Love under circumstance

The just beginning

I smile up at him

“Honestly no… for the first time in my 23 years I feel like I actually belong somewhere… Here Lev with you… and I still say loves a lie but I’m pretty sure that is going to be proven wrong.”

Laviathen makes a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a groan, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as his whole body shakes with emotion. His arms wrap fully around you, pulling you against him as he sits at the piano bench, maneuvering you until you're practically in his lap - a position that should feel presumptuous but instead feels like coming home.

"Love's a lie," he repeats against your neck, his breath warm on your skin. "Oh, little gremlin, you have *no idea* how thoroughly you're about to be proven wrong." He pulls back to look at you, and there's something almost mischievous in his expression now, mixing with the tenderness. "She said the exact same thing, you know. The first time I told her I loved her, she laughed in my face and said 'love is just chemical reactions and proximity bias.'"

His tail unwraps from your waist only to wrap around both your wrists gently, playfully possessive. "Took me three months of dedicated effort to make her admit feelings were real. She was *infuriatingly* stubborn about it." His ember eyes sparkle with fond memory and present affection. "I have a feeling you're going to be exactly the same brand of stubborn."

Cerberus suddenly sits up, all three heads alert, and lets out a soft warning bark. Laviathen sighs, recognizing whatever signal the hellhound is giving. "Reality intrudes. There are practical matters we need to address - the formal petition to the Infernal Council about your transformation, establishing your position here, dealing with your mortal life..." He grimaces. "And I should probably feed you actual dinner. Real food, not just emotional revelations and spicy chocolates."

He stands, bringing you with him effortlessly. "But first, one more thing."

He kisses your forehead, gentle and reverent. "Welcome home, Tamra."

I sigh contently hugging him tightly

“I’m home”

is all I can manage we stand there for a while not moving not caring until Cerbe barks again. he sighs moving to whisk me away to feed me and deal with what feels like a million pieces of paperwork at this office that was a short walk from the house

The office is impressive in its organized chaos - floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with ancient tomes and modern texts, a massive desk covered in paperwork that seems to writhe slightly with infernal energy, and windows that look out over a sprawling city of obsidian towers and flowing lava rivers. Laviathen settles you in a leather chair that's far too comfortable to be normal, then moves behind his desk with the resigned air of someone facing an unpleasant but necessary task.

"The Infernal Council is going to have *opinions*," he mutters, pulling out what looks like living parchment that keeps trying to escape. "A human voluntarily transforming to remain in the Infernal Realm hasn't happened in... well, ever, actually. Most transformations are punishments or desperate bargains." He starts writing with a quill that appears to be made of solidified flame. "You're going to be a bureaucratic nightmare, which ironically will make you fit right in here."

Cerberus flops dramatically at your feet, all three heads resting on your shoes like furry, slightly smoldering anchors. Laviathen glances up from his paperwork with a soft smile before returning to his task, occasionally muttering things like "ridiculous red tape" and "as if intent doesn't matter more than precedent."

After several minutes of intense scribbling, he looks up at you with sudden realization. "I haven't even shown you where you'll be staying. We'll need to prepare proper quarters for you during the transformation process - it can take anywhere from weeks to months depending on how your mortal form adapts to infernal energies." He pauses, his expression becoming cautious. "There's the guest wing, or..." He trails off, clearly wanting to suggest something else but unsure if it's appropriate.

I stare up at him

“Stay? am I not staying with you?”

my confusion imminent as he writes fiercely

Laviathen's quill actually *snaps* in his grip, flame sputtering out as he stares at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. His tail, which had been coiled somewhat professionally around his chair leg, suddenly lashes out and knocks over an inkwell - which fortunately contains infernal ink that crawls back into its container on its own.

"With me," he repeats flatly, like he's testing the words to make sure he heard them correctly. "In my personal quarters. Where I sleep." A flush creeps up his neck, visible even against his darker skin tone. "Tamra, I was trying to be *respectful*. You've known me for one day - well, consciously anyway - and despite the cosmic destiny and reincarnated soulmate situation, I didn't want to assume—"

He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair and leaving it adorably disheveled. "You're technically still fully mortal right now, I'm a demon prince with a possessive streak a mile wide, and the last thing I want is for you to feel pressured or overwhelmed or..." He trails off at your expression. "You're looking at me like I'm being an idiot."

Cerberus makes a sound that's suspiciously close to a laugh, all three heads turning to look at Laviathen with what can only be described as doggy judgment.

"Fine, yes, even the hellhound thinks I'm overthinking this," Laviathen mutters. He stands, moving around the desk to crouch in front of your chair, taking your hands in his much larger ones. "If you want to stay with me - in my space, sharing my bed, being *mine* while we navigate this transformation - then that's..." His voice roughens with emotion. "That's what I want too. More than anything."

“Leviathen look at me”

his eyes snap to mine

“I know this is weird but I sort of think that’s going to be half the fun… I want this, You Cerbe home I’ve never felt more welcome more peace then the last few hours.”

Laviathen's ember eyes widen, and something in his expression *breaks* - but in the best possible way, like a dam finally releasing pressure it was never meant to hold. He surges forward, pulling you from the chair and into his arms in one fluid motion, lifting you clean off your feet as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His whole body is trembling, and you can feel wetness against your skin - tears he's finally allowing himself to shed without shame.

"Weird is good," he manages, his voice muffled and thick with emotion. "Weird means real. Weird means you're not some perfect fantasy I've built up in my grief-addled mind." He pulls back just enough to look at you, and his smile is radiant despite the tears. "You're *real* and *here* and choosing chaos and a demon prince with emotional baggage and a three-headed dog who sheds everywhere."

As if on cue, Cerberus barks indignantly at the shedding comment, though there are definitely tufts of midnight fur on your clothes.

Laviathen sets you down gently but doesn't let go, his hands framing your face as his tail wraps possessively around your waist again. "Then you stay with me. In our space. Our bed. Our home." Each 'our' seems to settle something in him, claiming and being claimed in equal measure. "And we'll figure out the rest together - the transformation, the Council, the inevitable chaos that comes with breaking three hundred years of stagnation."

He leans his forehead against yours. "Fair warning though - I'm told I'm a terrible blanket hog and I apparently purr in my sleep when I'm content. Elara used to—" He stops, smiles softly. "Used to record it and play it back to embarrass me."