Chapter Text
Fuzyr scooped up his son, who was currently in his fox form. He let out a soft yip as he brushed his son's fur, curling up in his bed and covering Alban in his warmth. He was planning on resting in bed for the rest of the day, he wasn’t needed for anything today as he finished all his duties and none of the farming machines needed any repairing or maintenance.
However, a certain god had other plans. Fuzyr groaned as he heard the familiar sound of teleportation and fluttering of wings. He grabbed his blanket and pulled them over his head, being careful not to disturb Alban.
“Xross, what the hell do you want?” Fuzyr grumbled from under the sheets, not wanting to deal with the god today. For some reason, the god really likes to be around him. Fy’ule says that it’s probably because the god favors him, but there's no way he’s right. What's so interesting about him? He's literally just a fox hybrid who lives in a small town and fixes machinery everyday.
There's nothing special about him. So, it must be malicious intent. The gods aren't nice, he would know, his family has a long history with them and his grandparents are one. Xross must want something from him. He’d give anything just to make the god go away. Well, almost anything. Xross is not taking his son.
Fuzyr yelped as the sheets were suddenly pulled from his grasp, quivering as the cold air rushed to his face. The god chuckled as he watched the fox hybrid try to grab the blanket out of his hands. Fuzyr hated the sound of his laugh. It reverberated throughout the room and sounded eerie. Fuzyr bristled as one of Xross’ translucent floating hands ruffled his hair, he moved his head away from it when the hand tried to scratch behind his ear.
“Awh, what’s wrong little fox? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Xross cooed, his hand moving down to cup the fox hybrid’s cheek. “I sure am, I missed my chosen.”
Fuzyr felt a shiver run down his spine, he didn't like that sound of that. He was a god's chosen one. Worst of all, he was the fucking god of chaos’ chosen one! A chosen one had a different meaning for every god, and he was scared to learn what being the chosen one for the god of chaos was like.
Xross must’ve noticed his distress because he laughed and caressed his cheek. “Awe, don’t worry little fox,” Xross purred as he floated closer to the mortal. “I treat my chosen ones with love.”
Fuzyr paled at those words. Oh, so Xross was one of those gods. Fuzyr doesn’t know if he likes the sound of being the lover of the god of chaos....