#embarassment

Until tonight.

The barracks at Okhema were quiet, the fires low. Mydei sat polishing his gauntlets, cape draped elegantly over his chair. You had just returned from training, sweat slick on your brow, when you spotted it. A dark little movement on the stone floor. Antenna. Chittering. Six legs skittering toward you.

A roach.

The scream that tore from your throat could have woken the Titans themselves. You leapt onto the nearest bench with a speed that would have impressed even the most seasoned scouts.

“WHAT—BY THE TITANS—” Mydei was already half risen, his eyes blazing as if preparing for a siege. “Is it an attack? A monster breach?”

“IT’S ON THE FLOOR—IT’S COMING—BY THE TITANS, IT’S COMING!” you shouted, pointing wildly at the bug.

Mydei blinked. His hand lowered slowly from his weapon. “…That?”

“Yes that!” Your voice cracked, uncharacteristic for someone who had once spat curses at a Titan’s gaping maw. You clutched the bench like it was a lifeboat in a storm. “It’s hideous—it’s crawling—it’s going to climb on me—”

The great Mydeimos, Last Prince of Kremnos, stared at you as though the black tide itself had sprouted a new absurd form. For the first time in years, he was completely speechless.

“…You do realize,” he said carefully, “that thing is smaller than your thumb.”

“I don’t care if it’s smaller than a grain of sand!” you snapped. “Kill it, Mydei. Kill it before it lays eggs or calls its friends or—by the Titans—what if it can fly?”

You heard your own voice pitching higher, panicked. Mydei’s lips pressed together, shoulders trembling—not in battle tension, but in barely contained laughter.

“You…” he finally managed, “…the warrior who charged headfirst into Nikador’s spawn without flinching… are undone by a bug?”

“It’s not just a bug—it’s a demon in disguise!” you hissed.

At that, he actually laughed. A deep, resonant sound that filled the chamber. He stood, still chuckling, and crossed the room. His hair caught the firelight, tribal markings flexing across his arms as he knelt down. With regal grace, he extended a gauntleted hand and—squish.

You made a strangled noise of relief, but Mydei straightened with an almost smug look.

“There. The mighty foe is vanquished,” he said solemnly, wiping his gauntlet. “Your honor restored.”

You scowled, still clinging to the bench. “Don’t mock me. That thing was… plotting.”

Mydei tilted his head, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Should I commission a statue to commemorate your victory? The Fearless Warrior Against the Cockroach of Okhema?”

“Don’t you dare.”

But he was grinning, rare and unguarded. “I should have known the great stoic [Name] had one weakness. And here I thought you untouchable.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, equal parts embarrassment and indignation. “You tell anyone about this, Mydei, I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted smoothly, stepping closer. He leaned down, his voice low, teasing: “Shout at me from atop the bench?”

You tried to glare, but it melted under his amused smirk. He was enjoying this far too much.

Later that night, when you finally returned to your bedroll, you noticed something. Mydei had quietly shifted his cot closer to yours, his golden gauntlets resting within arm’s reach.

And when you muttered, “It might have friends,” he only chuckled and replied, “Then I’ll be here to slay them for you. Even princes must defend their comrades from such terrible foes.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, the warmth of his words stayed with you longer than your humiliation.

The training fields of Okhema buzzed with life as you sparred with Phainon. His white hair shone like flame in the sun, his eyes sharp but kind as his blade pressed against yours. Sweat slicked your brow, but you didn’t falter. You never did. Against him, you could fight ten days and nights without yielding.

Then you heard it.

A buzz. Low, insidious, growing louder.

You froze mid-parry.

Phainon tilted his head. “[Name]? You stopped. That’s not like you.”

You didn’t answer. Your eyes darted skyward, scanning—until you saw it. The devil incarnate. Black and yellow, wings shimmering, stinger glinting in the light.

A wasp.

“NOPE.” Your sword clattered to the ground as you bolted across the field, sprinting with the desperation of a hunted soul.

Phainon blinked. “…Wait. Are you—running from a wasp?”

The insect zipped after you, and your war cry became a shriek. You leapt over a fence, barreled through a line of startled recruits, and kept running. “GET IT AWAY FROM ME!”

Phainon, laughter already spilling from his lips, jogged after you. “You faced down the Titan of Strife without flinching—but this?!”

“It’s got a stinger!” you wailed, ducking behind a training dummy.

Phainon leaned on his sword, grinning ear to ear. “So did Nikador, and you stabbed him in the eye!”

“That was different!” You dove under a bench, panting. “That was war! This is personal!”

The wasp hovered menacingly above, and you scrambled out again, practically climbing onto the nearest roof to escape. Phainon followed, effortlessly vaulting up beside you.

“[Name],” he said gently, though his eyes danced with suppressed laughter. “It’s a bug. You’ve fought armies.”

“Armies don’t FLY INTO YOUR FACE!” you screeched, swatting wildly as it buzzed closer.

At that, Phainon doubled over laughing, his usually calm and noble composure shattered. He laughed so hard he had to steady himself against the tiles, tears pricking his eyes.

“You should—” he wheezed, “you should have seen your face!”

“This isn’t funny!” you snarled, but your voice cracked with panic as the wasp swooped again. You clung to Phainon’s arm like a lifeline, burying your face against his shoulder.

His laughter softened. He looked down at you, expression warming. Slowly, he raised his free hand and—flick. The wasp zipped away, vanquished by nothing more than his casual grace.

You peeked up, trembling. “…Is it gone?”

“It’s gone,” he said softly.

You sagged in relief, realizing you were still clutching him tightly. Heat flooded your face as you quickly let go, trying to reclaim some dignity. “Don’t… say anything. To anyone.”

Phainon smiled, gentle now. “Your secret’s safe. Though I admit, seeing you terrified of something so small… it’s strangely endearing.”

You gaped at him. “Endearing? I looked like an idiot!”

He shook his head. “No. You looked human. Even legends are allowed their fears.” His voice dropped, tender: “Even you.”

Your chest tightened at his sincerity. You had expected endless teasing, but instead you were met with warmth that disarmed you more than any wasp ever could.

Phainon stepped closer, his hand brushing yours. “If another comes, I’ll protect you. Not because you can’t handle it, but because I want to.”

You stared at him, heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with buzzing wings. “…You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

His grin turned mischievous. “Oh, I’ll remember it. But only for myself.”

And with that, the Deliverer walked you back from the roof—your unlikely savior from the tiniest of terrors.

His lips quirked into a knowing smile, an expression that always seemed to hint at some private joke only he was in on. You, however, were far too distracted by the softness of his lips against yours to notice the subtle shift in his gaze.

It had started as a simple kiss—innocent enough—but as time passed, the kiss deepened. His hands gently cupped your face, keeping you close as the world outside the two of you faded away.

And that’s when it happened.

A soft sound—a faint, almost involuntary hum—escaped your lips. You froze immediately, heat rushing to your cheeks as you pulled away slightly, eyes widening in embarrassment.

Jing Yuan’s expression softened, though his smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His voice was a low murmur, playful yet somehow fond. “Did you just... hum?”

You didn’t even realize it had slipped out. A quiet, almost melodic noise that was undeniably intimate in the moment. “I—uh, I didn’t mean to,” you stammered, your face turning a shade of red that almost rivaled his red ribbon. You quickly tried to cover it up, feeling incredibly flustered. “It just... happened.”

He leaned in again, his breath warm against your skin. His hands gently traced down your arms, reassuring yet teasing. “Mm, I know. But it’s rather charming,” he murmured.

Before you could respond, his lips found yours once more, but this time, you couldn’t help but let another soft sound escape, a tiny whimper as his lips teased the corner of your mouth. You quickly pulled back again, your cheeks burning.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know why I keep—”

“Don’t apologize,” he cut in smoothly, his voice rich with amusement. He gently cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. “I find it... endearing.”

Your heart skipped at the warmth in his voice. “Endearing?” you repeated, blinking up at him in confusion.

He nodded, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. “I’m not used to such an... honest response. You wear your feelings so plainly, it’s quite... refreshing.” His gaze softened, his thumb grazing your bottom lip in a gesture that made you feel both exposed and adored.

With each kiss, you felt another soft hum escape your lips—this time, it wasn’t out of embarrassment but a natural response to the overwhelming tenderness he was showing you.

It was then that you realized Jing Yuan wasn’t bothered by it. In fact, it seemed to amuse him, his lips curving into that signature smile every time you let another sound slip, like he found something genuinely endearing about your unintentional vulnerability.

“Your little noises,” he began softly, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, “are like a melody I’ve grown fond of. I won’t deny it—it's hard not to be charmed by someone so unguarded.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, a little breathless from the mix of nerves and warmth swirling within you. “You’re not embarrassed by it?”

His hand found its way to the back of your neck, holding you closer, but there was nothing but tenderness in his touch. “Embarrassed? Hardly.” He leaned in closer, his voice a whisper against your ear. “It’s a privilege, you know. That I get to hear your unspoken thoughts through every little sound you make.”

A shiver ran down your spine as his lips brushed your ear, and without realizing it, another soft sound escaped you—a tiny sigh this time.

He chuckled lowly, a rumbling, warm sound that made your heart flutter. “See? You’re doing it again. But this time... I think I’ll enjoy it even more.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, thoroughly embarrassed, but it only made Jing Yuan’s quiet laughter grow fonder. His arms tightened around you, a steady presence that grounded you in the moment.

There was something so reassuring in the way he embraced your every little imperfection. In that moment, you knew you didn’t need to apologize anymore.

Because, for Jing Yuan, every little noise you made wasn’t something to hide. It was just another way for him to hear you—without words.