Jean And The Smolnemos🍃

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Title: 13 Stepbrothers; Your new home

Character(s): Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, Ayato, Albedo, Childe/Tartaglia, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Kazuha, Arataki Itto, Chongyun, Bennett

Summary: Modern au; You were young when your father was planning on remarrying again. Your father is always busy always outside the country for work that his fiance said that you could stay at the teyvat residence, and live with 13 of your future stepbrothers!

Note: Inspired by the anime Brother's conflict (kinda?), but I just wanted to write for something platonic really so this happened.

Warnings/tags: Fem!reader, the reader is around 6 years old here, this is purely platonic, this is also a crack story and not to be taken seriously. not the best relationship between daughter and father hinted, but other than that it is pure fluff! Over 8k

How It Happened

You clung to your father as he pushed you to the people he trusts to take care of you while he would be gone with his fiance abroad overseas. You were a small child, 6 years old and scared as you were in the center of strangers who will soon be your stepbrothers. You weren't sure what to do but hold on to your father's hand refusing to let go as your soon to be stepmother laughed at how adorable you were.

You looked down, a bit scared but at the same time a bit excited that you will now have a bigger family.

You have always been alone ever since you were probably born, your mother and father both had you at a late age and when your mother gave birth to you she passed away a few hours later. Your father loved you, truly he did! But he can't look at you in the face as you only reminded him of your mother so he started to pour everything into his work leaving only a little time with you. He would leave you to a nanny almost every day and when he had to leave the country for a few days or months for work he would give you to his relatives.

He was a rich man and he gave you almost everything, you never really lacked most things. If you told him that you wanted a toy it would be in your hands the next day, yet the only thing that he could never give was his time. Too busy, instead he would just apologize to you kissing the crown of your head as he tells you that he could next time, and yet when you asked again it was the same thing.

You finally understood that he didn't really have time for you, instead, you would just hug that pink bunny that he has gifted to you a long time ago. One that he picked by himself one that you didn't ask for, but cherished because it was proof to you that he loves you.

You would watch other kids talk to their parents, as they spent time together. Cartoons and animations that showed hugs that the main character and their parents would have, you would crave it. But there was also another thing that you wanted, a sibling…

Someone to be around, right by your side. It didn't matter if they were younger or older than you. You would prefer if you could have multiple siblings so you would be less alone so when you asked your father for a sibling, you didn't get an answer and that was the end of that...

So it was a surprise when he suddenly asked you if you were okay with him getting married again? Were you supposed to yell at him telling him how he betrayed mom or how he is going to abandon you? You watched a few dramas and movies where a child would react that way when they heard the news that one of their parents where marrying again.

But you don't remember your mom, having no memories of her. You wondered if he would abandon you but when he suddenly told you how the person he wishes to marry has 13 sons, your eyes immediately glittered. You wanted a family of more than two, you wanted siblings, people with who you could be with and not feel the gap when you were with a nanny or babysitter or how you would at your cousins enviously when they talk to their parents.

So hesitantly you nodded watching your father sigh in relief that you were okay with him marrying again. And after two or three months your father told you to pack up cause you are moving from the flat you lived in.

You asked him in the car after you and he packed your necessities, clothes, your favorite toys and such where you guys were going did he tell you that you are gonna now live with your soon to be stepbrother. Your father had finally confessed to the person he wished to marry and now the both of them were wearing their engagement rings you noticed the thin piece of metal on your father's ring finger as he drove making a turn.

He told you that when she heard that you were living almost practically alone she grew mad at him and burst into anger and told him that you should at least then stay with her son in the teyvat residence where it was a big modern mansion like flat with a connected living room and kitchen. Four floors where the first and second floor is used for rent while the upper floors were for the family.

You would have your own room and bathroom. But you will also get 13 brothers who you care about you more than a nanny would or so your father's fiance said. Your father's fiance expressed feelings feeling of concern that it would be awkward between you and her sons as not only was everything sudden, some of them were actually old enough to be your father. So really what she also wanted was time for you to get used to your new and very big family.

Your father has met her sons a few times in the past and thought that it would not be a bad idea and agreed to bring you to the residence.

So here you are now. In front of your future stepbrothers, not all of them were here only a few but it was scary as you continued to cling to your pink bunny rabbit...

Zhongli

Lawyer | Age: 30

The oldest in the family, he is the leader as his mother would always be out of the country for some business and now more on travels. Zhongli is the one who gathers the family when their an event and keeps them up to date. The brother all trust their brother except when something is needed to be paid. That one, they would handle as they all know that he always forgets to bring his wallet with him.

He was used to his family, the ruckus and their personalities. He was the one who watched most of them grow up and become adults, he is always busy but he always makes time for his family. But still, it was rather sudden for him when he was told that he would have a young sister soon, as the family has been all men for the longest time. He wasn't sure if he could take care of you at first as he only took care of boys and all, but when his mother told him how you were almost always alone at home he was a bit reluctant to say no.

Zhongli was told to ready a room on the 3rd floor near the living room before you arrived so he wasn't surprised when he saw you with your father and with a few pieces of luggage right beside your dad that seemed to belong to you as your dad told him that he would be leaving you in his care.

“Hello, my name is Zhongli.”

Zhongli was a busy man but when he couldn't take care of you he would make sure to ask a brother to watch over you. But when he could, he would work at home in the living room as you stayed beside him doing your homework, drawing or watching tv. He liked you, but he wasn't really attached to you unlike his other brother, Zhongli just chalked it up to time. He needed to spend time with you to actually look at you as a little sister.

So one day when he had time to pick you up and not ask his other brother to pick you up due to his usually busy schedule, he was surprised when you handed him a paper with a drawing of him and his brothers. It was badly drawn, with just circles and squares for a body and with uneven eyes and red smiles. But it was warm and he knew that you spent a lot of time on the drawing. Thanking you he noticed that you didn't draw yourself on the drawing and when he asked you you just awkwardly looked away.

Unable to ignore this, that day when the two of you got back to the residence he sat you down in the living room on the table with crayons and color pencils. Giving you a blank paper he told you to draw on it and that was your homework from him. You were reluctant at first but you did what he said and when you were done he took the drawing inspecting it. It felt almost like a test when he finally nodded at your work but it took you by surprise when he started cutting around your drawing.

So when you saw him gluing the picture of you and pasting it right in the middle of your drawing of him and his brothers, you didn't know how to react. But that day you were in his arms as you cried on his shoulders. You don't know why you cried, but that day was the day Zhongli finally thought of you as family.

It is still hanging on the fridge.

__________

Diluc

Has his own wine company | Age: 28

Second oldest, he lives outside the residence in his own house. He would occasionally visit, home. But he isn't really the closest to his siblings compared to the other brothers. He was probably the last to know that you moved in… by bumping into you in a corner of the corridor.

Why was a small girl here, how did she come in… Diluc was sure that Chongyun and Bennett are both middle school students and not kindergarten students that they would bring a small kid like you as a friend… He would not put it past some of his siblings to joke about getting or even stealing a sister but never in a million years did he think that they would actually do it!

When he found out who you were, he was furious as to why he was never told about the fact that you are his mother's fiances daughter and that you now live here!! He glared at Kaeya who Zhongli asked to tell him and comfortably forgot.

He didn't like that you now live here, taking the room that was also once his as he moved out around 3 years ago which is fine… but like why did your father decide it was the best idea to leave you with them who were practically strangers? He didn't like the situation but you misunderstood and thought he hated you. (Kaeya later told you that he didn't hate you and that you don't have to return the room to him.)

He didn't really think that he would interact with you much after all he didn't live in the mansion, and that was the case for months till Zhongli called him asking him if he was free to pick you up from the kindergarten on the way as Diluc had to grab some things from the house. He wasn't sure at first but reluctantly searched your kindergarten up on his phone’s map.

After awkwardly talking to the teachers of your school, you finally hopped into his car… silent. Diluc found it a bit awkward so he started asking questions (mostly about your father), but you would only answer with one word and grunts. He glanced at you and finally saw your rather gloomy face, he sighed and parked his car.

Diluc asked what was the matter but he didn't get a proper reply, mostly you just avoiding his eyes. When he asked did something happened at school you shook your head, but hesitantly took out a piece of paper and showed it to him. Reading he finally understood what was going on.

The paper was about a parent-teacher’s meeting and if he was not mistaken which he rarely is, your father and his mother are in another country on a date or something. When he asked you when your father was coming back home, you told him that it was after a month. He looked at the schedule and noticed it was next week.

He didn't say much after that, he took you home and such but he didn't give you back the paper only to suddenly tell you that he would be the one attending this and that you don't really have to tell Zhongli and that he would. But really it was a huge surprise to you when you saw him the next week wearing a suit as he talked to the teacher.

Other kids asked if he was your dad as they have never seen your dad ever, even the teacher in the next class asked you if he was your dad.

“Please don't worry, her father isn't available right so I am the one replacing him for the parent teacher’s meeting.”

Diluc didn't know why he was so inclined to go to this meeting for you, but seeing you so sad that your father could not come to the meeting he impulsive decided that he would be the one who would go. The smile that you gave him when the two of you went to get ice cream made all his coming regrets leave him.

He would start to take candy anywhere with him, and when he sees you he would place candy on your hands after a short talk. Kaeya would tease him for it as he was one of the few brothers who vehemently refused you moving to the teyvat residence.

Which he choose to ignore.

__________

Kaeya

Adopted son, Famous Model | Age: 28

Kaeya was abandoned at a young age by his father and was later adopted into the family. Watching you he understood your hesitation and the hopeful look that you had in your eyes about the prospect of having a family. When he found out that his mother was dating he did a bit of background research on your dad to see what the man was like. He found out that he had a daughter you.

After a few questions he asked his mom, he found out how you lived. While you had most things, it wasn't hard for him to guess that you didn't really have the best father and daughter relationship with your dad. Too apart, disconnected, envious of others yet unable to do anything, you were a family yet at the same time apart. So when it was his turn to greet you he smiled kindly, with a little mischievous in his eyes as you looked at him curiously yet shy.

“Hello, my name is Kaeya. It is nice to meet you, my future little sister.”

It was a surprise to many when Kaeya took his time to talk to you, not that he did anything weird he always took care of his little siblings when he could and it wasn't like he was bad with kids! Yet his brother would always look at him in shock when they saw you and him chatting, when you are so awkward and shy around the other brothers but looked completely comfortable with him. They were bound to think that something was wrong!!!

When Ayato and Childe glare at him, he would just grin at them teasing them that he was one of the few that got close to you than them first. There were a few times he held you in his arms, as you looked sleepy taking you to your room as Venti whines that he could also do that, why do you have to be more comfortable with him?! Kaeya always listens to you, he was always kind but not pushy. He would tease you often but never too far.

There was one time when you finished school did Kaeya picked you up as all your siblings were busy. He had a modeling appointment that day, so instead of going back home you and he headed to his work. The people all cooed at you, surprised as they teased Kaeya on the fact that he never told him that he has such a cute sister.

That day there was a surprise model shoot where Kaeya and you modeled together. It did go on the magazines or anything but Kaeya was able to get copies of it to flaunt to his siblings.

__________

Albedo

Scientist | Age: 27

Albedo didn't give a huge reaction, as if he didn't care... almost. Sure he was glad that his old mother has gotten married again and would not be alone once again but what he thinks of you coming to the house... nothing really. Too focused on his research and all to dislike or like the idea and all.

Albedo wasn't there when you first arrived at the residence, meeting you at the kitchen late at night

The first thing that went through his mind right then was that you were less troublesome than his senior coworker Alice's daughter, Klee. As he hands you a glass of water that you where struggling to get as the cups were too high for you to reach.

A mental note to make a place for cups where you could comfortably grab.

Albedo was rather good with kids, no that many of his family knew. So that one time when he found you alone in the living room he took the role of watching over you. He had time and all so it didn't really matter. Small talk leads to you asking what he does for work, science then led to him telling you many facts he knows about birds and butterflies.

Albedo didn't mind having a sister, in fact, he adored you when he could. While not as out there as say Childe and Ayato he would let you play with his art supplies and you would start going to him when you had an art homework you needed to do.

There was that one time he took you to the science lab as Rhinedottir found out that he now had a sister and had ordered him to bring you here so that she could meet you. Both Rhinedottir and Alice noticed you come into the lab holding Albedo's hand all the while looking excitedly at everything and while it is not really noticeable they did notice a tint of pride in Albedo's walk and the shine in his eyes as he teaches you what he does here.

Really it is just too cute. How he would blow the hot chocolate so that you won't burn your tongue when you drink it before giving it to you. As he watch you and Klee talk with each other, playing with dodoco which he looked at them as if to ask if it was really alright for you to play with bombs. He trusts Klee but my, it is just adorable that they could watch the usually quiet and stoic boy fret over somebody.

__________

Ayato

Model | Age: 26

A rather popular actor, he is famous for the many roles that he got. Currently, he is for a series called ‘Genshin’ where a traveler lost his sibling, Ayato is working as one of the many side characters but because of how many people like him he is probably coming back.

When Ayato heard that he would be getting a sister he was delighted really. Ever since he was little he always wanted to have a little sister and kept asking his mother if he could have a little sister… but in reality was always awkward when he told his mother that he wants a sister that look just like him when she already broke up with her husband, his dad.

Ayato didn't ask anymore when he understood the situation of his family.

After he heard that his mother was going to marry again after so many failed marriages he started to lose a lot of hope in his mother’s love life.... till he heard that her fiance has a little daughter but he choose to ignore it as he has grown up and out of that phase of wanting a little sister for the longest time…. Till he heard that you were coming to stay with them…

Wait what??

Sure Ayato wants a sister and all but not like this…? You were so young he wasn't sure if it was alright to separate you from your father. Was what he thought till your father told him that it was alright and that the two of you were used to it… Ayato started to deeply dislike your father, out of everything Ayato always valued family and to see you alone, your father countries away as if you don't mind him.. looking as if you were used to it... made his blood boil.

But it wasn't his place to say anything so instead, he choose to watch over you, be that person who your father cant be and become someone who you could look up to. Ayato tried to get to know you… but…. Why are you running away from him??

After trying to talk to you multiple times Ayato found out from Zhongli that you were scared of him. Which surprised him actually, like why? Why were you scared of him, he doesn't look scary, does he? He didn't understand…

He tried to get close to you with gifts and presents even food as it seemed to work for Thoma. But you continued to avoid him when he smiles at you, almost in tears. Kaeya and Childe made so much fun of him.

One day you wanted to go to the playground, you asked Albedo if he could take you to the playground but unfortunately, he was too busy to do so. So instead Albedo asked Ayato to take you to the playground. Ayato took this as an opportunity to get close to you and said yes.

That the walk to the playground was one of the most awkward trips that he had ever had. You were quick to head to the swings when you finally got the chance. Ayato sighed as he watched you play on the swings he planned on reading a book but he was rather thirsty so when he spotted a boba shop he choose to make a quick trip there.

When he came back with two boba drinks in his hands he noticed you yelling at a group of boys. They told you that the park was theirs and that you should just scram if you didn't want to get hurt. Ayato could see your fear but you stayed where you were glaring at them, it wasn't until one of the boys suddenly choose to pull your hair did he intervene stepping right behind you as he looked at the boy who was pulling your hair and the other kids.

When the kids saw him they all froze, Ayato even noticed the “leader” peed themselves on their pants. He didn't threaten them, he said nothing horrible really but maybe it was because of his angry tone that they ran off scared... probably.

Ayato sighed suddenly feeling rather tired, till he suddenly heard a small “thank you” and saw that it was you who said it, not avoiding him but instead looking at him in the eyes.

After that, he just tried to spoil you every day. Dear! if only he had taken a video that time.

__________

Childe / Tartaglia

Works at a toy company | Age: 25

Childe was a son when their father married a woman for like around 5 years or something, things didn't work and it just got worst and worst that they choose to have a divorce. They wanted nothing from each other and when it came to their children they decided to she would take the oldest with her while the ex-husband would take the 3 other kids with him.

When Childe caught wind that his mother is remarrying and that her fiance has a small daughter. He was absolutely ecstatic!! A younger sister? Of course, he would love to meet her! And the fact that she might stay here is even better! He does have a blood related younger sister but his father who took his three blood related younger siblings choose to leave the country and while Childe could talk to his sibling by call or video chat in the end they are not together and it is difficult when he had to watch his sibling grow farther and farther from him it is just... disappointing.

Childe loves children, he adores his younger siblings... apart of the triplets… They make his blood boil. Thoma is cute but too mature sometimes but Childe spoils Itto, Bennett and Chongyun a lot. But in the end, they are all boys nobody was really able to fill the empty role of his young sister. Childe genuinely wanted to coo at how adorable you were when he first saw you but held himself.

“Hey, my name is Ajax but you can call me Childe! Nice to meet you, little sis.”

If he only could, he wants to grab you and go shopping, buying you everything that you were interested in and touched. Give you a pretty tiara and pinks gowns, play with you and all so to see you actively run away from him as if scared of him he started to pout.

Childe started to whine when he would see you grow close to other siblings even more than him even tho he was trying his best to get close to you unlike them! Diluc had to yell at him telling his brother that he is a grown man and that he shouldn't be mopping and whining, glaring murder at his other brothers when he sees them with you, like a child.

It is just not fair, he is willing to buy you everything! Let him play with his future little sister!! Childe pouted when he watched you interact with Zhongli for once he was jealous of the oldest brother...

It was when your little bunny's right ear ripped, and you were crying did he finally have the chance to interact with you. While you were in tears, trying your best to control your sobs Childe heard your small cries from behind your door did he worry and knocked on the door asking if you were okay.

When you told him about your pink bunny rabbit, he told you to wait, heading to his room he brought a sewing kit that he had and started sewing your bunny’s ear back. You were surprised, looking at your bunny it was a bit wonky but not bad. That was Childe’s first hug he got from you.

__________

Venti

University Student | Age: 20

Venti, Xiao and Kazuha are triplets. As kids, they grew up together yet much to their mother's surprise all have vastly different personalities. When Venti found out that he was gonna have a little sister he was absolutely delighted! He saw a picture of you that your father sent to his mother and cooed at adorable you looked.

He pouted when everyonde suddenly decided that they would definitely never let you near him when he is seen with a bottle of alcohol he could handle himself!

When he finally get to meet you his eyes sparkled as waved smiling cheerfully at you. When you returned his smile tho a bit hesitantly at first he just wanted to hug and tell you over and over how adorable you are.

"Hi, my name is Venti! So you are my little sister now? You are so cute, ehe~"

While he says that would take care of you often, it is not really that… often. As the boy was always out with friends till late at night partying and on the weekdays he was at university.

But when he does have the time he would teach you how to play the harp, help you do your music homework or play games with him. The two of you would pull small pranks here and there with the siblings and most of the time in the end he would be the one scolded.

One time when he came back home very late, drunk after a party. As the living rooms and the elevators are connected he wondered why the lights on the kitchen that was right beside the living room were on and headed there thinking that he would be seeing one of his brothers as he plan to annoy them or something but then he saw you.

You were placing your cup on the table when you noticed him and jump in surprised, Venti understood that you were here just to get a glass of water and was about to ask you something- He didn't remember what happened after but he woke up on the floor, with a blanket on covering him, a pillow under his head and a killer hangover.

He thought that it was one of his brothers that gave him the blanket and while thankful was quick to forget about it as this wasn't really the first time. So whenever he would come back home the next few days drunk and wake up with a blanket around him the next day. He always thought that it was his brother placing a blanket around him till Kazuha told him that, no it ain't that.

It was you who kept on covering him with a blanket, somedays Kazuha would find you waiting for Venti, when you notice that he hasn't come home. The next moment Venti was right next to you and basically asked you if what Kazuha is true which you nodded, wondering why he was asking as if him being drunk was normal or something…

Venti swore that day never to drink to the point that he would come home and end up sleeping on the floor. But he also started to try and put more effort to spending time with you.

__________

Xiao

University student | Age: 20

Xiao when he first found out that you would be coming to the teyvat residence absolutely hated it. He is too busy and a child in the house noisy as most of them are would only be annoying for him really. But he had no choice really not when most of his brothers were okay with it and his mother asked him with puppy dog eyes.

Xiao narrowed his eye at you, when he noticed you staring at his tattoos when he finally reached home after school, Venti went somewhere with his friends probably to a party while Kazuha choose to disappear for a while now. Not that he cares, it has nothing to do with him.

You flinched at his glare and looked down intimidated by his gaze, and Xiao decided to play his video games in his room instead of the living room big tv.

"Hmph."

It was a surprise to everyone when Xiao was the first brother you actually grew close with and bonded with. Childe and Ayato both were shocked when they realized this and since it was not like they could really do anything about it they became super passive-aggressive towards Xiao.

You would also be surprised if you didn't forget how scary his glare was when you first meet him. But unlike the other brothers, he was at home pretty much most of the time apart from university. Zhongli would always ask him to look after you and since Xiao had always had so much respect for his older brother he had no choice but to follow.

At first, you were given a cold shoulder as he tells you to head to the living room since he can't trust you not to break anything in his room, he would play a game on his phone or console in the living room while you would do something else.

But it was thought time did the two of you got close. One day he noticed that you were bored and in a roundabout way offered to play a game with him as he had nothing to do back then too, finding no interest in most of his regular games that day. You guys played multiple games together that day. Zhongli took many pictures of the two of you together both focused on the game you were playing at that time.

At one point he let you in his room to show you the games and all he had around. The two of you grew close and he would often give you head pats as a sign of care while acting tough and a little mean even tho know you know that Xiao actually cared about you, he would always go out of his way to help you while playing off as if he didn't want to do so. Be it grabbing a cup from the shelf you cant reach, teaching you your homework when you were confused or unsure of what to do.

Xiao would deny it whenever asked if he helped with something.

__________

Kazuha

University Student | Age: 20

Kazuha just smiled at you when you finally arrived, he didn't express any dislike maybe a bit of concern at first when he found out that your father would just leave you with them and go on to have an early honeymoon with their mother disguised as a business work.

but in the end, he didn't care as much as others.

When Kazuha first meet you was when you were trying to help Thoma clean the garden in front of the mansion. He was resting on a bench as he played with a leaf with his fingers when you looked at him curiously. Kazuha smiled at you suddenly and when he got your attention he started to play a small tune with the leaf he was holding.

He wanted to smile but couldn't when he heard a gasp and then small pit pats of steps growing closer and closer. You were quiet as you watch him in awe of how he made sounds with a leaf only when he was done did you speak telling him that was so cool and how did he do that?

“Well, that is a secret. You must be ____… I am Kazuha.”

When you found out that he was your brother, you were surprised. But maybe because of the leaf tune that he made when you two first meet he won a few points as, unlike other brothers you weren't really awkward around him. Sometimes you would bring a leaf when you see him hold a leaf in his hand as if you were going to sneakingly copy him or something. It is cute really and Kazuha was more amused than annoyed by everything.

You and he would meet up in the garden when you had the time or weren't already hanging with another brother. It wasn't really decided that you would meet him at around this time or where to meet but since you always see him in the garden at a certain time you would always try to follow it.

It was nice to have a company, unknowingly as time went on Kazuha had grown used to seeing you right beside him sometimes watching him. He was delighted when you finally made a sound with the leaf that sounded more like a PIII- than anything bit it was progress. Kazuha thought that he would be able to spend more time with you when the summer vacation starts… So imagine his surprise when he heard that you were sleeping all morning almost every day when summer vacation finally started, what he thought was the time he would spend with his little sister.

You guys don't talk often outside the garden but when he asked why you were waking up so later and when you vaguely respond that you were waiting for someone and that you didn't want them to get cold he connected the dots when Venti suddenly whined about his hangover.

Kazuha then just smiles at you and told you that nobody is going to be sleeping on the floor tonight and even after you should sleep early tonight and not sneak out past your bedtime.

You hesitantly nodded…

__________

Thoma

Highschool student | Age: 18

When Thoma heard that he might get a younger sister soon and that she was coming to live in the teyvat residence, instead of excited he was a bit worried. Worried about how others would react to meeting you, would they scare you away or will you cry since you were in a new place and outside your comfort zone and with some of his brothers right in front of your face.

His worries were proven true when he saw the excitement in his older brother Childe, Venti and his younger brother Itto, how they keep on saying that they would be the best brothers! Thoma looked at Ayato who was chuckling aright beside him as if this wasn't a problem at all, but when he saw his brother Ayato’s eye, Thoma knew there would be competition…

Thoma wasn't really able to talk to you the first time when he saw you in the living room with your dad as your father talked with the others. As he had to calm Itto down before the teen could charge into the group and probably scoop you in his arms. It was only later when you were exploring the kitchen did you meet Thoma who looked at you surprised but ended up smiling at you asking if you want to eat anything.

“Hey my name is Thoma, I am one of your brothers. Uhhh, want anything to eat?”

You quietly ate the Dango that Thoma gave you that day, and was later found by your father and Thoma’s mom who laughed as they asked if you already bonded with one of the brothers. After that when you started living in the residence it was always to Thoma did you go for snacks, as if silently labeling him as the snack keeper.

You weren't necessarily close with Thoma at first as you were with Xiao, but Thoma absolutely loves to watch you eat the food he prepared or made. Your chubby cheeks as you chew on the cake or whatever dessert or sweet he brought that day. It is a secret from the other brother but Thoma probably is the one who poked your cheeks the most, which is a surprise considering that Childe also pokes your cheeks often and surprisingly Diluc too.

Maybe because of that, you started to grow close with him too faster than other siblings Thoma is the one who you would unconsciously look for when Xiao isn't there. Maybe because of how he was always in the living room watching him clean, while you eat the fruits that he cut for you or you attempt to try and help him.

Or maybe it was that time when you actually got so sick, a high fever you stayed in bed as you unconsciously called your dad. Thoma was the one who looked after you, changing your towel when needed, giving you medicine on time and just staying right beside you watching over you.

The other brothers would have helped but it seems that day all of them apart from Thoma were all very busy and unable to cancel their appointments when they heard that you were really sick. Thoma stayed by you telling you that it was okay and that he will be by your side and when you ask if you will be alone he told you, you will never be alone.

The next day it was Thoma with the high fever.

__________

Itto

Highschool student | Age: 17

Aside from Childe and Ayato, Itto's reaction to having a baby sister was just as big. Jumping up and down asking Zhongli when he would get to meet her. Zhongli told him it won't be after a month or two depending on your father and everyday Itto would nag the oldest brother in the family asking him when you would come to visit family and when he could see you.

Although he has two brothers younger than him Itto always dreamed of having an even younger sibling where he could act like his older siblings where they could look for him when they need help and care. And sure he helps his two younger brothers but he wishes that he has a sibling where he could carry them on his shoulders and show them how awesome he is! Chongyun and Bennett do look up to him but Itto still wants a younger sibling where he could read storybooks too and carry them with one arm just as how his older siblings has done for him when he was a kid.

So when he finally saw you Itto almost threw himself at you if not for the fact that Thoma was holding him back telling Itto that he might scare you.

"You may call the Awesome Me, Big brother Itto!"

Itto at first tried to get close to you, but maybe because of how pushy he was you started to actively avoid him that he became almost like a sad puppy as he watched you interact with Albedo, Kaeya and even Xiao just fine. He wanted to be that awesome brother too!!

So when you saw him almost mopping around as Kaeya told you that he is surprised that Itto was like this as he never saw the boy this sad before you knew it was your fault.

So "carefully" you approached him, and Itto could not be anymore happier! Following what Thoma said he tried his best not to scare you away, which most of the time failed really badly. But the more you got used to Itto's personality the more you open up in the end, so it didn't hugely matter. Just Itto being Itto

Itto would go around almost yelling at his school how he got the best younger sister in the whole wide world. And would flaunt all the pictures the two of you had taken together. One time when Zhongli took you to Itto’s school to pick him up, Itto yelled when he saw you. Grabbing you and placing you on his shoulders he ran back to his school yelling that his little sister is here and how you are so adorable. See! See!! He has the best sister!!

From the beginning, he is the one who always yelled out loudly that you were his sister and that you and he were family! When you felt so lonely there was a high chance he could be in a corner just waiting to scare you by saying family or little sis! Always telling you that you belong to the family even tho your father and their mother weren't even married yet. It made it easier for you to open up, otherwise, it would probably take even more time for you to come out of your shell.

__________

Chongyun

Middle school student | Age: 14

Chongyun thought you were a ghost the first time he meet you, late at night when you were looking for something to eat when it was difficult to leave your room as you were still shy back then. Chongyun had heard that a little girl moved to the residence, he didn't have time to meet you as he was busy with studies and training martial arts.

So in a dark living room, the only light coming from the fridge is kind of freaky most children would think. Chongyun spotted you, almost glowing from the light of the fridge and screamed. He didn't know what he was thinking when he moved to hit you thinking that he must exorcise you, he wasn't thinking and moved on instinct thinking that if he hit you once you would be gone.

The poor boy was topped by Albedo, who was watching over you that day as he was worried that you didn't eat much that day. He didn't want to scare you by appearing so suddenly in this dark place so he hid, only to have to come out of his hiding when he saw Chongyun about to hit you.

He woke up the whole building, all the brothers woke up when they heard Chongyun’s shout (Thinking that Chongyun was probably seeing things as it wasn't the first time) and bolted out of their rooms when they heard the cries of a small girl. DID CHONGYUN HIT YOU?? The boy was furiously apologizing to you as you cling to Zhongli’s arms, frightened and crying.

After that you avoided him, whenever you see him you would retreat to your room which broke the small kid's heart really, some of his brothers chuckled the first time but grew to pity their little brother when it became constant.

Chongyun tried to talk to you at dinner, but half of the time you ignored him or just hesitantly answered him avoiding eye contact. At this point, Kaeya stepped in and took you to another room and explained the misunderstanding, while Zhongli and the other brothers did try to explain they didn't do exactly well and still left the awkwardness in the air.

Kaeya told you that Chongyun was really sorry and that it was all a misunderstanding, the man added a small joker two telling you that even he would be scared of the fridge ghost. You laughed and finally listened, planning on giving Chongyun another chance. So when you opened your door, in front of you was Chongyun holding two popsicles in his hands.

“Ummm… I wanted to give you a popsicle… Do you… want one?”

After that the two of you started talking again, it was awkward at first but Chongyun felt a bit of pride when he showed you all the gymnastics he could do, he had to be careful not to show you too much fighting worried that you might be scared again but the giggles and wows that he got from you when he does a handstand or something similar fills him with pride.

He didn't remember what he thought when he heard that you will be living here at the teyvat residence. He probably didn't care much, but not that you are here and will become his little sister he didn't mind and really like it and when you ask if you could do the same as him he promised you that he would teach you how to do it.

Of course with another brother present and a lot of soft mats if case you get hurt while you try to jump… Chongyun might have become a wee bit protective

__________

Bennett

Middle school student | Age: 14

When Bennett heard that he was gonna get a little sister when his mother is going to remarry, Bennet grew excited. He wasn't as loud with it as Itto and Childe, but he was skipping when he went back to his room… not before tripping on a wire cable. Bennet was actually adopted into the family similar like Kaeya as his parents died in a car crash. Their friend then took pity on Bennett and adopted him, so here he was now.

Even with Kaeya, Bennett occasionally felt outcasted from the family so to him when you join the family he felt he won't be alone anymore!- Not that he wants to outcast you from his family, no! He wants to be the one who welcomes you, be beside you like what Kaeya had done for him and this time become a big brother after always being the younger brother! Arge it is hard to explain- but Bennett is definitely happy!!

Bennett's second meeting with you was when he saw you in the living room alone, he wanted to greet you, and halfway to his hello he tripped again on wires and fell on his face. He didn't break anything but he got a small cut on his face from somewhere he wasn't sure.

You looked at him in worry your shyness gone out of concern for him as you run towards him asking Bennett if he was alright? He told you he was alright but you suddenly stood up and ran to your room before he could say anything else and came back with a pink bandaid with bunnies on it, sticking it on his face. All the boy could do was grin and thank you for it.

It wasn't on purpose, really that he started tripping on wire or anything really right in front of you. He wished he didn't show you such an uncool side of him but what happened happened and it is not like he could really do anything about it.

His brothers teased him about how many bandaids he had that was pink and bunny design. But it was cute and instead of him being a big bro you became a nagging and watchful little sis that constantly worried about him and later he would get a kiss from your pink bunny doll on top of the bandaid while you started to sing for the pain to go away.

So imagine his surprise when Ayato called him to pick you up from the kindergarten as he suddenly had work that day only to see you being picked up by the other kids in the kindergarten the teacher was nowhere in sight. He heard them say that you were motherless and that your father would leave soon after and that he didn't want you since he always outside the country, away from you. They said mean things over and over and over... that you don't have a family...

You started to cry when one of the kids try to take your rabbit doll away did Bennett scream at them to leave you alone. Seeing a boy older than them the kids got scared and ran away just not before pushing you to the floor. He picked you up as you cried in your arms telling him what they said was right and that you were alone.

He hugged you tight, telling you that it was alright and the bullies were gone he told you that you had a family and that it was with him your brother! and also that your other brothers were all waiting for you at home, that your family is waiting for you at home.

When you finally collected yourself you told him that you and him weren't family and that this was different. But Bennett stopped you with a smile as he placed a bandaid on your nose where there was a small cut there.

"You are family! It doesn't matter if we are not blood-related or if our parents have yet to marry. I think of you as family and brothers all of them all think of you as family and nothing could change that!"

Some things to take note of~ (or just notes of things I was thinking when I was writing this)

♡ Reader's father should be around his late 40s (early 40s when the reader was born.) While your mother was in her 30s when she gave birth to the reader. They always wanted to have a kid but it never really happened so the reader was a happy surprise that time.

♡ Reader's soon to be stepmother married multiple times excluding your father she married a total of 3 times.

♡ Her first husband she had Zhongli, Diluc, Albedo and Ayato till they got separated. Childe was with her second husband she had another 3 kids with him but he took them when they separated, while with her third husband she gave birth to the triplets Venti, Xiao and Kazuha then Thoma, Itto and Chongyun. Kaeya and Bennett being adopted.

♡ She should be around her 50s right now

♡ Readers father's job had something to do with being a traveler, so that is kinda why he would go out often while his fiance and reader's soon to be step mother is a rich lady with her own business and all but sold it when she choose to retire early. She met your father when the two of them were in a foreign country. And they somehow clicked.

♡ There is a chance where you/reader got close with Kaeya, Albedo, Thoma and Xiao first, and Ayato and Childe absolutely hate it. (Kaeya and Albedo because in canon they took care of Klee and for Xiao’s reason is a bit more elaborate; the reader here has always been alone so brothers like Childe and Itto can be overwhelming for her Xiao is just the opposite which would be nice after the sudden change of atmosphere. Thoma... is obvious.. and not because I adore this boy too much..)

♡ It is kinda hinted that the reader knows a drunkard before coming to the teyvat residence on Venti's part. Reader's father asked many of his relatives to take care of you and while not written here close friends too. Use that info as you wish.

Note: This was not supposed to be this long..... like I was probably thinking around....2k words...? but things keep adding and adding and this happened and now this is the longest post I ever made~

Some characters had more text than others, I know that but I didn't want to spend even more time on this than what I have done already. I hope you understand.

But all in all, I am happy with how it turned out and I hope you like it! comment or reblog this if you do!! I really love reading your thoughts!

Other than that.... it is almost 3 am I thought I would be done with this 3 hours ago, soooooo~ good night guys and have a nice day/night~ zzzzzzz

Tokyo Revengers incorrect quotes: (Haitani brothers)

Ran: *running towards Rindou with open arms* Rindou: *moves out of the way* Ran: Hey, why’d you move?! *inserts offended face*

Rindou: I thought you were going to attack me. Ran: I was going to hug you! Rindou: Why would you hug me? Ran: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

a song of past romance a royal / greek au gojo fic

pairing ⸺ suitor/king!gojo x princess!reader

summary ⸺ 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 ?

warnings ⸺ smut, p i v sex, oral f recieving, whimpering gojo agenda <3, fluff, a big of angst if you squint, some insecurity, pining, banterTM, gojo is really whipped for reader, odypen inspired (this one's for my epic/pjo baddies), extensive greek mythology knowledge not needed, athena is tired of gojo lol, jealousy, helen is a sassy diva, not totally accurate to the lore of the illiad bc i just use the premise, mentions of children/pregnancy at the end if you squint, semi edited, art by @/yunonoaii

a/n my hyperfixation made me write this lol. you dont need to know anything about greek mythology to read this fic it's more of a period piece / royal au :3

general masterlist

You had registered the young man’s presence for quite some time now.

Ever since your beloved cousin Helen—the most beautiful woman in the world, the kallikomos, kalliparēios Helen—had come of age, your palace had been plagued by an unceasing tide of suitors. Even a respite alone in the garden, in peace, was not guaranteed to you; just as the ivory haired suitor (who thought himself furitive) that had been sneaking and skirting around you for a while now, there were countless of men on the palace grounds desperate to even get a glimpse of what the countless legends and tales about Helen had described. 

Though, you weren’t jealous of your lovely cousin—you loved her to death. But it was getting on your nerves, because you had hoped for a quiet evening relaxing under the olive tree you were sitting in. This mn, however, was different.

For some time now, the ivory-haired suitor had been skirting the edges of your sanctuary, moving as though he thought himself invisible. You could feel his gaze, sharp and intent, as you alternated between weaving and reading. His persistence should have irritated you. And yet, there was something amusing about his poor attempt at stealth.

The telltale rustle of grass betrayed him once again. You sighed, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear before reaching up to gather it all, baring the curve of your neck to the evening breeze.

The stalker suitor tripped with a loud thud.

You blinked. Then, sighing once more, you set down your spindle and turned. "I know you’re there," you called, unimpressed.

Silence, then a low chuckle.

When he finally stepped into the open, your disinterested gaze lifted—and promptly widened.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. The build of a warrior, yet the face of a prince. A mischievous, almost boyish charm softened the sharp lines of his features, but his striking blue eyes gleamed with something untamed.

Helen would have a field day with him. Like that one thing she said about how she looovedd versatile men, the ones that could manhandle you but also whimper. Or whatever. 

Then, to your utter shock, he dropped to one knee, extending his hand toward you in a bold gesture of devotion. His demeanor was confident, but you saw him sporting a hue of pink on his cheeks. It was rather cute, but any feelings of fondness disappeared at his next words.

"O’ Helen—" the suitor began, his voice rich with reverence, "fairest of all women, whose beauty outshines even the dawn—"

You exhaled sharply through your nose. Of course.

"—permit me but a moment to bask in your radiance, for no mortal man could gaze upon you and remain unchanged—"

Your fingers curled tightly around the threads of your spindle.

"—grant me the honor of—"

"Try again," you cut in, your voice deceptively sweet.

The suitor paused mid-sentence, blinking up at you.

"Pardon?"

You raised an unimpressed brow, tilting your head. "If you’re going to wax poetic, you might at least direct it toward the right woman."

His lips parted, then pressed into a puzzled frown. He tilted his head, sharp blue eyes scanning your face as if trying to decipher a riddle. "But… you are Helen," he said slowly, as if testing the words.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. "Afraid not."

A pause.

His gaze flickered over you again, as if he could will you into being Helen just by staring hard enough. "Are you sure?"

You gave him a look. "I would hope I know my own name."

His brows drew together, clearly struggling to process this revelation. "But you’re—you’re sitting under an olive tree, looking vaguely divine. Your hair caught the light just now in a way that seemed very… goddess-sent. You have the whole tragic air of someone who is probably devastatingly beautiful and sought after by hundreds."

You blinked, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. You shouldn’t be affected by his bromides, for his words must be a ploy to gain back his image after offending you. "Is that supposed to be an apology?"

He squinted. "More like a logical assessment of my mistake."

You sighed. "Well, your 'logical assessment' is incorrect."

He sat back on his heels, regarding you with blatant skepticism. "I don’t know," he said slowly. "I came here for Helen. You’re here. And you're lovely. Seems like a very Helen thing to do."

You gave him a flat stare in return. "What, exist?"

"Exactly."

You rolled your eyes. "I see why they make you fight instead of think."

At that, the suitor huffed a short laugh, his earlier embarrassment giving way to something more amused, more interested. "Alright," he conceded, crossing his arms over his knee. "If you aren’t Helen, then who are you?"

You leaned back against the tree, allowing yourself a small, satisfied smirk. "The woman you just proposed to by accident."

He blinked. Then groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "The gods are laughing at me."

"As they should," you replied smoothly.

To your surprise, he grinned. "That makes two of us, then," he mused, tilting his head at you. "I get the feeling you enjoy seeing men suffer."

A non committal hum from you. “Maybe, maybe not.” With that, you began weaving once more, giving him the signal that his presence and platitudes were no longer needed.  

Yet, he remained.

You could feel his gaze lingering, heavy with an amusement that refused to wane. He had the look of someone thoroughly entertained, and that irritated you more than anything. Having conversed with him, you knew he was sharper than the average suitor—quick-witted, quicker still to recover from his blunders. Though he had not done anything to overtly suggest it, there was something about him that set him apart. It was a feeling—an air around him, something god-graced.

You paid it no mind.

He had not meant for you to be the one on the receiving end of his affection, and it would do you no good to cling to a man who had come here seeking another. He was meant to lose his mind over Helen, not take interest in you.

"Tell me your name," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You didn't pause in your weaving. "Why?"

A short huff of laughter. "I figure if I’m already embarrassing myself in front of a woman, I should at least know which one."

You shot him a sidelong glance, unimpressed. "Bold of you to assume you’ll be staying long enough for it to matter."

His grin deepened. "Well, now I have to stay, just to prove you wrong."

You sighed, shaking your head. "You’re insufferable."

"I’ve been told worse," he admitted. Then, leaning forward just slightly, he added, "Though never by a woman whose name I don’t know."

You lifted a brow at him, unimpressed. "And do you have a name, then, mysterious suitor?"

His expression shifted, something proud yet teasing gleaming in those striking blue eyes.

"Gojo Satoru," he declared, as if it should mean something to you. "Of Ithaca."

You hummed, as if considering. "Never heard of it."

He blinked, then scoffed. "Never heard of Ithaca?" He placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "A land of brilliant minds, fierce warriors, and some say the most handsome men to ever walk the earth—"

"Ah," you interjected, dry. "That explains it."

He smirked. "Explains what?"

"Why I’ve never heard of it."

A beat of silence. Then, to your dismay, he laughed—fully, unabashedly, as if you’d just handed him the greatest gift in the world.

You huffed, returning your attention to your weaving. "Now that you have a name to be proud of, surely you can be on your way."

"Not yet," he said, far too easily.

You didn’t look up. "Why?"

"Because you haven’t given me yours."

You didn’t miss the way his voice dipped, taking on something smoother, something more coaxing. He was trying to charm it out of you, as if your name was a prize worth winning.

"Perhaps I simply don’t wish to give it," you mused, feigning disinterest.

"Perhaps you’re afraid," he countered.

You did look up at that, leveling him with an unimpressed stare. "Afraid?"

He shrugged, utterly unbothered. "That if I know your name, I’ll never forget it." His gaze flickered to your hands, to the weaving that had slowed ever so slightly. "And maybe… neither will you."

You forced yourself to resume your work, your fingers steady despite the odd flutter in your chest. "You think too highly of yourself, Gojo Satoru of Ithaca."

"I’m told it’s my greatest flaw," he admitted, smirking. "Well—one of many."

You ignored him, the rhythmic motion of your weaving serving as a convenient distraction.

Gojo exhaled, as if relenting—though something told you he was nowhere near finished with you. He rocked back on his heels, eyeing you with unconcealed interest. "Alright, mystery woman," he drawled. "If you won’t give me your name, I suppose I’ll have to keep guessing."

You didn't dignify that with a response.

But somehow, you knew—this would not be the last time Gojo Satoru of Ithaca sought you out.

He had yet to claim your name.

No matter how cunningly he pried, no matter how sweetly he coaxed, you remained steadfast, denying him that small but significant victory.

Satoru had undoubtedly set sail for Sparta in search of a worthy challenge and a faithful bride—but he had not expected to find both in one woman. You were a puzzle, divine and elusive, a riddle spun by the Fates themselves. And for a man who relished the thrill of unraveling mysteries, you were the most captivating enigma he had ever encountered.

Not since the day he bested the enchanted boar—a feat that had drawn Athena’s keen eye and earned him her favor—had he felt such a rush.

He’d dare say you were the first one he’s felt an affinity for, despite the countless of women and candidates he had faced ever since becoming the king of Ithaca.

But before he could ponder more on the thought, he sensed a presence, tensing immediately. Heavy-set footsteps, trying to be quiet in the hallway they were both in.

Satoru crossed his arms, halted where he was. “I know you’re there.”

A laugh barked out in a deep voice. “Perceptive like they say, Gojo Satoru of Ithaca.” 

Satoru watched as Toji Fushiguro sauntered toward him, his movements unhurried, yet carrying the unmistakable confidence of a seasoned warrior. The man was broad-shouldered, his presence commanding, the kind of brute who could cleave a man in half with a single swing of his blade. Yet his grin—sharp, knowing—held more calculation than recklessness.

Toji came to a stop before him, arms crossed, weight shifted onto one foot like he had all the time in the world, smirking. "No wonder Athena’s got her eye on you."

Satoru tilted his head, feigning nonchalance. "I do have a way of impressing gods and mortals alike," he mused. "Though I imagine you didn’t come all this way just to admire me."

“Just assessing the competition,” Toji hums in response, eyes still assessing Satoru. He was trying to plan three steps ahead; unfortunately for him, Satoru was ten steps ahead. 

“There is no competition,” comes Satoru’s cool response. 

Toji studied Satoru for a moment, his sharp green eyes narrowing slightly. Then, with an amused scoff, he asked, "You’re not here to fight for Helen’s hand? Are you crazy?”

Satoru let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if the very thought was amusing. "Helen?" he echoed, letting the name roll from his tongue with deliberate care. He lifted a hand, absently brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. "No, I’m afraid I have no interest in her."

Toji studied him, eyes narrowing. "She’s the most beautiful woman in the world."

Satoru did not deny it. "So they say."

"And yet," Toji pressed, his tone skeptical, "you aren’t here for her?"

Satoru finally looked at him properly, his head tilting, his gaze alight with something teasing, something unreadable. "Not in the way you are." He let the words settle between them before continuing, his tone almost indulgent. "You’re welcome to her."

Toji’s mouth pressed into a thin line. His instincts told him Satoru was not lying, yet something about the Ithacan’s expression, the way he carried himself, the glint in those striking blue eyes—it all made him wary. He had met many warriors in his time, but this was no brute with a sword, no hotheaded prince desperate to claim a prize.

Satoru Gojo was something else entirely.

"So what is it, then?" Toji asked, crossing his arms tighter, his voice edged with suspicion. "You sailed all this way, and for what? A festival?"

Satoru’s smirk deepened, his expression inscrutable. "Let’s just say Sparta has given me a rather interesting puzzle."

Toji scoffed but let it drop, running a hand through his dark hair. "Whatever," he muttered. "If you're really not here for Helen, then maybe you can help me."

Satoru hummed in vague interest. "Oh?"

"I intend to win her," Toji stated plainly. "But I could use an extra hand in ensuring things go my way."

Satoru did not answer immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze upward, as though admiring the vaulted ceilings of the hall, as though considering some grander design that only he could see. Then, with the ease of a man wholly unbothered by the concerns of others, he exhaled through his nose, the beginnings of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Don't worry about it," he said at last, his voice rich with something almost too smooth, too assured. "Everything is already falling into place."

Toji stiffened slightly at the words, his war-honed instincts bristling at their implication. He did not like things he could not predict, and Gojo Satoru of Ithaca was proving to be as unreadable as the gods themselves.

His brows lowered. "And what the hell does that mean?"

But Satoru only laughed, turning on his heel, the faintest shimmer of torchlight catching in his silver-white hair.

"Guess you’ll just have to wait and see."

And with that, he strode off, his footsteps unhurried, leaving Toji standing in the flickering shadows, frowning after him.

The great hall of Sparta was alive with the clash of bronze and the roars of men. The suitors, assembled from all corners of Greece, fought with a desperation that could only belong to those who sought glory and the hand of Helen. Blades flashed, spears thrust, and the resounding clamor of shields meeting shields filled the air like the din of battle.

Satoru Gojo of Ithaca stood at the edge of the fray, watching with a detached amusement. He had not drawn his blade, nor did he so much as feign interest in the chaos unfolding before him. Instead, his arms were loosely crossed, his posture relaxed, his sharp blue gaze studying each warrior as though they were mere pieces on a game board.

Meanwhile, you and Helen watched from the shade of a marble colonnade, seated atop a cushioned bench where servants had arranged fruits and wine for the both of you. But neither of you reached for the offerings; your gazes remained transfixed on the chaos below.

You shook your head at the ridiculous display. "It must be nice to be fought for by so many men," you murmured, resting your chin in your palm.

Helen sighed daintily—in a way that was so typically Helen it made you smile fondly—her hair catching the afternoon light like threads spun from the sun itself. “I will admit that it has its advantages.”

You cast her a dry look before gesturing at the men below. “Helen,” you shook your head, sighing exasperatedly, “they’re savages. They’re beating each other senselessly. Does this not disgust you?” Instead, your cousin’s beautiful lips curled up in a knowing smile, teasing you, “Jealous, my dear cousin?”

“No.” But the answer came a little too quickly, a little too defensively. The yells and violence was a display of brutishness—but you would not be truthful to yourself if you didn’t admit that you were a bit envious of the attention your cousin was getting. 

However, one would be a fool to confuse your sentiments for bitterness—as a princess yourself, there were no shortage of men who would be here to get you as a prize, if they did not get Helen. No shortage of men wondering who is he? Who is the man who’ll have the princess as his wife?

But unfortunately, it seemed that your father, the Spartan king Icarius, had other plans, for he would not let any man be your husband so easily. In fact, he did not wish you to marry and be taken away from him.

It was safe to say that not much male attention was on you due to this obstacle.

Helen showed no reaction to your response, but only hummed. “This fighting—sooner or later, you’re going to be in my shoes. You’re going to have to choose at one point, too, my dear.” 

“Says who?” You scoffed, turning your eyes back to the courtyard. “Do not forget Helen, these men want power. Power so they can tower above each other, place themselves above all others.”

Helen shrugged. “So what?”

You shook your head. “Silly Helen. Wouldn’t you prefer some intellectual prowess over some…savage?”  

Before Helen could reply, a shift in the air drew both of your attention back to the courtyard.

The chaos had stilled, if only for a moment. A singular figure stood at the center of it all, his ivory hair catching the wind, his stance languid yet poised.

That suitor.

The gathered nobles whispered among themselves, exchanging glances as Satoru approached the high table where the King of Sparta, Tyndareus, sat watching. The aged king stroked his beard, his expression unreadable as the Ithacan prince stopped before him, offering a bow that barely concealed the glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Your Majesty," Satoru began smoothly, "it seems we have our victor. But before we move forward, I believe there is an agreement that must be made."

The murmurs in the hall grew louder. Tyndareus narrowed his eyes slightly. "Speak, Gojo of Ithaca."

Satoru straightened, clasping his hands behind his back. "These men have come from every kingdom in Greece, each seeking the honor of marrying your daughter. Such a prize, however, comes with its dangers. Whoever wins Helen’s hand will earn not just her love but the envy and ire of the rest." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the hall. "If left unchecked, this jealousy could lead to war."

Tyndareus’s jaw tightened. It was a concern he himself had harbored, though few had dared to speak it outright.

Satoru’s lips curled at the edges, his voice turning smooth, persuasive. "I propose an oath. Let every suitor here, whether victorious or defeated, swear allegiance to Helen’s chosen husband. Let them vow, upon the gods, to uphold this union and defend it should any outside force seek to undo it. In doing so, Sparta ensures peace among the great kingdoms, rather than sows the seeds of discord."

Silence fell over the hall. The assembled nobles exchanged glances, the weight of the proposal heavy in the air. Even Toji, ever the warrior, raised a brow in consideration.

Tyndareus studied Satoru for a long moment, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his throne. Then, slowly, he nodded. "You are wise beyond your years, Gojo of Ithaca. Your proposal is sound. Let it be done."

A herald stepped forward, calling for the gathered suitors to kneel. One by one, they bent the knee, placing their hands over their hearts, swearing their loyalty to Helen’s future husband, binding themselves to an oath that would shape the course of history.

As the final echoes of the vow rang through the hall, Satoru turned his gaze to Toji, his smirk deepening ever so slightly. The pieces were falling into place, just as he had foreseen.

Meanwhile, in your place—where you and Helen were spectating the whole event away from common sight—Helen nudged you slightly, voice hushed in interest you hadn’t seen her display for any suitor yet. “Did you see that—the way he sweet talked my father?” Her gentle eyes widened in a way that could kill a man. “Who is he?”

You had no answer. Because, truthfully, you were wondering the same thing.

The palace gardens were quiet at this hour, bathed in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun. The scent of myrrh and olive trees lingered in the air, mixing with the faint salt of the distant sea. You sat with Helen beneath the shade of a vine-laden pergola, her back pressed against your legs as you wove your fingers through her silken strands, carefully braiding them into an intricate plait.

Helen, ever the restless one, sighed dramatically. “Do you suppose I should be flattered or terrified?”

You didn’t have to ask what she meant. The courtyard had been in an uproar for hours after the suitors’ oath had been sworn. Servants gossiped in hushed tones, and noblewomen tittered behind their veils. The future queen of Sparta had just gained the loyalty of every warrior present—whether she wanted it or not.

“Why not both?” you mused, separating another section of her hair.

Helen laughed, tossing her head slightly. “It is one thing to be the object of admiration. It is quite another to be the cause of bloodshed.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, though your fingers stilled when she spoke again, voice full of mischief.

“Did you see him?”

You resumed braiding. “Who?”

Helen turned just enough to throw you an incredulous look. “Who?” she repeated, mockingly. “As if you do not know exactly who I speak of. Gojo Satoru of Ithaca.”

You clicked your tongue. “Oh, him.”

“Oh, him?” Helen scoffed. “Do not play coy, cousin. He commanded that entire courtyard without lifting a blade.”

You smiled, but she could not see you. “That only proves he is cunning,” you pointed out, keeping your voice neutral.

“That proves he is powerful,” Helen countered, shifting as you tugged lightly at her braid. “He held those men in the palm of his hand.”

Barking out a laugh, you continued your work. “Or perhaps he simply enjoys hearing himself speak.”

Helen laughed, tilting her head back against your lap. “You wound me with your dullness. Do you not see? There was something about him. He has the air of a man accustomed to winning.”

You tried not to scowl. Of course he did.

And if Helen had her eye on him, there was no chance for you.

The thought settled in your chest like a stone.

It was not as though you had entertained any hopes—but you were not blind. The way he had looked at you in the hallways, the way he had tried to coax your name from you, the way he had seemed amused by your defiance. It had sparked something treacherous inside of you, something unspoken and foolish.

Because no man, no matter how powerful or wise, would ever choose you over Helen.

You forced your thoughts aside and tightened the braid. “And what of Toji Fushiguro?” you asked lightly, forcing the subject to change. “I noticed you watching him as well.”

Helen hummed, pleased with the shift in conversation. “A brute, but a striking one. I imagine he fights as well as he looks.”

You snorted. “I imagine he thinks with his fists.”

“All the better,” Helen teased. “I should not mind a warrior who throws me over his shoulder and carries me off.”

You rolled your eyes, but you giggled regardless. “You are insufferable.”

Helen twisted, kneeling so that you were now face to face. She reached for your hair, her fingers beginning to weave it into a braid of your own.

“You say I am insufferable, but you have yet to deny that Gojo Satoru is worth admiring,” she murmured.

You sighed exasperatedly, looking anywhere except for your cousin’s eyes. “Must we discuss this?”

Helen’s fingers worked deftly, her expression smug. “It is only natural to discuss the most intriguing men.”

“And yet I am sure you are doing it to torment me.”

“Perhaps a little.” Helen’s grin softened as she studied you. “You would not be so opposed to him if you did not find him interesting.”

You swallowed, looking away. “That is not—”

“You braid my hair with such care,” she interrupted, looping another section of yours. “And yet, you guard your own thoughts as if I am the enemy.”

You closed your eyes briefly, inhaling the scent of lavender and sun-warmed stone. Helen had always been perceptive when she wished to be.

“There is nothing to guard,” you murmured.

Helen merely smiled, finishing your braid with a satisfied tug.

But the knowing look in her eyes unsettled you more than any battle in the courtyard ever could.

Despite coming for Helen, Satoru continuously seeks your presence.

Your presence is intoxicating, even the smallest of glimpses of you enough to induce a feeling, one he’d liken to eating the gods’ ambrosia or drinking the finest nectar. Every time he saw you, it was passing moments in the hallways of the palace or sneaked glances while you were in the garden—your chin up, posture proud. Your eyes downcast as if you had no interest in the countless of men among you. The light only returned when you were weaving, or discussing with your cousin.

But Satoru had not been able to see you more than just those miniscule, fleeting moments—it was your accursed father that kept an eye on you during dinners, his withered glare threatening all suitors, as if to remind them: You’re here for Helen, and keep my daughter out of this, for she is not a prize you can easily win.

Little did he know Satoru loved challenges.

So he thanks the gods that an annual Spartan festival is thoroughly celebrated in the palace today.

The hall is the spitting image of revelry. Men adorn their finest tunics while women have braids of flowers and cloths, wine, fresh fruits, and meat are plentiful on all tables. There’s singing, there’s dancing, and, best of all, there’s you.

Satoru’s been observing you for quite some time now. It wouldn’t be fair to call it something akin to a predator stalking his prey; no, you far from being bested by Satoru. More like a bird waiting for all the weaker mates to filter themselves out.

They were like peacocks, the men that came up to you, with the way they flared their artificial grandeur. Each time a young man sat next to you, you remained aloof, giving them nothing but a bunch of polite glances and nods. But it was clear that what ever your responses or questions were, they were nonplussed. Satoru almost felt bad for the fools if it weren’t for how they were encroaching on his time to finally talk to you.

It was the opening that a particularly witless and brutish man had given him—the guy basically leaves the seat next to you, almost in tears from whatever you had said to him, but you only blinked as Satoru approached.

Satoru slid into the recently vacated seat beside you with the grace of a man who had never been denied anything in his life. He draped an arm over the back of his chair, all effortless ease, as if he had been waiting for this moment all night.

"Whatever you said to him, I’d like to hear it," he mused, his lips quirking in amusement. "Though I do hope you go a little easier on me—I’m rather sensitive, you see."

Your gaze flickered to him, unimpressed, though there was something almost imperceptible in your eyes—mild intrigue, perhaps.

"If you are so easily wounded, Your Majesty, then I fear you are not prepared for a Spartan woman’s words."

His grin widened. "Oh, but I live for danger."

You hummed, noncommittal, before returning your attention to the food before you. Satoru, however, found himself transfixed by the way you reached for a slice of fruit, your fingers delicate yet decisive as you brought it to your lips. You took a slow, deliberate bite, and for the first time in his life, Satoru forgot how to speak.

It was absurd, really. He had seen beautiful women eat before—Helen herself had a practiced elegance to it—but there was something about you. Something about the unthinking ease with which you did it, how your lips parted just slightly before closing around the fruit, how you chewed with quiet, effortless grace, unbothered by the weight of hungry gazes that lingered on you.

For a man who had always been surrounded by beauty, who had spent his life sated and indulged, it was utterly unfair that something so simple could leave him spellbound.

Perhaps the gods were toying with him.

"You’ve been staring for quite some time," you remarked, snapping him out of his reverie.

Satoru exhaled a laugh, recovering with impressive speed. "Can you blame me? I’m simply trying to unravel the mystery of how you managed to make that poor soul flee in tears. I’d rather not suffer the same fate."

"Then I suggest you leave now, Your Majesty."

"Not a chance."

You sighed, though there was the ghost of amusement at the corner of your lips. "Persistent, aren’t you?"

Satoru grinned. "And yet, here you are, still talking to me."

He watched as you reached for another piece of fruit, this time slower, as if testing him, watching to see if he would stare again. He nearly laughed—because, of course, he did.

"You truly are hopeless," you muttered, shaking your head.

"Ah, but at least I am entertaining," he countered. "And I do believe I’ve managed what those other poor fools could not—I’ve kept your attention."

You opened your mouth to retort, but he was faster. "Go on, you can admit it," he teased. "I make for much better company than them, don’t I?"

For a moment, you merely regarded him, expression unreadable. Then, to his absolute delight, a soft laugh escaped your lips.

It was small, barely more than an exhale, but it was real.

And gods, it was beautiful.

Satoru leaned in slightly, drinking in the sight of you as if committing it to memory.

"See?" he murmured, triumphant. "I told you I’m quite good at this."

Your amusement lingered, but you shook your head as if in exasperation. "If you say so."

He did not say so. He knew so.

Because despite all the reasons he had come to Sparta, despite all the men who had gathered to win Helen’s hand, Satoru had found himself drawn to you instead.

And he had no intention of stopping now.

But before he could get another word in, a horn sounds, and you nod to him, somewhat apologetically. “That is my call.”

Before he can ask, you head, skirts fluttering behind you as you move to join a growing group of young ladies in the middle. It’s clear the gathering has captured the interest of most of the men that were previously dining. 

You make your way down to the middle, where you arrive at your position—it’s the one you’ve occupied every year. This dance is a show of grace and lineage, a chance for the noblemen to watch and admire, to see which girl carries herself with the most poise, the most elegance, the most effortless charm.

In Gojo’s eyes, it’s easy to determine who that is.

You take your place among your cousins, hands joining as the musicians begin their melody. It is a lighthearted dance, nothing too intricate, nothing that demands much more than the ability to move in time with the others. Your skirts flutter with each step, the long strands of your braid swaying as you turn.

It’s a girlish, lighthearted dance you’ve done since you were little. You and your younger cousins giggle as you go through the motions, reveling in the attentions of the spectators that witness the lovely display with amusement and pure, wholesome adoration.

That is, until you register a special set of eyes on you.

In a specific turn along to the strum of the lyre, you turn gracefully—a move that orients you towards Gojo’s direction. When you finally see his face and notice his presence, it’s like you’re kicked in the chest in a spar with Helen, with the way your breath leaves you.

His eyes are dark, enraptured on you, and only you. Heat creeps up your neck as you move your hands as you’re oddly flustered. His gaze is admiring and is respectful, but the intensity of it—like longing that is toeing the line between lust and pure yearning—makes your heart quicken in a way that you rue your accursed organ, for it to beat so traitorously. When he notices that you’re staring back at him, his jaw—which was clenched—loosens in a smile, but the smile isn’t innocent. It spells out a promise—one unspoken, one that curls at the edges of his lips like a secret meant for you alone. It is the kind of smile that men wear when they know something you don’t, when they have already decided on something long before you’ve even had the chance to argue.

It is sharp. Focused.

It traces the curve of your waist, the sway of your hips, the way your arms extend with each graceful movement.

It darkens.

Heat spreads up your neck before you can help it. The flickering torches of the hall must be to blame, or perhaps the wine in your belly, but you feel warm, too warm, and it is absurd.

Why should you care where Gojo of Ithaca’s eyes linger?

His smirk grows, and it is cocky. Infuriating, even. You snap your head away before he can see how your face burns, resuming your dance with the others, willing yourself to shake off the foolishness that has settled in your bones.

But even as you turn, even as the skirts of your dress flare and the room around you continues its celebration, you feel it—

His eyes.

Still watching.

“Athena, I swear to you that I need her. She is my future wife!” Gojo insists, stomping his feet as he trails the goddess as if he were a child. It reminded the goddess of wisdom of when she first met him—when he had taken down the magic boar she had let loose, showing him of having intellect worthy of being mentored by her. 

But Athena had meant to be a mentor to a warrior of the mind—not this lovesick, pathetic fool in front of her, like a dog whining for food. Athena sighed exasperatedly as another animal she was hunting runs away from Gojo’s sheer loudness. “Enough!” she snaps, but not unkindly. “Who is this princess you speak of, and what kind of spell has she cast on you to become this much of a fool?”

Gojo ignores any insults directed towards him, and instead adorns a bright smile at the mention of you. “She is the cousin of Helen of Sparta, and the daughter of Icarius—”

Gojo is interrupted by a snort. “The same one that swore to never marry his daughter off?”

This gives Gojo a reason to pause. He had not known this fact. “So, how do you propose I—”

Much to his chagrin, the w goddess is already a few steps ahead. “To waste my time on strategy to secure a woman, Gojo, is quite preposterous.

But if you must insist on my counsel, then you shall earn it," Athena declares, turning on her heel to face him fully. Her gaze, sharp as a well-honed blade, sweeps over him, as if assessing whether he is truly worth the effort. "Icarius is a man of reason before all else. He values intellect, discipline, and above all, loyalty. If you wish to stand a chance, you must prove to me two things: one, that she is a wise woman worth of being sought after, and, two, you must prove that you are not merely another suitor blinded by beauty."

Gojo grins, clearly pushing his luck. "So you will help me?"

Athena exhales, the very picture of divine suffering. "I will not gift you the answer, but I will grant you the means to find it yourself."

"Which is just a long-winded way of saying you will help me." He nods sagely, as if he has unraveled the mysteries of Olympus itself.

Athena rubs her temple. "I should have let the boar trample you."

Gojo only laughs, stepping in line beside her as they weave through the woods. His mind is already turning, piecing together what little he knows of Icarius, of you, and of what he must do to win. Because one thing is certain—he will win.

Icarius may have sworn never to wed you off, but Gojo Satoru has never been one to abide by the rules.

You do not want to be here.

All you simply wanted was time in your sanctuary, your olive tree. It remained hidden in the royal gardens, so it’s a wonder that Gojo of Ithaca had found you. Of course, you would have to be a fool to not admit that these suitors’ wit paled in comparison to that white-haired young king. Such as this one, for example.

“My lady, I could not help but notice your fair disposition when I looked upon you,” the suitor grins, his teeth bared like a dog catching scent of a meal. It is not a pleasant expression. You do not react, save for clutching your weaving tighter to your chest. He steps closer, and you take measured care not to recoil, though the instinct is strong. “May you grant me your name—”

“I would have to apologize,” you cut him, already turning away. “My father does not—”

You’re stopped by a harsh grip on your wrist, and you wrench your gaze back to the suitor in shock. 

"You wound me, my lady," the man says, still smiling as if this was amusing. As if he had power over you. Physical power, you suppose, but clearly this man was lacking in intellect, to not have noticed his presence. "You have been so cold to me, and I—"

He does not notice the shadow behind him.

“Ah,” a voice interjects, smooth, easy. “That’s no way to hold a lady’s hand, is it?”

The grip on your wrist slackens, but another takes its place—light, barely a touch.

Gojo.

The suitor’s face twists in confusion, but it quickly shifts to pain as Gojo applies the smallest pressure to his wrist.

“You—”

“She said no,” Gojo interrupts breezily. “And I’d hate to make a scene, so do us all a favor and leave before I decide to break something, yeah?”

With an effortless flick of his hand, the suitor stumbles back, shaking out his wrist as if burned.

Gojo does not spare him another glance. His attention is on you.

“Are you alright?” His voice is softer now, no teasing lilt, no easy arrogance.

You hesitate, unsettled.

“I was handling it,” you say, though it does not come out as firm as you would like.

Gojo only hums, something that sounds like, I know you could, but you’re distracted by his eyes drifting down to your wrist, where a faint mark has already begun to bloom.

His gaze darkens, but you hurry to assure him. “I’ll bandage this, it’s not a big wound—”

He interrupts you. “No need,” gently holds your shoulder, as if imploring you to follow him into the direction he’s started to walk, “I’ll do it myself.”

“That’s not—”

“Look.” He shoots you a look, but it is not unkind nor patronizing. You realize belatedly that it has set your heart aflutter. “I trust that you know how to bandage your wound. But I have had countless like it, so you are with a skilled master in healing. And who knows which suitors may find you on your journey to the physician?

You purse your lips, biting back a retort but failing. “And aren’t you one of the said suitors?”

His lips pull back in an amused smile, and you notice his hand is still resting lightly on your shoulder. “I think we both know I’m different.” You bite back a smile.

“Oh, really?” you remark dryly, but the look in your eyes is anything but. “And how did Your Majesty acquire the title of being different?”

His thumb brushes, just barely, against the fabric of your sleeve before he withdraws his hand entirely, as if sensing that he’s lingered too long. But his smirk remains, insufferable as ever.

“For one, I don’t make a habit of forcing myself upon unwilling women,” Gojo remarks, a pointed edge to his otherwise careless tone. “And for another…” He tilts his head, considering you. “I daresay I might be infatuated in a way they—or you—couldn’t comprehend.”

Your breath catches, but you recover quickly, huffing as you turn away. “All these sweet nothings. Helen will love you.”

Gojo chuckles, stepping ahead of you as he leads the way. “Yet she is not the one I am after.”

You pause. Soak in his words. Outwardly, you roll your eyes and follow him for you were at a lack of words, but inside Poseidon’s storm rages inside you at his words, creating a ferocious whirlpool of conflicting feelings.

His strides are long and easy, as if he belongs wherever he walks, and yet, he slows his pace just enough for you to keep up. The gesture is not lost on you.

The physician’s chamber is quiet when you arrive, save for the distant chatter of servants outside. Gojo does not call for assistance. He merely gestures for you to sit, pulling out a small cloth and a bowl of water, his movements easy and practiced.

“You’ve done this before,” you murmur as he kneels before you, pressing the damp cloth against your wrist.

His smile is unreadable. “I am a warrior, am I not?”

The cold seeps into your skin, making you shiver. Gojo notices. His touch, for all his bravado, is unbearably gentle. You do not know what to make of it.

“You’ll bruise,” he says softly, fingers skimming over the faint marks. “Does it hurt?”

You swallow. “No.”

A lie.

Gojo’s gaze flickers up to yours, and for the first time, there is no teasing in his expression—only something quiet and knowing, something that makes your heart betray you in its weakness.

For a moment, you both fall into a silence, and, to avoid his gaze, you go back to clutching at your hand and staring at it, as if there’s something really intriguing about it. Then, he speaks up. “Want to play?”

You bring your gaze back to him, caught off guard. “What?”

He cocks his head in a direction to which you face, and there you see it: a game board. One to play petteia. 

You turn back at him, blinking. “You play petteia?”

Gojo grins, stretching out with a lazy ease that only makes you more suspicious. As if he has ulterior motives to this. “What, surprised? Strategy games are a warrior’s pastime.”

You squint him. That line of reasoning was rather true, you suppose. Something told you—something being the way he convinced Helen’s father so easily, how he always seemed three, no, six steps ahead—that he was no normal warrior, no normal brute. Huffing, you remark offhandedly, “I suppose a true warrior does sharpen his mind as well as his sword. It’s a pity that you’ll be losing today. To me.”

His smile deepens, and it makes you notice small indents in his cheeks as a result, and the way there’s a rosy pink hue on his cheeks, as if he’s excited to see what you can do.  “Then by all means, put me to shame.”

You settle onto the floor, determined, as he arranges the pieces between you. The rules are simple enough—capture your opponent’s pieces by flanking them on either side—but the way Gojo moves is anything but. He plays with an insufferable sort of confidence, shifting his pieces with flicks of his fingers, as if the game is already his to win.

Until it isn’t, obviously.

He frowns when the click of stone dropped onto the board sounds. You’ve cut off his advancing soldier, trapping it neatly between two of your own.

“Huh,” he muses, tapping his chin. He stares at the board, mind no doubt going at a speed unfathomable to most. His eyes flick rapidly, as if assessing the position of all the stone and calculating all the possible moves and permutations that can salvage him out of the situation you’ve created for him. You maintain your poker face, but inside, you want to smile. You had calculated those said combinations a few steps ago, and it’d be really hard to get out of this. Then, comes out a “That was… unexpected.”

You smile sweetly. “What’s wrong? Did the great King of Ithaca not anticipate that?”

Gojo exhales, dragging a hand through his hair while huffing out a laught. “You’re quite ruthless, aren’t you?”

“I’m practical,” you correct, claiming another of his pieces. “And good at this game.”

Gojo squints at the board, as if trying to decipher where exactly he went wrong. “You do know you’re supposed to let me win, right? My pride is fragile.”

“I wasn’t aware kings had fragile pride.”

“You wound me, my lady.” He presses a hand to his chest, but his movements are distracted as he moves another piece—only for you to immediately trap it.

His head snaps up. “Wait—”

You make your final move, effortlessly cornering his last few soldiers.

Silence.

Gojo blinks at the board.

You clear your throat. “Do you need a moment to process this?”

Slowly, he leans back, shaking his head with something close to awe. “You know, I was planning to go easy on you, but I don’t think that would have helped.”

You grin, triumphant. “I’ll take that as an admission of defeat.”

Gojo exhales through his nose, then tilts his head at you, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes.

“You’re dangerous,” he says, and you’re not quite sure if it’s a compliment or a warning.

“Maybe to an overconfident king who underestimates his opponent.”

That urges out a laugh from him, and he shakes his head. “Trust me, I was not underestimating you. It seemed that I had overestimated myself.”

Before you can respond, Gojo leans forward, propping his chin on his hand as he watches you with something unsettlingly thoughtful.

You don’t trust that look.

“What?” you ask warily.

He hums. “Just thinking.”

“That’s a dangerous pastime for you.”

Gojo presses a hand over his chest, as if wounded. “Cruel. After I iced your wrist and let you absolutely demolish me at petteia, this is the thanks I get?”

“You act as if I owe you something.”

His smirk returns, slow and smug. “Well, since you mention it…”

You narrow your eyes. “No.”

“You didn’t even hear me out.”

“I know you well enough to predict whatever absurd request you’re about to make.”

Gojo lets out a dramatic sigh, tilting his head back. “And here I was, about to propose something completely reasonable. A fair exchange.”

You arch a brow. “Fair?”

He nods, all feigned seriousness. “See, I let you win.”

“You most certainly did not.”

“And I helped with your wrist.”

Your lips press into a line. “Which you did of your own volition.”

Gojo ignores this. “So, as a completely justified request, I think you should let me meet you in the royal gardens.”

You blink. His words hang in the air between you, a casual proposition that somehow carries more weight than it should.

“The gardens?”

He nods. “By the olive tree at sunset. The one where we met.”

“Why?”

Groaning, he lounges back, pushing his feet out while doing the motion. It makes his long legs come closer to where yours are opposite from him, so much that you can feel their heat. Not direct contact, but there. “Have I not made my advances clear by now?” He moves to a sitting position, a more serious look in his eyes as he earnestly looks at you, but you find it hard—despite your usual dry disposition towards suitors—to maintain eye contact, so you opt to look at your hands instead as his next words strike blows to your treacherous heart.

 “Your Highness, I am here for you. You are far wittier than me—I have things to learn from you. You have bewitched me, for I did not know it was possible for a lady to consume my every waking thoughts in such a violent way as you have. You may think me a stranger, and you may think me one of the many foolish suitors here for Miss Helen’s hand, but I will make you fall in love with me. I will show you that despite my pride, I will be a kind and gentle husband.” He exhales, as if steadying himself, but his eyes remain fixed on you. There is no jest in them, no trace of the arrogance he so often wears like armor. Only something raw.

“And I will absolutely not leave this city until you come back to me in my kingdom as the Queen of Ithaca. It may require god-like skill to convince your father to marry me—but I am nothing if not persistent.”

Before you can even begin to form a response—before you can push past the breath lodged in your throat, the furious pounding in your chest—there’s a voice.

"There you are!"

Helen.

You turn just as she strides toward you, golden as ever, a vision of effortless beauty. She doesn’t seem to have heard a word of what was just spoken, too preoccupied with her own delight at having found you.

"I’ve been looking everywhere," she sighs, linking her arm through yours before glancing at Gojo, who, for once, remains uncharacteristically silent. Her eyes flick between the two of you, and then she hums. "I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything?"

Gojo recovers faster than you do. "Not at all, Your Highness," he says smoothly, a practiced smile slipping into place. "I was simply getting to know your cousin better."

Helen gives him a flirtatious smile, but nevertheless turns to you, frowning. “And why are you at the physician’s?”

You feel Gojo’s eyes follow your movements as you shake your head and rise, walking towards Helen. “An unruly suitor. It was a light bruise, it is not a great matter–”

“A bruise?!”

“Come with me,” you hissed, waving her along so she did not question further. It seemed that the room was very warm, for you felt a heat creep up your neck the longer Gojo’s eyes unequivocally stayed on you. 

Helen blinked, at a loss for words, no doubt pondering why you both were leaving Gojo’s presence so readily. “But His Majesty—”

“Cousin,” you snapped, “did you not have a reason to be looking for me?”

Helen blinks, momentarily distracted. Then, as if something suddenly occurs to her, she brightens.

“Oh! Yes, Father wanted to see you.”

You exhale, relieved—only for it to be short-lived, because she doesn’t move.

She remains rooted in place, glancing back at Gojo with a look that is far too amused for your liking. The flirtatious smile returns, softer now, more intrigued.

“But surely,” she muses, tilting her head, “you wouldn’t mind if I stayed a moment longer? It’s not often one meets a man as charming as His Majesty of Ithaca.”

You narrow your eyes. “Helen.”

“What?” she says, all innocence. “We’re simply talking.”

You glance at Gojo, expecting him to look insufferably pleased, but instead, he’s watching you. Not Helen. You tear your gaze away.

It’s only once the two of you are walking through the halls, out of earshot, that Helen sighs, linking your arms again.

“He’s quite something, isn’t he?” she murmurs.

You keep your eyes ahead. “Perhaps. A bit arrogant, though.”

“He’s clever,” she corrects, then gives you a knowing look. “And you like him.”

You scoff, though the heat on your skin betrays you. “I do not.”

Helen only laughs, shaking her head. “Dearest cousin,” she sighs, “I have seen you endure the most persistent suitors with all the warmth of an ice-cold river. And yet, here you are, playing petteia with him, letting him tend to your wounds.”

You do not have an answer to that.

And Helen does not press further. She only smiles wistfully to herself, as if she already knows how this story will end.

…

The halls are silent at this hour, save for the whisper of your steps against the cool stone. You keep to the shadows, careful, quiet. If anyone were to see you like this—wrapped in a cloak, a weaver in hand, slipping through the corridors like a thief in the night—there would be whispers by morning.

But then again, what whispers have ever concerned you?

The thought does not comfort you as much as it should.

Your grip tightens around the weaver, its familiar weight grounding. You brought it with you on the off chance that Gojo, like most men, proves unreliable. You have no reason to believe he will come; his feelings for you could be temporary lust, a second option in case his primary one—Helen—fails. No reason to have entertained his invitation at all. And yet, you go.

You cannot say why.

A foolish impulse, perhaps. Or simple curiosity. Or maybe—

You push the thought away, focusing instead on the memory that surfaces unbidden.

A conversation with your father, just today while you dined.

You had spoken of Helen’s upcoming wedding of the foreign princes and warriors who sought her hand, of the future that awaited her.

Your father had frowned, the lines of his face deepening. “It is dangerous,” he had said, quiet but firm. “To entrust my daughter to a man who cannot ensure her well-being.”

You had smiled then, easy and unbothered, as if his words did not touch something in you. “It is not you he must convince.”

He had looked at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze, but ended up remarking offhandedly, as if reminding you. “I do not want you to go far from me.”

And you, still smiling, had said nothing at all.

Now, in the solitude of the night, you are no longer smiling.

You know your father’s concern is not unfounded. It is not simply Helen’s future that weighs on him—it is yours.

But it is a strange thing, the way his words linger, how they press against you, heavy and quiet. Not as a warning. Not as a burden. But as something else. Something you cannot yet name.

You reach the courtyard, the olive tree standing tall against the night sky behind a series of trees. You exhale, slow and steady, before walking to reach it, weaver in hand.

If he comes, he comes.

And if not—

Well. You were never the kind to wait idly for a man.

But before you could go on your endless mental tirade of how despicable the male species were, you heard a voice. Gojo’s voice in particular.

Walking closer and closer—to where your olive tree was but not where you were visible, trees providing coverage—you noticed him talking to someone in a hushed, yet excited tone. You use the window of sight allowed by the gap between the trees’ leaves to see him, standing with an owl on his forearm. It’s turned to him, as if paying attention, although exasperatedly, to him while he stands tall as ever, his foot tapping impatiently against the grass.

You hesitate, watching as the owl blinks at him, as if listening, considering his words.

And then it notices you. Its, well, owlish eyes are wide as they lock in on your figure.

With a quiet rustle of feathers, it takes flight, disappearing into the night.

Gojo turns, following its path before his gaze lands on you.

“You scared my friend away,” he says, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

You blink at him. “You were talking to an owl.”

He shrugs, as if this too is perfectly reasonable. “She’s a good listener. A little judgmental, though.”

You give him a look, unimpressed. “I see you’ve finally found an audience that suits you.”

His lips curve into a slow smile. “And yet, here you are.”

You huff, settling onto one of the smooth stones beneath the tree. “I didn’t come for your company.” You hold up the weaver in your hands, as if that alone is proof of your intentions. “I came to pass the time.”

“Ah,” he drawls, stepping closer, hands slipping into the folds of his cloak. “And yet, you’re talking to me instead.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but he only grins, triumphant.

“Tell me,” he muses, dropping down beside you. “Were you hoping—or predicting, with that fast mind of yours—I wouldn’t come?”

You don’t answer right away, fingers idly threading the weaver. The night air is cool, the scent of olives and earth thick around you.

“Would it have mattered?” you ask at last, voice light, careless.

Gojo watches you, and for a moment, he does not answer either.

Then, quietly, as if confessing something neither of you are ready to name, he says, “Yes.”

You inhale slowly, fingers stilling on the weaver as his answer settles between you.

Yes.

It wasn’t spoken in jest, nor with the easy arrogance he so often wielded. Instead, it was quieter, more certain—like an unshakable truth, unburdened by expectation.

You don’t know what to make of it.

You cast him a glance from the corner of your eye. He’s sitting close but not too close, his long legs stretched out before him, arms resting lazily over his knees. His usual grin is absent, replaced by something unreadable, something you cannot name.

The weight of his gaze is different now. Not teasing, not searching for amusement—but waiting.

You look away first.

Your fingers resume their slow, practiced work, weaving delicate patterns into the fabric, though your thoughts are anything but orderly.

“Why are you here?” you ask, voice softer than you intend.

A beat passes before he answers.

“Because you are.”

You swallow.

He leans back onto his hands, tilting his head toward the night sky, moonlight catching in the pale strands of his hair. It makes him look otherworldly, like a figure carved from myth—too beautiful, too untouchable.

“I’m not Helen,” you say after a moment, unsure why the words leave your lips. “You have nothing to gain from this.”

Gojo exhales, a quiet sound, but when he looks at you again, there is something almost amused in his expression—touched with something softer, something more patient.

“Do you think I speak to owls for political gain?”

You huff, trying to ignore the warmth threatening to creep up your neck. “I think you do most things for your own amusement.”

He hums, as if considering that. “You wound me.”

“I doubt that,” you mutter, eyes fixed on your work.

And yet—his fingers twitch where they rest against the stone. It’s small, barely noticeable, but your eyes catch it, and you wonder.

Does he want to reach for you?

The thought unsettles you more than it should.

He exhales again, then shifts, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees, expression thoughtful. “You know,” he muses, “I had a whole speech planned.”

You raise a brow. “Oh?”

“Something about how I was drawn to you the way sailors are drawn to sirens. That you, unlike any other, have made me question things I thought I knew.” He looks down at his knees, lips pulling in a mischievous smile. “But with you, I doubt a night of spilling sweet nothings or perhaps…other things would have swayed you.”

Your fingers still.

“But I think I’ve changed my mind,” he continues, tilting his head. “I think I’d rather just talk to you.”

You stare at him, caught somewhere between wariness and something dangerously close to wonder.

And then, before you can stop yourself, you ask, “What would you have said next?”

His lips twitch, and for the first time tonight, there is mischief in his gaze again. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You roll your eyes, but the moment has shifted, lighter now, though something unnamed still lingers beneath it.

“Keep your secrets, then,” you mutter, returning to your weaving.

“You wound me,” Gojo says again, pressing a hand to his chest as if truly affronted. “Here I am, spilling my heart, and you deny me even a scrap of sentiment.”

You let out a quiet scoff, keeping your focus on your weaving. “Perhaps if your words weren’t so dramatic, I’d be inclined to believe them.”

Gojo gasps. “Dramatic?” He leans closer, an almost boyish grin tugging at his lips. “My lady, I am nothing if not a man of sincerity.”

“Oh? So that speech about sirens wasn’t an embellishment?”

“Not at all.” He sighs, as if suffering under some great burden. “I wake in the morning thinking of you, I lay my head at night wondering if you’ve thought of me at all. It’s agony, truly.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips betray you, twitching into something dangerously close to a smile. “That sounds more like a malady than love.”

“Ah, but love is a sickness, is it not?” He exhales dramatically. “And you, my lady, have made a very ill man of me.”

Despite yourself, a laugh escapes—light, unguarded, like something slipping past your defenses before you can catch it.

And then—silence.

You glance at him, and find him already watching you.

His usual mischief is gone, replaced by something softer, something wholly unprepared. His breath is caught somewhere between his ribs, his lips slightly parted as if the sight of your laughter has stolen the air from him.

And then—

A blush, unmistakable even in the moonlight.

Your heart stutters.

Oh.

For the first time, you allow yourself to study him properly. The sharp angles of his jaw, the elegant bridge of his nose, the vivid eyes that hold yours so intently.

He is very handsome.

The thought settles somewhere unexpected, like an admission you’ve been avoiding.

Before you can dwell on it, something light catches against your shoulder—a drifting leaf, caught in the folds of your garment.

Gojo moves before you can react.

His fingers brush against the fabric near your collarbone, and then linger, featherlight and warm, as he pulls the leaf free. The moment stretches—longer than it should, charged with something unspeakable.

You feel his breath before you see him move, close enough now that the space between you is barely a whisper.

His hand, now free of its task, hesitates—before it trails downward, catching yours in his grasp.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to fill the moment with jest. His thumb traces the back of your hand, slow and absentminded, as if memorizing the shape of you.

Your own breath falters.

His breath is warm in the cool night air, his proximity setting something taut beneath your ribs. You are no stranger to flirtation, nor to men who think they can win you with pretty words, but Gojo—Gojo is different.

Perhaps it’s the way he looks at you now, his usual mischief tempered by something quieter. Or perhaps it’s the fact that, despite his arrogance, despite his clever tongue and tireless persistence, he does not presume to take.

He waits.

A dangerous thing, because it gives you time to notice the way his fingers twitch slightly against the fabric of your sleeve, the way his lips part as if tasting the words before speaking them.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, tilting his head.

You arch a brow, feigning indifference despite the heat pooling low in your stomach. “Am I?”

His lips curve. “Should I be flattered?”

You hum, as if considering it. “I’m only making observations.”

“Oh?” He steps just a fraction closer, his voice dipping. “And what have you observed, my lady?”

“That you blush quite easily,” you say smoothly, pleased when the faint flush creeps further up his neck. “That despite your grand declarations, you are, in fact, a little shy.”

Gojo lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Shy? My lady, you wound me.”

“Do I?” You tilt your chin up slightly, your voice softer now, your hand still in his.

His gaze flickers to your lips.

Your breath catches, just for a moment.

And then—

His hand moves, fingers brushing along the curve of your jaw before settling at the nape of your neck, his touch deliberate, careful. A question, waiting for an answer.

You don’t grant him words—only the tilt of your head, the briefest lean forward.

It is all the invitation he needs.

He kisses you like a secret, like something to be savored—slow at first, testing, before he grows bolder. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you just a little closer, and warmth floods through you, seeping into your bones.

The world is silent save for the soft hitch of breath, the faint rustle of fabric as he deepens the kiss, as you allow yourself to press into him, fingers curling into the front of his tunic.

For a man who never stops talking, he is utterly wordless now. 

When you wake up next in the morning, it is grumpy and tired. Not only were you up late into the night, talking to and…kissing Gojo of Ithaca, or rather, Satoru (while you were drunk on each other, he had convinced you to call him Satoru), but the sound of Helen’s squealing made your head ring, putting an unbearable pressure onto them.

“Helen!” you scold her, throwing a spare pillow at her. She easily dodges while you sit up in the bed, half-heartedly rubbing your eyes to wipe the sleep from them. As she throws herself onto the foot of the bed, you notice and hear the pitter patter of rain, casting a somber gray light in your bedroom that is occasionally interrupted by Zeus’s thunder, as if the god was angered or sharing a premonition. 

Shaking off the thought, you scowl at your cousin, who’s excitedly prattling about things you still have yet to comprehend. “Slow down! Tell me, without spewing all your words at once.”

“Father gave me permission to marry!” she squealed, jumping on you and hugging you closely. She seemed happy, and you loved your cousin very much, even if you did not show it much. Pure affection permeates your countenance, as she continues. “You know I’ve always wanted to marry him, with his big arms and all. He could totally manhandle me, but you knoooww I love the ones that can whimper—”

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your ears as if scandalized (you’ve said much worse to her), but you grin regardless. “Who is the man that you have chosen?”

“Well,” she laughs, flipping her hair off her shoulder, “Gojo of Ithaca is to be my husband, of course.”

Your heart drops to your stomach.

What she says next seems to blur together, not registering because you are shocked, your world almost tilted.

Gojo of Ithaca is to be my husband, of course.

It is then you realize belatedly that Helen seems to be calling out to you, and what you notice the most out of anything on her face is the soft smile she has on her face. One that shows that she is fond of Satoru Gojo, that she has affection for him. And who are you—the girl whose father doesn’t wish for her to marry, one that isn’t to be promised—take that away from Helen, from him?

Gojo has made it clear that he is not here for Helen—but wouldn’t it be better for him and his kingdom (which you discovered last night that he cares so dearly for) for him to marry Helen? A beautiful queen and a wise king. 

What a match.

You swallow, throat suddenly dry, but you manage a smile—strained, weak, but a smile nonetheless.

“Helen,” you begin, voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you, “are you certain?”

“Of course!” she beams, oblivious to the way your fingers tighten in the fabric of your bedding. “Father said Gojo has yet to ask officially, but he will, I know it. And why wouldn’t he? A match like this—it’s fate.”

Fate.

What cruel irony.

You remember last night—Gojo’s hands warm against your skin, his laughter pressed against your lips, the way he had murmured your name like a vow.

And yet—

You look at Helen, golden and radiant even in the gray morning light, her eyes alight with genuine happiness. You love her, truly, and have since childhood. She has always had her pick of men, but there was something softer in the way she spoke of Satoru just now.

The soft smile, the dreamy lilt to her voice.

She wants this.

And what of you?

Your chest aches, but you laugh, the sound lighter than it should be. “You sound quite taken with him.”

“I am,” she beams, watching you. “He’s gorgeous! Charming, too. He told me last night that he thinks my eyes are like the sea at sunrise.”

Your stomach twists and it seems that the panic overwhelms you because all you can manage to do is swallow and nod. “Well,” you look at her with a tight smile, “I congratulate you. Let us discuss this matter further over breakfast.” She smiles and squeezes your upper arm in a goodbye, and the touch of it burns.

You don’t ever make it to breakfast that day.

It continues raining that day, and it’s quite appropriate for how you’re feeling. The feeling of melancholy permeates the air around you as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Usually, you occupy your time by reading or, more likely, weaving, but you couldn’t muster the energy to find interest in that either.

Over a man. What a shame.

You were not one to lie idle—you were constantly praised as a princess wise beyond her years, and it would be wise, in this situation, to move on. Because the man you had grown feelings for is now engaged to your cousin, or, at least, your cousin intends to be engaged with him. And it would be wiser to let it happen, for Helen’s happiness was your happiness.

Sighing, you stuff your face into your pillow and groan, muffled by the linen fabric of your seats. You then decide grudgingly that if you’re not going to leave your room at all, it may be best to shed yourself of your clothing and lay comfortably in your loincloth and mamillare.

But right as you put your hand on your clothing to strip yourself, you hear a noise. 

The sound comes again—a sharp, rhythmic tap-tap-tap, just barely audible over the rain. You freeze, fingers still curled around the fabric of your chiton, half-peeled from your shoulder. At first, you think it might be a stray branch scraping against the stone, wind-tossed by the storm. But then it happens again—more deliberate this time, insistent.

Then, looking at the new objects strewn across your balcony, you realize it’s not branches—it’s pebbles.

You scowl, tying your garments hastily before moving toward the balcony. The rain is gentler now, more mist than storm, clinging to the stone and silvering the world beyond. You grip the railing and peer down—

And there he is.

Satoru.

Drenched from head to toe, hair plastered to his forehead, a frown curving his lips as he concentrates on where he’s going to throw his pebble next. His stance seems urgent, but you’re so caught up on the fact that he’s here, as if he isn’t supposed to be engaged to Helen or be subjected to whatever congratulatory round of alcohol men bestowed upon each other after securing the most beautiful woman alive.

Your heart stutters.

You pull back immediately, breath catching in your throat. You shouldn’t have come to the balcony. You shouldn’t be looking at him, shouldn’t be thinking about this morning when Helen’s voice still lingers in your ears—Gojo of Ithaca is to be my husband, of course.

The pebble strikes the stone beside you.

“I know you’re up there,” Gojo calls, tone indecipherable. “Are you really going to ignore me? After all we’ve been through?”

You swallow and your voice trembles when you say, “Go away.”

His resulting laughter sounds betrayed, hurt. “You don’t mean that.”

“Satoru,” and you don’t know if it’s a plea or a warning. His head tilts, an anguished look on his face as he closes his eyes and sighs.

“You wound me,” he huffs out a pained laugh, “After all, I run the risk of sickness just to see you and tell you that you believe wrong.”

Something is created in you, then. Something dangerous like hope. “What?”

But instead of answering, Gojo crouches, then, in one smooth motion, leaps up, catching the edge of the balcony with ease. You barely have time to react before he’s pulling himself over the railing, stepping onto solid ground with practiced grace.

You stumble back, eyes wide. “I told you not to come up.”

“And when have I ever listened?”

There’s something in the way he looks at you then—an intensity you aren’t prepared for. The air between you is charged, thick with something unspoken, something far too dangerous to name.

He takes a step forward. “I thought you were smarter than this.”

You blink, startled. “Excuse me?”

Gojo exhales, running a hand through his damp hair. “Why would you ever think it would be Helen?”

Your stomach lurches. “She said—”

“She assumed,” he corrects, cutting you off. “But I did not accept her. And you let her do that.” His voice drops lower, softer, a stark contrast to the teasing lilt he so often wields. “Do you truly think so little of me?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because if you do, it will come spilling out—the hope you tried to bury, the ache that settled in your chest the moment Helen uttered those words.

He moves closer, and you don’t stop him.

“Princess,” you can see his ivory lashes with how close he is, his face covered in raindrops, “for how wise you are, you seem to not have caught on. What animal is the emblem of Athena?”

Blinking, you’re taken aback by the sudden quizzing. “Owl, what about it—”

Oh.

He sees the realization dawn over your face, and now his tense expression melts into a bittersweet smile. “The goddess of wisdom has been my companion ever since I was a child, helping me attain whatever I needed the most. Whether it be to gain the knowledge one must have to be worthy of being king, or,” he inhales sharply, vibrant eyes scanning over your face vulnerably, “to gain the power to be able to make the wisest, wittiest, funniest, and most beautiful girl I’ve ever known my queen.

“After all, I have my wit—add a little of godlike power, and even I could defeat your father. Respectfully,” he adds quickly. He looks anxious you realize, as if he is about to make a risky move, a big ask. Something he’s been anxious to ask, but scared to. His eyes are still scanning you and his hands twitch at his side as he says, “I hesitate to make this decision, to ask you still after knowing the true nature of my desire for you—”

“Ask me what?”

His eyes are fixed on you, and you think that both of your hearts are beating very, very fast at the moment. “What do you think, princess?”

The silence that falls is loaded, heavy, and laden with hesitation. It’s as if a vice has caged its way through your heart, squeezing and squeezing until all the things you’ve left unsaid threaten to spill out. Things like I don’t want you to marry my cousin. Or yet, even worse, I want you to marry me. “I would not want to throw out my guesses, Satoru,” you instead opt to say, voice soft. “Things like this must be said directly, to not leave any confusion or misunderstandings.”

His jaw tightens, his breath coming harder as he stares at you, something raw and dangerous flickering in his eyes. “I agree. These things should never be left unsaid.” His voice is low, almost seething, but not with anger—no, this is something else entirely, something desperate. “I love you.” The words are unshakable, like a vow. “And I refuse to sit here and pretend my thoughts of you are anything less than ruinous. I dream of you in ways no other man is allowed to, ways that would send me to Hades with a smile on my lips. You have bewitched my soul, stolen the breath from my body, and most dangerously—you have claimed my mind.” His voice drops, softer now, but no less intense. “I do not know how to make you believe me, only that I would sooner challenge the gods themselves than let you slip through my fingers. The world could promise me tens of Helen, but there is only one woman I would ever choose.” His hand finds yours, fingers tightening, as his next words fall like an oath.

“You.”

Your breath stutters, throat tightening as his fingers tighten over yours. His touch is searing, as if the gods themselves have set him aflame, and yet you cannot pull away—you do not want to pull away.

“Satoru—” His name slips from your lips like a prayer, and he swears under his breath, his free hand coming up to cradle your jaw, thumb pressing just below your lips, as if he is fighting the urge to kiss you.

“I would tear down Olympus itself if it meant keeping you,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your cheek. “I would make war with the gods, call upon Athena to guide my spear, and spill the blood of any man foolish enough to think they could take you from me.” His voice is rough, almost a growl, and you swear your knees would give way if not for the way he holds you now, as though letting go would be his ruin.

It is reckless, to let yourself lean into him, to let your fingers curl into the fabric of his damp chiton as though you could anchor yourself to him. But he is an anchor—pulling you into something deep, something dangerous, something you know you will not escape from unscathed.

His nose brushes yours, his lips so close that you feel his every breath, his every hesitation. But you see the war in his eyes, the battle between restraint and desire, and for once, you decide to let yourself be selfish.

So you whisper, “Then prove it.”

And that is all it  takes for him to break.

His lips crash against yours, urgent and claiming, as if to kiss you any softer would be to deny himself the air he breathes. He groans as your hands tangle in his hair, your body pressing flush against his, his own hands no longer gentle but gripping, desperate, possessive. His teeth graze your bottom lip before he deepens the kiss, one hand trailing lower, pressing against the curve of your waist, then lower still—

Thunder crackles, as you gasp out his name. He pulls you both apart, looking anguished as if he’s fighting the urge to keep touching you, to make you moan out his name. Realizing this, you grab his hands and put them on yourself. “My love,” you say, tenderly, and you see how his pupils dilate in response, “you may touch me—”

“Are you sure? For if you say that, I may not be able to stop myself from indulging. Because I will take and take, until you can give me no more.” The way he says it, uncharacteristically serious and brows furrowed, makes you heat up even more, dizzy with lust and your pent up longing for the man.

But your response stays the same, paired with a firm nod. “I am sur—mmmph.”

He smothers you with his lips before you can finish, cupping your jaw until his hands start to move downwards. They move, tracing the planes of your body, and they are relentless in their exploration—they grab you possessively, pushing you closer and closer to him until his hands are below your thighs. Satoru maneuvers you until your legs are straddling his waist so that he can pick you up and carry you to your bed.

After he throws you down like carrying you poses to him as much of a challenge as carrying a light potato sack, he admires you—-thighs clenched, hair splayed around your head like a halo. The skirt of your clothes has inched its way up, exposing your thighs. “Gods, you don’t know what you do to me.”

But instead of playing the innocent maiden, you look at him through your lashes, laughing. “Satoru, time is of the essence. Flattery will get you nowhere—you must show it through your actions.”

You didn’t know what saying his name—and prompting him like that—does to him. He meets your lips in a furious kiss once again, this time hand sneaking up your skirt. He meets the fabric of your loincloth, hooking at its sides and pulling them downwards and downwards, until it is hooked off your ankle (not before Satoru leaves it a trailing kiss there, of course. It is only until Satoru’s eyes hone in what’s in the middle of legs that you realize that you are bare to him. “Satoru, I—”

“I must do something,” he instead responds, and you look at him in confusion. He’s moving down your body as you ask him what he means and if something’s wrong.

You’re interrupted by your gasp as his mouth descends on you, leaving hot, openmouthed kisses directly on your core. His tongue delves inside your lower lips, pleasing the nerves and leaving them singing. He undoes you, leaving your legs feeling like jelly, and the fervor he does it with is nauseating—as if your nectar is ambrosia itself. 

Soon enough, with his reverent worship—and a finger or two added to stretch you out and make you emit embarrassing noises that only encourage him further—you come with a cry of his name. As you roll your hips, riding out your climax, his mouth and head follow and trail your hips, unrelenting in pleasuring you even though you’re overstimulated and left quivering. 

“I—” you blurted, trying to fill the silence after he had just made you taste colors. “I hate you.”

Satoru faux pouts, biting back a grin. “Rude thing to say when I just made you—”

“Don’t finish that!” you shriek, swatting his head lightly as he laughs, kissing his way back up your body. In a tone more shy than you’d like, you say in a small voice, “But I hope we’re not done yet?”

Satoru’s made his way up to your clothed breasts, kissing them tenderly. However, when he hears the question, he stills, looks at you with wide eyes, and he groans, as if surprised by your forwardness. “Princess, the things you do to me.”

He kneads your ass while he stands up, orienting himself into a position to do—that. A voice in the back of your head reminds you that you’re not supposed to be doing this before you get married, but your lust is too strong. And, after all, you trust that there’s no way Satoru wouldn’t marry you.

You feel a slight pressure in your nether regions, and you realize that it is Satoru’s cock. His eyes are on you, blown out with lust, as he continues to stroke the length of it while observing your every reaction. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.”

With your confirmation, his eyes next left your face as he pushed in, moving slowly and gently. He gauged your features for any signs of discomfort or pain as he moved in shallow thrusts, gradually increasing their length. You gasped, his murmurs and sweet nothings coaxing out your whimpers and whines as he bumped a spot inside of you. As he did, fireworks erupted in the back of your mind, leaving you boneless as he got you closer and closer to your climax once again.

For someone who didn’t experience carnal desires often, you wonder how you’ve gone without this kind of pleasure for so long. Satoru made you feel worshipped, tracing kisses with a love that was almost pious. It doesn’t take you long after that to come once more, thrashing in his grip.

Your climax sheathed on his cock unlocks something in him, for he begins to thrust harder and faster, becoming sloppier and sloppier. His voice is by your ear, whining your name continuously. When he finally feels himself climb over and finally orgasm, he breathes out an “Ah,” and thrusts himself to completely bottom out while his come fills you up, pooling inside of you.

You both stay interlocked for gods know how long. Until Satoru pipes up, voice still unstable and panting, “By the way, it went unsaid, but I’m going to marry you. And you can’t say no.”

Your resulting giggle makes him break out in a big smile before he hugs you, wrestling you both to lie side by side in bed.

It goes without saying, but it all goes smoothly according to plan.

When Satoru had played with petteia with you, he had aimed to show Athena your wit. It is no small claim to defeat him, a king associated with Athena, in the game. The following events further made Athena approve of you and give her blessing. 

So Gojo was already ten steps ahead when he asked your father for your blessing. Your father was furious, of course—he did not want to let you go. After much cajoling and agreement to beat your father, a champion runner, in a race to attain your hand, Satoru wiped his brow. The way your father loved you would be scary to him if he didn’t love you as intensely as he did now. 

And of course Satoru won. Athena got her fellow Olympian, Hermes, to rent out his infamous speed. When he wins, Sparta is in an uproar, including your cousin.

“So, how is he?” Helen asks mischievously. You later found out that day that Helen’s words of marrying Gojo had a purpose—to push you both towards each other, once and for all. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you turn away, with a hmph. Crossing your arms, you pretend to roll your eyes at the knowing look she had.

“I don’t know, cousin,” she giggles, “I heard a couple of voices in your room when I tried to visit you a few nights back. Tell me, does he whimper—-”

“Helen!” 

The day you marry, donning beautiful and regal clothes, Gojo sneaks you away multiple times to kiss you under your veil when no one is looking.

His wedding gift is built by him—on the voyage back to Ithaca, he not only takes you away from Sparta, but the olive tree that you both had met at. He builds the shared marital bed out of the olive tree for his queen with his blood and sweat. It is a symbol of your love, everlasting, and you would daresay that it is the most precious gift anyone has ever given you.

What you give him in return is one fat and giggly baby. Your father grumbles that the child looks too much like his father, but the way he holds the babe—so carefully, so gently—betrays his affection. Helen coos at her little nephew, amused at how utterly soft Satoru has become, how the once-cocky king now spends his days doting on both you and your child, as if he has won the world itself.

And perhaps he has.

After all, Satoru has always been a man of ambition. A man who would scheme, fight, and even defy the gods for what he desires. And yet, as he holds your child in one arm and you in the other, murmuring teasing words against your ear before stealing another kiss, you realize something—

He had never needed Athena’s wisdom, Hermes’ speed, or any other divine favor to win you.

Because you had already been his, just as he had always been yours.

general masterlist

a/n thank u to my very supportive bestie @purplegemadventures i love all ur ideas ml <3 anyways like always all my beta readers are the goats thank you for reading my incomprehensible ideas. it's 5am and there's a mosquito that's hovering near me and im not totally happy w how this turned out but it was fun writing it kjenkjne. i may write more greek mythology aus but i need to lock in on my series....

ppl who asked to be tagged: @heh123321 @melotter

thank you for reading! reblog and comment to let me know ur thots <3

Attachment

AKA single dad susbedo that never even lasted a week

yours truly,

yours truly, (part one). / sincerely, (part two).

premise: as a friend of the most attractive students in school, you're more than used to acting as the middleman between them and the people vying for their affection, often tasked with delivering presents or handing out their love letters. however, when you chance upon a small bouquet of flowers on your desk without a note indicating the sender or who you're meant to give it to, you start to wonder if this one's supposed to be yours.

includes: childe, xiao, diluc, kazuha, albedo, thoma & gorou !

a/n: hahaha why is this so long... anyways this is a college au + reverse harem of some sorts. enjoy. i really don't want this one to flop so likes and reblogs are appreciated thx

“Do you think it's a prank?”

“Why is that the first thing that pops into your mind?” Keqing sighs as she fixes her makeup in front of a compact mirror, smacking her lips to spread the color evenly. “You're really cute, [Name]. why wouldn't someone like you by now?”

Your face burns at the offhand comment. “You're only saying that because we're friends.”

Ayaka giggles, twirling a lock of your hair with her finger. “Of course not. You're very adorable! If anything, it'd be more surprising if nobody likes you.”

“Who do you think it's from, though?” Ganyu quietly asks from beside you, observing the handful of carnations laying on your desk. Scanning the students currently present in the room, she thoughtfully adds, “maybe someone on the shyer side since they couldn't give it to you directly?”

“Or someone who did it to be romantic,” Kokomi suggests, scrutinizing the flowers with keen eyes. “That's quite nice of them.”

You hummed in contemplation, trying to figure out who placed it on your table. “Are you sure it's not a prank... or a mistake? You all sit beside me, so maybe they mistook my seat for yours-”

“You're the only one who faithfully sits there, [Name]. We don't even have assigned seats so most of us sits wherever,” Keqing clarifies, staring at you with a disapproving look. “Don't deny it. You know it's yours.”

“But I can't think of anyone who would like me!” you exclaim in defeat. “I am curious about who gave it, though... I should try to find out who it is...”

“More importantly...” Ganyu smiles at you, noticing the blush dusting your cheeks. “Who do you want it to be?”

childe:

in all honesty, he's your first guess.

not because you think he likes you or anything! he's just a huge flirt.

at the beginning of the school year, you hardly got along. you know he's a friendly guy, but it's in the way that... intimidated you. he's part of the “mood maker” clique, attracting attention wherever he goes, and you're not sure if you could handle his energy...

you preferred to stay away from the spotlight though that's a bit hypocritical considering you're friends with the prettiest group of girls in your year, and he relished in it. you didn't know if you could get along.

you didn't become friends until you were assigned partners for a project that meant a lot for your grade, and you vowed to yourself if you couldn't be close to him, you should at least be close enough to work together without trouble.

in the end, you surprisingly hit it off, childe easing the awkward air between you with jokes and random stories to tell about his weird friends. your friendship didn't end when the project did, and you continued to hang out outside of school. you're sure he didn't approach you to get closer to your friends, either; though you had some doubts at first, he was nothing alike with the jerks who tried to use you.

you're no stranger to the pranks he pulled, nor were you unaware of his flirty nature; he occasionally entertained the lot who fancied him when he attended drinking parties. so it made perfect sense if it was childe who gave those flowers, along with the gifts that followed after. it would just be him messing around again, right? oh, definitely! it wouldn't be the first time he spent his money in reckless abandon, bragging that he has the cash to spare for it.

but unexpectedly when you bring up the topic, his expression darkens, showing no sign of joking around. he looks a little shocked, too, to know someone was pursuing you.

“it's not from me,” he admits, gently taking your hand. “but it's true that i like you.”

xiao:

xiao is one of the people you deliver presents to lol

due to his intimidating disposition (and the endless amount of nasty rumors swirling about him, thanks to said intimidating disposition), hardly anybody would dare to approach him, daunted by the perpetual scowl etched on his face. he remains as eye candy, but an entity no one could reach.

you avoided him at first, too. his face is admirable, you can say that much, but you've become somewhat desensitized from having been surrounded by pretty faces 24/7 so you can't really say it's anything new... and yes, you are scared of him to a certain degree. you could never guess what he's thinking.

you weren't sure if he's as scary as people make him out to be though, since people tend to exaggerate gossip for the sake of shock value. he once defended a middle schooler from high school delinquents (through persuasion and not with fists), but the story somehow twisted into another tale entirely detailing how xiao had brutally wiped the floor with their faces and painted the concrete floor with blood...

but as intimidating as he might seem, you don't think he's that kind of character. if you overlook his piercing glare and sharp tongue, he's quite decent.

... you thought that way until you caught him tailing you on your way home.

he crept up behind you, maintaining a natural distance, but after numerous twists and turns in hopes of leading him away, he had yet to cease heading towards your direction. you wouldn't be so suspicious if you hadn't purposely gone in circles around town, leading back to where you came from — which meant he didn't have a particular destination in mind, and fully intended on being hot on your tail.

tired of having bated breath waiting for his next move, you gathered all your courage and confronted him directly, cornering him to the nearest wall to assert dominance. xiao seemed startled by your forwardness, and you took his moment of vulnerability as an opportunity to interrogate him.

unexpectedly, he sheepishly confesses, “i'm not a stalker, i got worried since you're going home this late. haven't you heard about the crime rate these days...”

from there on, you suppose you could say you understood him better. though he's snappy and stern, he's not that terrifying, even sweet at times. when you become proper friends (and you stop suspecting him as your stalker), he saves you a seat next to him, or brings you coffee that you like when he notices you're sleepy in class.

it wasn't long until everybody came to know you were friends and a girl finally — you guessed it — asked you to send a love letter to xiao in her stead.

when you gave it to xiao, he was unusually flustered, flushed pink to the tips of his ears. his expression falls flat once you tell him it's from someone else, badly containing the disappointment to show on his face.

nevertheless, you continue to be friends, and xiao has learned not to expect much from you.

he's the earliest to arrive in class, so you ask him if he'd seen the person who gave you flowers. with a cold, hard look, he says no.

he's acting kind of weird, isn't he...

diluc:

the barista in the coffee shop near your university that has to put up with so much bullshit flirting everyday.

he has to reject people in a roundabout way, and you know he hates it, but of course he has to provide great customer service if he still wants customers right... directly breaking their hearts would only make problems.

but he takes no shit from rude customers.

no, you weren't one of them. in fact, diluc quite liked you a bit. first of all, you don't have any romantic interest for the staff, you genuinely enjoy his drinks (he knows because your face is like an open book), and you mind your own business. he tolerates you enough that he can make small talk with you and it doesn't upset him in the slightest.

so it really ticked him off when some idiot was bothering you in the cafe, starting an argument over a trivial matter that shouldn't be fussed over.

in normal circumstances, diluc would've done the usual protocol — reason with the angry customer, offer free products, and let them leave the premises peacefully. but the moment he saw the man grab your shoulders and you winced in pain as a result, he didn't even have to think of what to do next.

cold coffee rained down on the ill-mannered man's head, evoking a surprised scream out of him. his fingers left your body in favor of patting away the sticky liquid from his clothes, and you stared blankly at the seething figure behind him.

“your order,” diluc announced, his voice tinted with rage. then he pretended to remember something, looking at the empty cup in his hand. “oh, i apologize. you ordered it hot, didn't you?” he forced a smile on his face. “would you like me to brew another one for you?”

the man erupted to a new screaming fit, but he was promptly dragged aside. diluc immediately questioned if you were hurt anywhere, his voice a total 180 from before and turning into a soft tone you nearly didn't recognize.

“that stunt you pulled...” you nervously said. “will you be okay...? won't you get, er, dismissed because of it?”

“...you don't know i own this place?”

“???”

in any case, you've become good friends ever since that incident. so when your secret admirer gives you your customized drink from diluc's shop (that even xiao doesn't know the recipe of!), you ask him if there's a customer who ordered your exact drink that morning.

strangely enough, he changes the subject.

“he only gave you coffee?” diluc wrinkles his nose. “he's not fit for you.”

he proceeds to shove you a plate of pancakes for breakfast and won't let you talk about that topic again.

kazuha:

the soft-spoken boy working part-time as a florist. as one would expect, his good-looking features attracted customers left and right, just like how a flower allures bees with its colorful petals and sweet nectar.

he studies in a different university from you, but it's relatively close by and you run into each other a lot. you could say you're pretty good friends; you exchanged contact information and text every other day, phone each other up to have a meal together whenever you're both free, and hang out over the weekend.

he stirred up some drama with you once. on a rainy day, he invited you to eat lunch together, but you've forgotten to take an umbrella before leaving for school so you told him you'd be a little late 'cause you had to run to the convenience store first. however, he told you not to worry about it and abruptly ended the call.

fast forward to the afternoon: the glass doors to leave the corridors had a few people lurking by, covering what was beyond. you cocked up an eyebrow in question, confused over what was all the fuss, but then you see that familiar pale hair streaked with bright red.

kazuha stood innocently by the school gates, a crimson umbrella in hand, and a small bouquet in the other. he checked his wristwatch every few minutes, seeming to be waiting for someone. he completely ignored the gawking stares pinned on his frame, busying himself by humming a quiet tune.

you hesitantly pushed open the doors, approaching him with wary steps. he immediately perked up once noticing you, beaming brightly to greet you with enthusiasm. he offered you the bouquet, telling you it's nothing more than a small gift the owner had let him craft for free (who mistakenly thought kazuha had a lover, since he was always on his phone texting someone).

you might have known the reasons behind the present, but nobody else did. and what general implications could gifting a bouquet of flowers have?

thus, the school's online forum exploded with questions, asking for the identity of the pretty boy standing by their university, and the lucky person he'd given flowers to.

needless to say it was hard to convince your friends that no, he isn't your boyfriend.

but that was another issue! the issue NOW is the other bouquet you received, much more recent in nature. after suspecting childe, your next thought was to ask kazuha if he had any buyers who purchased the same flowers you had.

his lips twitch for a moment, faintly looking displeased. but he flashes a flawless, award-winning customer service smile, covering his initial expression easily.

“no such customer ordered for those flowers that day. but i am curious about this matter... could you humor me and explain more in detail, by any chance?”

albedo:

the med student fawned over by students and teachers alike. he's simply brilliant, idolized by the entire student body. though he's mainly studying science, he's been praised for his art as well, his paintings hung in the art room proudly.

you're not very familiar with him, only knowing him through hearsay. you don't know what he looks like, so you've never confirmed for yourself if he's as beautiful everyone says he is.

he's well-known but you haven't heard anything bad about him, which is an impressive feat. his name is only ever mentioned in concert with endless compliments.

you meet him by chance in exam season. unsurprisingly, the library is filled to the brim, tables stacked high with books and each chair occupied by agitated students sipping energy drinks and coffee to stay functional. amidst all the chaos, one student remains radiant and carefree, leisurely flicking pages through his notes. he's situated by a corner table, unbothered by the mindless zombies despite having plenty of free seats beside him and everyone else is squished together like canned tuna.

and you, carrying binders, books and stationery, are visibly desperate for a place to rest. his eyes leave the words in his notes briefly, beckoning you to come closer. and you, still unaware of his identity, gladly plop on a chair and heave your heavy supplies atop the table. it shakes for a moment as it bears the new weight, rattling his items, and the zombies gape at you in question. ironically, the person you've been bothering is not offended at all.

you sneak glances at him when you need to freshen your eyes from studying, nauseated by the letters that never seem to come to an end no matter how many paragraphs you've read. you're at awe by his fair skin, not a single blemish in sight, and he doesn't even have dark circles under his eyes. truly mysterious. either he has a magical skincare routine or he's not human. if anything, you'd think he just came from a relaxing vacation, not in the middle of hell week.

you snap out of your trance, and you scold yourself for being bewitched. you have more pressing concerns, and so you grill more information into your brain, oblivious to the turquoise eyes that begin to stare at you.

the next encounter comes when exams are finally over, and you celebrate by buying the pricey food set in the cafeteria. the crunch of golden breading is rewarding for your taste buds and you shovel more food towards your mouth, minding your own business.

the seat next to you is pulled back, and you pause from chewing. it's that guy again, his refined beauty easy for you to recognize. he places his tray on the table, smiling amiably as he asks if it's fine with you should he sit there. you nod, but there's plenty of vacant tables around. it's also pretty weird that he sat next to you, not across...

well, strange as it is, that's how you befriend albedo. you've yet to learn why he came on so strong, almost aggressive. like he really wanted to talk to you. but whatever.

the more you learn about him, the more his image of “golden boy” withers away. picture of elegance? the standard of sophistication? sure. but this guy doesn't hesitate to do the weirdest shit sometimes.

he doesn't fear anything. he puts anything edible in his mouth. one school trip to the countryside taught you a few things. if he's offered fried bugs, he'll eat it. if he's given frog legs, he'll eat it. he doesn't care. he'll eat seemingly anything. because of this, you worry his admirers will put something strange in the food they give him, but that possibility doesn't cross his mind at all. (well. not that he eats it. he rejects gifts most of the time. exceptions are when they come from you.)

you're starting to think he really doesn't fear anything. when you start to scream in fright like a headless chicken while watching a horror movie, he calmly studies the anatomy of whatever horrifying creature is on screen, questioning their ability to walk when half of their body is split apart. why is he questioning horror movie logic. “ghosts are supposed to be transparent and can pass through walls, how come she can grab the main character's hair and drag him to the incinerator?” “albedo, please.” (he comforts you when you get scared, hiding your face in his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you. he softly whispers in your ear to tell you when the scary parts are over.)

he's also an overprotective older brother. for good reason, actually. his little sister, albeit cute and outwardly harmless, is an explosive child who likes to make trouble. if he takes his eyes off her for more than two minutes, she will undoubtedly set fire to his little garden.

she's the reason why he's so observant. he can tell you trimmed your hair because he's all too used to klee chopping off her own hair with craft scissors. he also notices when you feel a bit under the weather. klee is the type to hide her sickness so she could play outside, and albedo would often have to forcibly tuck her back to bed. you're no different. he will, quite literally, drag you to your house and make you rest.

but aside from being a pain in the ass, his observation skills can help you — surely albedo can make a few guesses for your secret admirer's identity?

albedo blinks at you, uncharacteristically silent. he purses his lips, and gives you a small smile. he asks a few unassuming questions, things like what traces your secret left behind, or if they'd sent a love letter and he'd check the penmanship to see if he found it familiar.

he's not the most eager to help, you know that, but you're still slightly disappointed when he says, “sorry, i can't help you with something like that. it'd be better if you figured it out yourself.”

thoma:

the cute neighbor living in the apartment next door. just like kazuha, he studies in a different university, but you run into each other a lot because... well. obviously.

you find him rather silly. he'd signed the lease not knowing pets weren't allowed in the premises, and tearfully waved taroumaru goodbye when he moved in. to cope, he started staying at the park near the apartment building, playing with the dogs there and getting hit on by their owners in the process, but let's not talk about that.

despite being a newcomer, he fit right in with the tenants. he made effort to learn everyone's names and chatted with them whenever presented a chance, thus winning their favor. it isn't a strange sight to see him with middle-aged ladies and looking at home, listening earnestly to their complaints about their husbands or rowdy children. (his hard work pays off when they give him their special recipes and inform him of supermarket deals lol)

he seems to get along well with old men too, invited to their drinking parties. except thoma isn't good at rejecting alcohol from older adults, so when you save him from such situation — pulling him away from the old men prying into his love life, because surely a good kid like him would have someone to love him dearly — he's become eternally grateful.

he's honestly too good for his own good.

exhibit a: thoma is prone to cooking too much food for one person to eat in one sitting, so he tends to invite you to eat his hotpot with him or bring you packaged food you can easily pop into a microwave. after your one act of goodwill, he's become strangely attached to you, pronouncing you best buds. he then admits he used to live with a larger group of people (hence his cooking habits), and he's thankful for your company. (you'd argue you're getting the better end of the deal, receiving free food like this)

exhibit b: he's always available to help you in your troubles. need a hand with heavy groceries? he's on his way! ran out of soy sauce? just wait a bit, he's gonna grab some from the cupboard! forgot your key inside your apartment? then stay at his place for the meantime before the locksmith comes! your shower isn't working well?... he promises he won't peek in the bathroom, so feel free to take a bath h a h a h a. need someone's opinion on what outfit to wear for a date? sure, he's- wait.

YOU'RE GOING ON A DATE?

his face twists weirdly as you showcase two different shirts, asking which one he likes better. you raise an eyebrow when he doesn't dare to utter a single word. “are they both bad?”

he blinks rapidly, then shakes his head laughing. he half-heartedly points to the shirt in your left hand, but you can tell he doesn't really think much of it. he excuses himself fairly quickly, saying he had chores to do, and scurried back to his own home.

(you were only going to a date with ayaka's older brother because she insisted you both needed a love life, but it's not like you actually feel anything for him.)

it doesn't end there. thoma acts weird sometimes. he's strangely cold when he sees you inviting kazuha to your apartment to hang out. he also stiffens when he spots xiao walking you home.

but by far, he acted the weirdest when your phone number called him, but when he answered, he heard a different voice respond.

it's childe, whom you went drinking with. he doesn't know where you live, and you're not nearly sober enough to return home on your own, and it's not like you'll agree to staying over childe's house. you also refuse telling him your address, so childe is left with no choices but to call for someone he knows.

he uses your fingerprint to unlock the password in your phone, heading straight for your contact list, and dialed thoma.

it doesn't take long for thoma to arrive where you are, panting after running for a while, and childe is almost impressed. thoma hoists you up and you obediently wrap your arms around him.

“sorry for the trouble. [name]'s dead drunk as you can see,” childe comments, chuckling to himself. thoma doesn't look amused and replies with, “it's no trouble at all. i'd be glad to help [name] anytime.”

then in a way that almost seems possessive, thoma leaves childe behind.

so now when you arrive home, bouquet in your arms, red dusting your features, thoma is displeased once more.

(yet he is envious of those who can freely profess their affections, because he's certain if he were to ever admit his feelings to you, things can never be the same.)

gorou:

you first suspected childe because you thought the bouquet of flowers was a joke, but if it wasn't and it was real with the intentions of sweeping you off your feet...

then you might have another suspect in mind.

gorou is... a funny guy. can you put it like that? you don't know what to think of him. he's nice, you already know that very well, kokomi's good friends with him and told you a few stories about him, all of which are sweet and amusing. your first impression of him was that of a pure-hearted boy that can do no wrong.

he's younger than you by a year, and kokomi was fairly excited when she first told you he would be attending the same university soon. she promised to introduce you to him in hopes you'd be friends as well.

and okay, you could get behind that. there's nothing wrong with meeting new people. gorou sounded like a great guy too, and it'd be nice to take care of someone younger. you've been coddled by your seniors the past year as a freshman, and you thought it would only be right if you did the same to the new batch of students.

so you attended the welcoming party kokomi dragged you into. it was just a small gathering to get the freshmen familiarize themselves with older students, and she told you you'd get to meet gorou there, her eyes carefully scanning the crowd in pursuit of a specific face.

just as you were reminiscing over the past where your sadistic seniors encouraged you to drink a lot in the last welcoming party, shuddering in fright, kokomi tapped your shoulder and gestured to the brown haired boy standing before you.

it must be him. per courtesy, your lips curled into a practiced smile, exuding an amicable air. kokomi briefly exchanged a few words with him, but it looked like she was doing all the talking, the male frozen in spot as if he'd seen something strange.

he stared at you blankly, eyes slightly widened, and you slowly became unnerved with his vacant gaze, your smile faltering. you made eye contact with kokomi, silently questioning her, but she gave a subtle shrug of her shoulders, also confused by his behavior.

then, completely out of everyone's expectations, he'd dropped to the floor.

gorou had knelt on the ground with one steady knee, solemn in his endeavors. in an instant, your hand was seized, fingers enclosed in his warm palm. his piercing stare was impassioned, sincere at its core. heat shot up to the tips of your ears.

“marry me!”

his voice resounded in the entire room, earning unwanted attention. the chatter halted immediately, all eyes dedicated to the spectacle that was the both of you, and your mind began to spin, cold sweat dripping down your forehead.

your voice was caught in your throat, not knowing what to say, and all you could formulate was a garbled string of incoherent mess. undeterred, the grasp on your hand was unrelenting, gorou committed through this act until the very end.

everyone was thinking the same thing: we haven't even started drinking yet, but this little guy is drunk already??

shameless. crazy. a head with loose screws. you're probably the only one who'd describe gorou that way.

but what kind of sane man would say that upon first meeting???

kokomi quickly tried to mediate the situation for him, pulling him away and patting his back to knock him out of his dazed stupor, and pushed you to the farthest corner.

she vouched for him when she saw your puzzled expression, thinking of him as a weirdo, and she insisted he's normally not that odd. she swears he was never interested in dating before, and she isn't sure what changed for him to... propose... all of a sudden... to you, who he'd barely seen for ten seconds, no less.

naturally, it feels strange for you to see him. after that disastrous encounter, gorou — who did feel embarrassment for what he did, horrified at his own impulsiveness — tried to make amends, backtracking steps (he skipped way too many and immediately went to propose lol) and treating you normally like a friend of a friend, slowly trying to make the atmosphere between you casual instead of a freezing blizzard that kills off the amicable mood.

in spite of all that, however, you do feel as if his feelings are actually genuine. he can be clumsy, and incredibly so, you don't know who else could propose to another person within a span of a minute meeting them for the first time, but he means well! you started off on the wrong foot, and maybe this bouquet of flowers is him trying to curry your favor... or something...

yet all he gives is a disbelieving look, and that's enough to provide a clear answer: it's not from him, and he's upset.

it,, probably wasn't a good idea to ask someone who likes you about another person who likes you.

but if it isn't him, who else could it be?!

drop your guesses in the comments but im pretty sure it's already obvious lol

Until I found you

summary: Xiao has to face the memories of his late lover at the bottom of the chasm

a/n: part 2 ~ read this while listening to only love can hurt like this and the feelings are on point

Xiao hears the cries for his name from the group as they're teleported away and his energy falters as the platform underneath him finally breaks.

The light from the surface gets smaller and smaller as he falls, he closes his eyes, embracing his sacrifice.

In these final moments as this place devours him, he can't help but think back of his old friends, ones he thought of family.

Your face flashes in his mind....he misses you so much.

It's been so long without you here by his side.

'I swear it's wasn't me that wrote on your face, Xiao.' You hid behind Menogias who watches amused at how quickly Xiao to the conclusion that his own lover scribbled on his face while he slept.

Xiao quickly snatched you from behind the taller man who had did no effort to help you escape from Xiao pinching your cheeks as he glared at you but you laughed at how his face furrowed with angry.

"Just because we napped together doesn't mean I drew in your face this time—" He pinches your face more as his face flushes red.

"Brother Bosacius help me!" You cry out and Xiao turn to look at to see him quickly trying to hide a marker out of sight.

His face flushes red at this.

Bonanus and Indarias giggle to each other as they watch their fellow two yakshas have a tiny agreement as Xiao was telling you why you did immediately tell him it was Bosacius who drew on his face.

"ah, young love.' Bonanus says, watches how Xiao kept pinching your cheeks. "To think Xiao got a lover before us....well, with all the pinning going between those two, I think they're compatible with each other, don't you think?"

Indarias smiles, "yes, I hope we're invited to the wedding." She jokes as they both laughing, at this point you and Xiao stopped arguing, faces bright red at Indarias's comment.

He feels himself being swallowed up, the darkness consuming him as he feels relieved.

"Promise me, you'll keep living for the both of us...okay?" He held your dying self in his arms, hands filled with your blood as he stares at you with disbelief, tears running down his face. Leaning forward, he puts his forehead against yours until you take your last breath with him by your side.

Xiao opens his eyes, his promise to you, one he forgot all this time and he sees golden lights reaching out to him as it shapes itself to a hand reaching out him.

"Xiao!" He hears your voice, it could have been his imagination but nevertheless he reaches for the hand, warmth engulfing him as he's back on the surface of the chasm with everyone else.

Taking deep breaths, he feels a familiar presence and looks up towards the direction of it to see a figure walk away.

"Xiao! Are you alright?" The traveler and Paimon rush over to him as he spots something on the floor beside him that catches his attention.

Taking a closer look, he sees it's a necklace with something attached to it. Opening his palm, his eyes widen as he spots a familiar ring tied to the string.

'A ring? Why did you buy me a ring?' You ask him, currently the two of you were out patrolling before taking a small break. He gives you a ring and you take a look to see a stone of your favorite color along with a stone that represents him.

You see he has his back faced to you and you see how red his ears are. "Xiao?"

"....I asked Bonanus and Indarias about what they said and they said you love someone so much and willing to spent your life with them...you give them a promise ring." He says and your face goes red as you look at the ring and to him again.

"A-are you asking me to marry you?!" You scream and Xioa had enough as he teleports away with embarrassment. Takes you a few minutes to realize you're alone and you ile brightly, shyly putting on the ring on your finger.

It was your prized possession afterwards and now it reunited with Xiao eons later thanks to Zhongli.

"Heh, I look forward to when we get married Xiao." You grin like a lovesick person as you adore the ring unaware that Xiao hide behind some trees in the distance.

Xiao looks at the ring, gripping it close to his chest before putting it on over his neck, the ring now dangles from his chest as he stands up.

a/n: okay this is cute but sad too, I might do a part three where Xiao confronts Zhongli about the ring and how it came in his possession.

Masterlist

︵͡︵ 💬 what i gotta do 뜨거운 손이 ° 𓈒 𓏸

call it what you want.

a genshin impact smau | xiao x gn!reader

SUMMARY as part of the student council, you’ve been tasked to recruit the local band playing in your university’s bar. xiao, who’s the band’s bassist, seems to be the only one refusing your offer to join the foundation day. you have two weeks to make him agree to perform on stage in front of the whole university or you’re off the council for good.

GENRE modern, fluff, slight(?) crack, mild angst if u squint

STATUS completed as of october 11, 2022

NOTES time stamps do not matter unless i say so !! i hope u all enjoy <3

EPISODE LIST

your dropees | xiao’s band

001 — beloved vp ♢002 — failed night out

003 — bench front ♢ 004 — deleted tweet

005 — hashtag boy ♢ 006 — fuckin’ with ‘ya

007 — know yakshas? ♢ 008 — this is betrayal

009 — go ahead without me ♢ 010 — why not?

011 — follow back, vp ♢ 012 — annoying pest

013 — ah, that’s why ♢ 014 — he likes who?

015 — never mind ♢ 016 — actually, i hate you

017 — you like them, right? ♢ 018 — my treat!

019 —so a game? ♢020 — he agreed?

021 — not my boyfriend ♢ 022 — for you

023 — don’t ask me to ♢ 024 — breakfast

025 — tokyo ♢ 026 — suddenly gone

027 — don’t reply please ♢ 028 — get rid of it

029 — time to cry ♢ 030 — the last song

031 — just ignore him ♢ 032 — i wonder why

033 — hate me ♢ 034 — just a hunch

035 — hung up ♢ 036 — the person i like

037 — touchdown ♢ 038 — bad feeling

039 — unknown id ♢ 040 — all yours

041 — better ♢ 042 — sheesh

043 — miss me ♢ 044 — come back

045 — at last ♢ bonus — tba

MISCELLANEOUS thank you so much to all of you who supported me throughout this series !! i love u all ueueue