#tales of link spoilers

[fumifooms]

another detail for bugliker shuro: in the chapter 60 cover, his succubus is falin with insect wings & legs! a little reminiscent of laios's tbh...

Oh my god you’re RIGHT…

Even at the most mosquito-like we see them be in canon they only have wings and hair-like antennas, not this full fit with collar and extra legs… The wings don’t look the same… Oh my god Toshiro’s ideal is a bug wife

[daily-odile]

Eon doodles... designs courtesy of @the-bitter-ocean of course

[psychology-department]

Did you know that the eyes of frankenstein's monster are yellow, and that Frankenstein rejected him for it? Angela and Ayin's eyes are also yellow. The monster actively chooses to murder several people just to exact his petty revenge, blaming his creator for his actions.

The way Angela is willing to receive lots and lots of guests just to find the one true book, does that seem a little familiar to you?

For whatever cause, the ends do not justify the means. They are both monsters of their own stories, until they both decide to break this cycle.

[duckdodger]

episode synopsis’ for all the 12 episodes !!

[block-tales-playerswap-au]

oh chaaaaatt...

welcome to the Block Tales Playerswap AU! a lot of information on this AU comes from my main blog, @inkedover! this blog will ALSO follow the timeline of the quotev PS fic, so wherever the chapter is currently stopped is where the blog is chronologically.

and the aforementioned quotev fic would be here.

Currently:

Asks/Roleplay inbox: Closed indefinitely.

General Location:

N/A.

down below is a synopsis of the story and the plot so far!

this will also include currently not in use tags. actually this just includes the entirety of the tag directory now.

warning, long. .]

Something is deeply wrong.

Something is new. Something that's not supposed to be new.

Following Red and Blue, they see their Uncle Shedletsky dueling against somebody.

Right as Shedletsky gains the upper hand both kids watch in horror as Shedletsky is struck down by his aggressor. A wave of chilling malevolence washes over them as the Player leaves, leaving Red and Blue to contemplate what had happened.

…this day…Blue Noob can swear she remembers it playing out differently. In fact, she can recall the fact that this day isn't supposed to go like this at all-...

Red snaps and begins following the Player. Blue can only helplessly follow as her brother traces the bloody path of the Player, only stopping when a mysterious figure sweeps them up into a surprisingly warm embrace and brings them to safety in the Ye Olde Inn.

Meanwhile, Player is having a mental breakdown. The voices they hear in their head...they were loud. Incessant. They wanted more. They wanted everything.

It doesn't matter what sacrifices needed to be made to achieve these goals.

Aaaand story stops about here!

all tags currently:

Red Noob: #raring red (general character tag)

Blue Noob: #bashful blue (general character tag)

Benevolent King: #frigid crown (general character tag)

Player: #persistence leads you forward (general character tag)

Hatred: #the hatred from within (general character tag) and #"Builderman?" (disguised tag)

Greed: #the greed that drives you forward (general character tag) and #$hedletsky (disguised tag)

Solitude: #the solitude that holds you back (general character tag) and #Mr. Cassel (disguised tag)

Fear: #the fear that holds you down (general character tag) and #Nighteyes (disguised tag)

Rockstar: #Your Sorry Superstar (general character tag)

Mayor Thaniyel: #Guardian of the Venomshank (general character tag)

Woodsmen: #The trees are talking?! (general character tag)

Noobador: #Coming in with the steel chair!!! (general character tag)

Kyoko: #The Therapist Friend (general character tag)

Green Noob and Purple Noob: #green thug and #purple noob (general character tags)

[ihhfhonao3]

hiii could u write a chicory fic? :3 idrc what i just wanna read more things about my little guyssss

ask and ye shall receive! I got veryyyyy self-indulgent with this one haha. under the cut!

“Look, a shooting star!” Pizza cried, pointing at the sky.

“...I think I missed it,” Chicory said. “That’s too bad.”

Pizza smiled. “Maybe we’ll see another one.”

Pizza turned her head to look at Chicory lying on the ground beside her. The hare was staring at the night sky, fixated on the glowing stars above her. A tiny grin, barely visible, was plastered on her face. Pizza loved to see Chicory smile.

“Why are you staring at me?” Chicory asked suddenly. Her smile didn’t fade.

“I like to see you smile,” Pizza said. “You… you’re pretty when you smile.”

Chicory’s face flushed slightly. “Don’t flatter me.”

“I’m not,” Pizza said, turning her head to look at the sky again. “I’m being honest, I swear.”

Pizza heard Chicory inhale and then exhale deeply, taking in and cherishing the sweet summer air. A cool breeze rustled the colorful grass and made its way through the pair’s fur, making Pizza shiver slightly.

Lying on the ground and stargazing with Chicory was mundane to say the least, but Pizza felt happier than she had been in a long time. The corruption may have gone, but things in the Picnic Province were still far from “normal.” Spending time with Chicory, however, helped Pizza feel better when everything seemed wrong. Even if it was only temporary, she was able to forget her problems and be herself around Chicory. Sporadic as they were, they were always her most treasured memories.

Pizza thought back to before she and Chicory were friends. Back when she was a simple janitor in the wielder’s tower, and Chicory was… suffering. Alone.

To Pizza, at times it felt somewhat strange to be so close with someone that she’d looked up to, idolized and obsessed over for so long. But Pizza was slowly but surely reminding herself of the fact that Chicory was a regular animal, just like anyone else. She had a family, she had a life of her own, she had hopes and dreams and feelings. She wasn’t this ethereal, otherworldly being anymore. She was just Chicory. The Chicory who was so kind to her. The Chicory that was willing to spend time with her. The Chicory she could trust to keep her secrets. The Chicory that had suffered so much. The Chicory that had made a rash decision that ended up being the best decision of Pizza’s life. The Chicory that she loved so dearly. The Chicory that Pizza would wait forever for if that’s what it took for her to be ready to make them official.

“Chicory,” Pizza said meekly. “I’m… I’m glad we’re friends. I’m glad that you like me.”

“Of course I like you, Pizza,” Chicory said. “What is there not to like? You’re so sweet and friendly, you do things your own way, you try so hard to help people… you grabbed my paws when I was drowning and refused to let me go, even if I dragged you down into the water with me. I’d be downright stupid to not like you.”

Pizza felt her face flush. “I guess so… Maybe I need to start learning to see myself through your eyes, Chicory.”

“I probably need to see myself through your eyes too,” Chicory muttered. “This self-esteem thing doesn’t always work out the way I want it to.”

“Well, if we’re sharing things we like about each other, I just think you’re awesome,” Pizza said. “You’re creative, and funny, and so so wise. You’re incredibly talented-”

Chicory laughed, cutting Pizza off. “Okay, I think that’s enough. But… thank you, Pizza.”

The two stared at the deep sky, watching the twinkling stars as they seemed to dance in unison above them.

Pizza felt like reaching her paw out to Chicory, but she decided against it. She didn’t want to ruin this moment by making things awkward for them.

“I wish that more animals could be like you, Pizza,” Chicory said suddenly.

“What do you mean?” Pizza asked.

Chicory was silent for a moment. “You’re… so easy to talk to. And easy to connect with. Maybe it’s because we were… and are both wielders, but… I don’t connect with anyone like I connect with you. Or, nobody connects with me in a way that holds value, I guess. You’re… Kind of my only real friend.”

Pizza went quiet. She was curious, but she didn’t want to pry. But she also knew that Chicory wouldn’t get upset at her, so she bit.

“...Would you like to elaborate?” Pizza asked after a moment.

Chicory huffed out a small sigh as the shadow of a bird flew through the sky, obstructing the stars for a small moment. Pizza couldn’t tell if she knew who it was in the dark.

“I guess…” Chicory mumbled. “I guess I’ve never had many very good friends. No one like you, at least.”

Pizza sat up and looked down at Chicory. The hare’s brow was furrowed and her mouth in a reminiscent frown, deep in thought.

“I think I’ve told you this before, but when I was younger, I never really had any friends,” Chicory started. “I was so focused on becoming the wielder once Blackberry told me I was due to be her successor. It had been all I had ever wanted since I was old enough to know who the wielder was. Heck, even as a kid, I painted so often… I was so focused on honing my skills, my style, my speed and my stamina, that I barely played with any other kids. And that got ten times worse when I was chosen to be the next wielder. Everywhere I went, I was creating art. I had to. To not create art was to fail.”

Chicory paused and rubbed her eyes. She then sighed and continued.

“People tried to include me,” Chicory said. “I was invited to parties sometimes. People sat by me during lunch, and tried to strike up conversation. But I was just so busy, I turned them down every time. I… really regret that now. I never stepped back to recognize just how lonely and sad I was. I was so consumed by my craft and I was in too deep. I couldn’t quit then. And… Blackberry didn’t really help when I started my official training. I then had to put in even more time and effort into what I was doing, and even my one hundred percent wasn’t enough for her. I was socially isolated, Pizza. I didn’t have anyone. Not even… myself.”

Chicory let out a labored sigh. Pizza looked at her solemnly. She knew how difficult this subject was for her.

“You don’t have to continue if it makes you sad to think about it,” Pizza said. “I don’t like to see you sad. If you don’t want to tell me, I won’t make you.”

“No, no,” Chicory waved her paw. “I want to tell you. It makes me sad as hell to recount, but it makes me infinitely more depressed to keep it inside.”

Pizza nodded her head, turning to look at the stars again. Eventually, Chicory spoke up once more.

“When I became the wielder, it was different,” Chicory said. “People loved me. They wanted to be my friend. They told me that they always believed in me, that they were so proud and that they thought I had a bright future. They… They lied to me. They just wanted to say that they were friends with Chicory, the new wielder.”

“You were used,” Pizza said quietly. “Chicory, you know that isn’t your fault.”

Chicory scoffed. “Of course I know it’s not. But it hurts like hell to remember that it happened anyways.”

Pizza went quiet. Chicory thought for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Chicory said. “That was rude of me. It just… I don’t know. It…”

“Stinks?” Pizza suggested.

“Yeah,” Chicory chuckled. “Stinks.”

Pizza sighed and laid back down on the grass. She ran her paws over the grass, feeling its softness underneath her fur.

“I have a bit of a different story,” Pizza said finally.

“Oh yeah?” Chicory asked. “You don’t have to share it if you don’t feel like it.”

Pizza waved her paw. “If you’re spilling your heart out to me, it’s only fair if I do the same to you, right?”

Chicory chuckled as Pizza thought for a moment.

“I had some good friends growing up, I guess,” Pizza said. “And eventually, Clementine came along. So I spent time with her sometimes, once she was old enough to play with me without crying for whatever reason.”

“But… Things kinda changed once word got out that I was the new wielder,” Pizza continued. “I mean, everyone was so scared about the loss of all the colors that they became… demanding. And mean. ‘Pizza, paint this,’ or ‘Pizza, can you color this for me,’ or ‘Pizza, not like that, you’re doing it wrong.’ I was a stranger to my closest friends, because suddenly I was powerful and influential and important, and they… were just themselves. I guess they… didn’t like that. They felt threatened or something. They said I had become full of myself, even though I was biting off my own ears to help everyone around me. They said they didn’t know me anymore, even though I hadn’t changed at all. They said I didn’t deserve the position, that I got it by chance, that I wasn’t chosen which meant I wasn’t worthy. It didn’t make me feel good. So… I stopped seeing them. And I focused on helping you.”

“...I’m sorry that that happened to you,” Chicory said. “That isn’t very fair at all.”

Pizza let out a sad laugh. “A lot that we’ve been through wasn’t fair either, was it?”

“You’re right, I guess,” Chicory said. “It pains me to think about it. I feel like, in a way, we were dealt a bad paw. I wish things could have been better.”

“It does feel that way sometimes,” Pizza said. “But, I mean, would it not have been something that every wielder before us has had to deal with themselves? That was the thing about the brush- all the pain, all the stress, all the sadness, all the loneliness from every previous wielder was within it. You were the first to say that it was too much. And we were the first ones to make a change.”

“I’m glad that we could,” Chicory mused. “Even though I wish that I could have gotten help when I needed it, and I wish that you could have become the wielder under more normal circumstances, it makes me kind of happy to think that no one else will ever have to go through what we had to go through. They’ll have their hardships, sure, but… maybe a little less so.”

“I’m just so tired of being bitter,” Chicory continued. “I could be angry that the wielders after me are going to get chances that I never had, I could be upset that I had to struggle so much and that they don’t have to. But… I don’t want anyone to go through what I had to go through, if I’m being honest. It hurt me so much, so why would I ever wish it upon anyone else?”

Pizza sat up and looked at the brush from its spot beside her. She put her paw on its bristles, changing its paint color from a bright yellow to a deep purple. It was in its largest size, so she held onto it with both paws as she picked it up and lifted it over her head, standing up and pointing the brush at the sky.

Chicory watched Pizza in silence as she colored little purple swirls into the night sky, decorating the cosmos with brilliant hues. Pizza then brought the brush back down to the earth and changed the paint color to a dark blue. She heaved the brush over her once more and resumed painting the sky.

Pizza stepped back to admire her work when she finished, watching as the dark blues and purples she added to the sky danced and swirled in constant motion with the wind. The previously pitch-black sky now felt vividly alive. Pizza laid the brush back down on the ground and laid herself upon the grass once more.

“Despite everything, I still love being the wielder,” Pizza said. “It stinks sometimes, yeah. I’ll give you that. I hate it when I try my hardest on my colors and animals are still ungrateful. I hate it when I put my heart and soul into painting something like the flowers or the clouds, and animals just ignore them or don’t take notice. I hate it when I do all that I can, but it still isn’t enough for some animals. But… seeing the amazed looks on animals' faces, watching with glee and laughing as I color their fur green and their houses orange, looking at the sky in awe as I add patterns to the sun just because I want to… that’s why I do it. I love art, yeah, but… just as there are animals who are unappreciative and unkind, there are animals who love you and love what you create, and are so happy that someone as talented as you can bring color and vibrancy into their world. Maybe… maybe you don’t always hear the positive side because animals don’t always know how to tell you that they feel that way. Maybe there’s fewer mean animals than you think; maybe there’s less of them and the mean ones just end up louder.”

Chicory was quiet for a moment.

“I think you’re right,” Chicory said finally. “That’s very profound, Pizza.”

“I try,” Pizza mused. “I guess it’s not as hard when I’m with you.”

“What does that mean?” Chicory asked.

“You… you help me think sometimes,” Pizza stammered. “You help me see things in a new light and re-evaluate them. I like having your input and perspective.”

Chicory smiled. “The feeling is mutual.”

The night sky didn’t seem so empty and vast when there were colors in it. And the world didn’t seem so big and lonely when Chicory and Pizza had each other. They were together, and that was what mattered. They cared about each other, and that was what mattered. They could be there for one another, and that was what mattered.

Chicory had gone through a lot. She had dealt with endless hardships in an uphill battle, begging for a way out before she even recognized that she was crying out for help. She was never doing things right, never doing enough. And she had to hide how she felt from everyone that surrounded her, because she was the thread that held everything together. If the thread snapped, everything would go wrong, and it would be all her fault. And the thread did snap eventually. It snapped not too long ago. The pressure was unbearable and the thread wore thin, and then it snapped and everything went wrong. But it wasn’t Chicory’s fault. Nor was it Blackberry’s, nor Cardamom’s, nor anyone else’s. Maybe there was nobody to blame. Maybe everyone was to blame.

Whether she realized it or not, Pizza had fallen into a similar step. She tried so hard to fix things, to change things, to make them work. But there comes a point where what has been broken cannot be fixed, or if it is fixed, it comes out wrong or different or not as perfect as one would’ve hoped. She shouldered the same weight that crushed her predecessor under its grip, allowing it to bowl her over in its wrath. Because maybe it was for the best. Maybe if she sacrificed herself, things would come out better. Maybe if she felt pain, others wouldn’t have to feel pain in her place. Maybe if she just tried a little harder, things wouldn’t be so hard for everyone else.

Chicory and Pizza were battered, beaten and blue. The world had eaten them up and then spit them back out, demanding them to get up and face it once more. But with time, wounds heal. And while some leave behind scars in their wake, the gash is no longer open and bleeding.

“Chicory?” Pizza asked.

“Hmm?” Chicory replied.

Pizza inhaled deeply. “I… You… Um…”

“What is it, Pizza?” Chicory asked.

“I…” Pizza stammered. “Life… Life isn’t so hard when you’re in it with me.”

Chicory felt her face flush.

She smiled.

“Yeah,” Chicory whispered. “I feel the same way about you, Pizza.”

[raphtdm]

tottmnt spoilers

imo i think the first part of the show actually happened and the second part is made up :v raph made up the second story for aprils project but the first story was just leo writing about his experiences

at least thats what i wanna believe lol

[hungrydolphin91]

our endless unfinished wips 🤝

would very much like to inquire about 'Innominat Returns (Falling Awake)' bc the title does intrigue,,

You're in luck Jay because that's actually one of few WIPs that's actually somewhat written AND posted— you can read the first 5 chapters right here on AO3! Like the summary and tags suggest, it's a bit of an angsty post-game fic in which Mikleo, desperately trying to fix a world still filled with chaos and malevolence so Sorey can reawaken, stumbles upon the sealed Innominat and ends up biting off a little more than he can chew. And if you don't mind spoilers for this story will eventually go, I described the heartbreaking climax to V in this post, as well as posted excerpts from it here and here.

Anyway, since all I really did here was drop a bunch of links to old stuff I might as well share a new excerpt from the yet-unposted 6th chapter, where we re-encounter a perfectly normal Meebo, nothing weird about him at all. See if you can tell whose POV this chapter is written from 😂:

The stranger is a seraph, clearly, with long, gold-tipped hair tied back into a fluffy ponytail. But judging from the strength of his domain, which overpowers even Eizen's cursed aura, he is far more than that. It rivals the strength of a Shepherd, or perhaps, an Empyrean. I descend from my precipice to confront this mysterious person, only to snort as I recognize his face. "Oh. It's you, Meebo." Mikleo spares an annoyed glance in my direction but otherwise ignores me. Not that I can blame him, with a dragon drooling over his head and preparing to make him into a Mealbo. Yet even though Mikleo is alert, he doesn't seem at all afraid of the behemoth before him. "So this one is Eizen, then..?" He studies Eizen's face like a stupid scientist about to get eaten by a dragon. I don't know how to respond to such an dumb, obvious question, but Eizen, it seems, has an answer. He tries to play the old bite-them-in-half game again, but Mikleo deflects his jaws with a mere strike of his staff. Eizen seems a little startled to have his attack countered so easily and tries again, with the same results. Idiots, both of them. As I watch them volley blows, I start to feel more uneasy about this new Mikleo. Going toe-to-toe with a dragon, commanding the earthpulse, wielding a domain twice as strong as usual. Not to mention his appearance. There's no doubt his body is 100 percent pure Meebo, but the colors are all bad, traces of blue hair changed to gold tips, purple eyes now flashing dangerously gold. Gold, gold, gold. It looks dumb on a water seraph like him. And his behavior feels all wonky too. Mikleo's always been too stuffy to have fun, but he seems even more aloof now, more pretentious, even ruthless. He counters my brother's attacks with ease, like he knows the dragon's weaknesses firsthand. In fact, he even seems to be holding back, drawing out Eizen's rage yet waiting for something more. What could you possibly want from an angry dragon except his mercy?

This WIP haunts me more than any other honestly, it's right behind my ongoing passion project Two Hearts Could Be One in terms of emotional investment. But it's tricky to write because it's 1st-person with multiple POV (including Berseria characters so it requires cross-game knowledge) and I haven't played Zesty in so long so I can't get the voices and lore quite right anymore 😭 not to mention the ending I had in mind is still very vague and unfixed. Right now I'm keeping my Graces fixation going so I can hopefully finish 2HCB1 (I did NOT write 60k words for it to give up now pleaseeee brain let me finish something for once 😭) but ngl I have been secretly pining for Zesty this entire time and the SECOND I get back into it I'm gonna work on this fic some more 💜💜💜

[verysaint-tropez]

Hold on .... Michael Crew turned in a book .... I know that name.

[thetalesteller]

Tales of a Revolution, Book 1, Chapter 1, Welcome to Earth

THE FIRST CHAPTER IS FINISHED

I am actually very very excited about this so enjoy the first of hopefully many chapters of Tales of a Revolution!!!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Welcome to Earth (2567 words) by Sqermy_Geco Chapters: 1/10 Fandom: Steven Universe (Cartoon) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death

===

"Pearl! Look!" Pink's eyes traced the little creature, taking up her whole mind in an instant, as if nothing else mattered. It was- it didn't matter, not really. But it played a part in the web of the Earth, as everything did. As Pink now did. And - as she realised with a start - as did Pearl. However consequential she may find herself being, she was a string now, in this planet's tapestry.

// OR //

The first book of three in a sprawling tale of the entire Gem War all the way up until Steven's birth, from Pearl's perspective. Welcome to Earth spans from Pearl and Pink first visiting Earth to Pink's first time falling in love with a human, with the first battles of the gem war, the introduction of Garnet and Bismuth and more and many philosophical ramblings in between.

[blobby-is-baby]

[noellewrxtes]

For the WIP ask game, I'm asking 9, 15, and 17!!! <3

hello, thank you for asking!! <3

9. What’s the biggest reason this project is still a WIP?

no time and adhd is the answer for most of my wips, but some of them i've hit pretty major writer's block on. aftermath in particular i was stuck on forever because i couldn't write a final scene that felt satisfying to me and i finally realized that the beginning was throwing off everything after. i've also been stuck on a james bond au i thought would be hilarious to write but i can't think of a good plot for it so it just sits in my docs.

15. What has been the easiest thing about working on this WIP so far?

oh, gosh, i don't think there's ever one single aspect of writing a wip that is consistently easy for me, so it changes depending on the project. i won't go down the list of all of my wips because it's way too long but for the wheel of fortune (my superhero au) the entire plot came to me very quickly, which is extremely rare. i just sat down to write a handful of scenes that were stuck in my head and after a few days of that i realized i basically had the entire story. usually i have to work to make everything make sense and flow from point a to point b in logical ways, but that one just came together on its own.

i have another wip i call heliocentric that's set in an original au that i've slowly just built up over time and creating that world has been surprisingly fun for me because big original worlds are not something i typically enjoy creating, but everything has just come to me very easily with that one. of course the downside is now i have so much content i want to include that doesn't really have a place in the storyn itself.

17. What POV is your WIP written from?

okay, this is actually always a struggle for me because i go into most of my new wips blind. i just have a cool idea and a handful of scenes and interactions that won't leave my brain, and so i write those and a lot of times they're not in the same pov as the others. like, i'm not against changing povs throughout a narrative (clearly) but i want to do it in ways and places that make sense and not, like, 500 words of one pov then 200 of someone else's then 450 of another because i feel like that's distracting. so i struggle with this. i'm actually having a really hard time with this exact problem in both new york is faster than yesterday and as time goes by because i want to change povs every three paragraphs and i just can't do that. bruises was written as a side piece to another wip i'm working on specifically so i could have an excuse to write flash's pov because the whole story is otherwise peter's pov.

anyway, if one character is hiding something significant it's easy for me to stick to one pov so that character can keep their secrets, but otherwise this is very very difficult for me.

[vikuku]

Reveries of the Moonlight: drugs and vampires

Not really an opinion but I really want to show you guys about Reveries of moonlight since I think it’s worth reading

Alternative title: Phantasmal tale under the moonlight

“After losing everything to the Vampires, Segun meets the Vampire hunter Silvester to become a hunter for himself. "Welcome to the world of the psychedelic moon.”

The manhwa itself promises an interesting vampire story, it was adapted by a Korean light novel called Wolyahwandam Chaewolya (월야환담 채월야) written by Hong Jeonghun meanwhile the manhwa was illustrated by Ko Jin Ho

If you want a crazy protagonist, then this manhwa is perfect for you.

His name is Segun Han (AKA junkie hunter) in my view, he’s cold and not very kind, he would do anything to complete his goal (eradicate the vampires! spoiler: then later another race lol)

Aside of crazy vampire, how about a mysterious mentor (or to say, older hunter?)

His name is Silvestre, AKA Jinma slayer (tear seeker as well!) do not try to guess his age by his appearance, he’s way older than you might think.

Vampires are much stronger than humans. For hunters to fight them, they use vampiric blood, also AKA physcedelic moon (well uh, what they do is injecting that to them, it’s like a type of drug I would say) once you inject it, your wounds will be able to regenerate and such (probably enhanced movements and more things as well… I forgot)

Unfortunately this is all I have to say, however… one last thing, my favorite panels and artworks! (some of them may contain spoilers)

[fushitoru]

私はスター ! masterlist

note: longfics are works that are >10k, and oneshots are standalone fics 1k-10k. works indicated with a star (★) contain/will contain explicit smut. proceed with caution, heed all warnings, and remember⸻don't like it? don't read it!

series.

the season of thorned roses ⸻ gojo x reader ★

dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

long-fics.

infect me with your love ⸻ gojo satoru x reader ★

you have always existed in gojo satoru’s shadow. he is a physics prodigy, a person that everyone endlessly admires for his intelligence and charisma, and you hate him for taking the spotlight that you deserve to share with him. but it all changes one day at 5:07AM at your starbucks job when gojo barges in, ordering ridiculously sweet drinks and posing existential questions. is there more to gojo that meets the eye, and is it linked to the vigilante swinging around New York City? (19.7k). part of kinktober 2024!

an imperial command ⸻ kamo choso x reader ★

you, the princess of the nation, and choso, the son of your father's most trusted general, have been inseperable since birth. but after many deem it inappropriate for him to be so close to you, the distance between you and him only deepens after he leaves for war. when he comes back older and a more handsome, bigger version of the choso of your childhood, you both grapple with love, duty, and test the bounds of propierty (13k).

a song of past romance ⸻ gojo satoru x reader ★

king gojo satoru of ithaca travels to sparta, seeking to win over who they say is the most beautiful mortal woman's heart. so when he sees you upon his arrival weaving under an olive tree, looking goddess-sent, he immediately loses the plot and concludes that it must be you that the tales and legends must talk about. it is not, but gojo has chosen who his queen will be. as gojo continues to break down your walls with his endless devotion and silver tongue, you must decide: will you let duty and your loved ones's expectations decide your fate, or will you choose the man who would defy even the heavens to claim you as his queen? (14.8k)

one-shots.

gojo satoru.

worth the wait ★

you abhor your academic rival, satoru gojo. he's a cocky asshole that you fight with constantly for the spot at first place. but when you finally discover what's underneath all those lame sweaters of his with a once in a blue moon visit at the gym (spoiler alert: he's not a scrawny nerd), you'll be fighting your severe attraction to the man who makes your life a bit harder. and maybe fall in love with him, too, in the process (8.8k)

rainy days and brownies ★

you wake up for some soft moments with your boyfriend that involves brownies (turned freaky) (2.2k)

seperation anxiety! ★

clan head satoru begs you to attend a meeting with the higher-ups, but not for the reasons you thought.

all i want for christmas is you! ★

after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him (2.8k).

the importance of skincare ★

worried about your boyfriend's skin health, you're set out on a mission to teach him about skincare, sitting him down and rubbing products over his face while seated on his lap. only, he convinces you that he has something to teach as well about facials. just not the kind you expected (1.4k)

trouble ★

an unexpected tutoring session with your bully satoru gojo leads to somewhere...unexpected (4.2k)

sukuna ryomen.

so i know who i'm looking at! ★

on halloween night, you get a strange phone call from a man with a distorted voice right as you're chilling while babysitting yuuji. you get an ultimatum: perform for him, or risk your and yuuji's lives (3.1k). part of kinktober 2024!

toji fushiguro.

finish her! ★

you will have to face one of the most formidable wrestlers in history in your next match: toji fushiguro. but don't be confused, this isn't normal wrestling⸺no, it's nude wrestling. and winner gets the spoils of the other's body! (extended ver of my toji drabble here) (3.8k). part of kinktober 2024!

multiple (seperate)

i can't stop looking at his d—d—d—d—FACE! ★

jjk men as overused p0rn/h3ntai plots! (4.1k)

back to the kitty, cause she's kinda pretty! ★

jjk men as overused p0rn/h3ntai plots! (pt 2) (3.5k). part of kinktober 2024!

drabbles

ranking types of hugs he'd be comfortable with another guy giving his gf! ⸻ gojo x reader

ranking types of hugs he'd be comfortable with another guy giving his gf! ⸻ nanami x reader

[thecapturedafrique]

While discussing with a friend what Taiyang’s allusion could be, I ended up reflecting on this meta and thinking of perhaps another way the Three Bears could be divided, where prior to Ruby’s birth we have Tai as Papa Bear, Summer as Mama Bear, and Yang as Baby Bear.

This is a very bare bones analysis that could perhaps be shored up by learning more about Taiyang and Summer’s relationship, but so far they’ve been positioned as opposites: even before Summer’s death, Yang describes her as the adventurer who went out on missions while Tai was the teacher who stayed home. We’re also told that Tai lost heart completely in the wake of Summer’s death, whereas everyone who’s compared Ruby to Summer has done so primarily by stating that they are both the type to press on despite the odds/losses.

(If we do a bit of theorizing, we could also assume Tai’s first big battle against depression occurred when Raven left him and Yang, until Summer comes along with her positivity and love and heals his first heartbreak.)

So Papa and Mama Bear are opposites who still complement one another until a tragedy befalls their family and Mama Bear dies. Our Baby Bear Yang is suddenly forced to grow up very quickly because things are no longer just right, and with Papa Bear having shutdown completely, she takes up the role of both parents for the new Baby Bear, Ruby. And as Baby Bear, Ruby forces herself into the role of being Just Right, aka repressing her own problems to maintain her seemingly endless positivity.

But we see that the allusion is breaking down, because Ruby isn’t actually Baby Bear; she’s Little Red Riding Hood, and in her fairy tale, the protagonist is indeed flawed. LRRH has stuck religiously to the path thus far, but as OP’s other metas point out, she must listen to her inner wolf to find the flowers which lie beyond from the path (very neat symbolism for our rose!) and thus become the Huntress in full.

Tai does eventually return to his role as Papa Bear (recalling how one of the first traits we learn about him is his overprotectiveness), but by that point his Baby Bear has already begun growing up and into herself as Goldilocks. Yet we still see the sliver of the bear remain in Yang, most notably when she’s juxtaposed with Ruby.

I believe this is indicative of how the “final” piece to Yang’s self-actualization revolves around her relationship with Ruby. Specifically, she needs to learn that Ruby isn’t actually the Baby Bear and thus is not someone to strictly be protected. Just as she learned by defeating Adam and becoming the Golden Prince to Blake’s Beauty, Yang must accept that her little sister has grown up into someone who can offer her protection and support too, and that she is as deserving of it as she believes Ruby to be.

Yang's Goldilocks is Beautiful

Scathing eyes ask that we be symmetrical, one sided and easily processed. Yet every misshapen spark's unseen beauty is greater than its would be judgement.

The Yellow Trailer - like all trailers - foreshadows Yang's arc on multiple levels and it gives some hints on how our Sunny Little Dragon's allusion is used in her story.

To be more specific, Yang's trailer can be read in 2 ways:

The Yellow Trailer is Goldilocks and the Three Bears in a nutshell: Yang enters the Bears' turf (their house), asks about Raven and then trashes the place. She fights 3 opponents: the Malachite twins (red and blue, so too hot and too cold) and Junior (The Baby Bear). After all the ruckus, Yang simply jumps from a window and disappears, like her literary counterpart.

The Yellow Trailer also contains a super condensed version of Snowhite and Red Rose: The Malachite Twins play Snowhite and Red Rose, a pair of sisters that befriend a Bear. The Malachites use discarded designs of Weiss and Ruby and fight side by side with Junior, whose name means Black Bear. Their fairy tale should end with the Bear becoming a Prince with a Golden Armor. However, here comes Yang to take central stage. She plays the part of the Golden Prince herself and defeats the bear-curse (Junior). In other words, she enters the Malachites' story and makes it hers.

These 2 readings are complementary and offer 2 interpretative keys to Yang's allusion. The first is rooted in Goldilocks' plot and gives us the recurring motifs of Yang's arc. It helps us understand where we currently are in Yang's fairy tale and how much we still have to cover. The second instead adds a meta-element that gives Yang's Goldilocks an even deeper meaning.

Here comes the 2 reading clues:

Yang's Goldilocks motifs are the too hot/too cold (the Malachites Twins) and the Baby Bear/Just Right (Junior). To be clear: to reach her just right Yang has to go through her hot/cold sides and face her inner beast (the Baby Bear), so that she can emerge as a Golden Prince.

Goldilocks enters a strangers' house and tries to fit in. Well, Yang does the same, but with others' fairy tales instead. This is why her trailer is the only one with 2 fairy tales instead than 1.

You aren't convinced by this last point, are you? And yet, it is a very easy point to prove. Let's consider, for example, Yang's flashback in Burning the Candle:

Yang: I waited for Dad to leave the house, put Ruby in a wagon, and headed out. I must’ve walked for hours. I had cuts and bruises, I was totally exhausted, but I wasn’t gonna let anything stop me. When we finally got there, I could barely stand, but I didn’t care; I had made it. And then I saw them. Those burning red eyes…

This memory is clearly key to Yang's character to the point it can be considered the beginning of her story. So, it is no surprise it has some similarities with her fairy tale. A rebellious little girl wanders in the woods and finds a mysterious wooden house. The child hopes she will find a place for her there, but she discovers soon it is home to 3 scary beasts.

However, something feels odd. For starters, the 3 Grimms Yang meets are not Ursai, as one would expect, but Beowolves. Secondly, Yang does not run away, like in Goldilocks, but is saved by her Uncle Qrow, a model Huntsman. So, Yang disobeys Tai and goes alone into the woods, she is almost eaten by Beowolves and is saved by a Huntsman. This isn't Goldilocks and The Three Bears. This is Little Red Riding Hood.

Wait, what? What does this all mean? Let's start from the very beginning...

ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD...

Once upon a time, there was Summer Rose's daughter. She lived happily with her little sister and was protected from evil beasts, be them wolves or bears alike. Then, something bad happened:

Yang: Her name was Summer Rose, and she was, like… Super-Mom: Baker of cookies and slayer of giant monsters. And then… one day she left for a mission and never came back.

Summer disappears and is revealed not to be Yang's biological mother. This is a double-layered trauma. On the one hand Summer not coming home triggers Yang's abandonement issues. On the other hand the discovery of Raven's existence just make them worse. Not 1, but 2 moms left Yang. Then, it must be Yang's fault. By the time of her expedition into the woods, Yang is clearly facing these very complex and painful emotions, that get metaphorically explored through a short version of Little Red Riding Hood. Let's analyze it, by considering these 3 elements:

The Mother Yang is looking for

Ruby - the real LRRH - being with Yang

The Big Bad Wolves Yang meets

1 - Who is Yang really looking for? She is searching for Raven, but unconsciously she wants to know why Summer left. This is why the scenario resembles LRRH more than Goldilocks. Yang is a child that has just lost her mother twice - both physically and psychologically.

In her mind, this double loss materializes in the form of 2 distinctive mothers: Summer who is missing and Raven who is tormenting Yang's mind. Yang's reaction is to go hunting for both.

2 - Yang puts a sleeping Ruby on a wagon and starts her journey. The scene describes how Summer's grief was handled in Yang's family:

Yang: Ruby was really torn up, but… I think she was still too young to really get what was going on, y'know? And my dad just kind of… shut down.

Tai is absent because he shut down, Ruby is unconscious because too little to understand what's happening (or so Yang thinks) and Yang starts her lonely pursue while trying to take care of her sister.

3 - Yang meets 3 Bewolves with burning red eyes. Here is where Little Red Riding Hood starts blending with Goldilocks and The Three Bears. Hood meets only 1 wolf (2 at most in some versions), while Yang meets 3 at the same time. 3 like the bears of her fairy tale.

At the same time, the motif of the eyes is very dear to LRRH:

"Oh, grandmother, what big eyes you have!"

However, the idea of 3 beasts seizing you up as different and unwelcomed is really Goldilocks-like. In the original story, the 3 bears find Goldilocks in their house and immediately condemn her behavior and attack her. She is a stranger, an outsider. She shouldn't be there. She brings chaos in their symmetrical world:

Scathing eyes (scathing eyes) That see things from only one side

So, the wolves' scary eyes become the bears' judgemental ones and Little Red Riding Hood is degraded into Goldilocks.

Wait, why degraded? I have nothing against Goldilocks, but it is often considered an imperfect fairy tale with no beginning nor conclusion. Where does Goldilocks come from and where does she go after the 3 Bears? There is no answer.

Goldilocks lacks an objective and a drive:

Yang: At least you two have something that drives you. I've just kinda of always, gone with the flow, y'know? And that's fine, I mean, that's who I am. I wanna be a Huntress, not really because I want to be a hero, but because I want the adventure. I want a life where I won't know what tomorrow will bring. And that'll be a good thing. Being a Huntress just happens to line up with that.

She is not like Little Red Riding Hood:

Yang: I'm not like Ruby, she's always wanted to be a Huntress. It's like she said, ever since she was a kid, she'd dreamt about being the heroes in the books. Helping people and saving the day, and never asking for anything else in return. Even when she couldn't fight, she knew that's what she wanted to do. That's why she trained so hard to get where she is today.

Yang's transformation into Goldilocks, then perfectly describes our girl's interiority and self-perception. She feels wrong, incomplete and asymmetrical. She isn't Summer's daughter, but Raven's. She isn't Little Red Riding Hood, but Goldilocks. The flashback in Burning the Candle simply gives an origin and an explanation to this unconscious feeling of inadequacy:

Yang: There we were: A toddler sleeping in the back of a wagon and a stupid girl too exhausted to even cry for help. We might as well have been served on a silver platter.

Yang is almost responsible for Ruby's death. This is why the red eyes imagery appears and sticks with Yang from here on out. After all, nobody thinks of Yang as unfitting or different, but Yang herself:

She is at the same time Goldilocks and the Bears judging her.

HERE COMES GOLDILOCKS!

Goldilocks and the Three Bears makes up the meat of Yang's story. Once again, the Yellow Trailer tells us how to interpret this fairy tale. There Yang is looking for Raven, but finds 3 downgraded versions of her teammates. The Malachites are Ruby and Weiss (Red Rose and Snowhite), while Junior is a Black Beast, just like Blake. This brings 2 considerations:

Whenever Yang fails to find Raven, she discovers one of her teammates instead. In the Yellow Trailer, Yang finds Ruby. At the Branwen Camp, she meets Weiss. When Raven runs away at the end of the Haven Battle, there is Blake waiting for Yang.

Ruby, Weiss and Blake are respectively the too hot (red), too cold (blue) and just right (red + blue = purple) of Yang's fairy tale.

Let's explore these patterns up until now, with a special focus on the Mistral Arc.

YANG AND RAVEN: TOO COLD, TOO HOT AND NEVER RIGHT

So far, Yang has tried to find Raven 3 times, which can be seen as a set of too cold, too hot and just right.

Too cold - As a child, Yang goes alone into the woods, but she is too weak to fight the Grimms waiting for her. She can only stare back frozen in fear.

Too hot - In the Yellow Trailer, Yang has grown strong enough. A douchebag flirts with her? She catches fire and punches him in the face. However, she still lacks knowledge of Raven's whereabouts.

Strength and Knowledge are the 2 ideas Raven has built her whole persona around:

Cinder: You know, I've heard so many stories about you, Raven. They say you're a cunning leader, that you're strong, that you're clever.

This is why Yang too has to prove she is strong and clever enough to find her mom. Third time is the charm and, as the gas station called Just Rite lets us know, things are finally just right for Yang and Raven to meet.

Just right:

Shay: Seriously. Not too bulky. Not too lean. You're… Yang: Just right. Yup. Like I said, I'm good.

Everything looks perfect, doesn't it? After being told twice she is too young:

Junior: Aren't you a little young to be in this club, Blondie?

Just Rite Bartender: Aren't you a little young to be drinking?

Yang is welcomed by her mom, who is ready to tell her all the truths adults have been hiding:

Raven: But I must admit that you've proven yourself. So any questions you have I'll be happy to answer.

After the Strawberry Sunrise of the trailer (too fancy) and the water bottle of the gas station (too plain), Raven offers her tea (just right), adding she likes it hot (just like Yang herself). And yet:

Yang refuses Raven's cup and chooses to leave her mom just after finding her.

Why is that so?

There are 2 thematic reasons. The 1st is about Yang and Raven's foiling, while the 2nd ties with Goldilocks and the Three Bears in general.

1 - Yang is too selfless, while Raven is too selfish

Let's compare these 2 scenes:

Raven: I'm giving you a choice. Stay here, with me, and I'll answer all your questions and more. We can have a fresh start. Or…you can go back to Qrow and join Ozpin's impossible war against Salem, and meet the same fate as so many others.

Yang: Because you're afraid of Salem!!! And if you thought having Maiden powers put a target on your back, imagine what she'll do when she finds out you have a Relic. She'll come after you with everything she has. Or she can come after me.

Yang and Raven are offered a choice. Yang must choose between Raven and Ruby. Raven between herself and Yang. Yang chooses her little sister and puts Ruby's safety before her own wishes. Raven instead chooses to survive even if it means Yang may die.

The end result is apparently the same. Both Yang and Raven leave through a window (a portal), like Goldilocks. However, their choices reveal 2 very different takes on the character. To be more specific, Raven plays the Little Old Woman to Yang's Goldilocks.

Goldilocks and the Three Bears is, in fact, a recent rewriting of an old fable, where a Little Old Woman enters the Bears's house to steal their food. In this version, the intruder isn't painted as a charming beautiful child, but as a greedy burglar only interested in stealing from the Bears. This fits Raven, a bandit who attacks towns and leaves them an easy prey for Grimms.

At the same time, Goldilocks' fairy tale may be the evolution of the Little Old Woman's fable, but it is not the same story. Similarly, Yang is Raven's daughter, but she isn't like her mother:

Yang: I'm not like you. I won't run.

Yang decides to write a brand new version of the story, which doesn't follow Raven's narrative. She chooses to become a Goldilocks that doesn't run. Not a Goldilocks who steals out of selfishness, but one who steps in out of selflessness.

2- Goldilocks and the Three Bears has no fairy-tale ending:

Yang: All of this endless death, because something bad happened to you once upon a time?! Nobody gets a fairy-tale ending!

Goldilocks runs away in the woods and doesn't have to face consequences for her behaviour. Similarly, the Bears do not really have to solve the mystery of this strange intruder. Who is the child? Where does she come from? They don't know and they don't care.

Goldilocks is ultimately a story of characters that run away from difficult things. In this way, though, they do not evolve and there is no proper closure. The central problem of Goldilocks's identity and of where she fits is left unsolved. Ironically, the famous "just right" is never found:

This time it was neither too hot nor too cold. It was just right and so delicious that she ate it all up. But she was too heavy for the little chair and it broke in pieces under her weight.

Even when the porridge tastes good, the chair breaks and Goldilocks falls.

The same goes for Yang and Raven in volume 5. Yang initially struggles to see Raven in her complexity (like the Bears), while Raven eventually runs away (like Goldilocks).

Most importantly, though, they both get a chance to choose the other, but don't. So, even if both heartbroken, they never find their "just right".

TEAM RWBY: HOT, COLD, JUST RIGHT

Ruby, Weiss and Blake are Yang's hot, cold and just right. This doesn't mean Ruby and Weiss are "wrong" for Yang, though. In reality, all 3 girls are necessary for Yang's arc, starting with her recovery after the Fall of Beacon.

Ruby is too hot: in volume 4 Yang is defeated and depressed. Her inner fire is out, which is why her hair (her flames) is in a pony-tail, restricted. For better or worse, Ruby is the reason why Yang pulls herself back together. The determination to find and protect her little sister is enough to fire Yang up and to start her recovery. This is also why the song Ignite focuses specifically on Yang jumping in the fray to protect Ruby (her family):

Usually I devastate This time, might annihilate Any minute now You're gonna rue our meeting Messing with my family Means that soon you're history The moments of your life are fleeting

Weiss is too cold: in volume 5 Yang deals with a lot of inner turmoil and is very easy to trigger. Be it Raven or Blake, her eyes are quick to turn red with anger. The one who manages to cool Yang down is Weiss. She is at Yang's side at the camp and checks on her well being several times. Later on, she is the one that helps Yang see things from a different perspective when it comes to Blake:

Weiss: You're right though. I don't know loneliness like you do. I have my own version. And, I'll bet Blake has her own version too.

Blake is the just right: Yang's journey in Mistral leads her to Blake. She has to face her demons, overcome Raven and reach her inner "just right" (balance) to find Blake once again. At the same time, Blake herself spells out what the "just right" is in volume 6.

Not too hot:

Blake: Hey, I'm not leaving. And if we ever see him again, I promise I'll be there. And I'll protect you. Yang: What? Blake: What? Yang: Forget it. Let's just head back.

Not too cold:

Adam: Heh, do you really believe that? Or are you just trying to scare me away so you won't have to die trying to protect her?

Just right:

Blake: She's not protecting me, Adam. And I'm not protecting her. We're protecting each other.

Ruby gives Yang love, warmth and inspiration, even after Summer's disappearance. Weiss cools Yang off and teaches her empathy better than Raven. Blake is ready to accept Yang in all her vulnerability and strength. Her teammates are the place Yang belongs to. Three people that have welcomed Yang. Three kind bears.

IS THE MISTRAL ARC'S "JUST RIGHT"... JUST RIGHT?

Yang's arc up until now has been the search for the "just right" both inside and outside.

Inside: Yang has learnt not to rely on her Semblance too much. After all, Burn is nothing, but a metaphorical representation of the "too hot" of her fairy tale. This is why Yang has had to reduce its use in order to find her just right. On a deeper level, she has had to face her anger towards Raven and Blake to see her 2 loved ones clearly, in all their contradictions. She has had to tone her emotions down, so that she could let go of her interiorized "scathing eyes".

Outside: she has restored her bonds with her teammates that right now are stronger than ever. In particular, her relationship with Blake has been progressing and, after Adam, they have grown even closer.

So, is everything done? Can Yang reach her happy ending provided that Salem doesn't destroy the world? Obviously, the answer is "not yet".

On the one hand it is clear Raven is bound to come back into the story, so that she and Yang can have some kind of closure. On the other hand Blake's resolution to stand beside Yang no matter what is beautiful, but has not really been tested, so far.

By this, I mean that Bumbleby's focus in the Mistral Arc has mostly seen Yang be there for Blake and help her complete her arc through defeating Adam. Sure, this has been an important development for Yang as well, but Blake has been interestingly absent from Yang's personal subplots, that have instead seen a major involvement by Ruby and Weiss. I wouldn't be surprised if this tendency were to be changed towards the end.

Let's briefly consider the 2 instances where Yang's Goldilocks has been alluded to directly: the Yellow Trailer and the Just Rite scene. The 2 situations are clear paralles. Yang is looking for Raven and she wants something to drink. However, there is a difference:

Yang: Strawberry Sunrise. No ice. Oh, and one of those little umbrellas.

Yang: A water. It's hot out.

The meaning is clear. In both situations Yang wants to find Raven, but the first one is the "too hot" (no ice) and it ends with Yang meeting Ruby, while the second is the "too cold" (water to cool down) and it ends with Yang meeting Weiss.

So, there might still be a "just right" scene in the future that involves Raven and Blake. If this is the case, it may offer proper closure to Yang and Raven's mother-daughter's relationship.

Blake may play a part in this by assisting Yang. Alternatively, she might support Yang when she faces the true issue at the root of her struggle: Summer Rose, LRRH's mother.

After all, Yang's story starts with Summer's disappearance, so it only makes sense that it ends with her return. She left as LRRH's mother and is probably going to come back as the Big Bad Wolf in some form, at least in Ruby's story. What about Yang, though? She isn't Little Red Riding Hood, so which form is Summer gonna take in her story? Well, she may very well be the Cursed Rose that brings out Yang's inner Beast.

... AND THEN THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER

Blake and Yang are each others' Beauty and the Beast. Blake's name can mean both black and white, so she is both shadow (beast) and light (beauty). She is the Beast that looks for redemption and the Beauty that temporary leaves the Beast.

What about Yang?

She too is Beauty and Beast, with her duality easily found in her fairy tale. She is a beauty that burns (Goldilocks) and a wounded beast (the Baby Bear). In this way, RWBY solves the mystery behind the character of Goldilocks. Who is Goldilocks? Just another story's Baby Bear, a child whose place in the world has been threatened. A child who has been looking where to fit since then.

Luckily for Yang, Blake is ready to take her in. When her inner beast, which is nothing, but her vulnerability, comes out, Blake will accept it and welcome her in their shared "happy ending". After all, Blake's fairy tale is the opposite of Yang's. Goldilocks has no resolution, while Beauty & Beast has a "happily ever after" that needs 2 people to be meaningful. This is why meta-narratively, Yang looks for a fairy-tale that can fit her, while Blake wants someone that can complete her story. This is why they are perfect for each other. Together, they make a tale as old as time. As old as the very beginning of our story:

Black the beast descends from shadows. Yellow beauty burns gold.

YELLOW BEAUTY BURNS GOLD

Yang's presentation line in Red Like Roses foreshadows her happy ending with Blake. Still, there is another deeper meaning to it, which is probably going to be the main theme of Yang's arc.

First of all, Yang is built on the idea of "hot". Our pun-loving girl is herself a pun on "hotness":

You're standing too close to a flame that's burning Hotter than the sun in the middle of July

She is introduced as an eye-candy hot girl. Then she is revealed as a ruthless and hot-blooded fighter. This is the dualism Ember Celica is built on: they appear as a pair of bracelets that transform into explosive gauntlets. Is that the root of Yang's character? There is more, which becomes clear the moment Yang loses an arm and becomes "asymmetrical".

What does Yang's "asymmetry" stands for? Once you think at her fairy tale and semblance, it becomes clear: Yang is "too hot". This is why she loses her arm, as well. She explodes in flames when she should have stayed cool, and loses a part of herself as a result. This is why her development is essentially... "her cooling down".

This process is shown also through her Semblance. When Yang uses Burn, her hair catches fire and her eyes go from purple to red. The symbolism is clear: she is usually the "just right" (purple), but her semblance makes her "too hot" (red). Her own semblance is a metaphor for Yang's inner asymmetry and unbalance. This is why she is the only one among her friends that has had to reduce the use of her semblance, instead of developing it.

Still, Semblances represent who people are, for better or worse. This is why a development that ends with a character simply repressing their Semblance is not gonna work. Burn will most likely evolve and affirm itself again in all its "hotness", in all its beauty:

Neon Katt: Ooh! Flashy eyes! Y'know, you're actually kinda pretty when you're angry.

When Yang uses her semblance she is beautiful. That is not just a physical attribute, but a thematic statement. There is beauty in Yang taking in the trauma and using it to grow stronger and protect her loved ones. There is beauty in her showing her emotions instead of keeping them hidden. Sure, she must pay attention not to "burn out" nor to let anger blind her. Still, there is value in her asymmetrical "too hot".

And here comes the final twist on Yang's fairy tale. Goldilocks and The Three Bears is a story that celebrates the "just right", but never finds it. Yang's story has her discover the "just right" does not really exist and that in itself is good. Because there are not "just right" people and then the rest. Everyone is asymmetrical and complex. Weiss seems cold, but has a lot of warmth inside. Ruby is Yang's little sister, but also her competent leader. Blake runs away, but she is also braver than anyone else. Raven and Tai's relationship may be hot/cold, but it still generated Yang, who is the "just right" (her purple eyes mix Raven's red and Tai's blue).

As a child (Goldilocks), Yang feels she doesn't fit, but as an adult (Blake's Burning Beauty) she realizes it is okay not to fit. After all, she is beautiful (hot) precisely because she burns gold:

Crash and burn (crash and burn) Some lessons are just hard to learn Scathing eyes (scathing eyes) That see things from only one side Yet every misshapen spark Suffers the judgment and pain But just as light conquers dark There's a beauty that's greater Than pure symmetry can contain So let's start the game!

Yang is the "too hot" of her fairy-tale and that in itself is "just right".

[amethystarachnid]

Hi I've just come across your Valentines challenge and I love it! My request is Fake Dating and Loki. Please!

PRETENDING

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, some angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open (only by asks)

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 10k

ᯓ★ Summary: when your father tells you about the marriage he has arranged for you you are already coming up with a plan to escape it, and you might need the help of your dear friend, the God of Mischief.

ᯓ★ TW(s): someone stabs someone else with a poisoned knife and the injuried one goes into a coma (I wrote it like this to not spoiler anything lol)

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The golden spires of Asgard stretch into the endless sky, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. You stand on one of the many ornate balconies of your father’s estate, the heavy folds of your gown brushing the marble beneath your feet. From here, you can see the Bifrost bridge shimmering in the distance, but the breathtaking view offers no comfort. Not when the weight of your father's latest decision hangs over you like a storm cloud.

“Y/n,” he had said only this morning, his voice firm with the kind of authority that leaves little room for argument, “Lord Eirik is a wise and wealthy man. The union would benefit our house greatly.”

Lord Eirik. The name alone makes your skin crawl. You’d met him once, years ago—a man older than your father, with cold eyes that roamed far too freely. And now, your father expects you to marry him, all for the sake of strengthening alliances and preserving the honor of your house.

You grip the balcony railing tighter, your knuckles turning white. There has to be another way.

The soft sound of footsteps pulls you from your thoughts, light and calculated, as if the person approaching enjoys the art of making an entrance without announcing it. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“Pouting over arranged marriages? How very traditional of you,” Loki’s voice is smooth, laced with amusement, but there’s an undercurrent of curiosity.

You sigh but can’t help the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m not pouting.”

Loki steps closer, leaning against the railing beside you. His emerald-green robes flutter gently in the evening breeze, and his raven-black hair, perfectly styled as always, catches the last rays of sunlight. Mischief dances in his eyes, but there’s something softer there too—something he hides well.

“Then what would you call this brooding display?” he asks, gesturing vaguely at your stiff posture.

“Desperation,” you mutter, before you even think to stop yourself.

Loki arches a dark brow, his curiosity piqued. “That bad?”

You finally turn to him, your chest tightening. Of all the people in Asgard, Loki is the one you can trust, even if trusting him sometimes means falling victim to elaborate pranks or being roped into schemes you didn’t sign up for. But he’s been your friend for years, since you were both barely more than children running through the palace halls, and now he’s the only one you can think to turn to.

“I need your help,” you say, the words tasting heavier than you expected.

Loki straightens, his playful smirk faltering just slightly. He crosses his arms, studying you. “Now this is interesting. Usually, people only seek my help when they’ve truly run out of options.”

“I have run out of options.” You let the frustration bleed into your voice, feeling the weight of it. “My father is going to marry me off to Lord Eirik. I can’t—” You stop, the bile rising in your throat. “I won’t do it.”

Loki’s expression shifts, the humor fading. There’s a flicker of something deeper—concern? Anger? It’s hard to tell with him. “I assume your father isn’t one for simple persuasion?”

You scoff. “Not when it comes to alliances. He’s set on this, Loki. The only way he’ll back down is if he believes I’m already… involved.” You hesitate before forcing the rest of the words out. “With someone more powerful. Someone he wouldn’t dare cross.”

Loki’s sharp mind picks up on your meaning instantly. His smile returns, slow and deliberate. “And who better than the God of Mischief himself?”

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding. “Will you do it? Pretend, I mean? Just until my father calls off the arrangement.”

He leans in, closer than necessary, his breath brushing against your cheek. “Darling, you wound me. Of course, I’ll help.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, a wave of relief washing over you. But before you can thank him, he adds with a wicked grin, “Though I must warn you, I’m an exceptional actor. You might fall in love with me for real.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the warmth that blooms in your chest. “In your dreams, Loki.”

He chuckles, but there’s something else beneath his laughter—something softer, hidden deep. If only you knew how close to the truth his teasing really is.

The next morning, it begins.

Loki arrives at your family’s estate in a flourish of green and gold, his entrance nothing short of theatrical. His presence alone commands attention, but today, there’s an extra layer to his performance. His smile is softer when he sees you, his touches more lingering, every gesture calculated to sell the lie.

Your father watches from the grand hall, seated on his ornate throne-like chair. His expression is unreadable as Loki approaches him, your hand securely tucked in the crook of his arm.

“Lord Y/f/n,” Loki begins, his voice carrying a practiced charm, “I believe you and I have much to discuss.”

Your father’s gaze flickers between the two of you, his jaw tightening. “Does this have something to do with my daughter?”

Loki’s smile widens, and he draws you subtly closer. “Indeed. You see, we’ve been… involved for quite some time now. And I thought it best to make our intentions clear before any unfortunate misunderstandings arose.”

There’s a heavy pause, the kind that seems to stretch across the entire hall. Your father’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he might call the bluff.

But then, he speaks. “I see.”

It’s hard to tell if he believes it, or if he simply recognizes the delicate politics at play. After all, Loki is the prince of Asgard, brother to Thor, son of Odin—if your father openly challenges him, it could mean far more than just a personal insult.

He exhales slowly, leaning back in his chair. “I assume you intend to treat her with the respect she deserves?”

Loki dips his head in a mock bow, though his voice is sincere when he says, “Of course. Y/n is… precious to me.”

Your heart stutters at the way he says it, but you quickly remind yourself that this is all part of the act.

Later, as you walk through the palace gardens, away from the prying eyes and heavy expectations, you turn to him. “That was… convincing.”

He offers a playful grin. “Did you doubt me?”

“Not for a second.”

You both fall into an easy silence, the kind that only comes with years of friendship. Yet now, there’s something unspoken between you—a tension you can’t quite name.

“Thank you,” you say softly, breaking the quiet.

Loki stops walking, turning to face you fully. There’s something in his eyes, something deeper than mischief. “Anything for you, Y/n.”

You feel your breath catch, and for a fleeting second, you wonder if this is still just part of the act.

But before you can dwell on it, he smirks again, the moment slipping away. “Now, shall we make this charade more convincing? I believe a few stolen glances and lingering touches are expected.”

You laugh, swatting at his arm. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are, fake betrothed to me.”

What neither of you says is how easily this charade could slip into something real.

For Loki, it already has.

And for you? Well, only time will tell.

The next few days in Asgard unfold like scenes from a grand play, each one more elaborate than the last. It doesn’t take long before whispers ripple through the golden halls, carried on the breeze like wildfire.

You hear them everywhere—soft-spoken words trailing behind you as you walk through the palace gardens with Loki, your arm laced in his, your smile painted carefully onto your face. The stories grow with every passing day, stretching the truth in ways only Asgardians could manage.

“Did you hear? Prince Loki and Lady Y/n have been secretly involved for years.”

“I always suspected something. Did you see the way he looked at her during the last feast? Like she was the only one in the room.”

“I heard he challenged Lord Eirik himself, told him to stay away from her.”

“That’s not all. Someone said he plans to propose soon. Imagine that—a royal wedding!”

You try not to let the gossip get under your skin, but it’s impossible not to hear it, impossible not to feel the stares following you everywhere you go. Loki, on the other hand, thrives in it. He walks beside you with the ease of someone who has spent a lifetime performing for an audience. He basks in the attention, offering charming smiles and knowing glances to anyone bold enough to meet his eyes.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” you murmur one afternoon as you pass a group of noblewomen who pretend to be absorbed in a conversation but clearly hang onto every word between you and Loki.

“Immensely,” Loki replies without missing a beat. He leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear. “Though, I think I could convince you to enjoy it more if you’d play along a little better.”

You pull back to glare at him, but the twinkle in his green eyes disarms you. “I am playing along.”

“Hardly. You still stiffen every time I touch you.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

You huff in annoyance, but the truth of his words gnaws at you. Despite the charade, despite the time you’ve spent with Loki over the years, something about the closeness now—about what it means—makes it harder to pretend. Because pretending means noticing things you’ve tried not to notice before. Like the way his fingers linger at the small of your back, or how his gaze softens when he thinks you aren’t looking.

Still, you manage a smile for the sake of your audience and link your fingers more tightly with his. “I’ll try harder.”

“Good.” He grins, triumphant.

But the real test comes sooner than you expect.

Loki approaches you late one evening in the palace library, where you’ve sought refuge from the endless gossip and prying eyes. The tall shelves lined with ancient tomes offer some comfort, but not nearly enough.

He strides in, his dark green cloak billowing behind him, and you know immediately that something is different.

“What?” you ask, setting the book aside.

He leans against the table, his fingers drumming against the polished wood. “We’ve been summoned.”

Your stomach twists. “Summoned?”

“To see my parents.”

The words hang heavy in the air. Odin. Frigga. Meeting the All-Father and the Queen wasn’t something you’d fully thought through when you first begged Loki for help. But of course, it was inevitable. If the story was going to hold, you’d have to convince them as well.

You try to steady your breathing. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

You swallow hard. “And… what do we do?”

Loki’s usual confidence falters for a moment, so brief you almost miss it. But then he straightens, slipping back into the role as easily as breathing. “We do what we’ve been doing. Pretend.”

You stand, nerves knotting in your chest. “It’s Odin. And Frigga. They’ll see right through us.”

He steps closer, his expression softening. “Frigga might. But Odin… well, he’s been fooled before.”

There’s a flicker of bitterness in his voice, quickly masked, but you choose not to push. Instead, you take a deep breath and meet his gaze. “Then let’s make it believable.”

The next morning arrives far too quickly.

You wear a flowing gown of deep emerald silk, chosen carefully to match Loki’s signature color. Your hair is braided elegantly, delicate gold threads woven through it—Frigga’s tastes are well-known, and you hope to make a good impression.

Loki meets you outside the grand hall, looking every bit the prince in his regal Asgardian attire. He offers you his arm, and when you hesitate for just a moment too long, he smiles softly. “It’ll be fine.”

You place your hand on his arm, feeling the tension beneath his cool exterior. “You’re nervous too.”

“Of course. I’m about to introduce my supposed beloved to the All-Father and the Queen. They’ll dissect everything you say.” He pauses, then adds more quietly, “But you’ll do fine.”

The heavy doors of the hall creak open, and together you step inside.

Odin sits on his throne, his golden armor gleaming beneath the grand beams of the hall, Gungnir resting at his side. His one good eye fixes on you and Loki as you approach, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Frigga sits with her usual calm grace, her blue robes flowing around her like water, though her eyes are sharp and knowing.

You bow low, as does Loki, though his is more casual, a prince bowing to his own parents but still observing the formality.

“Mother, Father,” Loki begins, his voice smooth but carefully measured, “I bring Lady Y/n before you.”

Odin’s gaze lingers on you, heavy and powerful, and you feel the weight of his scrutiny. “We have heard whispers,” he says finally, his deep voice reverberating through the hall. “Of your… intentions.”

Loki nods, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. “Indeed. Y/n and I have been… close for some time now. I thought it best you meet her.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Frigga speaks next, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/n. I’ve long heard of your family’s standing.”

You straighten, trying to hide the nervous flutter in your chest. “The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty.”

Her smile is kind, but her eyes are sharp. She sees more than she lets on.

Odin leans forward, his knuckles tightening around Gungnir. “And tell me, Lady Y/n, what is it about my son that draws your affections?”

Your heart pounds. This is it—the moment that could unravel everything if you don’t answer carefully.

You glance at Loki, who watches you intently, his usual smirk absent, his jaw tense. And in that moment, something shifts. You think of all the times he’s been there—the years of friendship, the whispered secrets, the laughter, the mischief, and now this.

You meet Odin’s gaze. “Loki has been my friend for many years. He is… brilliant, clever, and fiercely loyal to those he cares for. Beneath his mischief, there is kindness—more than most people see.” You pause, swallowing. “And he makes me feel… seen.”

The hall is silent. Odin watches you carefully, but Frigga’s expression softens.

Loki clears his throat, breaking the tension. “As you can see, Father, I chose wisely.”

Frigga’s smile returns, more genuine now. “It seems you have.”

Odin leans back, still unreadable. “We shall see.”

The meeting ends shortly after, but the tension lingers as you and Loki leave the hall.

You exhale deeply once the heavy doors close behind you. “Well. That was… terrifying.”

Loki chuckles, though it’s quieter than usual. “You did well. Even I almost believed you.”

You arch a brow at him. “Almost?”

He smirks, but there’s something softer in his eyes. “You were… convincing.”

As you walk through the palace, you notice more than ever how the whispers have grown. You catch snippets—your name, Loki’s, theories about how long the two of you have been secretly involved, about whether wedding bells are on the horizon.

It should feel overwhelming, but strangely, it doesn’t. Not with Loki walking beside you, his arm brushing against yours, his warmth grounding you.

But what lingers most is the look on Frigga’s face when you spoke—the knowing softness in her eyes, as if she could see right through the lies to something else, something truer.

You wonder if she saw the same thing you’re beginning to feel. Something deepening between you and Loki, something you didn’t expect.

And as Loki glances at you, his smile softer now, less forced, you can’t help but wonder if he feels it too.

The calm that settles over Asgard after your meeting with Odin and Frigga is short-lived. For a few brief days, you feel the weight lifting, as if the worst of it is behind you. The whispers in the palace grow louder, but now they carry a different tone—gossip laced with excitement rather than judgment. People speak of your so-called love affair with Loki as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

But the feeling of safety is fragile, thin as glass, and it shatters the moment Lord Eirik returns to the city.

You first hear of his arrival from one of the palace maids, who finds you in the gardens where you and Loki had spent countless hours perfecting your act. She approaches nervously, her hands clasped in front of her, eyes wide.

“My lady,” she whispers, glancing around to ensure no one overhears. “Lord Eirik has returned. He rode through the gates this morning.”

The news strikes like a physical blow, the breath catching in your throat.

“Already?” you manage to ask, your fingers tightening around the edge of the marble bench you sit on.

She nods quickly. “I heard he was… furious.”

The words hang in the air long after she departs, leaving you alone in the garden’s silence. You stare at the carefully trimmed hedges, your heart racing. Of course, Eirik wouldn’t take this lightly. His pride, his status—it was all tied to the alliance your father had promised him. And now, with you publicly attached to Loki, that promise had crumbled before his eyes.

A shadow looms over you before you even hear the approaching footsteps.

“I heard,” Loki says smoothly as he sits beside you, though there’s an edge to his voice, something darker than his usual playful tone.

“Of course you did.” You sigh, your shoulders sagging. “What do we do now?”

He leans back on the bench, looking up at the blue Asgardian sky, but there’s tension in the set of his jaw. “We keep pretending. And we let him come to us. I’m sure he will.”

You glance at him, worry swirling in your chest. “Loki, Eirik isn’t like the nobles who whisper behind fans and silk curtains. He won’t just let this go.”

A sharp smile curls at Loki’s lips, but there’s no warmth in it. “Then let him try something.”

You know that tone. It’s the same one he uses when he’s plotting something dangerous, something reckless.

“Loki…” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I won’t let him lay a hand on you, Y/n.”

It should comfort you, but all it does is make the knot in your chest tighten.

You don’t have to wait long before Eirik makes his move.

That evening, as you walk the palace corridors alone—something you now regret—his voice cuts through the stillness.

“My lady.”

You freeze before turning around.

Lord Eirik stands at the end of the corridor, dressed in deep burgundy robes lined with fur, his gray-streaked beard groomed perfectly, though his sharp eyes burn with fury.

You swallow, trying to summon the courage you’d had when speaking to Odin. “Lord Eirik,” you say as calmly as you can, though your heart pounds in your chest.

He strides toward you, each heavy step echoing off the marble walls. “I had expected a different welcome upon my return. Perhaps one from my betrothed.”

You straighten your shoulders, meeting his gaze. “I am not your betrothed.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “That was not your decision to make.”

The air between you thickens with tension, heavy and suffocating.

“My father agreed to the arrangement, yes,” you say carefully, “but I never did.”

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, you see the true depth of his anger, barely restrained beneath the surface. “And yet, now you belong to Loki? Do you think I don’t see this for what it is? A ruse. A desperate attempt to escape a future you did not want.”

You flinch, but refuse to look away. “If you see it so clearly, then why bother?”

“Because,” he hisses, stepping closer, his voice dropping into something low and dangerous, “I do not take well to being made a fool of.”

Your heart races, but you stand your ground. “I made my choice.”

Eirik’s hand twitches at his side, like he’s considering reaching for you, but before he can make another move, a familiar voice slices through the corridor, smooth and laced with venom.

“I suggest you step away from her, Eirik.”

You turn just as Loki appears from the shadows, his tall figure tense with restrained fury. His usual playful demeanor is gone, replaced with something far more dangerous. His green eyes burn as he closes the distance between the three of you, his steps slow and deliberate.

Eirik sneers. “So, the prince emerges. Tell me, Loki, how long do you expect this little performance to last?”

Loki stops at your side, his presence a solid wall between you and Eirik now. “Long enough for you to realize that she is no longer available to be traded like livestock.”

Eirik’s face reddens, his fury bubbling beneath his carefully constructed facade. “You think you can embarrass me like this? Ruin what was promised to me?”

Loki steps forward, the air around him crackling with restrained magic. “I think I just did.”

For a tense moment, you think Eirik might draw his weapon, might be foolish enough to challenge a prince of Asgard right here in the palace. But he doesn’t. Instead, he sneers, spitting his next words.

“This isn’t over.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and storms down the corridor, his heavy footsteps echoing until they vanish into silence.

You exhale sharply, your knees feeling weak beneath you.

Loki turns to you immediately, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. “Are you alright?”

You nod, though the adrenaline still courses through you. “I’m fine. I didn’t expect him to… I thought he’d just walk away.”

Loki’s jaw tightens. “Men like him never walk away quietly.”

You meet his gaze, seeing the worry beneath his sharp features. “Thank you. For stepping in.”

His fingers brush against your cheek, softer now, his anger replaced with something gentler. “I told you I wouldn’t let him touch you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest at the closeness between you. You’ve spent so much time pretending, weaving this elaborate lie, but this moment doesn’t feel like an act at all.

“Loki…” you start, unsure what you even want to say, but he shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“We need to be careful. Eirik won’t take this humiliation lightly.”

You know he’s right, but part of you still lingers on the way his fingers brushed your cheek, on how his anger burned so fiercely on your behalf.

Over the next few days, the tension in Asgard thickens. The gossip shifts once more, no longer idle talk of romance and secret affections. Now it’s filled with sharp edges—talk of Eirik’s fury, of how the nobleman had been made a fool, of the confrontation in the palace corridors.

“He’ll retaliate,” you hear one nobleman whisper at a feast, his voice low but urgent. “Men like Eirik don’t take humiliation lightly.”

“He won’t dare cross Loki,” another responds, though even he sounds unsure.

You sit beside Loki at the long table, his hand resting casually on yours, playing the part still, though now there’s an undeniable tension beneath his touch.

“Everyone’s waiting for him to strike,” you murmur, sipping your wine.

Loki’s jaw tenses, but he keeps his smile in place for the crowd. “Let him. I’m ready.”

You glance at him, the flickering torchlight casting shadows across his sharp features. There’s something more beneath his calm exterior, something darker brewing.

“Don’t do anything reckless,” you say softly, but he only offers that same infuriating, knowing smile.

“For you, I’d do anything.”

The words are playful, but there’s truth laced in them—a truth you’re not sure you’re ready to face yet.

But in the pit of your stomach, you know Eirik’s next move is coming. And when it does, it will shatter the fragile facade you and Loki have built, forcing both of you to face the deeper truths you’ve been hiding behind the mask of your lie.

The days following Eirik’s return pass in a haze of tension and whispers, every corner of the palace echoing with fragments of your story. What started as a desperate act to avoid a loveless marriage has spiraled into something far more elaborate—something neither you nor Loki fully anticipated.

You thought the hardest part was convincing Odin and Frigga, but now you see how naïve that was. The entire realm buzzes with the news of your supposed love. And there’s no way to retreat from it now.

The decision comes swiftly, a conversation you’re not even a part of.

One morning, you’re summoned to the royal chambers, your heart hammering in your chest. You half-expect it to be Odin demanding the truth, but when you step into the vast room, it’s Frigga who greets you, her gentle smile doing little to soothe your nerves. Loki stands near the window, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture stiff. He avoids your gaze.

“Lady Y/n,” Frigga says, her voice kind but measured, “we’ve been discussing the future.”

Your throat tightens. “The future?”

She nods, her hands folded elegantly in front of her. “Yours and Loki’s.”

You glance at Loki, but he still won’t meet your eyes.

Frigga continues, “Asgardian tradition holds that public declarations of love, especially from royalty, carry a certain… expectation. The people are watching. Your families are watching. There will be pressure.”

The word hits you hard. Pressure. That’s all this has been—a tight, suffocating cage you’ve been trying to escape, only to find yourself deeper inside it.

“I… I understand,” you manage to say.

Frigga’s smile is patient, but you see the knowing glint in her eyes. “Odin believes the most honorable course now is marriage. It will solidify the alliance between your family and the royal house. It will… legitimize what has been said.”

The room seems to tilt beneath you.

Marriage.

You’d known it was a possibility—this was the path you chose the moment you begged Loki to fake this relationship—but hearing it spoken aloud makes it real.

You finally look at Loki, and this time he meets your gaze. His green eyes, usually so full of mischief and confidence, are unreadable now, guarded.

“This is what needs to happen,” he says quietly.

The words sting more than they should. You know he’s playing the part still, but a small, fragile part of you had hoped… for something else in his tone. Something warmer.

Frigga, ever observant, watches the silent exchange between you. “There will be time to prepare, of course. But the arrangements will begin immediately. The people will want a grand wedding.”

You can only nod, your heart beating too loud in your ears.

As you leave the chamber, Loki falls into step beside you. Neither of you speaks for a long moment, the weight of what just happened hanging between you like a storm cloud.

Finally, you break the silence. “So. We’re getting married.”

He exhales through his nose, the faintest trace of a smile curling at his lips. “Seems so.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out hollow. “I thought the whole point was to avoid being married off.”

His smirk deepens, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “At least this time it’s your choice.”

Is it? You want to say, but the words catch in your throat.

Instead, you glance at him, searching his face. “You don’t mind?”

Loki slows his steps, considering. “I’ve had worse fates.” He glances sideways at you, his green eyes softer now. “And it’s not as though I find the idea unbearable.”

Your stomach twists at his words, at the quiet honesty behind them.

He clears his throat, brushing past the moment. “We should… prepare. I’m sure the palace will be overrun with wedding plans soon.”

And it is.

Within days, Asgard buzzes with preparations. Nobles flock to the palace, eager to be part of the grand event. Silk merchants arrive with bolts of fabric shimmering in the sunlight. Jewels from realms beyond Asgard are presented as offerings for the bride-to-be—each more ornate than the last.

You’re swept into it all, barely able to catch your breath. Tailors drape you in rich fabrics, court advisors debate over seating charts, and Frigga herself insists on helping you select flowers from the royal gardens.

At first, it all feels like a dream—distant, surreal. You go through the motions because you have to, because this is what the story demands. But somewhere, amid the chaos, things begin to shift.

It starts when you see the temple where the ceremony will take place—its high arches carved with ancient runes, golden light pouring through the stained glass. You picture yourself standing there, before the entire realm, with Loki at your side.

You imagine the moment Odin will declare you husband and wife, the vows you will speak, the ring that will slide onto your finger.

And, unexpectedly, your heart flutters.

You try to brush it off at first. It’s just nerves, you tell yourself. The weight of everything happening so fast.

But it becomes harder to ignore when you catch glimpses of Loki in the quiet moments—when he thinks no one’s watching.

Like when you find him in the palace library, flipping through old texts on Asgardian wedding customs. You approach silently, watching as his brow furrows in concentration, his long fingers tracing the pages.

“Studying?” you tease, breaking the silence.

He startles, then chuckles softly. “I suppose I should know what I’m getting myself into.”

You smile, but the warmth in your chest lingers longer than it should.

And then there are the times you catch him staring at you during fittings or dinners—when he isn’t wearing his usual smirk but something softer, more vulnerable.

It’s in those moments that you begin to realize the truth you’ve been avoiding.

You care for him.

No—more than that.

You love him.

The realization hits you one evening as you stand on the palace balcony, watching the stars blink into existence above Asgard. The city glows beneath you, but all you can think of is Loki—the way he’s been by your side through all of this, protecting you, helping you.

He didn’t have to say yes when you begged him for help. He didn’t have to throw himself into this charade so completely.

But he did.

And somewhere along the way, pretending stopped feeling like pretending.

You press your hands to the balcony railing, your heart racing.

You love him.

But before you can even begin to unravel what that means, a new threat looms—darker and more dangerous than the whispers of nobles or the expectations of the court.

Eirik.

Though he has remained out of sight since his confrontation in the palace corridors, you know better than to believe he’s simply accepted his defeat.

And you’re right.

In the shadowed halls beneath Asgard, Eirik plots.

The slight against him, the humiliation he endured—it festers like a wound, growing deeper with each passing day. He cannot stand the thought of you standing at Loki’s side, wearing a crown that should have elevated his own status.

And so, he makes a decision.

If he cannot have you, if he cannot claim the future that was promised to him, then no one will.

Whispers reach his ears—servants who are easily bribed, guards who turn a blind eye. He learns of the wedding plans, the route you will take to the temple, the secluded chambers where you rest.

He plans his revenge carefully, methodically.

A poisoned blade. Swift, silent.

He imagines it easily—how the chaos would erupt if the bride-to-be were found dead on the eve of her wedding. The scandal, the shame, the grief. It would tear through the palace like wildfire.

Loki would suffer.

And that, more than anything, is what Eirik desires.

But what he doesn’t anticipate is how fiercely Loki watches over you.

Late one evening, as you sit in your chambers, going over the endless lists of preparations, Loki slips inside silently.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, noting the candle still flickering beside you.

You smile tiredly. “Too much to think about.”

He crosses the room, sitting beside you. There’s something different in his demeanor tonight—tense, alert.

“You should rest,” he says gently. “The days ahead will be… intense.”

You glance at him, your heart aching with the weight of your unspoken feelings. You want to tell him—about the realization on the balcony, about how this no longer feels like an act to you.

But before you can speak, Loki’s expression shifts, his eyes darkening as he glances toward the window.

In an instant, he’s on his feet, his dagger appearing in his hand as though conjured from thin air.

“Stay here,” he orders, his voice low and sharp.

You barely have time to react before he vanishes into the shadows, leaving you breathless, fear curling in your chest.

Something is coming.

And this time, it’s not just your heart that’s at risk.

The tension that had filled the room moments ago lingers like a fog, even as Loki returns from the window, dagger still gripped tightly in his hand. His sharp eyes scan the corners of your chamber one last time, but there’s nothing—no shadowy figure lurking in the darkness, no threat waiting to strike. It had only been a flicker, perhaps a trick of the moonlight or the frantic pounding of both your hearts playing tricks on you.

Still, Loki doesn’t lower his weapon.

“It was nothing,” you whisper, though your voice shakes.

“Perhaps,” he replies, but the edge in his voice remains. “But I won’t take chances with your life.”

Your chest tightens at the words, at the sheer intensity of the way he looks at you, as though the thought of something happening to you is unbearable. You realize then how deeply this act—the lie you both started together—has woven itself into something neither of you can ignore.

“Loki,” you begin, but the words falter on your tongue. There’s so much you want to say, but the lump in your throat threatens to choke you.

He steps closer, lowering the dagger and reaching out, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he repeats, softer this time, but the weight of his promise feels heavier now.

The moment lingers between you, thick with unspoken confessions, but before either of you can cross that fragile line, he pulls back.

“You should rest,” he says, though his voice sounds strained, as if he’s fighting against something inside himself. “We both should.”

And with that, he slips out of the room, leaving you alone with the racing of your heart and the realization that the feelings you’ve buried for so long can’t be hidden much longer.

The following day—the day before the wedding—passes in a blur. The palace buzzes with preparations, the air filled with the scent of fresh flowers and the soft hum of music as musicians rehearse for the grand ceremony. Nobles flit about like jeweled birds, discussing everything from the seating arrangements to the color of the tapestries.

But none of it feels real.

Not to you.

Your mind is elsewhere, trapped in the heavy weight of what you need to say. The feeling that’s been growing inside you—quiet at first, then louder, unstoppable—can’t be ignored any longer. The thought of standing before all of Asgard tomorrow and binding yourself to Loki in a marriage that had begun as a lie is unbearable if he doesn’t know the truth: that it’s no longer pretend for you.

You find him that afternoon in the palace gardens, beneath the towering silverleaf trees where the two of you had so often sought refuge from court life. He stands with his back to you, hands clasped behind him, staring out over the shimmering pools that reflect the afternoon light.

You take a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage, before stepping forward.

“Loki.”

He turns, the faintest smile touching his lips. “Y/n.”

But his usual mask of mischief and ease falters when he sees the seriousness in your expression.

“I need to talk to you,” you say, your hands twisting nervously in front of you.

His brow furrows, and he gestures for you to sit on the bench beneath the trees. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

You sit, the cool stone beneath you grounding, though your heart still races. “No. Well, yes. I—Loki, I can’t keep pretending.”

His entire body stiffens. “You want to call it off?” he asks, but there’s something vulnerable in his voice, hidden beneath the careful nonchalance.

You shake your head quickly. “No. That’s not—” You exhale, frustrated with yourself. “This started as a lie, yes. A way to avoid being forced into a marriage I didn’t want. But somewhere along the way…” Your throat tightens. “I stopped pretending.”

His eyes widen, the green depths shimmering with something fragile and raw.

“I love you, Loki,” you say, the words finally spilling out, freeing you from the cage they’ve built inside your chest. “I don’t want tomorrow to be a lie. I want it to be real.”

For a moment, there’s only silence. The soft rustle of leaves, the trickle of water, and the loud thundering of your own heartbeat.

And then Loki moves, swiftly, closing the space between you and pulling you into his arms. His hands cradle your face as he searches your eyes, as if trying to determine if you’re telling the truth.

“You love me?” he whispers, his voice filled with disbelief, hope, and something else—something deeper.

You nod, tears pricking your eyes. “I do.”

A smile breaks across his face then, the most genuine one you’ve ever seen. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he confesses, his voice cracking slightly. “Since before all of this. I never thought—”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you press your lips to his, soft at first, tentative, before he deepens the kiss, pouring all the emotions you’ve both kept hidden into that moment. It’s everything you hoped for and more—electric, grounding, and undeniably real.

When you finally pull back, both of you breathless, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Tomorrow,” he says, “will be real. I swear it.”

You nod, your heart full in a way it’s never been before. “Tomorrow.”

But happiness, it seems, is always fleeting.

That night, after the palace has quieted, after you’ve retreated to your chambers to rest before the wedding, a darkness lingers—one that neither you nor Loki can sense.

Eirik.

He’s been watching, waiting, hidden in the shadows of the palace where no one dares to look. His fury has only grown, twisted into something vile and dangerous. And now, with the wedding hours away, his plan is set into motion.

You lie in your bed, staring up at the ornate ceiling, unable to sleep. The events of the day replay in your mind—your confession to Loki, his to you—the way your heart had soared with hope for the first time in so long.

But that hope shatters the moment your chamber door creaks open.

You sit up, expecting it to be Loki, but the figure that steps into the moonlight is not him.

It’s Eirik.

Before you can scream, he’s on you, pressing a hand over your mouth, his blade gleaming in the moonlight.

“I warned you,” he hisses, his face twisted with rage. “I told you this wasn’t over.”

You struggle beneath him, panic clawing at your chest, but he’s too strong. His blade plunges forward, piercing your side. A sharp, searing pain rips through you, followed by a coldness that spreads quickly.

The blade is poisoned.

But then—another voice, fierce and filled with rage.

“Get away from her!”

Loki bursts into the room, his magic already crackling around him. A blast of green energy slams into Eirik, sending him flying across the chamber. Loki is on him in an instant, his dagger pressed to Eirik’s throat, but his eyes flick to you, wide with horror.

“Y/n!”

You clutch your side, blood seeping through your fingers, your vision already blurring.

Loki knocks Eirik unconscious with a swift blow, then rushes to you, cradling you gently in his arms.

“No, no, no,” he whispers, his hands trembling as they press against your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “You’re going to be fine. Do you hear me? You’re going to be fine.”

But the poison is already coursing through your veins. You can feel it—cold and heavy—pulling you under.

“L-Loki…” you whisper, reaching for his face, your fingers barely able to brush against his cheek.

“Stay with me,” he begs, tears slipping down his face. “Please, Y/n. I can’t lose you.”

You try to smile, but it’s weak, your strength fading fast. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he chokes out, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “More than anything.”

Your vision darkens, your body growing heavier. The last thing you see is Loki’s tear-streaked face before the world slips away.

But you don’t die.

Not yet.

Loki lifts you in his arms, his magic flaring wildly as he races through the palace toward the healers, his mind filled with one thought: he will save you.

No matter what it takes.

The palace, once alive with wedding preparations and buzzing excitement, now stands in eerie silence. The vibrant flowers meant to line the temple aisle wilt in the morning sun, untouched. The music that had echoed through the golden halls has fallen quiet, replaced by whispers and hurried footsteps. Word spread quickly—faster than anyone could have expected. By dawn, all of Asgard knows what happened.

You lie motionless on the grand bed in the royal healing chambers, your skin pale against the deep emerald sheets. The faint rise and fall of your chest is the only sign of life, but even that seems fragile, as if it could slip away at any moment. The wound at your side has been cleaned, the poison drawn out as much as possible by the royal healers, but the damage is done. You’re trapped in a deep, unnatural sleep—a coma—your body caught between life and death.

Loki sits by your bedside, his hand tightly wrapped around yours, refusing to let go even for a moment. His knuckles are white, his jaw clenched so hard it aches, but he doesn't care. All that matters is you.

It’s been hours since the attack. Hours since he carried your limp, bloodied body through the palace halls, screaming for help, his voice raw with panic. The healers had done all they could, but the poison had been crafted with dark intent—designed to kill slowly, to make sure the victim suffered. And now, you lie here, untouched by time, your face serene, while the people who love you crumble around you.

Frigga stands in the corner of the room, her hands folded tightly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She’d tried to offer comfort to Loki, but he had brushed her off, his grief too raw, too consuming. Odin had been there too, though he had left after ensuring the healers were doing everything in their power. His anger at Eirik had been palpable—a rare sight, even for Odin.

But it’s your father who breaks the tense stillness. He storms into the healing chamber, his ornate cloak billowing behind him, eyes wild with rage and grief. Seeing you there, pale and still, strips him of all the formality he’s known for. The weight of his noble status means nothing now.

“My daughter…” he chokes, rushing to your side, but stopping just short of the bed as if afraid that touching you will break what fragile life remains.

Loki stands abruptly, his protective instincts flaring. “This happened because of him,” he spits, his voice low and venomous. “Eirik did this.”

Your father’s face hardens, his grief shifting into something darker. “I will see him executed for this.” His voice trembles with fury.

“Good,” Loki snaps. “Because if you don’t, I will.”

Frigga steps forward, placing a gentle hand on Loki’s arm, but even her touch doesn’t soothe the rage coursing through him. His magic swirls just beneath the surface, green tendrils flickering around his fingers.

“We will ensure justice is done,” Frigga says softly, her voice filled with grief but calm. “But right now, Y/n needs us. She needs you.”

Loki swallows hard and looks down at you again. Your hand remains limp in his, your skin far too cold. He sinks back into the chair beside your bed, brushing his thumb over your knuckles.

“I should have been faster,” he whispers, guilt lacing every word. “I should have stopped him before he touched you.”

Frigga shakes her head, her voice gentle but firm. “You saved her life, Loki. Without you, she would be gone.”

But her words feel hollow to him. Because you’re still not awake.

In the depths of the palace dungeons, Eirik sits shackled, his once-pristine robes torn and bloodied from his scuffle with Loki. His face is bruised, his lip split, but his expression is one of seething hatred—not regret. He glares at the guards stationed outside his cell, their spears crossed tightly over the iron bars.

He knows what fate awaits him. Attempting to assassinate the future princess—on the eve of her wedding, no less—is a crime punishable by death. There is no path out of this, no clever words or noble connections to save him now.

But that doesn’t stop him from holding onto his bitterness.

“They’ll kill me for her,” he mutters under his breath, his hands tugging at the heavy iron chains around his wrists. “All for that witch and her liar of a prince.”

The guards ignore him, standing stiff and silent, but their disgust is evident in the way their grips tighten on their spears.

Above, the court gathers in the throne room. The news of the attack has stirred Asgard into chaos, and the nobles demand justice. Odin sits on his throne, Gungnir in hand, his face a mask of fury barely held in check. Frigga sits beside him, her usual calm replaced by cold, regal anger. Your father stands at the base of the dais, his voice thundering as he calls for Eirik’s execution.

“This man,” your father spits, “attempted to murder my daughter—the future princess of Asgard. There is no trial needed for such treachery. His fate should already be sealed.”

Murmurs ripple through the assembled nobles. Some nod in agreement, while others exchange uneasy glances. Eirik’s family—once powerful and influential—stand to the side, their faces pale with shame and horror. Their name will be tarnished forever.

Odin raises a hand, silencing the whispers. “There will be justice. But we are not barbarians. Eirik will face trial tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Loki’s voice cuts through the hall like a blade. He storms into the throne room, his cloak billowing behind him, his face twisted in fury. “Y/n lies in a coma. She may never wake, and you speak of trials?”

Frigga stands, reaching for her son, but Loki brushes past her, his eyes locked on Odin. “He deserves nothing but death.”

Odin’s jaw tightens, but his voice remains calm. “We will uphold Asgardian law. Even now.”

But Loki shakes his head. “This isn’t about law. It’s about her. About the woman I love lying on her deathbed while her attacker sits comfortably in the dungeons.”

A hush falls over the court at Loki’s words. Love. There had been whispers, of course—rumors that the engagement was more than a political arrangement—but to hear him say it aloud sends a ripple through the room.

Frigga moves to her son’s side, her hand resting on his arm. “Y/n would not want you to lose yourself to this rage.”

But Loki can’t stop. Not now. “She trusted me to protect her, and I failed.” His voice cracks then, the weight of his guilt finally breaking through. “If she dies…”

“She won’t,” Frigga says gently but firmly. “The healers are doing everything they can.”

But the uncertainty remains. Because no one knows if you will wake.

In the healing chambers, your father sits beside you now, his large hands dwarfed by your delicate ones. He’s silent, tears glistening in his eyes. For all his strength, for all his power as a nobleman, he is just a father now, grieving for his daughter who may be lost to him forever.

“I promised your mother I would keep you safe,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “I failed her. I failed you.”

He presses a kiss to your knuckles, his tears falling onto your cold skin.

Loki returns a short while later, his steps heavy as if the weight of the entire realm rests on his shoulders. Seeing your father there, he hesitates at the door, unsure if he’s welcome. But your father lifts his head and meets Loki’s eyes, something raw and real passing between them.

“She loves you,” your father says, his voice hoarse.

Loki swallows hard, his throat tight. “I know.”

“I didn’t want this for her—the court, the power plays, the danger. I wanted her to be happy.” He looks down at you, his voice cracking. “I never thought… this would be the price.”

“I’ll fix this,” Loki says, stepping forward. “I swear to you, I will.”

Your father doesn’t argue. He sees the grief in Loki’s eyes—the guilt—and knows it mirrors his own.

“Then bring her back.”

That night, Loki doesn’t leave your side. He sits by your bed, your hand still wrapped tightly in his, his magic thrumming just beneath the surface. He knows Asgardian law, knows that Eirik will be brought to trial and likely sentenced to death, but it doesn’t bring him peace. Because none of it matters if you don’t wake.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his fingers trembling. “You promised me tomorrow,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “You said we’d make it real.”

He swallows hard, tears burning his eyes. “So don’t leave me. Please, Y/n.”

For a moment, there’s nothing—just the soft sound of your breathing.

But then… the faintest twitch of your fingers in his hand.

Loki’s heart leaps, his eyes snapping to your face, but your eyelids remain closed.

Still, it’s hope. And it’s enough.

“I’m not letting you go,” he vows, his magic flaring around him, filling the room with soft green light. “No matter what.”

The days following the attack pass in a haze of tension, fear, and fragile hope. The palace remains silent, weighed down by the uncertainty that lingers in the air, but within the healing chambers, where you lay trapped in your poisoned sleep, life begins to stir.

Loki hasn’t left your side since that night. He’s there when the healers come and go, carefully checking your pulse, your breathing, the wound on your side that has started to heal. He sits by your bed, your hand cradled in his, whispering words meant for you alone—confessions, promises, and prayers, though he’d never admit to praying. Sleep comes to him only in short, restless intervals, his head often resting on the edge of your bed, his fingers still intertwined with yours, unwilling to let go even in his exhaustion.

It’s in one of those moments, when he’s dozed off, that it happens.

Your fingers twitch—small, faint, but undeniably real.

Loki jerks awake, his heart pounding as he lifts his head, eyes wide. For a moment, he thinks he imagined it, that his mind has finally broken beneath the weight of waiting. But then, your hand twitches again, this time more deliberately, your fingers curling slightly against his.

“Y/n,” he breathes, his voice trembling as he leans closer. “Y/n, can you hear me?”

Your brow furrows, your eyelashes fluttering against your pale cheeks. It’s as if your body is fighting its way back to him, clawing through the darkness that held you prisoner. Then, slowly, your eyes open, hazy and unfocused at first, but unmistakably alive.

Loki’s breath catches in his throat.

You blink, struggling to focus, your body feeling impossibly heavy. The room is blurry, but the first thing you truly see is him—his tear-streaked face hovering above yours, his eyes filled with so much emotion it makes your heart ache.

“L-Loki?” you whisper, your voice hoarse, barely more than a breath.

A choked laugh escapes him, mingled with a sob he doesn’t have the strength to hold back. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

His hand cups your cheek so gently, as though you might shatter if he touches you too firmly.

You try to speak again, but the effort drains you, your eyes threatening to close.

“Don’t push yourself,” Loki says, brushing your hair back from your damp forehead. “You’re safe now. You’re going to be okay.”

You feel the warmth of his hand, the tremble in his voice, and despite the pain and weakness coursing through your body, you find a fragile comfort in his presence.

“W-what happened?” you manage.

His jaw tightens, the memory of that night flashing in his mind. “Eirik. He… he tried to kill you.” His voice is bitter, filled with venom, but when his eyes meet yours again, they soften. “But I stopped him. You’re safe now.”

You swallow hard, the fog in your mind slowly clearing as you recall the moment—the cold blade, the burning pain, his voice calling your name as you slipped away.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your fingers weakly squeezing his hand.

His lips curl into the faintest smile. “You scared me, Y/n. I thought I’d lost you.”

“I came back,” you murmur, the corners of your mouth lifting, despite the pain. “For you.”

Tears fill his eyes again, but he lets them fall, not caring who sees. “And I will never let anything happen to you again.”

Your recovery is slow, but each passing day brings more strength. The healers, though amazed you survived the poisoned blade, constantly warn you to rest, but it’s difficult with Loki hovering by your side like a watchful hawk.

He refuses to leave the room for more than a few moments at a time, often bringing books, flowers, or enchanted lights to keep you entertained. You tease him for it, your humor slowly returning, but there’s a comfort in having him so close.

Your father visits daily, often staying silent, simply holding your hand and whispering soft apologies. He blames himself for what happened—for nearly forcing you into a marriage with Eirik, for not protecting you. But you forgive him. In truth, there’s nothing but relief in his eyes now when he sees you alive.

The trial for Eirik had been postponed multiple times, each delay issued by Odin himself. No one had wanted to move forward with it until you were awake, until you were strong enough to face what had nearly destroyed you. And now, weeks later, you finally are.

“I want to be there,” you tell Loki one morning, sitting up in your bed, your strength finally returning enough to hold yourself upright without his assistance.

He frowns deeply, his arms crossed. “Y/n, you’re still recovering. You shouldn’t push yourself.”

“I need to see it through,” you insist, your eyes filled with determination. “I need to see him pay for what he did.”

Loki’s jaw tightens, but he knows he can’t deny you this. “Then I’ll be at your side the entire time.”

“Always,” you say, smiling softly.

“Always.”

The grand hall is filled with nobles and soldiers, all gathered for Eirik’s long-delayed trial. The tension is palpable, whispers flowing like water as you make your entrance, draped in flowing Asgardian silks, your posture regal despite the lingering ache in your side.

Loki is at your side, his hand on your arm, guiding you gently but firmly through the sea of eyes. The crowd parts for you, many bowing their heads in respect—though some, you notice, can’t help but stare. You are a living ghost to them; no one had expected you to survive.

On the dais, Odin sits with Frigga, her eyes soft but fierce as they settle on you. Your father stands near them, his face hardened with the weight of what’s to come.

Eirik is brought forward, shackled and bruised, though his expression holds no remorse. He glares at you, his lips curled in disdain, but Loki steps forward, his presence towering, his magic subtly crackling in the air. One wrong move, and Eirik wouldn’t leave the hall alive.

The trial is swift. The evidence is undeniable—Eirik’s confession to guards, Loki’s eyewitness account, and the poisoned blade recovered from your chambers.

But the moment that stills the hall is when you stand, your body trembling from exertion but your voice clear.

“I stand here today,” you begin, your eyes fixed on Eirik, “alive despite your cowardice. You took from me my safety, my peace, and nearly my life. But you didn’t take my strength.”

Eirik sneers but says nothing.

“I will not let you break me,” you continue, your gaze never wavering. “Nor will I let your hatred poison what I have with Loki.”

Loki steps closer, his hand slipping into yours, anchoring you as Odin rises from his throne.

“Eirik,” Odin’s voice booms, “for your crimes against the crown, against Y/n, and against Asgard itself, you are sentenced to exile from this realm. You will be banished, stripped of your titles, your magic bound, and never permitted to return.”

A mix of gasps and murmurs ripple through the crowd. It’s a merciful punishment—perhaps too merciful—but Odin’s decision is final.

Eirik’s face twists with rage as guards drag him away, but you feel no satisfaction watching him go. Only relief that it’s over.

Weeks later, as the palace slowly returns to its usual rhythm, you and Loki begin to speak of the future. This time, without lies or politics or necessity.

The marriage that had once been a facade is now something else entirely—something real.

Loki brings it up first, in the gardens beneath the silverleaf trees where you had first confessed your feelings.

“We never did have a proper proposal,” he says, his voice soft, his eyes filled with warmth.

You smile, brushing your fingers over his. “No, we didn’t.”

He steps closer, reaching into his pocket to pull out a delicate ring—an emerald stone set in gold, shaped like twisting vines. “Then let me do this properly.”

Your breath catches as he lowers himself to one knee, his expression both nervous and overjoyed.

“Y/n,” he says, “will you marry me? Not because of duty, not because of lies—but because I love you, more than I ever thought I could love anyone?”

Tears fill your eyes, but your voice is steady. “Yes, Loki. A thousand times yes.”

When he slips the ring onto your finger and pulls you into his arms, the world seems to fall away, leaving only the two of you.

This time, the wedding is planned with care—not rushed, not clouded by politics. The palace buzzes again, but this time it feels right. Frigga oversees the arrangements, often pulling you aside to discuss flowers or gowns, her joy clear in every smile. Odin, though still stoic, offers his blessing, and your father—though still protective—gives his approval, seeing the happiness that radiates from you.

The day of the wedding dawns bright and golden, the skies clear, the air sweet with blooming flowers. You stand before Loki in the temple, draped in flowing silks, your heart full in a way you never imagined possible.

Loki looks at you as though you are the only thing in the universe, his smile soft, his hands trembling as he takes yours.

When you speak your vows—real vows, honest and pure—there is no trace of the fear or pain that once loomed over you both. There is only love.

And when he kisses you, sealing your bond, the palace erupts in cheers, and you know—truly know—that this was always meant to be.