supple flesh yield to his touch. His thumbs brush over your nipples, watching them harden and pebble under his caress. Your response ignites a surge of desire within him, and he knows that he must have you - claim you in every way possible.

Capturing a rosy peak between his lips, he suckles gently while his hands roam lower - seeking the heat between your thighs.

As his lips envelop your pert nipple, you let out a soft moan that echoes through the quiet library. Your head falls back against the sturdy bookshelf, surrendering to the delicious waves of sensation that wash over you. With each flick of his tongue and gentle suck, your body responds with eager shivers and arches. The anticipation builds as his fingers trail down, brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, sending tingles racing up your spine. You can't help but bite your lip to stifle a cry as he discovers the damp evidence of your arousal, his gentle caress over the lace fabric of your panties setting off fireworks of pleasure throughout your body.

Your moans, the scent of your arousal, and your willing submission only fuel the fire raging within Xavier. As he slowly works to remove the final barrier between you, his fingertips dance along the delicate fabric, igniting a hunger in him that burns like no other. The sight of your reaction to him, the feel of your body trembling under his touch, is an intoxicating aphrodisiac.

With careful precision, he finally removes the lacy fabric, revealing the treasure he's longed to claim for so many days. He takes his time kissing a path down your abdomen, his hot breath teasing your skin as he approaches your glistening core. As he finally presses his lips to your most intimate area, he feels a surge of satisfaction and pure desire.

Your moans become more urgent and desperate as he explores the depths of your pleasure with his skilled tongue. The sensation of his mouth on your heated skin sends electric shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your entire being, making you gasp and cling to the edges of the bookshelf for support as you surrender completely to his touch.

As his slender finger slips inside you, your body responds instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips. Your slick, gummy walls clamp tightly around him, reveling in the fullness he provides. You can't help but wonder how much more you could take if he were to give it to you.

Your pleas for more are barely above a whisper, but they are music to Xavier's ears, a seductive melody he can't resist. He continues to attend to your needy cunt, feeling your inner muscles clench around the second finger he works in. The velvety heat draws him in deeper with each thrust. As the tension builds within you, he can sense you nearing climax. With a growl of satisfaction, he brings his mouth back to your swollen clit, sucking gently as he increases the tempo of his fingers.

His determination sends you tumbling over the edge into oblivion. Your body convulses, and your pussy flutters wildly as you crest the peak of your climax. Xavier drinks in every moan and sob of pleasure, his own arousal reaching a crescendo as he watches you unravel beneath his touch. Your juices trickle down his chin, the sight of his enjoyment only adding to your ecstasy.

When the storm finally subsides, you collapse against the bookshelf, breathing heavily. As Xavier wipes away the evidence of your pleasure, his heart swells with affection and pride. In this moment, he craves you so badly - the feel of your body wrapped around his, the warmth of your embrace as he thrusts into you and fills you with his seed. And when the time is right, when you're ready, he will take you as his own.

The spark ignited by your lips lingers between you both, and Xavier eagerly responds to your craving for more sweetness. When you finally break apart, he is left breathless and wanting.

With a gentle tug, he leads you deeper into the library, its walls lined with ancient tomes and forgotten knowledge. The scent of old paper and leather fills your senses as you settle onto a plush velvet couch, his arm draped around your shoulders. Your breath catches as he leans in for a kiss, his lips meeting yours in a fiery embrace. Lost in each other's touch, time seems to slip away unnoticed as you lose yourselves in this private sanctuary, hidden behind towering shelves of books.

His hand traces patterns on your skin as your bodies twist and turn on the couch, two halves of a whole coming together in perfect harmony. The soft light filtering through stained glass windows casts a warm glow on your entwined forms, wrapping you in a cocoon of intimacy.

Your fingers thread through his silver hair, pulling him closer as your legs wrap around his waist. Every kiss, every touch ignites a spark within you, filling you with a sense of belonging and completeness that you've never felt before.

As you revel in the euphoria of each other's presence, quiet voices drift towards you from afar. Barely able to catch your breath, you break away from the kiss to meet his eyes, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

"Shh," you whisper playfully, pressing a finger to his lips. "We wouldn't want to get caught like this, Your Highness."

Xavier smirks against your lips, the glint in his eyes hinting at the scandalous thoughts running through his mind. A sly grin spreads across his face as he leans in, his voice a husky whisper. "Then again, perhaps I wouldn't mind being caught. The scandalous headlines and the outrage it would cause among the courtiers... I find myself rather addicted to causing chaos wherever you are."

Without warning, he captures your lips in another passionate kiss, the intensity of his longing and desire palpable on his tongue. Your mouths dance and meld together, exploring each other's depths as you lose yourself in the embrace. As his hands roam down to cup your breasts, the skin-on-skin contact sends shivers down your spine. You can feel his thumbs gently graze your hardened nipples, eliciting a soft moan from your parted lips.

He nibbles at your bottom lip before trailing kisses along your jawline and down the sensitive curve of your throat. Your hands grip onto his hair, urging him on as he continues to explore your body with his skilled hands.

With deliberate slowness, he slides a finger inside you, filling you with an overwhelming sense of fullness. The sensation is almost too much to bear, causing your entire body to convulse around him. Seeing the ecstasy etched onto your face only adds fuel to Xavier's fire, and he claims your lips once more with a triumphant smile.

Your bodies remain entwined on the couch as he begins to explore deeper, setting a steady rhythm that mirrors the beating of your hearts. As your moans grow louder, he presses his free hand against your mouth to muffle the sounds. The risk of being discovered only intensifies Xavier's desire, and the way he dominates you with his hand sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

The pressure builds within you like a crescendo, threatening to consume you completely. With each thrust of his finger, you feel yourself inching closer to the edge. And when he slips a second finger inside you, your body explodes in an intense orgasm that washes over you like a tidal wave. You cling onto him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cry out softly, your voice muffled by his hand.

A fierce desire to give Xavier the same pleasure he has given you consumes your entire being. As you straddle him, your lips meeting in a fiery kiss, he eagerly accepts the surge of passion and unbridled intensity emanating from you. Your weight pressing down on him, your breasts pressed firmly against his chest, and your fingers tangled in his hair create a powerful image of dominance and submission that sends shivers down his spine. He groans into the kiss, reveling in the taste of you and the way your tongue dances with his.

Your lips trail along his neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake before you pull back and meet his gaze, silently asking for permission as you hover your fingers over his skin. Without hesitation, he nods in approval, whispering softly against your cheek as his lips brush yours in a feather-light kiss, "Yes. Leave your mark on me. I wear it like a badge of honor."

Eagerly, you continue to trace delicate hickeys along his neck and collarbone, relishing the promise of ownership they bring. But when you pause to admire a subtle purple bloom near his collarbone, he reaches up to gently cover your hand with his, urging you to claim him fully. "In fact," he murmurs huskily, "I want more. Claim every inch of me. Make me yours, inside and out."

With a soft moan, you press your lips to the tender spot once more before sinking your teeth into it with just enough force to leave a lasting mark.

As your lips dance along his skin, your hands eagerly roam over the dips and curves of his chest, tentatively tracing the lines of muscle and bone. With an eagerness that borders on greed, you quickly unbutton the rest of his shirt and push it aside, your gaze immediately drawn to his nipple. A small gasp escapes your lips as you run a thumb over the light-pink bud, feeling it grow firm under your touch. Meeting Xavier's intense gaze for a fleeting moment, you lean down and take the hardened peak into your mouth, sucking and nibbling with gentle ferocity.

The unfamiliar sensation sends electric currents of pleasure coursing through him, his breath hitching in his throat as he surrenders to the sensation. His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you close as he gives himself over to the exquisite pleasure you're giving him. Underneath your skillful touch, he becomes both conqueror and conquered, a paradoxical mix of desire and submission that feels completely natural yet also disorienting. He knows without a doubt that he would never relinquish this type of control to anyone else, yet with you it comes effortlessly, like taking in his next breath.

As you continue to lavish attention upon his nipples, you can't help but smile at the sight of him writhing and moaning in pleasure, lost in the depths of arousal. Leaning back slightly, you take in the beautiful sight before you - Xavier lying there with his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath, his skin flushed with desire. Your eyes trail down the soft trail of hair leading to his abs and you feel a primal urge to follow it with your tongue. Lowering your lips to his stomach, your fingers continue to tease and play with his nipples while your mouth leaves a trail of kisses and licks in its wake.

No one has ever worshipped his body like this before, and Xavier is overcome with a mix of awe and desire as you free his throbbing cock from its confinement. Any worries about being caught are pushed away by the sheer pleasure of feeling your mouth on him, your tongue tracing wet paths along his shaft. He gasps, his hips involuntarily bucking up towards you as you eagerly lap up the salty-sweet droplets of precum that have gathered at the tip of his arousal. In this moment, he feels completely and utterly desired and loved, as if he were a divine being worthy of being worshipped by a devoted follower.

Despite the potential consequences, he finds himself unable to resist the urge, his hands tangling in your hair as he guides your mouth to his throbbing cock. As his fingers guide you, you let out a small moan, feeling your anticipation build as you take in the sight of his aroused state. The head of his member is swollen and flushed, veins pulsing against his pale skin. Your mouth waters at the thought of tasting him, and you trace the prominent veins lightly with your tongue before taking him fully into your mouth.

You start slow, savoring the taste and texture as you gradually increase the pace and depth of your movements. With one hand caressing and stroking the length that doesn't fit in your mouth, you use the other to cover his mouth and muffle his own cries of pleasure. A wave of satisfaction washes over you, knowing that you're the one responsible for bringing Xavier to such a state of ecstasy.

Pausing for a brief moment, you meet his eyes as you bob your head back down, taking him deeper this time. He pushes against the back of your throat, but instead of pulling away, you swallow around him, allowing yourself to relax and fully enjoy the taste and sensation of him in your mouth. Your tongue swirls and licks along his length, eliciting desperate, muffled moans from him.

As you descend again, taking him to the hilt, Xavier feels his climax approaching rapidly. His muscles tense and strain as he eagerly surrenders to the exquisite sensation only you can provide. A low growl escapes his throat as he threads his fingers through your hair, guiding you, urging you on. Your skilled mouth and talented tongue have reduced him to a quivering mess, completely at your mercy. He can't help but marvel at how effortlessly you bring him to the brink of bliss. With each flick of your tongue and suction of your lips, he inches closer and closer to his release. As he focuses on your eyes, filled with adoration and desire for him, he feels himself losing control. With a guttural groan, he gives himself over completely to the waves of pleasure crashing through his body.

Sensing that he's on the verge of coming undone, you redouble your efforts, sucking harder and faster while never breaking eye contact. You want to see the exact moment when he loses all control, when he surrenders himself wholly to the pleasure you're providing. And then it happens. His eyes go wide, his fingers clenching tightly in your hair, and a deep groan rumbles from deep within his chest. His body jerks uncontrollably as the first spurt of semen hits the back of your throat. You instinctively swallow and continue to milk his cock with your mouth as the rest of his climax follows in powerful waves, filling you with his warmth.

Eventually, his movements slow and his grip on your hair loosens. You release his now-sensitive cock with a satisfied smirk, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you crawl up to straddle his body. Your skin is flushed and glistening with sweat, but your eyes shine with satisfaction and desire. "You taste amazing," you murmur, running your fingers along his jawline before leaning in for another kiss.

Xavier gazes up at you, his eyes sparkling with adoration and gratitude. He gently caresses your cheek, marveling at the perfection that stands before him. "In every way imaginable, you are a flawless creation," he breathes, his voice raw with emotion. As he speaks, his hands wander to your hips, pulling you flush against him once more. With one hand still on your cheek, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin.

But as much as you both want to stay in this moment forever, reality soon sets back in. Xavier reluctantly begins to disengage from your embrace, helping you both stand and pick up the scattered clothes around you. "We should probably get dressed before someone discovers us," he murmurs, though the reluctance is evident in his tone. You can't help but pout slightly, not ready to leave this intimate moment just yet.

"I know," you say softly, your voice barely audible above the sound of your ragged breaths.

Xavier tightens his hold around you, holding you as close as possible as he buries his face in your hair, breathing you in deeply. He softly reminds you that every moment apart is simply a countdown until you can be together again.

"Every moment apart is torture," you admit quietly, your heart aching with love and longing. With one final, lingering touch, you give him a small smile before turning to leave.

Xavier's eyes are fixated on your retreating figure, his heart heavy with longing and regret. Every step you take away from him feels like a stab to his chest, but he knows that he can't call you back. His duty as a prince and the weight of your illicit love keep him rooted in place, his hand pressed against the cool wood of a bookshelf as he struggles to maintain his composure. When you finally disappear from sight, he is left alone with his thoughts, the memories of your forbidden moments burning vividly in his mind. With a heavy sigh, he straightens his attire, steeling himself for the long day ahead as he tries to push away thoughts of you and focus on his duties.

But even as Xavier attends to his royal obligations throughout the day, his mind constantly drifts back to you. He steals glances whenever possible, hungry for any sign of your hidden love. Each stolen touch and lingering gaze heightens the anticipation between you both, building up an insatiable desire for the next time your bodies will come together, your hearts beating as one.

As the day wears on, Xavier finds it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything else. Even during important meetings and events, his thoughts are consumed by visions of your secret encounters. And when the moon begins its ascent into the sky, he eagerly counts down the minutes until he can escape from the constraints of his public life and join you in your designated sanctuary.

Finally, the moment arrives, he makes his way to meet you in the dimly lit room. As soon as he enters, he sees you waiting for him with that same hunger burning in your eyes. Without a word, you fall into each other's arms, your lips meeting in a passionate, all-consuming kiss.

Your hands explore each other's bodies, tracing every curve and contour with a careful touch as if committing them to memory. Your heartbeats sync, pounding in unison as passion courses through your veins.

Stripped of all clothing, you lay bare before one another, your limbs entangled on a makeshift bed. Xavier's fingers map every inch of your body, marveling at the smoothness of your skin and the curves of your figure. He traces a line from your waist to your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts and across the plane of your stomach. Each touch ignites a spark that travels along his nerve endings. In this moment, you are his masterpiece, a work of art created solely for his pleasure. And he is determined to take in every detail, every reaction. His touch reaches the apex of your thighs, cupping your sex with gentleness and awe at the heat radiating from within you.

With deliberate slowness, he teases you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body with each gentle graze of his fingertips. Your breath quickens, and your body arches in response to his expert touch. You become lost in a symphony of sensation, craving more as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. But just when you think you can't take it anymore, he retreats, denying you the release you so desperately want.

You whimper, your hands clutching at the sheets as you try to maintain control, but it’s a losing battle. “Please,” you beg softly, your voice barely audible above the sound of your labored breaths. “Xavier, please…” His touch changes, becoming firmer, more demanding.

He slides a long finger inside you, his hand moving with such precision and skill that you can't help but arch your back in pleasure. Your body convulses around his intrusion, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. The pleasure is almost painful in its intensity, but you crave it all the same. As he continues to stroke you, you can feel your orgasm building, a tidal wave of sensation threatening to crash over you at any moment. But just as the pleasure reaches its peak, he pulls back, his movements slowing as he brings you back from the edge.

Your plea echoes through the room, inflaming Xavier’s desire to devour you whole. He's addicted to your response to his touch, the way your body trembles and convulses under his ministrations. He removes his finger, watching as you pant and squirm, desperately seeking the relief he’s denied you. A smile spreads across his lips, both proud and wicked. He revels in this game of control, relishing the power he holds over your pleasure.

However, he can no longer resist the temptation of your body. His lips trail a path of fire up your inner thigh, leaving a blazing trail in their wake. Every inch of skin that his hot breath touches turns to liquid desire. "You taste so sweet," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe as he parts your lips and presses his tongue against your clit. He eagerly explores every inch of your delectable cunt, savoring the intoxicating flavor that only you possess. With each flick of his skilled tongue, he brings you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. You writhe beneath him, gripping the sheets as you struggle to keep yourself grounded in reality. But his mouth is relentless, never giving you a moment's respite from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

As your orgasm builds within you, Xavier adds another layer to his attack, pressing two fingers inside you while continuing to lavish attention on your throbbing clit. The combination of sensations is overwhelming, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge. Just when you think you can't take any more, he adds yet another level of intensity, pushing you over the edge into complete and utter bliss. Your body convulses violently as waves of pleasure wash over you, your cries of ecstasy muffled by the skin of his neck as you bury your face against him.

In that moment, Xavier is consumed by the intoxicating taste of your release. He drinks in every drop like a man dying of thirst, savoring the sweetness of your passion as it coats his tongue. Even as your aftershocks ripple through you, he continues to stimulate you with his mouth and fingers, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you're completely spent. Only then does he ease back, trailing soft kisses along your inner thigh as he withdraws from you.

Leaning up, he captures your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, pouring all of his own desires into the press of your lips. As he breaks the kiss, his eyes bore into yours with a smoldering intensity. "Now it's my turn," he murmurs, rolling onto his back and spreading his legs invitingly, his body already trembling with anticipation.

His words ignite a fire within you, filling you with a sense of eagerness and purpose as you eagerly accept his challenge. You move closer to him, your hands running along the defined muscles of his thighs as you drink in the sight of his aroused form. His erection stands proud against his abdomen, glistening with pre-cum and pulsing with desire. With a tender smile, you lean in, your lips pressing softly against the head of his cock. As the salty tang hits your tongue, an electric thrill shoots through your body, only fueling your desire. You begin to explore every inch of him with your mouth, experimenting with different techniques to bring him the ultimate pleasure. His body responds eagerly, his breathing growing heavier and his hips subtly rising to meet your mouth.

Xavier is lost in the sensations you're creating for him, reveling in the warmth and wetness that envelop him beneath your touch. Your lips form a perfect seal around his cock, applying just the right amount of pressure as you slide up and down, taking him deeper with each stroke.

Your skilled tongue becomes a master artist, painting intricate patterns of pleasure across the surface of his shaft, teasing and tormenting his most sensitive areas with expert precision. Every lick and suck elicits a moan from deep within him, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through his entire body.

The room is filled with the sounds of your shared passion, the wet, slick noises of your lovemaking mingling with his ragged gasps for air. His body trembles under your touch, desperate for release yet determined to hold himself back. He wants to savor every moment with you, to explore and taste and possess you in ways that he never has before. Reluctantly, he pulls away from your eager lips, his erection glistening with a mixture of your saliva and his own arousal.

Your eyes follow him as he withdraws, filled with a mixture of longing and disappointment. You understand his desire for more, you know what he expects of you and you can’t help but share your feelings, pleading with him to understand. “I’m scared, Xavier,” you admit softly, pain shining in your eyes as they meet his. “I want nothing more than to be with you, but…” You shake your head, giving him a soft smile as you trail off, your fingertips tracing the sharp line of his jaw as you murmur, “What happens after? What will become of me when I’m forced to love you from afar?” You voice a secret worry that weighs heavily on your heart. “It’ll likely be fine for a while… but eventually you’ll be expected to marry for the sake of your lineage, for your crown. And what then…?” You hate to do this in such a vulnerable moment for both of you, but the words just seem to tumble out. Your eyes meet his again, tears threatening to spill over as you whisper desperately, “You’ll just be with another in order to fulfill your duties?”

As your words wash over Xavier, they strike a chord deep within him, stirring up a tumultuous mix of guilt and responsibility. He'd always been aware that this situation was far from ideal, but hearing your fears spoken aloud brings the harsh reality into sharp focus. With gentle hands, he lifts you up and cradles you against his chest, leaning back against the cool stone wall for support. “I cannot promise you an easy future,” he confesses softly, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the night. “My duty to my kingdom, to my family, is a heavy burden that I may never truly escape.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts before continuing. “But I swear to you that I will do everything possible to ensure your happiness. I won't let you suffer, nor will I let you feel alone or unloved.”

His words fail to bring the comfort and reassurance you yearned for, and you find yourself pulling away from him in an attempt to gain some distance. You avoid meeting his gaze as you begin dressing, feeling his eyes follow your every move around the room. “I don’t think I can do this, Xavier. I’m so sorry. I thought I could, but I..." You trail off, feeling your heart shatter into a million tiny pieces with each word. You can't help but feel guilty; after all, you knew what you were signing up for when all of this began. What you truly want is for him to fight for your love, to reject the idea of being with someone else in the future. It's an unrealistic desire, and deep down, you know it. But even still, you can't push it aside. Finally mustering the courage to meet his gaze, a small smile graces your lips as you utter the three words that have been weighing heavily on your heart.

Xavier stands there, paralyzed with shock and confusion, as your words wash over him like a tidal wave. "I love you," you say, and his entire world seems to shift on its axis. A surge of emotion overtakes him, a whirlwind of joy and despair that threatens to engulf him completely. In that moment, he realizes the depth of his feelings for you, how much he desires to protect and cherish you. But duty and tradition hold him back, weighing heavily on his heart. The idea of a future together feels impossible, and this knowledge pierces him like a knife through the chest.

Summoning all his courage, Xavier steps towards you, reaching out to take your hands in his. His voice trembles with emotion as he speaks. "I can't imagine a life without you by my side." His words fill you with a potent mixture of hope and dread, but you refuse to let them break you. With a firm resolve, you untangle your hands from his and flee from the room, propelled by an urgency greater than any before.

Xavier remains rooted in place as you rush past him, each step taking you further and further away from him. Your parting words echo in his mind—"I have to go." He's uncertain if it's a physical or metaphorical departure, but either way, it feels like a gut-wrenching blow. For a long moment, he stands there staring at the closed door, his mind swirling with thoughts of what just transpired.

Finally, he exhales deeply and makes his way to the desk in the corner of the room. Collapsing into the chair, he buries his face in his hands. Strands of silver hair mingle with his fingers, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside him. He has no idea what lies ahead or if he can change the course of events now set in motion. All he knows is that the very thought of living without you is unbearable.

As the sun begins to rise, casting a pale glow over the palace, Xavier steels himself for the challenges ahead. His determination hardens like tempered steel as he prepares to fight for the chance to make you his. This isn't the end; it's only the beginning of a new chapter, one where he'll do whatever it takes to be with you.

With each step you take away from Xavier, the warmth and love he represents fades, replaced by the harsh and cold reality of the outside world. The air is still and hushed, as if nature itself is holding its breath in anticipation of the decisions you both must make. You inhale deeply, taking in the crisp morning air, trying to clear your mind of all distractions. You know you must figure out what comes next, but for now, you let your feet guide you aimlessly through the streets. Eventually, you find yourself in the palace gardens, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets.

As you sit on a bench, lost in thought and seeking answers amidst the chaos, the tranquility of the garden envelops you and eases your worries, if only slightly. Just as you are about to leave, a faint noise catches your attention from behind. Turning, you see Xavier sitting on the same bench where you were just moments ago, bathed in the flickering glow of torchlight. A mix of emotions floods over you - relief, longing, and a hint of apprehension. As he notices your presence, part of him wants to rush to your side, to hold you tight and never let go. However, another part remains cautious, understanding the delicate balance he must maintain. He calls out your name softly, his voice carried on the gentle breeze. As he draws closer, he can see the concern etched on your face and the uncertainty reflected in your eyes. "Did we come to the same realization?" he asks tenderly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face with a gentle touch of his fingertips against your skin. "No matter what lies ahead, I will stand by your side through every triumph and hardship."

His words are filled with conviction as he whispers them into your ear. You find yourself leaning into his embrace, your head resting against his chest. "And how do you plan to make this dream of ours come true?" you question, the reality of your circumstances hanging heavily in the air.

Xavier smiles softly, holding you close as he answers. "It won't be easy," he admits, the weight of your situation heavy on his heart. He pauses, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "First, I'll speak with my parents and explain our feelings. Perhaps they can offer guidance and support."

The steady thump of his heartbeat echoes in the quiet garden, a soothing rhythm that calms your nerves. You nod slowly, understanding the difficult road ahead but finding strength in the fact that you’ll face it together. "I trust you," you whisper against his chest, feeling a sense of peace and security in his strong embrace. The peaceful silence of the garden envelops you as you stay there for a while longer, basking in each other's presence. As you look up at him, a small smile plays on your lips, mirroring the grin on Xavier's face.

Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back to meet your gaze. The thought of speaking with the King and Queen makes your heart race, but the love and support Xavier has shown you gives you the courage you need. “Thank you, Xavier,” you whisper gratefully, overwhelmed by his unwavering love and loyalty. He squeezes your hand gently and speaks softly, “Thank you. Your bravery and unwavering love inspire me to keep fighting for us, no matter our challenges.” As you near the grand palace gates, its imposing formality seems less daunting with Xavier by your side.

“We’ll face this together,” he reassures you in a low, intimate voice. “Every obstacle, every doubt, we’ll overcome as a team.” With one final comforting squeeze of your hand, he releases it, ready to stand by your side as your love story unfolds before the entire kingdom.

His words fill you with hope and determination as you prepare to enter through the giant doors before you. But as they loom over you, all of your courage and determination begin to falter. The realization that the King and Queen are waiting on the other side fills you with apprehension and a small squeak escapes your lips as you grab onto Xavier's arm, seeking his comfort and support. "You want to speak with them now...!?"

As Xavier's hand covers yours, a sense of calm washes over you. You can feel the weight of his palm and fingers against your skin, grounding you in this moment. His reassuring smile offers a glimmer of hope as he guides you towards the grand doors of the royal chambers. Your heart races with a mixture of nerves and anticipation, knowing that this conversation could alter the course of your lives.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lies beyond those imposing doors. As Xavier knocks, the sound rings through the halls, signaling your arrival. The servants quickly open the doors, revealing the opulent and elegant atmosphere of the royal chambers. Walking alongside Xavier, you can feel the steady beat of his heart mirroring your own.

This is it – there's no turning back now. In a moment of nervous humor, you whisper jokingly, "You must really want to get into my pants, huh?" But Xavier is too anxious to appreciate your attempt at levity and only gives a small smirk and shake of his head.

As you enter the room, your eyes are immediately drawn to his parents seated on their thrones. Their expressions remain impassive as they observe your entrance. The weight of their gaze makes you feel exposed and vulnerable, but then you feel Xavier's hand intertwine with yours, providing a lifeline amidst such intimidating figures.

Gathering all his courage, Xavier stands tall and meets his parents' gaze. He takes a deep breath before beginning to speak. "Mother, Father, I have something important to discuss regarding the woman by my side." He pauses briefly to squeeze your hand before continuing. "From the moment I first laid eyes on her, I knew she was special – unlike anyone I had ever met before. And as I've gotten to know her these past few weeks, I've come to realize that my feelings for her go beyond mere attraction or fascination. They are rooted in a deep love and respect for her as a person." Your eyes never leave his, your grip on his hand unwavering.

With strength drawn from your presence, he shares the story of how you confessed your love and your shared desires for a future together. And in that moment, surrounded by the regal atmosphere and powerful figures, it's clear that there is nothing more important to Xavier than the woman standing beside him, holding his hand.

You stand quietly by Xavier's side, your chest tightening with each word he shares about your relationship with his parents. The gravity of the moment weighs heavily on you, a knot forming in your stomach as you wait for their reaction. Your eyes dart between them, searching for any hint of disapproval or condemnation in their expressions. "Queen Xaria..." you begin, addressing Xavier's mother with a shaky voice. "I understand the complexities that our love presents, especially given Xavier's duties and responsibilities to the crown. But I want you to know that my love for him is true and pure. I would never intentionally bring him pain or hardship." You pause to gather your thoughts before continuing. "If you desire me to step away from him, I will do so. But if you give us a chance, I promise to love, protect, and cherish him with every fiber of my being."

As Xavier listens to you, admiration shines in his eyes for your bravery in facing his parents. Your words ring with sincerity, a testament to the depth of your love for him. His parents exchange unreadable glances as they consider your plea. The air in the room thickens with tension as silence stretches on. Gripping your hand tightly, Xavier silently encourages you to remain steadfast and believe in him and your love.

Finally, his mother speaks, her tone measured and thoughtful. "We understand the depth of your feelings for each other," she begins, pausing to glance at Xavier before meeting your gaze again. "But we also recognize the weight of responsibility that comes with Xavier's position as the future king."

You hold onto Xavier's hand tighter, seeking comfort and reassurance in his touch as she trails off. Anticipation builds within you as she continues speaking. "However, we cannot deny the strength of your love nor the joy it brings you both. As loving parents, our greatest wish is to see you both happy and fulfilled in your lives." She takes a deep breath, her expression softening as she adds, "But there is one condition. You must be prepared to face the challenges and scrutiny that will undoubtedly arise from your union. There will be those who question your choices and try to use your relationship against you. Can you both promise to stand together, united and unwavering, in the face of these storms?"

Xavier's chest is heavy with a mix of emotions as his mother's words settle over him. Relief and trepidation swirl within him, knowing that her willingness to support his union with you comes with its own set of challenges. He takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the present moment, on the woman standing steadfast by his side, her hand entwined with his in a symbol of their unbreakable bond. "From the moment I knew you were destined to be mine, I vowed to stand by your side through whatever came our way," he says, his words filled with a fierce determination. "Together, we've faced countless obstacles, each testing our commitment to one another. And through it all, our love has only grown stronger." Turning to address his parents directly, Xavier's tone conveys the seriousness of his declaration. "We understand the challenges that await us. We acknowledge the potential backlash from those who might disapprove of our union. However, we also firmly believe that our love is a force capable of overcoming even the most daunting opposition."

You look at Xavier's parents, standing tall and confident beside him, and feel a surge of pride and love for this man who has chosen you as his partner. "Your Majesties," you say, addressing them respectfully but with conviction in your voice. "I understand the gravity of the situation and the challenges that lie ahead." You squeeze Xavier's hand reassuringly and continue, "I promise to stand by your side, now and forever, as your partner, your equal, and your friend."

He looks at his parents, their expressions still guarded but now holding a glimmer of understanding and acceptance. His father, King Aldric, clears his throat, breaking the silence that follows your declarations. "Very well," he says gravely. "While we cannot guarantee an easy path, we will not stand in the way of your happiness." He pauses, exchanging a knowing look with his wife. "We will support your decision, Xavier, and do everything in our power to ensure your union is recognized and respected within Philos and beyond. However, we implore you both to remain cautious and mindful of the potential repercussions that may arise from your relationship."

A bright smile lights up your face as you address the King and Queen. "Thank you, Your Majesties," you say sincerely. "I promise to make you proud."

Turning to Xavier, you can't help but smile with pure joy in your eyes, a reflection of the love and adoration you hold for each other. As his parents' smiles beam with pride and understanding, he stands by your side with a newfound confidence and purpose.

"We are forever grateful for your guidance and trust," Xavier addresses his parents, his voice steady and full of conviction. "We vow to honor our people and uphold our duty as future rulers." With this heartfelt statement, you both make your way into the bustling hall where guests have gathered to celebrate your union.

As the heavy doors close behind you, Xavier pulls you into a tight embrace, his laughter ringing out in relief and happiness. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his love and support, any remaining nerves or doubts dissipate.

"We did it, my love," he whispers against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He lifts you up in his arms with ease, twirling you around as he gazes at you with adoration and wonder. You share a soft kiss before he leads you onto the grand ballroom floor where an orchestra plays a lively waltz.

Underneath the glittering chandeliers, you move in perfect harmony with each other, lost in the music and each other's gaze. With every step and spin, you feel a sense of joy and freedom like never before.

Meeting his gaze, your heart swells with overwhelming love as you respond with equal passion and joy. "Yes, Xavier. And together, we'll continue to defy the odds," you declare, a sense of determination and certainty in your voice.

The sight of the crown prince dancing with a lady's maid may raise eyebrows and stir whispers among the guests, but in that moment, it doesn't matter. For in each other's arms, shielded from judgement and outside pressures, your love is all that truly matters.

The final notes of the waltz fade away, leaving a lingering sense of euphoria in their wake. Xavier leads you back to your chambers, your arms remaining wrapped around each other, reluctant to part ways after such a magical evening. A soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he speaks, his words brimming with unbridled love and adoration. "Our love is no longer a secret, and I couldn't be happier to call you mine." He presses a tender kiss to your lips, pouring all of his emotions into the simple act. The warmth and tenderness of his touch leave you breathless, your heart overflowing with love for this man who has captured it completely.

As you stand in the quiet comfort of your chambers, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the fragrant scent of roses, a thought crosses your mind - you really don't want him to leave. Your voice is soft and tentative as you speak, unable to deny the longing in your heart. "Do you want to sleep here tonight?" Xavier's heart swells with joy at your invitation, a radiant smile spreading across his face as he looks into your eyes. Without hesitation, he nods eagerly, his voice just as soft and full of tenderness. "More than anything."

You prepare for bed together, moving around each other with ease and familiarity, as if you've shared a bed countless times before. As you settle into the plush covers, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your body and holding you against his chest. "Goodnight, my love," he murmurs against your skin, kissing your temple softly.

With your head resting against his shoulder, you close your eyes and allow yourself to fully surrender to the sensation of being held by the one who means everything to you. "Goodnight, my prince," you whisper back, your voice barely audible above the gentle hum of silence that fills the room. Hearing your words, Xavier tightens his embrace even more, feeling a surge of protectiveness and devotion towards you. As sleep starts to claim you, he remains awake for a while longer, watching over your peaceful form with a fierce sense of love and adoration. And as sleep finally claims him, too, your bound hearts continue to beat as one - two souls intertwined in an endless dance of love and passion.

As the days fly by in a whirlwind of wedding preparations, Xavier is struck by how effortlessly the two of you fall in sync. Your love grows stronger with each passing moment, like a delicate flower blooming under the warmth of the sun. Whether strolling hand in hand through the palace gardens or stealing kisses in the privacy of your chambers, every interaction feels charged with a depth of emotion and affection that leaves him breathless. Despite the urgent nature of the situation and the looming presence of court officials and advisors, he finds solace in your calming presence and unwavering support. Together, you navigate the complex labyrinth of royal protocol and familial expectations, your love serving as a beacon, guiding you through the chaos and illuminating your path forward.

As the wedding date draws near, the palace transforms into a vibrant tapestry of colors and scents, each detail carefully curated to reflect the beauty and significance of your union. On the eve of your wedding, you sit together in the moonlit grandeur of the palace library. The soft glow of candlelight dances across your skin, making you appear ethereal and otherworldly. Xavier takes your hand in his, marveling at the delicate curves and the warmth radiating from your very essence.

"In this short time, you've become the sun to my sky, the breath in my lungs, the very reason for my existence," he whispers, his voice filled with awe and wonder. Looking up at him, your eyes shimmering with tears, you are overwhelmed by the depth of love and adoration reflected in his gaze. Smiling softly, you squeeze his hand reassuringly, your heart overflowing with love and devotion.

"And you are the stars in my sky, the rhythm in my heart, the dream I never dared to believe could come true," you reply, gazing back at him with equal intensity. As your lips meet in a tender exchange, time seems to stand still. The weight of your impending nuptials is momentarily lifted, replaced by a flood of warmth that fills Xavier's heart to bursting. He savors the taste of your lips, the softness of your touch, and the love that flows between you like a river of molten gold.

When you pull away, your eyes lock, the depth of your connection evident in the way your gazes dance and meld together. And in that moment, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that you are the missing piece to his puzzle, the love he's yearned for all of his life.

With a gentle but firm grip around your waist, Xavier guides you back to your chambers. Inside, he continues to hold you, your bodies intertwined like two halves of a whole. Your laughter and quiet conversations fill the air as you bask in the love that radiates between you.

As you both prepare for bed, Xavier's eyes never leave yours. Tucked under the luxurious covers, you feel safe and loved in his arms. With a heart overflowing with love and happiness, you whisper softly, "Thank you for choosing me, Xavier." His sweet smile and loving gaze are all the response you need.

In the stillness of the night, as sleep claims both of you, Xavier holds onto you tightly, dreaming of the future that awaits you. In his dreams, he sees the children you'll raise together, the legacy you'll build as king and queen of Philos. And when dawn breaks, he awakens with a start, your name on his lips and excitement pulsing through his veins.

Xavier's eyes remain fixed on your peaceful face as the first light of day filters through the curtains. "Today, we seal our fate," he murmurs, tracing his fingertips lightly across your cheek.

The touch of his fingers on your skin stirs you from your slumber. With a gentle smile, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer for a tender kiss. "Today, we become one," you whisper against his lips, your voice filled with emotion.

Standing face to face, ready to embark on the most important day of your lives, Xavier is struck by the enormity of your love and its impact on his life. From the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew that you were meant to be his. And now, as you stand before him as his bride, that destiny is finally being fulfilled.

Taking your hand in his, Xavier brings it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your palm. "Forever and always," he promises, sealing it with a loving gaze that speaks volumes of his devotion to you.

As you walk hand in hand towards the grand throne room, where your family, friends, and subjects await to witness your union, he steals glances at you, marveling at the beauty and grace that defines you. Your dress, a masterpiece of delicate lace and flowing satin, hugs your every curve and sparkles in the warm glow of candlelight. It complements your natural loveliness perfectly, making his heart swell with pride and adoration.

The sound of soft music fills the air as you glide down the aisle on the arm of your father, your head held high with confidence. At last, you reach the altar, where the priest waits to perform the sacred rite.

You listen attentively as he begins the ceremony, your mind focused on the vows you are about to exchange and the lifetime of love that awaits you. With each word spoken, you feel your bond strengthening, the barriers that once separated you dissolving like sand between your fingers. The warmth of Xavier's hand in yours reassures you that together, you can conquer anything.

As the ceremony progresses, you are acutely aware of the responsibility of being Xavier’s wife, his partner in every sense of the word. Yet, rather than feeling daunted by the challenges that lay ahead, you are filled with a sense of courage and resilience.

“As I stand before you today, I give you my heart and pledge my love for eternity," You speak from the depths of your soul, gazing into Xavier's deep eyes that hold a world of love for you.

Your vows resonate deeply within Xavier, filling his heart with a sense of joy and contentment. As the priest invites him to exchange his vows, he takes a deep breath, his throat constricting with emotion. Looking into your shining eyes, he’s overcome by the intensity of his feelings for you.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew that you were the one I would spend the rest of my life loving. As I stand before you today, I offer you my heart, my soul, and my love, pledging to cherish and protect you until my final breath. I promise to lead our people with wisdom and justice, always remembering that my greatest achievement is the love that binds us together.”

As he finishes speaking, the priest pronounces you husband and wife, and Xavier feels a surge of elation and relief. He leans in to kiss you, your first kiss as a married couple, your love blazing like a beacon as you seal your vows.

With your loved ones and supporters by your side, you walk hand in hand down the grand aisle of the throne room, basking in their cheers and applause. The reception is a lavishly decorated affair, filled with the vibrant colors of flowers and streamers, the melodic strains of music, and the warmth of friendship and acceptance. As you dance with your new husband under the twinkling lights, you whisper words of love against his ear, knowing that this moment will be forever etched in both your hearts.

His strong arms hold you close as your first dance as husband and wife becomes a beautiful symphony, the rhythm of your hearts beating in perfect harmony. Xavier feels overwhelmed with emotions as he looks around at the smiling faces of your guests, each one a cherished friend or family member who has played a part in shaping your lives together. As the night wears on, he takes in every toast, well-wish, and congratulatory hug with gratitude and joy, feeling truly blessed to have such amazing people in his life who love and support him unconditionally.

As the grand festivities of the wedding come to a close, Xavier seeks refuge in the tranquil palace gardens, craving a moment of solitude amidst the whirlwind of joy and celebration. Under the twinkling stars, he finds you waiting for him, hand outstretched. You stroll together, the cool night air carrying whispers of love and secret desires and hopes for the future. Eventually, the comfortable silence is broken by your voice, tinged with both nervous energy and curiosity. "So... at what time will the consummation take place?" Although part of you dislikes the idea of being watched during such an intimate moment, you know it's tradition and necessary.

Your question elicits a small smile from Xavier, who also wishes for a more private and intimate experience. "Traditionally, the consummation ceremony takes place after the wedding feast and festivities have concluded, usually around midnight," he explains in a gentle tone. He can sense your thoughts swirling and reaches out to lift your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "But don't worry... Once the formalities are over, we'll sneak away and create memories that belong only to us." He leans in closer, his words a warm breath against your skin.

You nod eagerly, your eyes shining with anticipation. As the night wears on and the remaining guests continue to revel in the wedding festivities, you and Xavier make your way to the designated room for the consummation ceremony. Despite its public nature and slight awkwardness, there's an intense wave of arousal that sweeps over you as Xavier's body hovers over yours. In that moment, surrounded by onlookers yet lost in each other's embrace, you feel like no one else exists in this world except for you two. You nibble on his bottom lip playfully as your eyes lock with his, a soft, teasing smile dancing on your lips. "Take me, Xavier," you whisper breathlessly. "Show them who I belong to."

As your lips part, a surge of electric desire courses through Xavier at your bold declaration. He cups your face tenderly, his thumbs brushing against the delicate curve of your cheekbone as he whispers back, “You are mine. In this chamber and for all eternity.” He aligns his body with yours, feeling the warmth radiate from your skin.

His hands roam over every curve of your body, tracing the elegant lines of your collarbone before settling on your hips, pulling you closer to him. Breaking away from the kiss again, he nuzzles his nose against your throat, inhaling your intoxicating scent as he peppers your skin with feather-light kisses and teasing bites. His lips trail downward, pausing to worship each of your perked nipples through the thin fabric of your gown before continuing their path along your abdomen. When he reaches the waistband of your dress, he pauses, looking up at you with a sultry gaze that sends a rush of heat through your core. “May I?” he asks softly, seeking permission to continue.

Your cheeks flush crimson as you nod eagerly, completely giving yourself over to him. “Yes… please don't stop,” you breathe out in anticipation. He removes the fabric from your body with gentle tugs and caresses, revealing your stunning figure clad only in a sheer slip that leaves little to the imagination. He drinks in the sight of you, his pulse quickening at the erotic image before him. His lips continue their descent, exploring every inch of your sensitive skin as your legs begin to tremble with anticipation. The wait is almost unbearable, but finally, his fingers travel under the delicate lace of your slip, finding the wetness pooling there. With a deep groan, he traces your clit before slipping inside, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips.

Guided by your responsiveness, Xavier continues to explore every inch of your body with his skilled fingers. They trail along your inner walls, teasing and tantalizing as he steadily builds your pleasure. His lips follow suit, leaving a trail of soft kisses and lingering nibbles on your skin, savoring the taste of your arousal. As your breaths become ragged and your moans more insistent, he knows that the moment is near. He slows his pace, wanting to prolong this exquisite torture for both of you, wanting to make this moment last forever.

With a gentle thrust, he enters you, feeling the warmth and tightness of your body as he claims you completely. A collective gasp echoes through the chamber as you become one, but the audience fades into the background as he moves within you. Every nerve ending in your body sings with pleasure as you melt into him, the boundaries between you blurring as your hearts beat in perfect harmony. His movements grow more urgent, his thrusts deeper and more powerful as your passion reaches its crescendo.

And then it happens - that mind-blowing climax that sends shockwaves through your entire being. With one final, explosive burst of pleasure, you fall over the edge, your body wracked with spasms of pure bliss. Witnessing the look of utter ecstasy on your face as you come undone in his arms is a sight Xavier will carry with him forever. Your pleasure is his own as he pushes you both to the brink.

He gasps out your name, his own release barreling towards him like a raging storm. With one final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, planting his seed and finally claiming you as his own. The world stands still for a moment as you both bask in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking. The only sound is the symphony of your gasps and moans mingling with the distant cheers of your witnesses.

As your pulses gradually slow, Xavier cradles you close, relishing the warmth and closeness of your joined bodies. “You are mine, now and forever,” he whispers against your skin, sealing his vow with a tender kiss. “And I will cherish and adore you every moment of our journey together.”

“Yours, Xavier… Always and forever,” you murmur softly, your voice barely audible above the din of the crowd. Xavier gathers you in his arms, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness wash over him as you prepare to leave the ceremonial space behind. He holds you close, knowing that from this moment on, you are his everything.

As his hand gently grasps yours, he leads you with a sense of anticipation and longing toward the sanctuary of his chambers. The soft light from the candles cast flickering shadows across the walls as you enter the dimly lit room, your heart racing with excitement at the prospect of finally being alone together. He lowers you onto the large, plush bed with careful hands, his gaze never wavering from yours as he begins to undress, revealing every inch of his sculpted form. Settling in beside you, he pulls you close, your skin tingling at the sensation of his naked body pressed against yours.

His hands explore every curve and contour of your body, igniting sparks of ecstasy with each caress. Your breath hitches as he trails lower, teasing and tantalizing your most sensitive areas. With a gasp, you arch your back, giving into the sensations overwhelming you.

His words send shivers down your spine as he claims you as his own once again. His touch becomes more urgent as he delves deeper inside you, bringing forth waves of pleasure that leave you begging for more.

As his length presses against your thigh, you reach down to guide him towards your entrance. Your eyes lock in an unspoken promise as he slides inside you, filling you completely.

A soft growl escapes his parted lips as he feels your tight heat envelop him, your grip around his length urging him to sink deeper into your welcoming depths. The sound sends shivers down your spine, knowing that you have the power to elicit such a raw response from him.

“Fuck, angel,” he groans, his voice laced with both pleasure and reverence. “You feel unbelievable wrapped around me like this.”

He begins to move, each withdrawal almost fully before plunging back in with an irresistible force. A steady rhythm is set, quickly building in intensity as he picks up speed. The air is filled with the sharp sound of skin slapping against skin in perfect harmony with your ragged breaths and the desperate whimpers that spill from your lips.

Sweat glistens on Xavier’s brow, a telltale sign of his impending release. With a deep groan, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, showering it with tender kisses and nips as he works towards your mutual climax.

“So close,” he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic as he fights to hold back the tsunami of pleasure building within him. “I want to be inside you when we… Ahh!” With one final, powerful thrust, he surrenders to the inevitable, spilling his essence deep within you as a wave of ecstasy crashes over him.

Your body arches off the bed, consumed by overwhelming pleasure as you cry out his name over and over again. “Xavier… oh, Xavier,” you moan, your voice strained with pure bliss as his essence fills you.

As he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, you cling to him desperately, your nails leaving unintentional marks on his back as you try to hold onto the last shreds of control you possess. “Please… I need you to finish me off,” you beg, barely able to form words as waves of ecstasy continue to wash over you.

In response, Xavier redoubles his efforts, his thrusts becoming even harder and faster as he drives you over the edge. And finally, with a scream torn from your throat, you reach the peak of pleasure, your body convulsing around him in pure ecstasy.

With the aftershocks still coursing through your body, you collapse onto the rumpled bed sheets, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. A look of pure satisfaction spreads across Xavier's face as he watches you intently, unable to resist the temptation to claim you again. Letting out a low, guttural growl, he positions himself above you and grasps your hips tightly, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

As he leans in close, he lets his lips graze your ear. “You’re soaking me, angel,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire. “I can feel your hunger, your insatiable craving for more... You were made to be fucked by me, weren’t you?” With each firm and forceful stroke, your bodies collide with an intoxicating rhythm that sends shivers down your spine.

As Xavier's movements become more urgent and primal, he can see the mix of pleasure and pain flickering in your eyes. And instead of holding back, it only pushes him to take you harder, faster - lost in the haze of ecstasy and passion that surrounds you both.

Feeling his own release approaching like a storm building within him, Xavier reaches down and grabs a handful of your hair before yanking your head back. He leans in close to nip at your earlobe before whispering a dark promise that sends shivers down your spine. "You're mine," he snarls, his body tensing as he reaches the brink of his release. "No one else will ever have you like this. Is that clear?"

The intensity of his possession only fuels your excitement, and you crave this primal display of his love and dominance. As Xavier's body pounds into yours, you can feel the pressure building within you once more - the familiar heat spreading through your core as your next orgasm approaches.

"All yours. I swear," you pant breathlessly, your voice barely audible above the sounds of your lovemaking. "Please...don't stop."

Your body writhes beneath him, pleading for more as your own climax draws near. And just as you're about to reach the peak, Xavier gives in to his own primal urges and releases himself inside of you once more. With a deep, guttural groan, he fills you to the brim with his seed, savoring the sensation of your walls clenching around him.

"That’s my girl," Xavier growls softly, his hips jerking erratically as he empties himself into you completely.

Gradually, he relaxes, collapsing onto your body in a state of exhaustion. You both lay intertwined, your skin glistening with sweat as you bask in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking. "That was beyond words," Xavier murmurs, nuzzling against your neck while catching his breath. "You're stunning when you submit to me like that... so eager to please."

He peppers gentle kisses along your collarbone before pulling back and gazing into your eyes. "But there is still so much more I want to explore with you, so many opportunities for us to create pleasure together." A sly glint dances in his smile as he trails his fingers down your side. "Perhaps we can indulge in some new games. Ones that push the boundaries of your endurance..."

The mention of trying something new sends a rush of excitement through you. "What exactly do you have in mind?" you ask with a mischievous smirk playing on your lips.

Xavier's smile widens as he imagines the possibilities. "Well," he begins, his voice low and filled with seduction. "There are endless options we haven't explored yet. Some involve restraints and submission, others delve into sensory overload and heightened stimulation." He pauses, letting his fingers trace lazily along your arm as he formulates his ideas. "We could experiment with a 'kitty play' scenario. You would be my devoted pet, bound and blindfolded, relying on your other senses as you follow my every command." He watches closely for your reaction, his heart racing with anticipation.

You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him close for a passionate kiss. "The thought of being completely at your mercy, chained by you and obedient to your every desire... I want that so badly."

A surge of excitement pulses through Xavier at your confession, the idea of you bound and surrendered to his control too irresistible to ignore. "Is that so?" he murmurs, his voice filled with desire and longing. "Then tonight, I'll be your master and you'll be my faithful, submissive pet."

He rolls off of you, his body still slick with sweat and the evidence of your earlier passion. With a newfound energy, he springs into action, retrieving the necessary tools— silken ropes, a soft blindfold, and a small bell attached to a collar. As he returns, you watch with rapt curiosity and eagerness, your eyes sparkling with excitement like two jewels in the darkness. Gently, he lifts the blindfold, placing it over your eyes, ensuring it fits securely but comfortably. The soft fabric envelops your vision, plunging you into a world of anticipation and surrender.

Next, he moves to the collar, presenting it to you with a reverence and care that belies the hunger in his expression. The cool metal feels both foreign and tantalizing against your skin, a tangible symbol of your submission to him.

You feel Xavier’s warm hands on you, guiding you to stand as if you were a precious doll under his control. The floor beneath your bare feet seems to shift and sway with every step, adding an intoxicating sense of disorientation to your heightened state of vulnerability. His fingers trail down your sides, lingering on your hips before drifting lower, teasing the edges of your slick folds.

Finally, with deliberate movements born from years of experience and desire for domination, he weaves the silken ropes around your body, securing you to a sturdy post in the center of the chamber. The rope snakes over your skin, creating intricate patterns that accentuate your curves and highlight your vulnerability. As he works, his eyes roam over your yielding form with possessive desire.

Once satisfied with the bindings, he steps back to survey his handiwork, admiring the way your body is stretched out before him, adorned with the subtle trapping of bondage.

He can't help but murmur in appreciation at the erotic tableau before him. "Such a pretty sight," he says thickly, his voice laced with desire. "Helpless and available for my pleasure alone."

Leaning in close to you, he whispers a command into your ear. "Now, kneel before me and present yourself. Show me how eager you are to please your prince."

Following his instructions, you slowly bend your knees and lower yourself onto the cool floor. You feel his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you forward until your head is bowed in submission.

You listen attentively for his next command, ready to obey whatever he may have in store for you.

As if sensing your readiness and anticipation, Xavier leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead before reluctantly pulling away. His footsteps echo softly in the silence as he moves to retrieve a small feather he had hidden away for this very occasion.

Returning to your side, he begins to trace delicate patterns across your cheeks and down your neck with the lightest touch of the feather. Goosebumps rise on your skin in response to the gentle caress, making you shiver with each soft sensation against your skin.

Xavier continues to guide your senses with the feather, using it as an extension of his will to direct your focus and heighten your sensitivity. The uncertainty of where the feather will land next only adds to your anticipation, sending shivers down your spine and causing your heart to race.

As Xavier's whispers wash over you like a soothing balm, you take deep, slow breaths, trying to steady your racing heart. You can almost feel the soft feather grazing your skin, its occasional touch sending shivers down your spine.

Your senses are heightened, attuned to every sound, scent, and sensation, all under his command and presence. As he continues to tease you with the feather, he introduces new elements into the mix, occasionally running his fingers along your bare skin in between the delicate strokes of the feather. The merging of sensations is heady and intoxicating, keeping you on the edge and wanting more.

Moving behind you, he leans in close to whisper in your ear, "Count the strokes." With each whispered number, he strikes your bare skin lightly with precision, alternating between gentle caresses and firm strokes. The rhythmic pattern creates a symphony of pleasure and pain that threatens to drive you mad with desire. As the count reaches twenty, Xavier pauses, his hot breath against your ear as he asks, "Are you ready for more?" Without hesitation, you respond with a quiet "Yes, I'm ready."

Stepping away briefly, Xavier retrieves a small leather paddle from the shadows. Its smooth surface glides over his fingertips before he returns to your side with deliberate steps. He traces the flat of the paddle down your back, from the nape of your neck all the way down to the curve of your hips, applying just enough pressure to soothe and seduce. The sound of leather meeting skin echoes through the room as each spank fills you with both pleasure and pain. He varies the location and intensity of each strike, creating an erotic melody that leaves you gasping for more. And then, with a calculated motion, he raises the paddle higher and brings it down with a firm, controlled spank on your bare ass.

Your body jerks in response to the sharp sting of the paddle, but you quickly register Xavier's low and approving voice. "Good girl," he praises, his words sending shivers down your spine. "That's it. Feel the sting, but don't forget to embrace the pleasure that follows." As each strike lands, you feel a burst of intense pain, quickly followed by a rush of warmth and pleasure that radiates throughout your entire being. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you struggle to process the overwhelming sensations. "Feels so good, my prince... please don't stop..."

Bound and blindfolded, your body writhes in pleasure under the force of each strike, a sight that fills Xavier with an intense arousal. After several more strikes, he senses you may be reaching your limit. Gently setting aside the paddle, he returns to your side, his hands tender as they explore your heated skin and soothe away any lingering pain. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers softly in the stillness. "You did well... Your resilience and submission are truly inspiring."

As his throbbing cock finds solace in the warmth of your eager mouth, Xavier revels in how seeing you restrained ignites such a primal urge within him - a need to dominate and use you as his own personal playground. With each measured and deliberate thrust, coated in your saliva and infused with raw, animalistic desire, he relishes in the fact that your bound form and blindfold restricts your ability to counter or resist. "Take it all, princess," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure as he drives deeper into your warm throat. "Show me how grateful you are for everything I've given you."

Lost in the sensations, you exist solely for Xavier's pleasure - eager to fulfill any demand he may have, no matter how depraved or perverse. The intensity within Xavier reaches a fever pitch, his grip on your bound wrists tightening as he loses himself in the ecstasy of claiming you utterly.

"That's it," he grunts, his voice rough with exertion as he drives deeper, chasing the brink of climax. "Let me use you as I see fit."

With a final, almost brutal push, he buries himself to the hilt, his hips thrusting forward as he fills your throat with his essence. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him as he rides out his orgasm, every muscle in his body tense with ecstasy. He empties himself completely inside you, each powerful pulse of release sending shivers through his entire being.

Slowly, he withdraws from your mouth, his softening cock sliding free with a wet pop. Leaning down, he brushes a strand of hair from your dampened cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your plump lips. “Incredible,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with awe and admiration. “You took everything I had to offer and then some.”

Gently, he releases your bindings, taking care not to disturb the tranquility that now envelops you. Cradling your face in his hands, he presses a tender kiss to your lips, pouring all the love and adoration he holds for you into the simple gesture.

You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the embrace and silently pleading for more. “Make love to me once more? I want to be sure I get pregnant…” Your words ignite a surge of desire within Xavier. The thought of you carrying his child is almost too much to bear, stirring deep-rooted feelings of joy and possessiveness within him.

He scoops you up in his arms, cradling your naked form against his chest as he carries you towards the bed. His lips graze softly over your forehead, cheeks, and finally your lips as he lays you down. His body aligns with yours, his rigid cock seeking entrance into your slick, inviting warmth.

With a slow, steady push, he enters you once more. As he begins to thrust, he whispers vows of love and devotion into your ear, promising to protect and cherish you for all eternity.

With each intimate movement and stroke, your body responds with soft moans and gasps of pleasure. As you call out Xavier's name in a state of pure bliss, feeling his release pulsing inside of you, a sense of warmth and contentment washes over you, surpassing any physical satisfaction.

In the aftermath of your shared ecstasy, he presses his lips against yours, absorbing your cries and greedily breathing in your comforting scent. Holding you close, he cradles your trembling form as you come down from the peak of pleasure. In this moment, illuminated by the warm glow of the chamber and enveloped in the heat of your bodies entwined, he knows that he has found his home in you, his soulmate. Leaning down, he caresses your lips with a tender kiss. "Sleep now," he whispers against your skin, smoothing gentle strokes along your back to soothe you into peaceful rest. "Dream of our future together, filled with love, laughter, and joy..."

With a final sigh of contentment, you surrender to sleep, acutely aware of Xavier's comforting presence and grateful for his protection. As he holds you close, he realizes that with you by his side, he feels invincible and unstoppable. Together, you will conquer whatever comes your way and leave your mark on the world as a testament to the love and passion between you.

In this tranquil moment, he is overwhelmed with gratitude for the gift of your love and the promise of a lifetime spent wrapped in your arms. Your love story is just beginning to unfold like the sunrise, and he eagerly awaits the new chapters that await you both as you write your own epic tale, hand in hand and heart to heart.

[gffa]

I'm still trying to navigate my way through the absolute avalanche of Arcane fic, but I am here to scream at everyone about the fics I've loved so far and try to drag a few more of you down into this hellpit of feelings with me. It's nice down here, I promise! Totally normal and with soooo many hinges, nothing off a single hinge here!

JAYVIK RECS:

✦ To love is to risk the soul's quiet by Disguised_Bird, jayce/viktor, NSFW, 32.7k     When an anomaly suddenly transports an older, scarred version of Jayce into the Jayce of Viktor's timeline, the two must navigate the strange collision of past and future while grappling with feelings neither fully understands. As they work late into the night to find a way to send Jayce back, tension turns into intimacy, pushing Viktor to confront vulnerabilities he has spent a lifetime burying.

✦ Say My Name by Acryllic, jayce/viktor, NSFW, eventually post-canon, 77.2k wip     “Tell me now if you don’t want this.” He stroked Viktor’s bottom lip with his thumb, “Keep saying my name if you do.”

✦ This ain't goodbye no more, it just began by SirCumference, jayce/viktor, NSFW, 7.1k     After he and Viktor save the world, Jayce wakes up in his old bed on the day it all started. Things are different, this time.

✦ first times, second goodbyes by tragicperformer, jayce/viktor, NSFW, post-canon, 1.6k     “What do you mean pull out?” He teases, the corners of his lips quirking up into a stupid, dopey grin. “I have separation anxiety.” “Yes, I know,” Viktor intones. “We were just discussing this. It is why I’m currently visiting you, rather than focusing on my duties back in the commune.” “Yeah. And when I pull out, you’re going to leave again,” Jayce rationalizes. Not entirely incorrect. “Just a few minutes. Please, Vik? Let me pretend for a little longer.”

✦ The Threads of Our Mind by Darling_Pigeon, jayce/viktor, post-canon, 3k     Snapshot of Jayce and Viktor’s new life of exploration after the finale: Viktor helps Jayce adjust to his brace, but they discover they may be connected in another, strangely magical way.

✦ Time For Space by yurikazen, jayce/viktor, NSFW, post-canon, 6.6k     First, there’s a wave of blinding light, tearing through the cosmos like a free-falling comet. Then, Jayce opens his eyes to find a smooth, unfamiliar ceiling above his head. (Jayce dies, holding Viktor close to him, yet death is just another beginning.)

✦ two left feet by ChiliCheeseCornDog, jayce/viktor, 4k     Jayce rises from his seat, face set with a soft smile, and holds out his right hand with the palm facing up. “Let me teach you how.” The pause is long and unrelenting. “You are joking,” Viktor manages to say. or: Jayce teaches Viktor how to dance, Piltover-style.

✦ destabilise by antiparticular, jayce/viktor, 3.6k     Jayce was naked and in Viktor's bed. Don't get him wrong - Viktor had dreamed of this happening, both literally and on slow days in the lab when he was feeling particularly self-indulgent, but for it to manifest outside of his overactive imagination? He was half tempted to pinch himself to check he'd actually awoken. Why was Jayce Talis in Viktor's bed? And more pressingly, why did Viktor not remember?

✦ Run It Back Again by Withercrown, jayce/viktor & vander/silco & cast, 18.9k wip     Sometimes there's nothing you can do except scrap the whole experiment and start over. The worst possible outcome becomes an opportunity for a new beginning. Viktor and Jayce, estranged enemies in a brutal war, go back to the start - and then earlier than that. The key to their salvation ends up being an undercity brat named Silco. He's not quite the person they remember.

✦ Electric Desires by abisbookcase, jayce/viktor, NSFW, 1.2k     Viktor gets an important phone call in the middle of sex, and Jayce keeps fucking him roughly, trying to make him slip up while he talks.

✦ Between gears and parties by chaosheadspace, jayce/viktor, 3.6k     "Why do you think it is so hard for people like me to get a footing here?" Viktor asks. "Aside from the obvious classism, of course. I'll tell you. Bureaucracy. Do you know how difficult it is to even find a place to live without a last name up here?” Or: Jayce wants to save his partner some trouble and gets them married on paper.

ZAUNDADS RECS:

✦ Take Me Like You Mean It by Anonymous, vander/silco, NSFW, 2k     Young! Silco and Vander have sex in the alleyway behind the last drop after closing.

✦ Mr Eye of Zaun by limeta, vander/silco & jinx & vi & cast, 28.8k wip     Mylo and Claggor would say there’s nothing that scares Vi. She can dish out punches and evade danger better than anyone. She’s their fearless leader, always ready to take them on a job and back without losing anyone. It’s that level of assurance that they have in her, that confidence she exudes, that makes them trust and believe in her. But they’re wrong. Powder knows there’s something that scares Vi. And that’s because it scares Vander. Or: Silco reads the letter Vander left in the mines and sticks around as a boogeyman in the Last Drop.

✦ let fall the world by perfidiousalbion, vander/silco, nsfw, 4.2k     Or: before it all went wrong, Silco and Vander had something good.

✦ The Lives of Others by Lilbaebloo, vander/silco & ekko & benzo, NSFW, 5.1k     Ekko drops an emotional grenade on Silco and Vander when he brings up their fated night at the river thirteen years earlier. The plunge into the past reminds them both of how far they've come, together and apart, and what they have to keep living for.

✦ The Shore From Which I Fell by ClutchHedonist, vander/silco, NSFW, 1.2k     “I knew you still had it in you.” Silco’s mouth tastes of ash. His tongue, tacky and dry with the suffocating weight of it, threatens to stick to the roof of his mouth as his lips fall shut. He does his best to swallow past the whisper of bruising already blossoming in his throat where Vander’s broad hand has yet again left its mark.

✦ Night Business by spicedrobot, vander/silco, NSFW, rough sex, 2.6k     The rulers of Zaun play a game.

✦ While the world turns around by Blue_Daddys_Girl, vander/silco & jinx & benzo, 8.9k     In a chance meeting Vander sees Silco for the first time since the fateful day he's come to regret so deeply. Silco has changed—they both have. Vander can't stop thinking about him.

TIMEBOMB RECS:

✦ Little Crow by shroomyystar, ekko/jinx, 2.1k     There’s a monster under his bed.

✦ Let's Give It One Last Try by the_whole_shebang, ekko/jinx, post-canon, 12.3k     The war is finally over, and Ekko is finally home, but an old friend has one more favor to ask of him. Jinx found the strength to walk away, but something told her not to let go just yet. Maybe if Vi and Ekko hadn't given up on her yet, then she wouldn't either. Plus, thanks to Ekko, she was starting to think that the past wasn't as set in stone as she though it was.

✦ Let Me Try by Blue_Daddys_Girl, ekko/jinx, post-canon, 4.3k     Ekko walks away from the final battle in a daze after learning that Jinx is dead. Or: An alternate ending to the show, in which she isn't, no matter what Vi believes.

SOMETIMES THE SHIPS AREN'T THE POINT RECS:

✦ wait 'til your sister sees where you've been by QwahaXahn, vi & jinx & cast, post-canon, 12.9k     OR: Jinx falls. The bomb explodes. Everything goes white. ...And Vi wakes up in a different world.

✦ was it the worst you'd never know by Anonymous, jinx & silco, 2.2k     “Fix him,” she demands, voice barely decipherable through the breaking and raspiness from crying. Gentle, gentle, as gentle as Singed knows how to be, which is not very. Jinx will have no qualms killing him if he steps wrong. “He is… very far gone.” And indeed he is. His chest does not rise, and his eyes are vacant. He is gone. “FIX. HIM.” aka jinx refuses to let her father die and brings him to singed. it goes better than expected

✦ Six Weeks Since by argonautoida, jinx & viktor, 2.1k     Six weeks after Silco died, Jinx finally makes a friend.

[gentlemanjuniper]

If I could inject just a little positivity to the news...

Season 2 has a lot of filler and stretches out a pretty simple mystery to six episodes. That's the appeal to some, I get it. But tightness and focus was not its strong suit. I remember feeling like it wasted a ton of time on side characters and it's possible shaving the story down to 90 minutes will skim things down to its most essential beats and be stronger for it. Basically, S2 got a lot of time given to it, and this is obviously my personal opinion but I don't think it used all of it well. I think S2 itself could have been half the length simply by employing more efficient storytelling and we'd not mourn too much.

A lot of S2's weaker plotlines feel built around people that Neil wanted to work with again, with so many recurring actors (I'm thinking of the zombies specifically, when that minisode could have easily been tighter without them). A lot of s2 to me feels like Neil just making work for the people he likes and wants to work with and a movie has to be more accountable to things like that.

Lots of entire fandoms exist around single movies. 90 minutes is not nothing. It's enough for many, many films to tell a complete story with cute character interactions and satisfying emotional arcs, especially when A&C are the only real significant connecting threads between both seasons thus far.

I don't think there are as many loose threads that absolutely need resolving as people may be thinking. Would I like to know why Aziraphale did the '40s apology dance? Would I like to see his bookshop gun? Sure. Are either of those necessarily essential to closing out the story? I don't think so. Really, what needs resolving is the second coming and, directly connected to that, Aziraphale and Crowley's rift. To me, not knowing the story obviously, that seems super reasonable to do in 90 minutes?

I don't think anyone involved in the final season can possibly be blind to the appeal of the show being Aziraphale and Crowley over anything else. That's certainly the reason why their roles were expanded to begin with from the book and why the second season was, nominally, all about them. They also now have to pay MS and DT for appearing in a movie rather than an ensemble show, there's no way they won't be front and center. Amazon wants a show that will make money and market itself; there's a reason why all the promo material for S2 was of Crowley and Aziraphale, because people engage with that stuff, reblog it, make art that promotes the show, etc. It makes no artistic or financial sense to make a movie that sidelines them.

GO is at its best when it has Terry's voice most strongly in it. That's why to me, S2 was a weaker, more meandering season overall (that, and I think the minisodes, while fun, just make the season feel comprised of different voices not always working in tandem towards a common goal). If I was a writer hired to condense a season into a film, and one of the authors had been rightfully disgraced, I would go out of my way to ensure the clearly Terry stuff is most significantly emphasized. It's telling to me that the Pratchett estate is producing and it's possible that the end result will result in more Terry, less Neil.

Think of it this way: everything we've gotten after S1 has always been extra. Imagine telling a fan of the book in the 90s that not only will you get a six episode adaptation, you also get a totally new second season, AND a movie?

Basically: I know this is disappointing but I think a lot of the pleasure of the Good Omens fandom was ALWAYS people picking up on and expanding on details, and y'all managed to do that just fine when A&C were only ensemble members in S1. You can and will do that with a movie too. And this solution both a) ensures first and foremost that Neil won't be involved or the allegations swept under the rug, and b) gives an opportunity for the heart of the story to be emphasized with greater focus, clarity and less filler.

Will we lose good stuff? Probably. But it's also possible we will get a tighter, more condensed, focused version of the best bits, the Terry Pratchett-est bits. I can easily see a 90 minute movie that, knowing they HAVE to focus on the important stuff now, is more Crowley and Aziraphale centric than ever.

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Remade (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you nurse Sauron back into his physical form, eager to be reunited with your great love once more

Warnings: I somehow managed to write fluff with goo!Sauron, I guess? You hold and kiss goo!Sauron. You suffer a minor injury by goo!Sauron. You get animals and one person killed to feed goo!Sauron. Heavy make out and implied smut (with non-goo!Sauron). Can you tell I love writing the words ‘goo!Sauron’?

Note: Yet another Sauron x evil!reader fic cause I can’t stop apparently. Can be read as a prequel to the others or as a stand alone.

“Oh, my love,” you breathe out, “what have they done to you?”

What have they done indeed. For you are speaking with the one that is your love, your husband, your very soul—but if he hears, or even understands, he cannot show it. What’s left of him has no mouth no speak, no arms to wrap around you at long last, after an eternity of separation. What your tearful eyes are looking at is a black, amorphous mass, no larger than the heart hammering within your chest, writhing helplessly on the ground.

But it is him. Of that, you are certain.

When you felt his presence again, it was so faint you thought you were dreaming it. Nothing but a glimmer of darkness in the back of your mind, weakly calling out in agony. But as you searched your feelings, reaching out with every sliver of power you could muster, you found that it was real.

You found him.

Long had you travelled since, guided by the unseen thread connecting you to him. Until at last, it had led you into the heart of a mountain where his presence was so strong, it felt as though his skin was beneath your fingertips.

And yet, he was nowhere to be seen. Not until a sharp squeal had caught your ear, and you had found the source of it to be a rat being devoured into the blackness of a small, but lethal predator. At once, you had understood, and nearly fallen into despair. But in the end, you reminded yourself—he has endured. You have been reunited. That is all that matters.

Slowly, you kneel at his side. The mass ripples like the surface of water under a light breeze, and it gives you hope that, somehow, your presence is known to him. A sole rivulet of him begins to slip towards you, painfully slow. No wonder he has been in this state for so long, helpless to nourish himself lest some unfortunate creature stumbles upon him in the dark.

“I am here,” you whisper as you reach out. “I am—”

The moment your fingertips touch his cold, viscous form, black tendrils of him latch onto your hand, greedily clawing at your wrist. You gasp at the unexpected force of it, the searing sting where the liquid-like matter solidifies to dig sharp needles into your skin. Beads of your blood emerge, and he swallows them into himself with hunger.

You stare in awe as he grows ever so slightly larger. A twisted part of you is elated to be the object of his craving once more, even if he is trying to devour you whole. Especially then.

Unfortunately, that would not do in the long-term.

You shush him gently, caressing him with your free hand as though he were a purring kitten. Instantly, a tendril of him latches to one of your fingers, but you give him a firm squeeze.

“Shh!” you say sharply, fingers sinking into the soft surface of him as you reach out with your mind as well, nudging at his. “Easy, love,” you coo. “Easy. You know this hand. You know me.”

His mind is a mess—mad with hunger, alight with rage, lost to despair. But you keep caressing it with yours, tenderly bringing to the surface his memories of you. His love. His wife.

His grip on you weakens then. He deflates, withdrawing himself from your wounds, and you are left with a soft, pliant mass, which you delicately scoop into the palm of your hands. He rocks slightly against your skin, almost as if caressing it—and through your bond, the ghost of his regret reaches out to you.

“Do not fret, my love,” you murmur, smiling gently. “All will be well now.”

And so you go to dwell in the forest. At first, you bring him small things, no larger than he is himself—insects and rats, the occasional snake. The venomous ones seem to be quite nourishing, aiding in his growth more visibly than the other animals you feed him. Still, the progress is slow, and could not be endured without a great deal of patience and love. Fortunately, you lack neither.

Days turn to weeks, perhaps months. You don’t keep count, nor do you miss the comforts of the Elven realm where you had dwelt for years, waiting on the day your husband might return. A tent and your skills are more than enough when you finally have your love by your side, even if he is... temporarily different. You always keep him close, cradling him protectively at night and speaking loving words to him throughout the day. And in his own way, with ripples of his form and distant echoes of his slowly recovering mind, he holds onto you.

Eventually, he grows large enough for you to embrace at night, and develops a certain manner of breathing that feels as though you’re resting your head upon his chest. Its rise and fall is odd, ragged and irregular, but it brings you great joy nonetheless. With time, you bring him larger game, watching with grim amazement as deers and wild boars are slowly devoured into the beloved black mass that still is your husband. After a time, he grows nearly limb-like extensions, allowing him to more easily crawl around or reach out, and you often wake to find yourself in the closest thing to an embrace he can manage in this state. It never fails to make your heart soar, and he shudders as you press loving kisses to the parts of his surface closest to you.

So the days pass, until it’s time. Between your own instinct and the shape of his thoughts, not quite spoken but slightly more focused through your bond, you know he’s strong enough to finally regain himself completely.

But for that, he will need something more than an animal.

It’s easy enough to stop the first wagon you see passing by, acting confused and lost and asking for direction. The woman at the reins, though half-drunk, is even gracious enough to offer that she give you a ride to the closest village. You decline, of course. Your purpose was never to climb into the wagon yourself.

It was to halt it long enough for your husband to slither inside from the back.

It’s barely a few seconds after the woman has bid you a good journey and gone on her way that the wagon halts yet again—this time, with a piercing scream from its occupant. The wagon shakes, its horse breaking loose and galloping away.

Then, silence settles. From your angle, you can’t see inside. Your feet are glued in place, your breath barely there as you watch and wait. You’ve been waiting so long that now, so close to the end of your suffering, each moment feels neverending.

Finally—finally—a man emerges from the back of the wagon. He takes his time putting one bare foot, then the other, down onto the snow-covered ground. He takes in his surroundings, as though opening his eyes to the world for the first time. Then his gaze lands on you, and his lips curl into a smile filled with relief.

And you know, you’ve always known, but it feels as though you only then realize that this is not a man. Or an Elf, or a Dwarf, or any other being of less than godly nature. It is him. Remade into a form with eyes, and hands, and flesh, same as your own.

Your feet carry you towards him blindly as you stare and stare, almost unable to believe that you are finally standing close enough to touch once more.

“I would not blame you,” he says, his unfamiliar voice rough from lack of use, “if it was you who failed to recognize me now.”

But you know it’s absurd. His appearance may not be as it used to—his hair is shorter, darker, his cheeks covered in stubble, his features nothing like the ones you knew—but there is no form he could take you would not recognize, not as long as your mind still served you. His had been broken, unamde, when he had begun to feed on you as he would any other stranger. None of that matters now.

“This is... different,” you murmur, greedily taking in every inch of him that isn’t covered by the rags he’s wearing. His chest is partially bared to your eyes, and both of your breaths shudder as you lay your hand over his new heart, the smattering of hair there delightfully rough beneath your fingertips. You gaze there for a moment, mesmerized by the sight, then lift your eyes to meet his. The curls that fall in his face are so endearing your chest aches as you brush one aside.

“I love it,” you breathe out. “I love you.”

A dam that had been built over years of longing shatters at your words, and your lips meet his furiously in a long-awaited kiss. His looks may have changed, but his taste is the same, and so is the desire that overwhelms you to the point of insanity. You’re falling into each other, clawing at each other, crumbling to the ground in an unceremonious tangle of limbs. The snow is cold against your back, but your husband is warm and solid above you, and your world becomes reduced to him and him alone.

You whimper when he suddenly pulls away, chest heaving as he gazes down at you with raw yearning.

“You came for me,” he says, breathless with elation.

“Of course I did,” you retort, nearly indignated. As if you would do anything but. He goes to kiss you again, but you wrap a hand around his throat and hold him back. Mischief dances in your eyes as he glares and you scold, “And in return, you nearly ate me.”

His eyes darken, and you almost moan at the sight alone.

“I still wish to,” he growls, prying your hand away from his neck and diving in to devour yours instead. “All those years I hungered...” he speaks between ravenous licks and bites of your skin, making you writhe and whimper beneath him, “to feel you once more... even when I could no longer remember... what it was I hungered for...” He lifts his head, wild eyes boring into yours as he lays his hand upon your chest, relishing your heartbeat as you had done his before. “My love,” he pleads, voice trembling with need, “join me in flesh. Let me feast upon yours. Devour mine. Remind me what it is... to feel.”

The last time you felt such unbridled joy was so long ago, you can’t even remember it. And either way, you doubt it held a candle to the bliss bursting within your soul in this moment. This is all you ever wanted. This makes every single moment of torment, past or future, worth it.

“Feel me, love,” you offer most sweetly, your lips brushing his with the last words you speak before you consume each other whole, “Feel everything.”

Next fic with same reader -> Tides of fate

[opbackgrounds]

Brook's backstory has a unique structure compared to other flashback sections. Firstly, it happens at the end of the arc instead of someplace in the middle. Most flashbacks are meant to clear up mystery and inject one final shot of emotional energy to carry the end of the arc through the big fight scenes. Here, we already know everything that happens to Brook; nothing is a surprise. Instead we're learning how it happened.

Secondly, Brook's backstory is the only one that I can think of that intermittently bounces back to the present. In fact, it actually goes on three timelines: Brook alive with the Rumbar Pirates, Brook alone and dead during his fifty years of isolation, and the present day party with the Straw Hats.

The thread that connects these three sections is Bink's Sake. Music is the bridge between past and present, and the instrument by which Brook is allowed to grieve and put his former crew to rest.

Back during the Skypiea arc music was portrayed as a connecting force. I noted at that time all the chapter names that were musically themed (there were a lot) and the ringing of the golden bell was literally called a love song that brought peace to a warring land. Bink's Sake is much the same. There's a reason why Luffy insisted for so long that he needed a musician on the crew.

(As an aside, in an upcoming SBS Oda mentions how he wrote and commissioned the music for Bink’s Sake 4-5 years before it came up in the manga, anticipating that he would need it soon for the story. While Oda is notoriously bad at planning out timelines, it does mean that he was thinking about Brook and Bink’s Sake at the end of Skypiea. Perhaps at one time he was planning on going from the musical theming of the Skypiea chapter titles to actual, in-universe music back to back. We’ll probably never know for sure.)

Ages ago I wrote a long meta on Brook, and at that time I noted that there is nothing strictly necessary about Brook. The Straw Hats have another, better swordsman, and his skill isn't needed for sailing along the open seas.

But the Straw Hat Pirates without Brook is like life without music. You can do it, but it's a life without joy and bereft of the simple connections born from singing a song with the people you love. Luffy has understood that from the beginning, and it's why Brook is so, so important to the crew.

[r3starttt]

NOTHING MATTERS

PAIRING: Act. 3 Caitlyn x reader

SUMMARY: You take care of caitlyn after her betrayal to Ambessa.

CW: SFW. Mentions of injuries, angsty and just one sad kiss at the end.

TAGLIST: @Kaimythically @lewd-alien @greysontheidiot @jolyne @sapphic-ovaries @tlouloser @prwttiestbunny @visobsession @kiki5gigi @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @rob1nbuckl3ys @femininologies @dinakisser @viajeros--sin--destino @GodessAgrona @patronagrona @halle5s @abvisionss

AN: this is too short and weird cs I'm trying to write again like, actually write and don't jump into heavy smut. Hope this doesn't floppppp cs... would make me so sad to see people are just here for the strap sucking fics (no judgment just, gimme time until I get back to THAT type or writing pls and thanks)

this is also for @champagne-problems-ate ily <3

At the Kiramman’s own request—an expectation you had grown all too accustomed to by now—it was you who attended to the injuries she sustained in the aftermath of recent, turbulent events. The details of what had occurred remained shrouded in vagueness. Some kind of major upheaval had unfolded, the kind that left even seasoned soldiers and seasoned minds faltering in its wake.

What little information you gleaned came through the fragmented gossip of others, particularly from Maddie’s not-so-hushed commentary, for she couldn’t keep her tongue still in the Kiramman estate—there was something about the return of major authorities.

Where they had gone, and why, was a mystery to all.

And then there was Ambessa- the looming figure who had always straddled the line between ally and enemy.

She had never been trustworthy in your eyes, though Caitlyn, however, had once trusted her—or had pretended to, for the sake of her little army of loyal soldiers, the ones who worshipped at her feet. Like Maddie, ever eager to linger in the Kiramman household under the thin guise of concern for her superior.

She could hardly mask her longing—the way her eyes lingered, the way her voice softened when speaking of Caitlyn, the woman she so desperately wished would return her gaze with something more than polite dismissal.

It was a convoluted mess, a knot of politics and personal betrayals you couldn’t hope to unravel. Not because you didn’t care for the intrigue, but because your heart was too heavy with worry— for Piltover, and for yourself. For your family. Though the threads of your connection to Caitlyn had frayed over time, you still trusted her, still hoped, prayed even, that she would find a way to right the course of things. She had always carried that spark of possibility, a rare ember in a city obsessed with cold, mechanical precision.

Your own beginnings were humble, born to a family that clawed its way out of the undercity when they learned of your impending arrival.

A pregnancy was a miracle, a joy—but only if one could afford the privileges that made life bearable: clean air, decent food, warm clothes, a bath that didn’t leave the water darker than the dirt it was meant to wash away. They had fought for you, fought tooth and nail to give you a life worth living.

Perhaps that was your greatest flaw: you came from a family that believed others were always worth fighting for, even when you barely had the strength to fight for yourselves.

Caitlyn was no exception. For all the differences in your upbringings, she had a way of making you believe that Piltover could be something better.

She changed you, softened the shame you felt about your origins, even as she remained blind to the privileges she had been born into. She ensured that your family had what they needed—food, clothing, medicine—under the guise of friendship, of course.

Her mother had disapproved of you from the start, but the young Kiramman had a stubborn streak, a determination that, unlike most Piltovians, she wielded it not for greed or power, but for something she believed was nobler.

Caitlyn had a resolve that could have been dangerous in another life but, in her hands, became something noble, if imperfect. She sought to prove that power could be wielded for good, though her idealism often stumbled in execution.

Which lead to betrayal. So sutble yet so painful that made you question whether you had ever truly known her at all.

You understood the reasons, even respected them, though it didn’t make it hurt any less. After all, who were you to argue?

Sometimes, it felt like you were little more than a puppet on invisible strings, there to serve her needs and ease her conscience.

And so here you were, once again immersed in the gilded opulence of the Kiramman estate, a world you had only ever pretended to belong to. Her room, specifically.

The air was thick with the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers, a stark contrast to the grime of the Undercity that still lingered in your memories. You couldn’t tell if you felt out of place or too comfortably numb to care anymore. All you knew was that Caitlyn needed you, and for better or worse, you couldn’t seem to let her go.

The walls of the Kiramman estate had always carried a natural chill, but since her mother’s passing, they seemed colder still, imbued with a grief that seeped into every stone and every breath. The family was shattered, even yours, though you had only been granted fleeting glimpses of the late Kiramman matriarch’s rare tenderness.

She had never welcomed you into her family, never truly accepted your presence near Caitlyn. Yet, in her own quiet, calculating manner, she had permitted the offerings Caitlyn made on their family’s name. And when you proved, time and again, that you were worth the fight, she had acknowledged you in her own way. Subtle. Reserved. A nod from a distance, but one that showed approval.

Caitlyn, however, hadn’t spoken a word to you about her mother or about the weight she carried. She hadn’t needed to. You could see it in the silence that lingered between you.

There was more than just grief in that silence.

There was guilt, a festering wound she carried, knowing the harm she had wrought in her quest for justice—or something like it. She had wronged more than just you. She had hurt countless innocents, people you had reminded her time and again were just that: innocent.

Her assumption, likely, was that you resented her. That the wounds she had inflicted on your trust, on your view of her, had severed whatever fragile thread of loyalty remained. Perhaps she wasn’t entirely wrong. But here you were, seated beside her, flashlight in hand, performing the same familiar routine you had done countless times before.

“Please... follow my finger,” you said softly, your voice measured and calm, just loud enough to fill the space between you without unsettling it. She straightened her posture, obediently following the movements of your finger as you moved the light in measured arcs. Her pupils contracted under the beam’s sharp glow, tracking the path you set. You checked each eye, one after the other, before letting out a quiet exhale.

“Up—now, left,” you instructed, the light shifting accordingly. You watched her carefully, her reactions automatic, devoid of resistance. There were no major injuries to note, at least nothing to suggest lasting harm. You had already completed the rest of the examination, methodical as always: her neck, her mobility, her blood pressure, her vitals—all the fundamentals you’d committed to memory after countless similar checks.

Chaos had become a routine under Ambessa’s looming presence. The injuries she left in her wake had kept you busier than ever, patching up the aftermath of her schemes while Caitlyn’s own injuries seemed to evade your care—until now.

Switching off the flashlight, you placed it neatly back among your tools, each item returning to its designated place with a precision born of necessity.

She said nothing. Instead, she sat motionless, her gaze cast downward, fixed on her lap. Her hands rested limply at her sides, short, uneven nails catching at the edges of the bed sheets, fidgeting without thought. A small bruise marked her right cheek, its once-violent hue fading into the softer tones of her skin. Her eyes, red and swollen, bore the traces of tears shed out of frustration, anger, and despair—tears she had likely shed on her way back.

The faint marks on her neck told a clearer story, faint impressions of fingers that had choked her. You could only hope her opponent had been from the Undercity and not one of Ambessa’s puppets- most likely the hope was just that.

Caitlyn’s uniform was disheveled, evidence of her half-hearted attempts to remove it as you adjusted your tools during the examination.

The thin red choker she had worn was discarded the moment she sat, and the open collar of her blouse revealed the strain beneath her careful composure.

She was dirty—dust clung stubbornly to her skin, mingling with smudges of sweat and exhaustion. Dried flecks of blood dotted her uniform, though you were relieved to confirm it wasn’t hers.

Her muscles were tight with tension and soreness, but nothing suggested she had sustained lasting damage.

She sat there, a figure fraying at the edges, fragile yet stubbornly upright, her silence speaking volumes.

You couldn’t tell whether she avoided your gaze out of shame or because the weight of everything she carried was too heavy to lift her eyes.

Either way, the Caitlyn before you was a far cry from the determined, idealistic woman you had once known.

"Ambessa..." she said, her voice tentative, a thread of sound that barely broke the heavy silence between you. Her eyes, hesitant and shadowed, darted toward your face as if searching for permission to continue.

"She's—" But of course, she wouldn’t elaborate. Detailed explanations had never been her strength, not with you. She knew you had distanced yourself from the tangled web of her life, and she had never bothered to bridge that gap, to offer you clarity.

"You were right," she finally said, the words tumbling out like a confession. "I should’ve stayed away."

Her voice carried an unfamiliar weight, a subtle tremor that felt almost apologetic, though it was wrapped in her usual restraint. It struck you as strange—Caitlyn, apologizing.

Even if it was too late, here she was, sitting before you, speaking to you instead of burying herself in the false sanctuary she had so often sought. Nights spent with women in her bed, avoiding her father and the heartbreaking sight of it, leaving you to tend to the wounds of her mistakes.

You slid closer, settling yourself back into the chair in front of her, nudging the first aid kit aside as you nodded, a quiet acknowledgment of her words. "I heard what happened… Maddie," you said, her frown tightening in response to the name, though it explained enough.

"You need to be more careful, Caitlyn," you added, your voice firm, concern coloring your tone as your brows furrowed. "This could’ve been way worse."

She looked away, her pride tangling with something deeper, something raw. You could see the apology brewing behind her eyes, the unspoken words she couldn’t bring herself to voice.

Her pride, or perhaps her fear of your rejection, kept her tethered to silence each time she tried to approach you.

"You’re still worrying about me," she said at last, her voice soft, her lips curving into a sheepish smile. It was faint, but it was there—a flicker of the Caitlyn you had once trusted without hesitation. The same Caitlyn who would roll her eyes whenever you thanked her too profusely for a kindness she had offered without expectation.

And perhaps that flicker of familiarity, that glimpse of who she once was, kept your anger at bay. Instead of confronting her, you found yourself falling, once again, into the rhythm of her unspoken intentions.

"I never stopped worrying about you," you replied evenly, your tone as steady as you could manage. "It’s my job."

"I would’ve assumed you quit by now." Her words were quiet, a deliberate gentleness in her tone, as though she understood the fragile line you walked. She didn’t push, didn’t expect you to pretend as though nothing had happened. Not you. Not after everything.

"I can’t," you answered, your voice barely louder than hers. And it was true. She paid you better than anyone else could.

Your parents depended on that money now, their lives in Piltover still fraught with the challenges of surviving on the fringes. They had escaped the Undercity, but their station hadn’t risen far enough to escape the grind of near-poverty. Their survival was tethered to your work, and your work was tethered to Caitlyn.

"I’m sorry," she began, but her voice faltered, the apology catching in her throat.

She didn’t need to explain. You had been there, had seen firsthand the blood that stained her hands— The choices she had made, or failed to make, in the shadow of Ambessa and for the revenge that had lead her to absolute nothing but loss after loss.

"Are you?" you cut in before she could finish, your tone carrying a playful edge, a teasing rebuttal to her seriousness. For the first time in what felt like months, her lips curled into a genuine smile, and her eyes rolled upward with a faint exasperation that felt achingly familiar.

"I’ve been helping," you added lightly, your voice carrying a mock seriousness. "You know, for free." You let the last word hang in the air, a quiet jab that coaxed a laugh from her.

"I don’t hate you enough to quit," you admitted, your tone softening, more earnest now.

"Thanks, I suppose," she murmured, her voice laced with a vulnerability that caught you off guard.

Before you realized it, your fingers had moved, brushing against her wrist. The warmth of her skin against yours.

Your fingers traced gently over the back of her hand, and she shifted her own to tangle them with yours.

"You’re welcome," you whispered, the words barely audible. You ignored the storm of words threatening to spill from your lips, and so did she.

Her hand slid up your arm, her fingers brushing over your elbow as she pulled you closer. Your heart stuttered, your mind warring with hesitation, but your body betrayed you. You let her guide you, let her bridge the gap.

Her eyes met yours, searching for something—permission, forgiveness, maybe even redemption. Her gaze flickered to your lips, lingering there with a silent question. You didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, you let your lips part, leaning into her, allowing her to pull you into the moment.

You found your place on her lap, your weight supported by her shoulders as her arms wrapped around you. Your breaths mingled, warm and shallow, until your lips finally met.

The kiss was soft, a hesitant yet undeniable surrender to the years of tension and longing that had tangled themselves into the growth of your relationship.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a quiet resolution to the unspoken devotion that had always lingered between you.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered—not the mistakes, not the betrayals, not the wounds that still ached beneath the surface.

There was only this, only her, only you.

[mimir-anoshe]

I love that ARCANE is using the MAJOR ARCANA for symbolism.

Chefs kiss.

These are Sevika's tarot cards from season 1.

The Magician (upright) overlapping Death (upright).

Foreshadowing? Oh hell yeah. But its only now after S2 Episode 6 do I understand what they might actually be foreshadowing. People may have talked about this before, so I apologise if this is similar to anyone else's meta. These are all my own thoughts, I usually just watch arcane and don't dabble into the meta but this season has me feral and I just rewatched season 1.

SPOILERS for Arcane S1/S2 below.

I just want to prologue this post with a note about how I've noticed even from season 1 there are thematic parallels and linear symbolism being afforded between Jinx and Viktor. Others in the community have too I'm sure. Its strange. I thought it was interesting in S1 but didn't deep dive into it, but S2 has driven headfirst into it and its making me go "oh... oh ok." Even Viktor in S1 noted Jinx's genius, and in another timeline perhaps Powder would've been a student of Viktors had fate not set them on parallel paths. Two children of Zaun, both mechanical/scientific geniuses. One physically disabled whilst the other mentally disabled. One who "escaped" and was given a chance, rising to the top only to create something that would be used for harm. Fighting that fate at every step. Whilst the other trapped at the bottom of the barrel, forced to use her gifts to become a weapon herself. Such GOOD story writing.

So now let's think about the art of the cards, because in tarot, even the symbolism of the specific art is important. Its why an artists interpretation of a major/minor can be so crucial to a reading.

Here's a figure map I made earlier.

Lets begin with Death.

Thirteenth of the Major Arcana, a "significant transformation and the end of a phase in life." There is death and rebirth symbolism all over arcane, but let's take a closer look at the symbolism mirroring the art.

Figure 7&8 - The one who has "died" a skeleton/skull laid down and being "imbued" with something as something else is taken away.

See that the imbuing focuses on the "chest" area.

It's quick, but it flashes briefly when Viktor is being imbued with the Hexcore. He canonically dies "the skull" and is reborn with the Hexcore on an "altar"/table.

Same with Jinx. Canonically "dies" and is reborn laying on an "altar"/table using shimmer. Purple being used as the visual thread between shimmer and the arcane of the hex; a colour imagery representation of "magical" alchemical/arcane power turning them into something beyond human.

Singed and Jayce. Two hands of death, giving and taking life as if they were a God. One using shimmer, the other Hextech thats imbued with shimmer. Messing with the balance of life and death.

With Viktor, the energy is transferred straight into his chest, just like on the card.

So now we've established the parallels to the death tarot, lets look at The Magician.

The First of the Major Arcana, "the connection between the physical and spiritual worlds, and the ability to manifest one's desires."

Viktor is the Magician. No doubt. He connects the physical and spiritual world of the arcane, he brings people back from the brink of death, as he was. He manifests his desires through the use of the hex, the arcane. And the dude just looks like a mecha wizard.

Though if you want it to be even more obvious.

Figure 3 - The Third Arm/Third Hand.

The image below is "The Machine Herald" Hero from League of Legends. This is the hero Viktor is based upon.

He canonically has three arms, same as the Magician in the card. The Magician is Viktor, Viktor is the Magician. The Magician is the Machine Herald.

The Magician overtakes/overlaps death. But Viktor by episode 6 still doesn't quite resemble the machine herald from the games. There's no third arm... Yet. So the Magician in the card isn't Viktor from episodes 1-6, this is the machine herald who comes after the one killed in episode 6. Another Rebirth is set to happen for Viktor.

Figures 1 &2 - White mask. Red/pinkish eyes.

Hmmm... Red/pinkish eyes are associated with shimmer. And a white mask, of the machine herald? The mask of a messiah. That the hextech Viktor will most likely also be imbued with shimmer like Jinx, to become the true "machine herald." Messiahs of the hex, monsters of the shimmer.

Its also worth noting that both Jinx and Viktor are framed as messianic figures of Zaun in this season. One the fighter who will rally together the undercity and free Zaun from its oppression. The other a healer and a saint like figure who will free the Zaunites of their suffering and lead them into a better future.

Jinx wanting peace - represented by Isha - and Viktor's dream of peace and healing for Zaun - represented by a lot of things including healing Vander - are metaphorically and literally killed in episode 6. Funnily enough, one symbol of peace killing the other (Isha and Vander - Child and Father). After all, peace and violence are two sides of the same coin, as are Viktor and Jinx. Or should I say, two sides of the same cog...

Figure 4&6 - The Cog shaped Hole in the Magicians chest/The Cog Coin and Jinx's cog.

"I understand now. The message hidden within the pattern. The reason for our failures in the commune. The doctor was right. Its inescapable. Humanity. Our very essence. Our emotions... Rage. Compassion. Hate. Two sides of the same coin. Inextricably bound."

In episode 6, whilst Viktor is explaining to Vi about what it will take to heal Vander, Jinx is sceptical. She doesn't even believe in herself as a messiah, so this "hero"? This "saviour" coming along to solve their problems? To fix things? When all she can do is break everything around her, jinx her own family, destroy? She's scoffing at Viktor sure, but she's also scoffing at herself. Mirroring. People treat her like they treat him, so to believe in him as a saviour means she would have to look into the water of that well and face her own reflection. And Viktor sees right through it, the pretence, and he sees her potential.

Knowledge is a paradox. Jinx wants to stick with what she knows, to destroy instead of to build, to "Watch it all burn." Or ignore the plight of Zaun, so she can live peacefully with Isha. Jinx - Powder - is choosing to remain ignorant to what's right in front of her. Right up until the moment Isha dies.

In the scene earlier in the episode, Jinx accidently destroys a bit of the well, releasing a cog that falls into water. Cogs have been symbolic of Viktor healing people throughout this season, using cogs to "Build."

Powder was thrown into water just like that cog by Silco, and reborn as Jinx. But its not Silco that picks up this cog. Its Viktor. He holds the potential of his creation in his hand, and in paradox, holds Jinx's destruction. Viktor holds Jinx's potential. He's literally holding the two sides of Jinx/Powder in his hand, her - their - fate. Just like Jinx, Viktor has the equal capacity to destroy, and if he is reborn as a weapon later on, perhaps that cog represents Jinx being reborn too. As a creator. A builder.

He holds onto Jinx's cog all the way through the rest of the episode, balancing that potential, that fate, of creation and destruction in his hand. Right up until the moment he dies, and the coin/the cog falls, sealing their fate. His death causing the deaths of Isha and Vander too.

So we've established that the story is viewing cogs/coins in a similar light. We've also established the show is linking Viktor and Jinx through the symbology of the cog.

This is reiterated in the symbolism surrounding the Tarot cards. Around the cards are coins that take the shape of cogs, the currency of Zaun. Fate - coin flips - and cogs, gods and machines. Deus Ex Machina, that is what Viktor is to become, and Jinx creates destruction using machines. She's an inventor, just like Viktor and Jayce. A creator and a destroyer. A god of the machine.

So how does Figure 6 - the coin cogs - relate to Figure 4? The hole in the Magician's chest.

On the Tarot Card, the Magician has a circle in the middle of his chest. A hole. Just like the hole Jayce puts through Viktors chest at the end of Episode 6. The one that kills him.

But if you look closely at the image above, it might be a stretch, but to me, the striations on the inner ring look very similar to those of a cog. The hole is what kills Viktor. Cogs have been given visual symbolism for healing, and are also associated with Jinx's potential for creation. Its a stretch, but it could potentially be foreshadowing Jinx using her abilities to heal Viktor; to build instead of destroy. We've already seen Jinx do it once with Sevika, by "building" her a new arm.

I also find it interesting that we're shown Jinx using her talents to build someone a new arm, and Viktor - the machine herald - still has yet to acquire his third arm. Perhaps he doesn't make it. Perhaps Jinx does?

Maybe, just maybe, Jinx - Powder - is the one to fix Viktor, and flip the cog of fate once again.

Now in Episode 6 we already get foreshadowing that it'll be singe - not Jinx - who saves Viktor by imbuing him with the ultimate shimmer from Warwick/Vander - stabilising him. He says it in the episode, but Viktor refuses to sacrifice Vander in the name of creating the ultimate weapon of destruction.

"It would destroy him."

Viktor's potential for destruction goes hand in hand with Jinx's.

Its even foreshadowed in both the cards. The red/pink eyes of the machine herald foreshadowing shimmer. And the shadow being imbued into the chest of the dead skeleton (Viktor) looks an awful lot like Warwick; the beast that traps Vander.

So why am I talking about Jinx saving Viktor if I'm so certain its Singe? Well I'm certain Singe will bring Viktor back to life, to be used as a weapon. That seems like the most likely outcome.

But like Viktor was saying about Vander "He's not a specimen, he's a man." Viktor was doing everything in his power to save Vander's humanity. So yes Singe will bring the machine herald back most likely - even if I think it'd be thematically cool for it to be Jinx - but I think Jinx will save Viktor. Save the man, the humanity. Be the big fat hero.

Jinx was a girl imbued with Shimmer, and despite having monstrous abilities and doing monstrous things, her humanity has still survived.

I could be wrong, I most likely am, but the the thing that's getting to me is this...

Figure 5 - The Broken Infinity.

At the centre of Viktor's chest, in the middle of Jayce's death blow and Jinx's cog of creation & destruction, is a symbol.

Now a diagonal infinity symbol is associated with the Firelights. Ekko. The boy who shattered time.

Broken Infinity? Shattered time? Seems to go hand in hand.

Though Ekko's symbol is a whole infinity, more akin to a Z than an ongoing X.

There are plenty of theories Ekko will play a role in Viktor's fate and the fate of everyone by rewinding time somehow. And the multiple shots of the coin rolling support that to an extend. Rewind time, change fate, change the flip of the cog. And I agree, I think Ekko is going to have a role to play. But there's also another character who fits with this symbol, who uses shimmer to move faster than humanly possible and defy fate time and time again. Who is the fulcrum of fate in the eyes of the story, the catalyst of everything. And only one character who has solely been associated with a broken infinity symbol before.

Jinx. That's Jinx's symbol. Her champion tag.

Jinx's symbol, right at the centre of Viktors chest. And this line to Jinx from Viktor...

"You have much to offer this commune, Powder. Your talents could be used to build instead of destroy."

And the line from Singe, about Viktor's fate being tied to the commune. Viktor IS the commune, he's the centre of it all. The one who can make the dream of Zaun - Vander's dream - a reality. And that line foreshadowed Jinx using her talents to help the commune. To help Viktor.

Hell, she was technically the reason he "died" in the first place. She fired the rocket that nearly killed him. Wouldn't it be poetic story telling if she was the one who saved him in the end?

I can't wait for Saturday.

I believe whatever happens, Viktor and Jinx's fates are inextricably bound.

[clericofgale]

The stars will be our bed

I'm seeing a very popular narrative that asking for physical sex during Gale's act 2 scene is better for his character development, and the astral scene is bad for him. Or at least not as good. While I do prefer the astral version more, I disagree with the notion that either one is better for Gale's plot development. I've done both options depending on the what felt right for that specific Tav at the time. As always, if that's the narrative you want to build, there's nothing wrong with it.

For me personally I think both are narratively sound for his character development. Yes Gale needs to know he doesn't need magic to be loved, but Gale also loves magic. It's his life, his passion and his artistic medium of choice. What he needs is balance, not total rejection. You want the man, and the magic.

"Tactful, Bowing to the player's desires"

If you insist on regular sex, that's the devnote that's attached to it. Gale is acquiescing to what you, the player wants. Gale wanted to share his magic with you, but you refused. He doesn't care either way, as long as he's spending the night with you. The approval numbers are the same. He obviously prefers the astral sex because it's what he's used to and confident in, but either is fine.

One thing we have to remember is Gale also uses magic to find connection. In the act 1 weave scene, Gale and you share thoughts over the weave. It's exactly what he's trying to do in Act 2 as well. It's a mind meld sequence using the weave. I don't think Gale is trying to use magic to as a front in this scene, despite the "I can wow you" sentence if you refuse. I think he's trying to share his inner self with magic as the canvas, and connect with you in this most intimate way. It's akin to Fane's scene in DOS2 where you share Source with each other and also mind meld.

Gale wants to distill a lifetime's worth of affection into one night because he feels he will die soon. The scene is his "Last Night Alive". Gale, the artist of the weave puts on his final and private show for his beloved. He weaves stars and invites light to the land of shadows. He's prepared for days for this whole sequence, and you only need to trust him.

If you do he leads you into his innermost world. First, where he feels safest, and the balcony that brings him comfort. Then the book of a thousand days and nights filled with his love for you. The amount of time he wishes he had left to show you his affection, physical or emotional.

But he only has one night.

"There are endless worlds out there. Countless ways to declare love. Infinite ways to express it. Too much for one night.. but we shall try."

The astral scene is him trying. He multiplies as he refuses to let go your hand. He caresses every part of your mind, body, and soul. Gale tries desperately to sear every fiber of your being, of the one he loves onto his own soul. He wants to feel everything you do, and the weave is capable of that.

"Your bodies and minds weave together in a masterpiece of intimacy. Never have you felt such wonder, such love - as vast as the universe itself, and just as heavenly. "

You are one and the same that night. Where Gale ends and you begin is a mystery; he is lost in you and you in him.

"We are all sensual vessels. Illusory magic lets us sail farther, and feel more deeply."

The scene is beautiful, both narratively and visually. This is not a man trying to use magic to demonstrate his worth so you won't leave him. This is a man trying to use magic to weave a tapestry from two spools of thread in one night. It's ok to let him do so. It's also ok to remind him he doesn't need to. Whichever feels right in that moment is the right choice.

They all end in giving Gale renewed hope. Magic was merely the medium on which it blossomed and thrived. Whether from a bed of stars or a bed conjured under it, your love is what gave it life.

Thanks for reading this way too long cold take.

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 18

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: Two days in a row? I hope you like it!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17

• ··········· • ············ •

Viktor had once told Jayce that the lab should only be open to two people: him and Jayce. Anyone else was a distraction to their work.

However, as he glanced at you and your focused face as you tried to work on your rune shaping, it had him retracting his statement. Yes, you were a distraction, but Viktor couldn't help but welcome it into the lab. It was as if you had been there since the beginning. The way you lazily draped over the couch or leaned into his table. At some point during some of the past days, he found himself expecting to see you either enter the lab or already sat at your spot.

It was a strange and yet familiar emotion that he had felt once before. When he met Jayce, there was this invisible pull that linked both Piltover’s man of progress and the kid from Zaun, who had stolen an Academy uniform.

They fit together; despite all the bickering and head-butting, they both knew they would be there for each other, whether it was at their highest high or the end of the world. That connective tissue that passed between him and Jayce was made of the strongest alloy in Runeterra.

And then, you came along. When he crossed eyes with your disgruntled figure on the night of the rocket attack, he felt it. The same electricity jolt as when he met Jayce. Small strands were slowly becoming a rope that connected him to you. Even though he didn’t care to understand why, he let the familiar pull of thread manifest. Much like Jayce, your presence was welcomed in his space. And much like Jayce, you quickly found a way to his heart. Even if the space you occupied was entirely different from Jayce’s, you both were a part of him.

He knew you liked sweet tea without sugar or black tea with tons of it. He had caught you humming and singing when you’d been helping keep watch on the lab. He felt the love that you and Esther shared every time both of your eyes met. He learned that you have an expression only for when Jayce annoys you. He was keeping track in his mind of all the places where he had touched you, and you hadn't immediately flinched. He enjoyed it when you called him Vik with a grin on your lips that changed the intonation of his nickname.

And at the present moment, he had learned that he very much enjoyed you calling him 'Professor.' He made his face grow red, and his mind jumped to scenarios it had no business jumping to while he was at the lab.

It didn't stop him from stealing sideways glances at you from his seat at the table. The small twitch of your hand as you spoke the rune, followed by a frustrated frown when the rune didn’t work. The scientist looked at your hands, and his own started to warm as he thought about how well his long fingers intertwined with yours. He chuckled when you groaned at the panel, shaking it in frustration, the old panel rattling at the abuse.

When he sat down next to you after working in the malfunctioning reader, you immediately tucked your feet under his thigh. The sound that escaped him was more of a surprise than disapproval. The gesture was so domestic and comfortable.

You started to quickly shuffle away while he had to consciously make his movements relaxed and nonchalant as he stopped you. His first instinct was to just grab your legs and keep them in place. Lies. His first instinct was to grab your legs and place them in his lap, letting the warmth of you help with his aching bones. He contented himself with keeping your feet warm under his leg.

He enjoyed the silence in the lab, even when Jayce cursed and grumbled on his workstation or when you hammered the little blue crystals from the board. It was a fulfilling calmness. He was surrounded by the machinations of the people he cared about. And as he was lulled into a relaxing state, somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he had no desire to do any more work today. Which wasn’t exactly a bad thing, but it was surprising.

All he wanted to do for the rest of his workday was to sit on this heavenly upholstered couch absorbing your heat while listening to Jayce tinker away angrily.

You groaned in frustration once more, and he wrapped his hand around your knee, drawing soothing circles on it. You didn’t acknowledge it, and when he looked at you, he saw a line between your eyebrows, showing your feelings.

In his mind’s eye, an image flashed. Him, leaning down, smoothing that line with his thumb, and then placing a kiss where it showed, while you scrunch your nose in mock protest. It was a clear memory of something that had never happened. It felt like seconds separated that gentle calmness from when chaos broke loose, even though it had been hours.

One moment he was welcoming Sky into the lab, trying to leash Jayce's misplaced anger, and the next their assistant was lying on the floor bleeding.

“Jayce! Go get help!” The broader man nodded and jumped to action, leaving you and him to look after the slightly younger woman.

Viktor's thoughts were running. The quickness of events still not completely sinking in. He had quickly spared a glance at Jayce's table, where a metal ball seemed to have expanded with the heat of Jayce's welding machine. He cursed under his breath and looked back at Sky.

You were gently caressing her head and telling her to breathe, and for a moment Viktor wished he had the people skills to be able to calm someone else down when he was panicking.

He kept applying pressure to the blanket but stopped short when you ripped the glove from your hand, his mouth open to protest. The glow still amazed him. and even though it was faint, it was awe-inducing seeing your fingers shimmer with light.

Before he could finish calling your name, something shifted. Not just in you, but in the room. There was a buzz in his ears, a sudden temperature rise, and his eyes watering.

As he tried to adjust to this weird atmospheric change, you abruptly shoved the blanket away from Sky's midsection. An almost feral move, making him almost lose the precarious balance he had managed on the floor.

Your hand gripped the place where the woman had been hurt as if you were trying to tear that piece of her out. There was something artificial in your movements, like something was doing it for you.

The hand you placed on the injuries turned charcoal black, and the white uniform his assistant wore started to look like it was being burned, small holes rimmed with an incandescent orange glow appearing on it. His eyes widened, scared it was burning Sky, but the girl only whimpered, and when he tried to look closer, only her uniform was melting.

The black on your hand started to grow, small black lines climbing your arm, and with the little Viktor knew about anatomy, it seemed like it was flowing upwards through your veins.

He called your name, and whatever looked back at him was not you. Your welcoming eyes were cold and unfeeling; he would dare to go as far as angry. They reminded him of a cat eye with a blue glow light reflecting in the pupils. Viktor quieted down as you kept staring at him coldly, searching for something in his face, and when he tried to call your name again, you only tilted your head. From the corner of his eye, he saw three red dots appear on the front of your clothing, mirroring Sky’s injuries. He tried to call out to you, but when you blinked, he saw the warmth in your eyes come back. You gasped in pain, and you slumped over, laying face down on the floor.

There were a couple of seconds before Viktor's brain restarted to focus. He looked down at Sky’s burned uniform and noticed three small red healed scars, and then his eyes shifted to the pool of blood starting to come from under you. He shuffled quickly towards you right before Jayce burst in the door with several enforcers. His partner's face was a mask of confusion and disorientation, but Viktor shook his head. Not the time.

"We need to get them to the hospital," Viktor said, still sitting weirdly on the floor, and Jayce quickly nodded.

Viktor's heartbeat was becoming faster by the second. He had been scared. For a moment he had been scared. Not for you, but of you.

• ··········· • ············ •

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