#this man has it all he just doesn't know it

[telephoniii]

Do you accept requests? I really loved the Really him thing and was wondering if you could do that but him reacting to reader being in a polyamorous relationship with Malleus and Leona? Srry id u not comfortable with it. I thought id ask cuz there are like no poly fics

I’ve actually been debating whether or not to do requests. That and I was thinking about making a masterlist! If people really want to request stuff/have a masterlist then lmk and I’d be down to do it. My verdict rn is; if you have an idea, feel free to send it. 🤷

Also! It's not exactly polyamorous, but I've got a longer fic in the works abt Leona and Malleus being love rivals for the reader. So if that interests you than stay tuned!!

Anyways, lets get to the fun and whimsical stuff!

I’m not poly myself so I’m really sorry if anything is misrepresented. I did decide to add more than just Malleus and Leona since I thought it’d be fun! I hope you enjoy :>

REALLY…HIM? (Poly Addition)

malleus and leona

Oh, you’re going to give this man a heart attack. Because what do you mean you’re dating the two most powerful yet reckless students of them all. Malleus and Leona? The two have a heated rivalry, do they not?!Do you have no concern for your safety?!?!The amount of sheer power these two hold together frighten this poor soul. He tells you to keep your distance if they start to fight. As a magicless student, you do NOT want to get involved if a duel were to break out. No, Trein wants you to RUN if that ever happens. Give him some time to get used to it. The sight of you next to Malleus and Leona in the hallways sends panic throughout his nervous system. After a month or so, Trein mellows out. He’ll start asking technical questions that you don’t have answers to. “If you were to marry them both, would all three of you be the rulers of Briars Valley?” ??? No clue, Professor. Can I get back to my test in peace now?

ace and deuce

He’s not surprised in the slightest. Trein always had an inkling that something was going on between you three. He just didn't want to believe it. Why? Because he doesn't like them. Well, scratch that. He doesn't like Ace. Is he supposed to jump for joy at the fact you’re dating the biggest slacker among all the first years? Trein has a habit of nit-picking them both and what they do. However, despite all the smack he talks, deep down he heavily approves of the relationship. He knows the two boys and doesn't doubt their loyalty to you. It's always been the three of you from the start and he views it as an unbreakable bond. So, even though he makes a face when you walk in with Deuce’s sports jacket and says you should take it off because it smells like sweat, he finds himself smiling when he spots you three sitting together at lunch just enjoying each others company. The way you all joke around and laugh together like you’re the only people in the world. He trusts them with your heart more than anyone else.

vil and rook

He actually thinks it's a pretty sweet relationship at first. You all balance each other out. Vil and Rook earned Trein’s seal of approval to date you from day one… and then Rook sends him a creepy letter thanking him for being supportive and— yep. Trein takes back that seal because what the hell. For the senders name on the letter, it was by both Rook and Vil, so Trein pulls both of them aside to talk about HIS boundaries. (He thought he didn't have to explicitly say, “Don’t stalk me before, during, or after school hours” but here we are) Vil is so confused the whole time. What could've possibly prompted this?? Then he remembers his boyfriend next to him who’s blissfully smiling and it all starts to make sense. With a sigh, Vil ends up apologizing to Trein for the whole ordeal and tells you about it as well. Rook gives you a kiss and promises to just watch Trein from afar. You don’t know how much better that is and it seems like Vil is thinking the same thing as he lets out a small groan. Trein is forever unnerved by your relationship— specifically because of Rook.

jamil and azul

Honey, are you being manipulated into this relationship? Which one of them is gaslighting you? Trein knows that they both have deceptive tendencies and is concerned. He’s not actively against it or anything, but he just keeps a close eye on the three of you. Jamil and Azul pick up on this and silently agree to each other that they want to prove themselves to Trein. Expect to get the ultimate royalty treatment everytime the Professor is around. One moment they’re playfully poking fun at you, the next they are cherishing the ground you walk on. (As they should) Unfortunately, it ends up having the opposite effect where Trein is even more suspicious and starts telling you to keep your distance from them. Jamil lets out a tired sigh an decides to do the mature thing by actually talking to Trein about their relationship with you. He drags Azul along with him and makes sure to keep him in check during the discussion. Jamil’s honesty takes Trein by surprise. Usually he wasn't one to make himself notable like that. Azul, reluctantly, ends up being honest about his feelings and relationship regarding you after Jamil. Afterward, Trein doesn’t say anything the next time he sees the three of you together. Instead, he just gives you a small nod and smile. Wow. Ultimate approval. Jamil and Azul high-five each other under the table.

[bombshellsandbluebells]

(didn't even get to the part where Ford comes in, but I loved the idea of a sentient Mystery Shack that grows to love Stan - mostly because Stan ends up treating the place more like a home than Ford ever did and goes through all those years alone with him and wrote a drabble)

At some point, Stan realizes he should clean the house. The epiphany comes around the same time he realizes he should also take care of himself—eat, probably, since he can't recall when he last did that. Shower now that he has access to one—even though the thought of using Ford's shower because the man himself can't makes his skin crawl so much he wants to peel it off.

He'll start with the house, then. It feels less like stealing a space that shouldn't be his if he convinces himself it's for Ford's sake—tidying the books and washing out the mugs growing their own ecosystems as some kind of apology. 

As soon as he starts cleaning, though, the mess seems endless. He wonders again at the state his brother had been in—at the barbed wire and panic, at the blood stains in the bathroom—and he wonders if the fear had come from Ford knowing what was beyond the portal, if he'd known the nightmare Stan was dooming him to, if he was even still—

He loses a few hours cleaning the kitchen, scrubbing everything from the floors to the inside of the fridge, but that's a few hours not spent tearing his hair out over the portal, and it feels nice to succeed at something for once. Even the house seems to breathe a little easier in the space he clears—though he can't really explain what he means by that. 

It's just a building, obviously, but it seems…happier. Like it's proud of the changes he made. Whatever, grief is weird, he knows that—their Ma had hit denial so badly after their Bubbe passed it took a full two months for her to even admit she'd died. If he feels better because he tells himself Ford's house is happy he cleaned it up, who cares.

 At least it will help him get out of bed tomorrow. 

-------

About two months in, Stan realizes there are probably bills of some sort he's ignoring. He's never owned a place of his own, but he remembers the whole song and dance with his parents, pouring over electricity and water bills at the kitchen table and debating which ones would be easier to argue—arguing with each other about who had dropped the ball on making enough sales that month.

Considering his new business is based out of the house, he can't risk losing power, which leaves him hunting around Ford's stuff for old utility bills—with no luck. His brother is probably the least organized person he knows, and it looks like that hasn't changed much. Somehow the man can keep up a meticulous system for his bookcase that doesn't make sense to anyone else but can't keep important documents in a folder somewhere. Hell, Stan would take a messy drawer.

He practically tears the house apart but can't find anything, getting increasingly pissed with every upturned cabinet—pissed at Ford for not taking better care of his house, pissed that he's not even here to deal with this, pissed that Stan's now actively seeking out bills to pay like some kind of lunatic. By the time he finally finds a number for Gravity Falls' one electricity company in the yellow pages, he's mad enough to curse out the employee on the other end when he informs him they have no record of an account for Stanford Pines.

"Then how the hell do I have power?!" he yells before realizing it's probably in his best interest to not reveal the fact that Ford has somehow slipped through the cracks and ended up with free power this whole time.

When the guy tries to talk Stan into setting up a new account, he quickly hangs up. 

So it's a mistake, probably—one actually working out in Stan's favor. Or Ford set up a generator somewhere he's yet to find. Either way, he just has to hope whatever's keeping the lights on doesn't decide to crap out on him soon; he could use the extra money he'd waste on bills right now. The Hut isn't that successful.

"Please," he says weakly, not quite sure who or what he's talking to. The concept of electricity itself, maybe. "Just—don't go out."

Maybe it's just his imagination, but the light above him seems to burn a little brighter in response.

Whatever. Grief works in weird ways.

–

It becomes harder to shake it off as just grief. 

Sometimes when the endless slog of the portal is getting to him, the lights burn brighter. Despite never paying a gas bill of any kind, the house stays warm around him. He never seems to lose anything, either—no matter how many times he misplaces something, it turns up right when he needs it. Sometimes it's not even something he's looking for: painkillers on the kitchen table after he smashes his fingers, Around the World in Eighty Days sitting innocently on his bed just when he starts thinking he needs to take his mind off of things for a bit. Once, he mentions missing the ocean out loud and turns the corner to see a painting of just that where he knows it wasn't before.

Terrifyingly, the first thing he thinks of are ghosts. Maybe Ford hadn't even made it to whatever lay on the other side of that portal. Maybe he'd just stuck around where Stan couldn't see him anymore.

He dares to ask one night, sitting in the kitchen where he'd first felt the feeling of not being alone, almost too scared to get an answer. The room ripples around him in reply. The light above him flickers. Stan watches it, trying to swallow down the sudden dryness in his mouth.

"Blink once for yes, twice for no," he says.

No, the house flickers.

He drops his head into his arms and just breathes. Squeezes his eyes shut so they stop feeling so wet. "Okay," he says. "Not the weirdest thing I've seen, I guess."

The way the light flares feels almost like a laugh.

Sentient Mystery Shack, who is really biased towards Stan, so when Ford tells Stan he has to give it back after the summer it’s on sight.

Ford keeps tripping over nothing, nothing is where it's supposed to be and somehow he keeps running into closets when he tries to go outside.

But the worst part, the WORST part is that Ford's lightbulb just won't. Work. No matter what he does it keeps flickering and exploding.

Ford is spiraling. 

There is no reason why it shoudln’t work. All his trial runs work perfectly. He’s already checked the Shacks wiring three times and relearned this dimensions science from the ground up. 

Nothing works.

The Rift? Bill? The impending apocalypse? Eating? Sleep? Who cares about that. 

WHY. WONT. THE. LIGHTBULB. WORK???

It doesn’t help that Stan keeps laughing at him.

“Then you do it!” Ford eventually snaps at Stan.

Stan shrugs and with a little song under his breath screws his own lightbulb in. It works perfectly.

Stanford screams.

[consultingfujoshi]

yknow I was never gonna like fields I was always gonna root for irving to wreck that marriage but finding out he's a religious zealot who projects his own insecurities about sin and going to hell onto his husband to the extent he signed off on his getting a lobotomy just so there would be a version of him that could keep him company in heaven only made me more in favour of old man infidelity

like I went into this episode fully expecting fields to be the classic jealous husband who doesn't really get that the innies are different people and his husband is not responsible for whatever his innie might have done with another person and that would have even been understandable if not frustrating and I expected irving and burt to bond over how fields doesn't really get it and they're the only ones who understand how this feels and somehow fields being fine with the idea of him having an affair is even worse because it means the troubles in their marriage doesn't come from a mistrust of burt's faithfulness to him, it comes from a fundamental lack of faith in burt's soul. to him burt's innie falling in love is just affirmation that there's a version of him more deserving of eternal happiness than the one he's literally married to

not once was any sense of anger directed towards irving as I expected, it all lies within this idea that burt has to redeem himself to be worthy of fields. and how the hell does burt make peace with that especially now knowing that the version of himself that didn't know fields existed fell for another man, having no knowledge of the real reason he was there in the first place and instead seeking out his own purpose and sense of fulfilment, in effect having a level of freedom that burt himself does not? knowing he didn't really have to centre his entire life's purpose around pleasing his husband and god?

finally getting to know outie irving a little and discovering he's just as awkward and easily flustered as if not more so than his innie and how hard he tried to get on fields' good side, wearing a nice shirt and bringing expensive wine and laughing nervously at his jokes trying to prove he's not a threat, and then discovering this isn't actually about him at all and this marriage was already broken beyond repair, religious trauma opening up a fault line between them that led to irving being seated at this table in the first place, and how he has no idea what his innie saw in burt as fields says but he's struck with such a profound sense of sadness now that it's gone

finding out burt believes both of their innies are in heaven together and he doesn't know it but his innie believed the same was possible. because he was trapped in a religious cage of his own making just as burt is, and he doesn't know it but burt freed him from that, and he could do the same for burt. shyly suggesting they meet on their own terms without anyone hanging over them, be it lumon or fields or god himself. because he likes him. because he had fun tonight. because he can see burt is ultimately just as lonely as him and just as in need of something real and uncomplicated. something that's just for them

so in short i support that old man's rights to cheat on his husband with the gorgeous controversially younger italian american guy with the mustache who nearly broke down his front door two weeks ago. for totally narrative purposes of course

[seneon]

Hey hey🩷

Could you maybe write a headcannon with blue block boys when they lash out on reader bc they have a bad day and call them annoying or disrespect them? Reader (female) is not sure abt forgiving them. I love angst. Could you maybe pls do it for Isagi,Nagi,Bachira,Reo,Barou Yukimiya,Rin,Sae or actually for whoever you like want to write for. If its to much Im really sorry 🥺🩷. I really enjoy your writings and I hope you are alright.

WILL YOU LOVE ME WHEN I'M DEAD ──── bllk various.

notes. featuring yoichi, seishiro, yukimiya, and the itoshi brothers only. and angst. for everyone, i'll have the same scenario of them coming home angry after football practice, then we'll escalate from there onwards. not my best work since my blue lock knowledge has gone rusty butttt ya :v

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ISAGI YOICHI

he's so so stressed after football practice that he can't keep his cool. yoichi didn't mean to raise his voice at you, vulgarity spilling down his tongue like ancient curses. you're terrified in disbelief, and he doesn't notice it. not until you slowly nodded and pursed your lips in a tight line that makes him regain some senses of himself. you then walked away, and he follows you the second you moved your muscles. "my love wait, i'm so sorry," he calls out softly, voice almost breaking and you tell him to give you time, locking him out of your shared room so he could think upon his actions. yoichi will stay outside your door, even sleeping by the wall just waiting for you to come out from your room so he could apologise.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ NAGI SEISHIRO

silent treatment creeps into the air even hours after he tells you that you're annoying and pestering, always nagging him all around. he appears to not care by occupying his attention in his games. but truly on the inside, he's so bothered that you're not beside him doing your own thing as he played his game. he feels empty beside him, so used to having you by his side all the time. he could tell you were in no absolute mood to see him right now, and his inexperienced self has no idea how to apologise or make it up to you. maybe he'll try some other time when you come home from your late night drive to cool off from a brief argument with seishiro.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ YUKIMIYA KENYU

he's an expressive young man, thus when he comes into your room with your favourite snacks in a basket properly and you're ignoring him, his lips is all turned downwards into a guilty frown. kenyu knows he's in every wrong that he called you annoying for simply wanting to check up on him after practice. he didn't mean any of it, just an 'in the heat of moment' occurrence. kenyu yearns for you as he kneels by your bed and holds your hands just to get your attention. then he apologises. he knows he's hurt your heart and soul. he'll have to keep trying because he's going to earn it.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ITOSHI RIN

in an absolute crisis mixed upon the events that happened at practice along with a million of thoughts and possibilities swimming in his mind that you will leave him. when his strings break at how you forgot not to touch a jersey of his that he has hanging by his drawer, rin leaves you first— to his room. a heavy pessimistic, even if it looks like he's fine with simply cleaning his football shoes. you've shut him out, as he did to you when he came back home and refused to speak to you like he usually would. tonight will be long if neither wants to see each other eye to eye.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ITOSHI SAE

does not take no for an answer when he apologises. that is a bad trait of his— sae thinks everything will go his way. so when you flat out said you wouldn't forgive him this time for even disrespecting you in the first place, his anger heightens. when you want to walk away, he will simply pull you back, heartfelt apologies he muttered in hopes of you forgiving him. but you're so hurt by him that he could see it in your eyes. it held the fading reflection of the last chance. and maybe, just maybe... you've lost the spark with him. he died a little on the inside at that surfacing realisation.

© SENEON 2025 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[hy6erion]

Hellooo, I love your fics😭💘could you write something like Viktor is IN LOVE with reader, every time she enters the room he can't take his eyes off her and she doesn't realize the impact she has on him until one day he can't stand all the love he has and simply confesses it to her expecting to be rejected (obviously Reader feels the same way about him) a song that comes to my mind is "every breath you take" 🥺

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐲- 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲 (╥╯^╰╥) 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝-

Viktor watches her. He has no choice.

It is not deliberate—not at first. The first time he notices, truly notices her, it is nothing extraordinary. Just a moment. A simple, passing thing.

She is laughing at something Jayce has said, shaking her head, her eyes crinkling at the corners. The sound of it is light—effortless, like it was meant to exist in the world, and he thinks, Ah. That is lovely.

And then, he looks away.

But that is how it starts.

It happens again, and again, and again. A small thing at first—a glance, a thought, a passing indulgence. But it does not leave.

Instead, it lingers. Settles. Buries itself deep in his chest, in the marrow of his bones, making a home out of him.

Before he knows it, she is in his thoughts more often than not.

She is in the moments between experiments, when his mind drifts, and he has to physically shake himself from imagining the way the light catches in her hair. She is in the spaces between breaths, in the hush of the late hours, when his mind slows just enough for the longing to creep in.

She is in the way his hands still when she leans over his shoulder, the warmth of her body so close, her scent curling around him like something dangerous, something fatal.

He is careful—so careful—to never let it show.

He tucks it away, locks it behind closed doors, never daring to let it slip into his expression. She cannot know. She must not know.

Because it would ruin everything.

Because how could she?

She is kind. Brilliant. Good. And he—he is—

A man who wants too much. A man who should not want at all.

But want, he does.

She does not notice.

Not at all.

It is not that she does not care. She does. She enjoys Viktor’s company, always has. He is sharp, quick-witted, endlessly fascinating. He is clever, charming in his own way, and she has always admired the way his mind works.

But never—never—has she thought to look deeper.

Why would she?

To her, Viktor is Viktor.

A friend. A colleague. Someone to challenge her, to tease her, to rely on.

Someone steady.

It does not occur to her to question the way he watches her. The way his breath stills when she stands too close. The way his voice softens, ever so slightly, when he says her name.

It does not occur to her to wonder why, sometimes, when she speaks, Viktor looks as though he is bracing himself against the tide.

Because why would she?

Viktor has never given her any reason to think otherwise.

He does not touch her unless he must. He does not let his gaze linger for too long. He is always the first to turn away, to fold his hands behind his back, to swallow down the words that threaten to break free.

If there is ever something there—something deep, something aching—she does not see it.

And it is killing him.

It comes to a breaking point on an otherwise ordinary evening.

She is with him in the lab, working late. Nothing unusual. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But tonight, something is wrong.

Viktor is quiet.

Not in the usual way. Not in the way of someone focused, of someone lost in their own mind. No—this is different.

This is silence weighted with something else.

He is still. His hands are clasped in front of him, fingers twisting together, his jaw tight. His throat bobs with the effort of something unsaid.

She frowns, setting her notes aside. “Viktor?”

He flinches. Flinches.

Her frown deepens. “Are you alright?”

He exhales, a sharp, unsteady sound. A humorless chuckle escapes him, brittle and thin. “No,” he admits.

Her heart stirs with concern. “What is it?”

And then, something breaks.

“I cannot do this anymore.”

His voice is low, rough, edged with something raw.

She stills.

“…Do what?” she asks, careful.

Viktor’s hands tighten around each other. He looks at her then, and for the first time, really lets her see him.

He looks wrecked.

There is something desperate in his expression, something frayed at the edges, something coming apart.

Something aching.

“I—” His throat works around the words. He swallows, hard, like it physically hurts to say it.

“I cannot pretend that I do not love you.”

The air leaves her lungs.

The words crash into her, sharp and sudden, knocking the breath from her body.

She blinks, mouth parting, brain struggling to catch up.

“What?”

Viktor huffs a weak, self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head. “I know. I know.” His voice is trembling. “It is—unfair. I should not have said anything. But I cannot—” He stops himself, running a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “I cannot keep this in. Not anymore.”

He sounds wrecked.

He sounds like he expects her to run.

Like he expects her to be horrified. To step away, to shake her head, to leave.

She doesn’t. She can’t.

Because suddenly, everything makes sense.

The way he looked at her. The way he carried himself around her. The way he always turned away too quickly, always put distance between them, always seemed to be holding something back.

It was this.

It was always this.

Viktor lets out a slow, shaking breath. “I am not—expecting anything. I know how foolish this is. How selfish.” His voice is quieter now, barely above a whisper. “But I love you. I have loved you for so long, and it is—” He laughs, breathless. “It is unbearable.”

She is staring.

He swallows, looking away. “You do not have to say anything. I only needed—”

“I love you too.”

It is a whisper, barely a breath, but it stops him cold.

Viktor goes still.

Completely. Utterly. Still.

“…What?”

She exhales, stepping closer. “I love you too.”

He stares at her like she has just undone him.

Like she has spoken something impossible into existence.

“…No,” he breathes, almost broken. “You—you do not mean that.”

She reaches for him then. Takes his face in her hands, tilts his head toward her, forces him to see.

“I do.”

Viktor makes a sound—something sharp, something lost.

And then he breaks.

He grabs at her, arms curling around her like he is afraid she might disappear, like she is something real in a world that has never been kind to him.

And when she kisses him, he shatters.

Because finally, finally—

She is his.

And he is hers.

[haruchiyos]

to preface, this is going to be chronologically ordered and mostly a word vomit of thoughts, I apologize in advance

okay, the set up here is amazing. this choice in tragic (but misunderstood) prophecy really brings out the worst in him -- in the best way possible. He's cruel. He's arrogant. He's emotional detached. All this combined with the strength he has to back up that arrogance... mm, this man has me in a chokehold already.

"But he sees in the corner of his eye Kaiser’s state, sitting in the kind of stillness that you see before a battle, bent over at the bottom of the altar." "The people do not know what causes their successor to turn so cold, as biting and harsh as winter itself. His quicksilver smile rattles bones, his sword is cutting like blood in snow."

What spectacular imagery here. Ugh, also a great example of saying a lot with very little. You also widen the scope of your world for the literal reader through this minor perspective shift, of which demonstrates the manner in which Kaiser is viewed outside of his trusted entourage.

"He takes pride in your wide-eyed gaze, your sharpened attention, but the lack of fear on your part grates at him. God-killing, they had called the blade. Yet you don’t shy away at all."

Incredibly cinematic. and wow what an interesting choice in reader. an immortal, ugh I love such promised tragedy that lies even in just their difference of lifespan.

 “Would it help for you to press your sword against my neck once more?”

HAHAH fucking get him babe

"It’s an easy decision, but a hard conversation."

oh the brutality in this statement. Noel is such a great character to reign over kaiser (both within the manga and this fic). You've translated his resolute, impassive, and authoritative aura from the manga and translated it perfectly into this au.

"Ness rests his cheek on his hand. “Man, that sounds like she wins twice.”"

girl this aint about you !!!!!!!!!!!

"“Nah, I agree,” Reo leans back in the booth. “Kaiser’s a lot of things, but a loving husband is a bit much.”"

this made me cackle

Okok anyways, the sparring match was phenomenal. Reader's controlled stillness and kaiser's earnest. ugh what an interesting pairing. It's very difficult to write action heavy scenes without feeling repetitive or reading too "telly" so to speak. But you've nailed the balance off show not tell, as well as shaped it with great flow of diction. additionally the clear power imbalance between the two of them is so great. yes kaiser may be able to best reader in hand to hand at some point in the future, but thats on the grounds that reader is barred from using her magic, which is very much not the case atm. its subtle and I also find it super fucking attractive that 1) kaiser knows / recognizes this and 2) he's not threatened by it. They are such great foils to one another. also the explanation as to why reader doesn't bow was *chefs kiss*

"He takes one look to the side of him and his eyes find yours immediately. It must be some sort of fighter’s sense, you think. For him to have done it so easily."

my heart skipped a beat

"“The title ‘your highness’ doesn’t apply to this nation because strength is valued most. I am heir to the throne not because of the blood running through my veins, but because Noa deemed I the strongest — not just in body but in mind, not just in physical strength but in adaptability.”"

oh wow, there is so much subtle world building packed into this omg.

"... Not because you’re unknowing, or because of some godly pride, but because you have never been lesser.” "

oh id fucking fold right then and there

"He smells like the grass of the field and the winter air and the heavy musk of sweat, and when you shove him off, it feels like your hand meets the hard rock of an unruly ocean."

this almost reads like prose. great grounding through appealing to the senses (something seldom seen within fics). its vivid. its gripping. its immersive.

HELLO SAE??????? why is it kinda hot that he's a bit omniscient in this scenario. how does he know these things,,,,,,, and when he whispers to reader I got butterflies (I do not usually thirst for this man so thats saying something). Im so curious of how -- like noel -- you've translated his complexities from the manga into your world, what part of his past prompts his coldness and calculating nature in this au like soccer did in the source material? Your grasp of all three of their characters (kai, sae, noel) is so grounded and multifaceted. they feel tangible

"And with none of a prince’s grace, with movements that feel more fight than dance, he drifts along the floor with you."

I love this moment

""Nah,” Oliver leans back. “I think that’s just foreplay.”"

also love this, but for more crass reasons

THE MIHYA MOMENT !!!!!! you can just tell that this is a big moment for him. this feels like a shift in their finally. judging by his reaction, its almost as if he's already addicted to the intimacy of the name

"Blessed. That is not a phrase Kaiser would have ever used to describe himself. But coming from you, he can almost believe it. Almost hope to have a little more than he’s ever had. "

oh gods hes being humanized. save me please before I fall more in love with this man

"“Is this a decision that you are making for yourself, by your own hands? That is entirely for you?” "

hes so observant, what a great recognition of agency on his part

not tied to a specific moment, but I also want to point out the risk you took here with how you wrote reader. reader here has a lot of character. there is distinct personality that is not typical to that of the self insert genre. in most cases self inserts are as generalized / neutral as possible to be able to appeal to a wide audience, and yet your reader still feels easy to connect to despite having prominent and unique traits. I applaud you for walking that line so well (also so much forethought to factor in sorceress as a means to identify her, rather than the impersonal y/n or name)

"“Mm, and you’re gonna give me one more.” "

im gonna lose my mind

"He tilts his head with a grin so cocky that if you weren’t so blissed out you might just punch him. "

so true queen

"You want to roll your eyes, but then he has one hand tapping against your clit, the other gripping either side of your cheeks. “You begged so pretty for me earlier when I had my mouth on you,” he rasps. “What happened to that?” "

im gonna lose my mind pt 2

"He wants you- needs you to feel the way he feels. Needs to have you lying in his bed, thinking only of him and how he makes you feel. "

there's that lovely disorganized attachment of his. ugh he's so obsessive it makes my head spin. the yearning is palpable

"For once, he lets himself feel – to have something that is wholly his. to know and be known. To give and know you will receive. Not an offering at an altar but a hand in his"

oh we love to see steps in the direction of healing. "to know and be known" hits hard in general.

"“Then why,” you ask, genuinely, “did you ask me to stay?”"

!!!!!!!GET HIS ASS

I second the bisexual shidou agenda

"You will die by the hands of the one you love most. So, it truly was this feeling, after all. Love. An aching thing, something so undoing. An open wound that can only be tendered by you. "

this feels straight out of a publish novel

"His hands are lightning quick, sitting up and moving to your neck to check your pulse, only exhaling and relaxing once he feels it. "

another great show dont tell. demonstrating his panic through action/ behavior rather than describing his internal experience/thoughts. very cinematic

"“So she lends you her loyalty, and you take advantage of her. And you dare put yourselves above us?” "

!!!!!!!GET HER ASS. nothing slips past him, he's so observant

" “A life of such simplicity is not befitting of a woman like her.” "

when his pride extends to her >>>>>>>

"“I’m quite fond of her. I hope for her an easy life.” "

okay maybe I do like this goddess......

"His voice is soft, as it always is with you now. "

oh what a great way to wrap up his character evolution. the contrast between his brutalist persona at the start compared to this culmination of learned tenderness is a very satisfying payoff. a demigod brought out his humanity

"...And like in every life, you find your way back to each other, every time. "

oh im gonna sob, how can you hit me with this right at the end

in conclusion, thank you for reading through all my incoherent blubbering; and above all, thank you for pouring such love and time into this piece -- it really shows.

FORSAKEN BY ALL THE GODS.

info: prince!kaiser x f!reader, enemies to lovers, fantasy au, arranged marriage, eventual smut. afab reader w she/her pronouns. reader has an established backstory and is not weak, reader’s appearance is nondescript. reader calls him “mihya” as they get closer. oliver and karasu are bffs in this lol. maybe some angst if you squint. happy ending!! plot is balanced with comedic moments. 

synopsis: You will be killed by the one you love most. That line from his prophecy has haunted Kaiser his whole life. Against it all, you stand before him. Will you be the one to rewrite fate itself?

word count: 14k (please don’t let this scare you, i promise my writing is efficient) 

a/n: this might be my magnum opus, i promise i poured my best dialogue and writing into this and it shows. if you consider reading like so seriously i will love you forever. also the smut is huge just like his cock <3 or my heart

Kaiser has been forsaken thrice fold. First, by his parents. His mother is said to be a beautiful woman that captured the hearts of all. His father could not bear her ultimate betrayal: leaving, causing him to wither away to nothing.

Kaiser guesses that this aspect of her runs in his blood after all.

The second and third time he is forsaken happen at once.

On the night that Kaiser is, by royal decree, anointed successor to the throne, he does as tradition dictates. He approaches the golden temple at the top of a mountain and mirrors the prophet within, sitting cross-legged in front of them.

The prophet gazes into the distance. And then, like a man possessed, they speak.

Lone Emperor who covets the throne, You will be killed by the one you love most.

Kaiser swears he feels even his heart stop at that. Cold rushes through him, the chill of it colder than anything he had felt at the front lines of war.

Forsaken by all the Gods —

The prophet stops, staring into the distance with a frown.

The silence is deafening. Noa, despite tradition, interrupts the ceremony and approaches the prophet, clicking his fingers in front of their face.

“The prophecy?”

The prophet’s eyes widen with fear. “I- I cannot.”

“What, are you afraid?” Kaiser scoffs. “The prophecy is bad as it is, it can’t get much worse than that.”

“No, I mean I cannot. The — the Fates! They’ve stopped speaking to me!”

“Excuse me?” Kaiser’s scowl is evident, and Noa swears that in any other situation, Kaiser would’ve moved for his sword and set his blade ablaze.

It speaks volumes that all he does is stare right at the prophet, fear barely contained in his eyes.

The prophet grips at Noa’s hand, forcing his gaze. “My lord, please believe me. This — in the history... it has never happened before. I swear it.”

Noa whistles, and the guards outside come rushing in. “Seize them,” he commands, and they stare at each other for a moment.

To seize and capture that  which is considered holy? Is that not blasphemy?

Noa cares little, almost removing his sword from his sheath to do it himself. “What are you all waiting for?”

“My lord! I swear to you!” The prophet grapples towards Noa in spite of their hands being held behind their back, the guards barely catching them from falling to their knees. “The fact that I would admit this at all shows my loyalty to you!” The prophet gasps, breath coming fast.” I could have pretended, could have given a false prophecy. I did not. That’s the choice I made. That is all the proof you need.”

It’s convincing enough that Noa hesitates, taking a deep breath in. But he sees in the corner of his eye Kaiser’s state, sitting in the kind of stillness that you see before a battle, bent over at the bottom of the altar. 

At that sight, Noa makes a single motion with his hand for the prophet to be taken away.

The room clears.

“Kaiser, I —” 

Whatever comforting remark Noa might have made dies in his throat, because Kaiser laughs, a bitter and broken sound, that he would in the future rarely have his walls down to ever reveal again. He hides his eyes behind his hand and he laughs.

“Of course, my prophecy would come to something like this.” He drags his hand down across his face. “Forsaken by all the Gods.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Noa says it with conviction, and it’s enough for Kaiser to face him.

“Master?”

“You will still be the successor to the throne. As is your destiny.”

“My destiny?” Kaiser jabs a thumb to the now-empty seating. “We just heard my destiny.”

“What the gods have declared has nothing to do with me. I declare you the next to rule. That is all.”

Noa presses a hand to the crown of Kaiser’s head. “No one will know what transpired here. A tragic prophecy is a given. It is meant to be a trial of sorts, after all. Mine, too, was unpleasant. Though not nearly as dire.”

“What was yours?”

Noa breathes in deeply. “A twisted rivalry with a twisted man. One that was to be all-consuming to me.”

Kaiser scoffs. “A rivalry. Just train and win.”

Noa lets the comment pass, staring out of the temple and past the mountains. “The rivalry came and went. At the time, I felt it was the worst. I could not eat, sleep, or breathe without the thought of what he would do next on my mind. But I was lucky, that it passed.”

He motions for Kaiser to take his arm, bringing him back up to standing. “Yours will pass too, I’m sure of it.”

Kaiser waves his hand, gesturing at Noa to let go of him. It’s easy to say, easy to have faith when it is not your life that balances on the precipice.

Forsaken thrice: once, by his parents. Another, by the Gods. And third, by his own future lover. Kaiser curses the Gods and the Weaver for such a fate, for something possibly worse than death is looming over him.

You will be killed by the one you love most. That line has haunted his very being to this day.

~

The people do not know what causes their successor to turn so cold, as biting and harsh as winter itself. His quicksilver smile rattles bones, his sword is cutting like blood in snow.

The prophecy is on a need-to-know basis, and Kaiser has never been crueler. He trains, harder than ever. Enough that when an unmovable sword is found at the rocks of the ocean, he trains until he is able to pull it from the bank, wield it with one hand. Rumor has said it might take three men to carry, or that the night sky that shimmers across it is strong enough to kill even a god. His sole retrieval of it is proof to the people of his strength and stature, but compassion and love are rarely a topic of conversation with his name.  

He focuses on his work. He does not take lovers. He barely sees others as friends. And he most certainly does not take a bride.

~

You appear before the throne and you do not bow. The scowl on Kaiser’s face at this says enough.

“You dare-”

“You have the sword.” You ignore Kaiser entirely, setting your sights completely on Noa.

The silence that follows is as large and wide as the ocean, but your gaze is sharp and keen, never faltering once until Noa speaks.

“Water sorceress,” Noa addresses you coldly, “or that’s what you told our people.”

“Yes.”

“You are not the only sorceress of water. Yet your power is second to none.” Noa stands, stepping down the stairs with heavy, thumping footfalls until he’s standing right in front of you. “They call you the water’s mistress, in the neighboring lands.”

“They do.”

He begins to circle you, like a hunter might before striking a deer. Standing next to you, his deep voice clear right next to your ear, he eyes you curiously. “They’re all wrong, aren’t they?”

You don’t answer. Noa takes that as answer enough.

“A power like that. Do you think me stupid?” He observes you, checks you visually for weapons, watches your hands to ensure you don’t call magic forth.

“Demigod.” He about spits the word from behind you, and yet all you do is tilt your head to catch him in your eye’s view.

“You are as well-informed as they say.”

“I am as logical as they come.”

“We are the same in that regard, then. So let’s get straight to the point.” 

Noa returns back to the throne, seemingly satisfied with his observing, gesturing at you to continue. 

“You have something belonging to me. A sword, heavier than most. Ancient, yet sharp. It is said to look like it contains a night sky.”

“The blade you’re speaking of was found by us, it is ours to keep.”

In the short silence that follows, Kaiser swears there must be irritation on your end, but you don’t show it. Instead, you take a deep breath in.

“The blade was thrown out of the heavens and spat out into this realm during a war between Gods.”

“Is that so? And how can you prove it’s yours?”

“I can wield it, unlike your people, who do not have the means to wield a sword as such.” You state simply.

Like rose grown blue, the impossible becomes possible. You can feel the divinity and the power that comes off the sword in waves the minute it’s unsheathed, your eyes widening. The ring of it is as familiar to you as your own skin, how could you not have felt its presence sooner? But Kaiser is fast, much faster than you expected, faster than he should be with a sword of that weight, that magnitude. Before you can turn your head, cold silver kisses your neck.

“This blade, sorceress?” He comes around from behind you, stalks around you just like his Master had, sword pointed like it may just draw blood from you at any moment. When you finally see his face, his sneer is wicked.

He takes pride in your wide-eyed gaze, your sharpened attention, but the lack of fear on your part grates at him. God-killing, they had called the blade. Yet you don’t shy away at all.

“Say we return the sword to its rightful owner,” Noa calls back your attention, “what would you offer us in return?”

“Offer in return? This sword does not belong to you. It is returned, as it should be.”

“This sword, with its divinity, could harm even a god.” Kaiser presses the blade closer to your neck, gleaming metal against your skin. “It protects this nation. What if the gods forsake us? If we return it to you, what would protect us against them then?”

“For what reason would they do such a thing?”

Kaiser barks a laugh. “Of course, there would be no criticisms from one of them. Water sorceress, demigod. Tell us, who are you, truly? What do your people call you, up there? No matter.” He lowers the sword, but leaves it unsheathed, its heavy weight balanced in his palm. A threat that at any moment, he may change his mind. “Those titles mean nothing to me. I have been forsaken, demigod. So know, I trust not even the gods.”

You sigh. Foreseeing a troublesome future has its cons, you suppose. Your queen would smile if you told her such.

“You ask for something with power in equal to or more than the blade. You asked me for my titles. I shall give you both.” The sleeves of your dress shimmer as you move them, and it’s in this moment that Kaiser notices they are not sleeves but water itself, cradled around your wrists like armor. “The Gods had bestowed on me the title Sword Maiden, and I offer myself and my services to you until the end of your line.”

That shocks the room like a bucket of cold water.

You turn to Kaiser, who stands beside the throne. You step forward once, and water rushes underneath that step, descending in waves over the floor as if it goes through it, a magic they have never witnessed prior. “You say the Gods have forsaken you? Let my presence be proof to you that they still watch over you.”

Kaiser scowls, “What sort of cheap trick is this?”

“My domain is truth. I cannot lie.”

“Oh, please.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “Would it help for you to press your sword against my neck once more?”

A goddess who cannot lie. Noa’s faith lies in logic, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His gaze flits between Kaiser and you before he seems to settle a decision in his mind.

“Until the end of Kaiser’s line.” Noa negotiates.

Kaiser’s gaze snaps to Noa. “You’re taking her up on this?”

You almost frown. “Fine.”

Noa quirks an eyebrow at you. “That simple?”

“Human lives move quickly.”

Kaiser eyes you curiously. “What happens when you lie?”

You blink at him. Once. Twice. Is that… almost a flustered look you have on?

He readjusts his grip on the blade. “Speak, sorceress.”

“Wh-What do you want me to say?!” You grip at your dress nervously, and that has him even more curious.

“I’m waiting here,” he sing-songs playfully.

“Before the lie can leave my voice, my neck swells up like a balloon, and chokes me.”

He smiles wickedly. “Demonstrate.”

Gods, if it wasn’t immoral, you could wring his neck right now.

You think, for even a moment, a simple lie. And in seconds, you’re almost suffocating on nothing, and Kaiser laughs. Laughs. A full laugh, bending at his knees.

“Oh gods, you’re like a pufferfish!”

You let go of the lie, taking heaving breaths. “Just because I have water capabilities does not mean I am a fish.”

In the midst of the conversation, Isagi leans against Noa’s side, a soft conversation full of worry.

“You’ll have to explain her presence to the council,” Isagi tells him, blue eyes wide with hesitation.

“Right, and your suggestion?”

“I have thought about it, considerably. If you say you hired her, with a force as powerful as her, the other nations may think you are to wage war. So… Given the heir’s… reputation,” Isagi’s gaze flits nervously between you and Kaiser. “If he is willing, she may be a good fit.”

Noa sighs. This, this exact theory, has been a conversation with the other members of his team for months. That a wife by his side would make him seem less chilling, make the transition to a new heir easier on the public, prevent outroar. It is one thing to feel that Kaiser keeps a nation safe, and another to love him as a ruler.

It’s an easy decision, but a hard conversation.

“Kaiser.”

He whips around, ceasing his antics quickly. “Master.”

Noa looks like he is about to say something to him, but hesitates, turning to you instead. Isagi nervously steps away from the dais, returning to his position.

“Goddess,” this time, there is no malice behind Noa���s words. “I accept your offer. However, your presence in this nation and in this castle must be explained appropriately. Should I bear you the title of my successor’s betrothed, would that be a title you’re willing to bear?”

Kaiser’s back straightens. “Excuse me?” he utters low.

“You do not have to bear children,” he specifies. “And you do not have to truly be wed.”

A goddess, to be betrothed to a mortal, as princely as he is, is a serious affair. Kaiser slides his gaze to Isagi, with the audacity to even suggest such. And yet, you seem to ponder it like a simple question.

“I see. As long as the sword is in my presence and protection, how you communicate with your nation is none of my concern.”

“So be it, then,” Noa agrees quickly. “I’ll have our people show you to a room.”

You nod, and are whisked away. The throne room, as if knowingly, empties quickly, guards rushing out to leave Kaiser alone with Noa.

“You made this decision for me,” Kaiser spins to face Noa, spits his words through gritted teeth. “I have been clear. I will take no brides.”

“You believe the prophecy made a choice for you.”       

“The prophecy bears no mercy. Or do you wish for my death so eagerly? If so, take your sword out and do it your damn self.”

Noa lets him speak, heave his words out until there’s silence once more.

“She cannot lie,” Noa says softly. “She cannot lie to you, Kaiser. And she is a goddess, a divine being.”

“Demigod,” Kaiser corrects.

“She is divine, and she cannot lie. She is correct, to this end – that as long as she is here, the prophecy cannot come to be. For she has not forsaken us.” Forsaken you, goes unspoken. “She could be good for you, if you allowed her to be.”

Kaiser lets out a canned laugh. “Ha. How can the divine ever understand us?”

Noa stands. “You’ll have plenty of time to find out.”

Kaiser taps his hand against his sword hilt. “You really will not move on this?”

Noa shakes his head. “She is too valuable to lose, and you have a reputation for cruelty. The solution is nothing short of perfect.”

The logical comes above his feelings. Kaiser knows this, even if he hates to come face to face with it.

Noa walks out of the throne room, leaving Kaiser to his bitterness.

“Shitty master,” he mumbles under his breath to no one.

~

It’s jarring to all the guards, the way you don’t even stand let alone bow when Noa knocks to enter your room. But Noa cares little for things like that, if you’re truly offering what you’ve said.

“Perhaps I was too hasty, in presenting the solution before giving you the facts.” He hesitates before you in the reflection of your vanity. You don’t respond, barely even look at him as you unclasp your jewelry, laying it on the table.

“He will not love you.” Noa tells you after a breath, his surefire eyes finally meeting yours.

You give him a curious gaze. “That is likely for the best. I would outlive him, after all.”

“It is, truly, on a need-to-know basis. To tell you this-”

“The prophecy, I presume you’re referring to,” you interrupt, turning to face him.

The shock rolls quickly off him. Divinity does have its mysteries, he supposes. “You already know.”

“I asked the water, why he is so quick to believe he is forsaken. They told me that he lives under the burden of a prophetic trial. That is all I know.” You stand, moving to unzip your dress only for Noa to hastily pull a partition screen across the room and turn around.

“The water, it speaks to you?”

“It does. Though it’s worth noting that it does not make me all-seeing.” Your voice carries over the partition with the ruffle of clothing. “The queen of the Gods, who sees all fates – she is the only one who is truly all-seeing.”

You come out in a nightgown, folding the partition back. He chucks you a robe that you catch easily.

“You should learn the ways of this world if you want to pass as a simple water sorceress, especially before the banquet.”

You frown. “The prince is my betrothed, is he not? Will he not handle it all?”

The idea you present sparks in Noa’s mind. “Brilliant. I’ll have Kaiser and some of the other members of our team show you the ropes. Good night, sorceress.”

You nod to him, and the door clicks shut.

~

“She’s a what?”

Oliver slams his metal cup of beer down, rolling the dice once more.

“A demigod, Oliver. Gods, are you that drunk already? Keep up.” Karasu grabs at the dice as Oliver moves his pieces.

“Can you all shut the fuck up? What happened to need-to-know basis?” Chigiri slinks himself over to their table.

“We’re need-to-know.” Karasu jabs a thumb at himself and Oliver.

“They are, actually, need-to-know.” Isagi puts a gentle hand on Chigiri’s shoulder, settling down next to him. “Because she’s never been human in her life.”

“And now we’re supposed to, what, teach her to be human? Is that a thing we can do?” Chigiri twirls a strand of hair between his fingers, tapping the end against Isagi’s cheek.

Oliver snorts. “What, like a class? Some of us have never sat in one of those, you prissy little shits.”

“She can’t dance, for one.”

“Get Kaiser to teach her. Isn’t he her betrothed?”

That has Oliver almost spitting out his drink, choking on it in coughs. “He's her what?”

Chigiri scowls in his direction. “Dude, are you listening at all?”

“If she’s really his betrothed, none of us should be teaching her.” Oliver warns genuinely. “He’ll cut down everyone here, before he lets us touch her.”

“It’s just an excuse,” Isagi waves his hand, pulling out a leather-bound bind of notes. “They’re not actually together.”

“Oh, you actually got that motion to pass. Shit.” Karasu remarks admirably.

“It must be so tiring,” Bachira sighs happily, falling into place next to Isagi, “to have to actually care about what other people think.”

“The optics, Bachira,” Isagi smacks the end of his pen across Bachira’s nose, and he makes an oh! sound in response.

When Kaiser walks in, the room almost goes silent. He’s used to it, of course. Hearing only the way his footfalls come heavy, boots thumping into the stone floor as a drink is placed right in front of him immediately.

The room slowly fills back with noise as he shoulders off his coat, wrapping it around the chair before sitting. But only his table is still strangely silent.

He flits his gaze over the group. Usually, they’re the first to kill the silence in the room, yelling about the game or a duel. He looks at Isagi, specifically, who seems the most nervous. “Something you wanna say to me?”

“Uh…”

Chigiri sighs, killing the tension. “We’re deciding who gets to teach her how to dance.”

Kaiser quirks an eyebrow. “The demigod?”

Chigiri nods, and Kaiser takes a long gulp of his drink, popping it back down and twirling the top of it with his fingers. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” It’s Isagi’s turn to be shocked, sitting up straight.

Kaiser exhales audibly. “None of you could handle her. She could cut you with water the moment you accidentally step on her.”

It’s not an insult, really. They know this too. That this is Kaiser’s brand of protection, to add insult to injury just to keep others out of harm’s way. But they play his game.

“Think we can’t dodge fast enough? A bit demeaning, don’t you think?” Oliver’s grin is wicked, making straight eye contact with Kaiser, who only draws his eyebrows in at his direction.

“You think that god-killing sword is gonna save you?” Karasu asks.

“I don’t have the sword anymore.”

“What?”

It stings more than it should, he thinks. The sword that he thought chose only him, so quickly released from his grasp. But his strength is his own, he holds fast to that. 

Kaiser glances at Karasu. “Those are the terms. She marries me, she gets the sword.”

Ness rests his cheek on his hand. “Man, that sounds like she wins twice.”

Chigiri scoffs at that. “She’s a demigod. Being down here is probably like being in the sewers to her.”

Kaiser stands abruptly, pushing his drink aside, his coat billowing as he wraps it over himself once more.

“Where are you going?” Isagi yells, but he doesn’t answer.

“He gone for real?” Oliver elbows Karasu. “I’m too drunk to tell.”

“Yeah, man. He’s gone”  

“Great.” Oliver slaps a piece down. “I’ll bet 50 bucks right now they get married for real.”

“What the fuck?” Chigiri tilts his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like it might give him some reprieve.

Karasu laughs, “Okay, I’ll play. I’ll bet 20 that they try to kill each other.”

“You’re just a hater.”

“Nah, I agree,” Reo leans back in the booth. “Kaiser’s a lot of things, but a loving husband is a bit much.”

“She’s a goddess. He’s literally already betrothed to her.” Oliver takes another swig. “Y’all ain’t gonna marry a goddess if she was given to you? Damn, put me in his place, I’ll do it right now.”

~

Kaiser trains, every morning, from sunrise to noon.

You only know because most of the rooms in the palace outlook to a self-contained field. You see him, often, because of this, even if he doesn’t speak to you. As you walk down the corridor, in your classes with Isagi about the current climate of the nations.

“It is useless for me to learn this,” you tell him. “In a few short millennia, the border of the nations will undoubtedly change. And we will have to relearn it all again. What is the use? Why war at all over something so insignificant? Just have a conversation about it.”

Isagi makes a pointed, bored expression at you for this, and then pretends like you didn’t say anything at all.  

At the end of class today, you press your elbows to the open windowsill.

Kaiser is there, sparring with Ness. Ness is quick, agile, fleet-footed and runs circles around Kaiser so much so that it almost makes it difficult to keep up.  

Kaiser approaches him at bone-breaking momentum, launches strike after hardened strike. He’s shirtless, bandages wrapped around the bottom of his torso, and his body is streaked with sweat. He’s strong, clearly. Broad shoulders clear now from when they were hidden under layers of clothing the first time you met him, the muscles in his arms flexing and relaxing with each step of the friendly duel, hair dipped in saltwater blue.

You know what he looks like, now. You get a sense why Fate brings you here.

He looks like a hero.

The kind that Gods covet, watch from their merry clouds. It’s no wonder that he’s burdened by a prophetic trial, with a face as cutting as his sword, his hair framing his face and flowing. 

He takes one look to the side of him and his eyes find yours immediately. It must be some sort of fighter’s sense, you think. For him to have done it so easily.

You give him the space you think he might be asking for. You turn away.

~

He approaches you one night, just before sunset. Karasu had just finished an etiquette lesson with you, setting away forks and knives. Whatever he sees on Kaiser’s face makes him move quicker. He nods once to Kaiser, and then hastily leaves.

“You’ve been making yourself quite at home here, demigod.” Kaiser traces the lace outline of the tablemat, every ridge under his calloused finger.

“I vowed myself to your kingdom to the end of your life. I’m simply doing what is asked of me.”

“And you’re all ready for the banquet, I’m guessing?” The sentence is almost mocking as he approaches you.

“It’s just a ball, is it not? I’ve been told I’m just to stand there and make pleasantries.”  

Kaiser chuckles, more bared teeth than sweet. “It is, arguably, the worst part of being so-called royalty.”

“You’re taking this much better than I thought you would.”

"To say no to a goddess' proposal would be the greatest blasphemy, no?" 

"From what I've seen, you have not minded sacrilege much at all."

“Marriage means little to me. Disillusioned, perhaps, with the prophecy.” He waves his hand like he speaks of something meaningless. But you see it clearly. Before he had even allowed himself the thought of love, it was taken from him. “Your power is great, your presence ensures the continuation of myself as an heir and successor. Even I can reason with that.”

He's right in front of you now, so close you can feel his body warmth.

“Does it bother me?” He shrugs. “Sure. As far as I’m aware, you are no wife of mine. But a protector of this nation? For that, you are an indispensable ally.”

He looks out the window, towards a coming sunset. Something indescribable on his face, like grief and guilt all in one. He takes a deep breath in and out, inhaling the peace and exhaling the heaviness of his heart, before facing you again. “A war is coming. No one believes me, but I can feel it, as steady as a river’s current. Until then, I’ll make my peace with you.”

You nod. “So be it, your highness.”

That has him stepping back, more incredulous than you’ve ever seen him, body tensed and frowning. Maybe he should’ve expected it, given the way he’s just dismissed you. “Your highness? You hadn’t questioned my lineage before, but now you dare to do so?”

You stare at him blankly. “You are a prince, are you not? Isagi says that’s what princes are called.”

One side of his mouth upturns in relief, and he bursts out a bright laugh. “Is that what they teach you in those lessons Isagi gives? Oh,” a hand runs through the front of his hair, “I thought my own wife-to-be would dare insult me.” 

You scoff. “I have no need for that.” 

“The title ‘your highness’ doesn’t apply to this nation because strength is valued most. I am heir to the throne not because of the blood running through my veins, but because Noa deemed I the strongest — not just in body but in mind, not just in physical strength but in adaptability.” He says it proudly, like fact, like a knowing so deep within him that it turns pride into faith. “A title like that is something used by the Itoshi brothers, let’s say,” he comments airily. “Their throne is carried by a bloodline.” 

He turns on his heel, only looking back when he realizes you don’t follow.

“You don’t know how to dance yet, do you?”

You lean your hip against the table. “I can dance.”

“Come, then. If you’re to be my wife, it’ll be an embarrassment if you don’t at least act like it.”

You follow him to a ballroom – a stunning, wide area with a looping chandelier, curtains that weigh down in arches over each floor-to-ceiling window.

He swoops you from your distraction with a hand around your waist, and the physical contact shocks you so greatly that orbs of water swirl in your hands.

Kaiser only raises an eyebrow at you. “This is a dance, not a duel. Or do the gods do it differently?”

For a man who was so passive to you, he holds you so close that your chest to chest, you can feel each breath he takes against you. When he steps with you, his movements are slow and deliberate, never inefficient. He moves not with fluidity, but with each sure step. Pulls you forward, then pushes you back. Circles you, spins you around.

It’s exactly like when you see him train. Like steps to a kata.

“I thought you said this was not a duel.”

“These are steps to a classic waltz, demigod.”

“You have no fluidity to you.”

Kaiser scoffs. “Should I apologize? With the prophetic curse hanging above me, I haven’t taken a dancing class.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Hm?”

“The prophecy. It doesn’t have to be a curse.”

He stops, separating himself from you, scowling.

“This session is over.”

“Kaiser-,”

“What?” He snaps. “You, of divine nature. You want to tell me how to view my prophecy?”

“I do not say this out of pity, or out of some sort of higher knowing.” You say it with conviction. “As heir to the throne, a throne that is currently being held by Fate itself, maybe I shouldn’t be saying this at all.”

“And yet?”

“To know your fate is to be able to defy it.” And maybe it’s just an effect of your divinity, but it rings like a bell, like truth itself. “Your prophecy may have made a wound, but you are the one who cuts it open. You are a man who wields a sword that cannot, should not be able to be wielded by anyone but the divine. Does that not say something? About you, about your capabilities?”

“And yet you took it from me.” 

The silence that follows is thick with indecision. Kaiser lets the uncomfortableness sit, rejects every heartwarmed statement you make with a roll of his shoulders, like water off a smoothened rock, replaced with only his anger. “I trained for weeks before I could lift that sword out of the riverbank. Yet it is yours, now, simply because you are supposedly its rightful owner.” 

Conflict runs through your face so clearly, he wonders that even if you could lie, whether it would mean anything at all. He watches as your hand reaches into a conjured puddle of water that floats in the air, and out comes the divine sword.

You hold it in your hand with an ease that he has spent months capturing. It strikes envy in him like a branded sear. 

“My role here is technically to secure the sword. I have no need to wield it.” You hold it at the bottom of its handle, directing the top of it to him. “If you swear you won’t lose her, I can set a compromise of sorts.” 

“You think I’d agree to a compromise?” 

You open up your palm, and a bracelet appears. “This will help you keep the sword in a pocket dimension we can both access. If you’re willing to place it there to secure it when you’re not using it, I’ll return her to you until the end of your line.” 

Huh. A safe-keeping place is a more neutral proposition than he had thought you’d come up with. To have her back kills the fight in him, and he accepts begrudgingly, testing the magic in his hands until it becomes natural. 

“For the record, Kaiser, I have not always been worthy of it.”

Something about the way his name slips off your lips has him keening. “Worthy?”

“I stayed true to my course. I was given a title. And then I could wield the sword, presented to me by my queen.”

“Your queen. Heir to the throne.” He laughs bitterly, knowingly. “You’re a princess.”

“Despite your mocking tone, I’ll have you know that title of mine is of the highest regard. I don’t take it nearly as lightly as you do with yours.”

“That’s why you didn’t bow or kneel. You take what’s meant to be yours without a second thought. Not because you’re unknowing, or because of some godly pride, but because you have never been lesser.” He flicks a finger between your eyebrows. “What a spoiled thing you are. Can you even fight?”

Something in Kaiser takes pride in the way you frown more deeply, it’s almost like a pout. It’s almost… 

“Well, I definitely wasn’t sitting idly in the war between Gods.” 

“I’ve never seen you train.” 

“That’s because you’re always on the training grounds.” 

“Oh? You won’t show me?” 

“I’m giving you space. I’m no wife of yours, no?” There’s a sting to it when you say it, having his words thrown back at him. 

“Duel with me. Tomorrow.” He spins you, lets you out of his hold before bringing you back in. 

~

He begins to meet you, day after day. A duel first, and then a dance. The dichotomy would be distasteful to any other, but you of divine blood do not even flinch at his request.

He may be displeased to have you, but his mouth cracked as wide and wicked as a cat’s at the prospect of a fight.

“Go on, then.” He takes a blunt, wooden sword, throwing it in your direction. “Or do you only fight with magic?” He teases. 

You swing the sword, rotating your wrist with ease. “Do you forget yourself, prince? I am half divine, you will surely lose. Are you sure you want to go through with this anyways?” 

His mouth widens, more teeth than smile. “Bring it.” 

You know, the moment you defend against his first strike, that a singular hit from him on the battlefield must be deadly. He is surefooted, his whole weight bears down in every move. He doesn’t let you breathe once, much faster than you would’ve thought with someone of his size and height. 

Kaiser was almost right about one thing, that the divine adds to your magic more than your physical strength. With enough training, in just simple hand-to-hand combat… He might have the potential to beat you. 

But not today. Today, you have him pinned to the ground, makeshift blade to his throat. 

“You’re awfully close,” he gasps out slyly. And it’s in this moment that you notice, too, how right he is about that, how you can feel his heartbeat underneath yours, his chest against yours with each exhale. 

“What?” He grins wide, “afraid you’ll miss?” 

By all the Gods, you want to knock the living daylights out of him. He notices your anger in that hesitation, your conflict between doing what is right and what you want, and flips you over, swapping your positions until his hips are pressed against yours. 

Something about your shell-shocked face makes him stir. 

“First rule of fighting, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair before planting it next to your head, leaning into you close. “Never get distracted by your opponent.”

He’s closer than he was before, admiring the way you look under him, your hair splayed along the ground and the sweet fire of irritation in your eyes. Is the heaving of your chest from your anger towards him, or from something else entirely? 

“When Gods fight, there is not nearly as much prattling.” You grit at him. He smells like the grass of the field and the winter air and the heavy musk of sweat, and when you shove him off, it feels like your hand meets the hard rock of an unruly ocean. 

~

It is during dances that he speaks to you. Not at first, but slowly, like a river that streams into the ocean. You tell him tales about the Gods, about your friends, about wars and petty arguments. And he starts to answer you, more often than not, with every question you might have. 

“I have wondered about something.” 

“Hm?”

“The sheathing. It prevents even me from detecting the sword’s divinity.” 

“Huh, so Nagi really wasn’t lying.” 

“Nagi, who is always with Reo?” 

Kaiser nods. “They say Nagi was once sought upon by a god for his talents, a god who was constantly sending him dreams. But he grew tired of it, so he found a material that prevents even the gods from finding him so he can sleep in peace.” 

The conversation often leads to the prophecy, a bitterness like licorice on his tongue. Even if he skates around the topic, you don’t let him hide from it, cutting straight to the heart of the truth.

“You can live in the cold bitterness you’ve put yourself in, Kaiser,” you tell him, one of these nights. “Or you can live, and maybe even possibly die, warmed by a life you truly felt was worth living. Your own choices. Not because of a prophecy, or because of Noa, or even in spite of me.”

But despite it, he doesn’t move away. Because it is the only time he has you to himself. He sees you, always, with Isagi and Oliver and Karasu and Chigiri. How you have molded into their lives with simplicity, sit with them at meals and have easy conversation despite knowing nothing, in a way that he has never once allowed himself to enjoy. What does it say about Kaiser? That he can't stand your presence but he can't stand your absence even more? That he would rather have a biting argument with you than leave you to your own devices? 

It's during duel and dance that he comes as close as he can to touching you. If he did anymore, it would become something he doesn't have the heart to name without unease settling in his gut.

~

On the day of the banquet, Chigiri sits you down in your vanity, braiding your hair back in his hands.

“The queen of the Gods, her lover, a friend of mine… He used to do this for me too.”

Chigiri silently appreciates that you don’t ask him why it is him that helps you with this. That divinity doesn’t hold the same notions this world does.

“He would-,” you laugh softly to yourself. You’re stunning like this, Chigiri can’t help but notice. A goddess, most casual as can be. “He would say that I was useless at it, actually. You two might’ve been good friends.”

“Me? Friends with a god?” Chigiri finishes the braid, tilting your head in his hands to admire the way the braid crowns around each side.

“Of the Fae, actually. A beautiful man he is. You would fit right in.”

That stops Chigiri, has him taking a sharp intake of breath, smiling at you through the vanity’s reflection. “Thank you, princess. Though you would do good to be more careful during this banquet to compliment anyone.”

You smile softly back. “Ah, yes, my betrothed who will not love me might get jealous. Gods are not so different than people, in this regard.”

“Is that so…”

~

It’s when you meet the Itoshi brothers at the banquet that you begin to understand why Isagi gave you all these lessons.

Where Kaiser is muscle and sword first, more fighter than prince, Sae and Rin are the opposite. They have a grace befitting of royalty. Instead of heavy footfalls that you can hear even in the blanket of snow, they are light-footed, conscious of it in the echoed ballroom.

Though you suspect, from the way Sae grips Kaiser’s forearm as they shake hands, from the way Kaiser regards Sae, that he is somehow just as strong of a fighter. That royalty is an illusion Sae and Rin put on, for peace’s sake.

Something indescribable flits over Sae’s face as you curtsy in front of him, but it’s gone in a moment, replaced with his nonchalance.

“The betrothed of the banquet. We are most pleased to make your acquaintance.” Sae bows his head to you, and Rin follows in his stead.

You smile, something beaming and sweet. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Would you mind, Kaiser?” Sae’s eyes only leave yours for a glance, to check in at Kaiser’s now furrowed look. “I’d like to take your wife-to-be for a dance.”

Kaiser’s back straightens, a hardened gaze with gritted teeth. But he says nothing. You swear Sae almost grins.

“I’ll return her back to you.” He says it like a favor, and Kaiser is only held back by Karasu’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s just one dance, Kai,” Kaiser looks at Karasu, then to you, and then back to Sae. He barely nods once.

“Are you sure?” You ask him.

He scowls. “What do I have to be worried about?”

Well, it’s not like you want to anger him further. You let Sae take your hand, leading you to the floor.

“I almost didn't think you were who you said you were, when I saw you,” Sae tells you, breaking the quiet of the dance. 

You lean back so you can see his whole face, your confusion clear. “Your highness?”

“When I had heard of you, they told me that waves flowed off your dress like water itself holds you sacred. Yet here you are, as regular as can be.”

Sae twirls you away from him, then brings you back into his arms. “They say you shook the earth with a single step. Where is all that power you were said to hold?” He holds you close, watching your every reaction with his crystal gaze. “This place. They’ve placated you, tamed you.”

He brings his mouth to your ear, the body warmth of his entire chest seeping into yours. “If you were mine, I would never force you into a box you didn’t belong. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of Kaiser, even with his god-killing sword.” He spins you again, capturing your waist. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t be afraid to demonstrate your power to the world.”

“Sae.” He looks at you in a way that feels meaningful. You don’t know the pleasantries of this nation or his in-depth, but you know, somehow, that this feels like this is something you should shield from. 

“Oh? No honorifics already? We’re that intimate, are we?”

To fight is one thing, but this is something entirely different. Being able to hurt others with a play instead of a sword, you’re not sure if you can shield others from something like that.

As the song ends, Sae takes your hand, brings it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “Consider my proposition, princess. Before your marriage solidifies, and becomes something you can’t escape from.”

With his hand on the small of your waist, he brings you back to Kaiser dutifully. Kaiser links his arm with yours immediately, before any of you can spare a goodbye.

“What did he say to you?”

You hum. You get the sense that maybe…

“Nothing of importance,” you tell him instead.

“Hm?” He tilts your chin up to meet you eye to eye. “Is my own betrothed keeping secrets from me?”

“He said I don’t seem all that powerful.”

That makes Kaiser smile, not something sweet but with teeth bared, like a wolf. “He hasn’t seen you in action.” He pulls you in, hand wrapping to the back of your neck, a slow and deep whisper. “Do you want to show them?”

“Weren’t we both told that’s inappropriate? Isagi said the optics could make your allies scared.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Isagi this, optics that. Our country has always been about the brawl and brave. Let the nations fear us, then. I, with my cruelty and a god-killing sword. You, a sorceress second to none. It’s a pretty picture, is it not?”

He straps his sword to his back and brings you to the middle of the room, and as the guests of honor, the crowd gives you both a wide berth. He circles you, just like you practiced. Makes you center stage.

“Go on then, princess.” He lets go of your hand and bows, sweeping his arm out. “Show us who you really are.”

“Kaiser,” you whisper. “We have very clear orders-”

“I make the orders, not follow them. So make your choice, princess. Wasn’t it you who said that it is worth living a life warmed by your own choices? Tell me, then. Do you want to show them? Or do you want to play nice?”

This play, to have ego and pride dive head-first into a situation, is so very human. And yet-

You let water overcast your body from your waist, let it roll off in layers like waves into the floor. Anyone who has had experience with magic can see your ultimate control over it, how the floor isn’t wet at all, how the water was conjured from nothing. Your hair is silken with dampness, framing your face like gloss. Gasps and awes from the audience makes Kaiser grin even wider.

“There we go.” Kaiser reaches behind him to unsheath his blade, and the galaxy within swirls. He spins it in his hand, and it’s almost like he’s never been happier.

In seconds, he strikes at you. Your hands move up instinctively, blocking the blade with a stream of water. The sound it makes, divinity against divinity, is like a low bell. The floor beneath you shakes with the strength of the strike, water dispersing around your feet in cascades to cushion the impact. You hear screams of shock, a glass breaking.

“Kaiser,” you grit, but all he does is widen that wicked, quicksilver grin.

And then he laughs, stepping away and sheathing the blade back. He holds one hand out to you instead.

“Next time, I want a duel in front of everyone. But this time, I guess a dance will suffice.”

You exhale gratefully, taking his hand in yours and retracting your water. “Let us dance, then.”

And with none of a prince’s grace, with movements that feel more fight than dance, he drifts along the floor with you.

~

Isagi collapses into the booth, a palm pressed to his eyebrows. “Our allies thought they were about to fight each other.”

“Can I cash in on my bet now?” Karasu rolls a skewer stick between his fingers. “Because they might’ve almost killed each other.” 

“Nah,” Oliver leans back. “I think that’s just foreplay.” 

Isagi opens his eyes to find Chigiri and Bachira standing before the booth. Chigiri’s not meeting his eyes, his mouth perching to one side in a way that squishes one of his cheeks. 

“What happened?” 

“They’re gone.” 

“Ha?” 

“We had one drink. One.” 

Oliver has the audacity to laugh, hand over his mouth. “Don’t worry, Isagi,” he pats him on the back. “I’m sure they’re just fucking around.” 

In another corner of the hall, royals speak in low tones. 

“We can just take her if you like her,” Shidou tells Sae with the sweetest smile a man like that can muster. “No need to ask poor little Kai-Kai.” 

Sae says nothing, eyeing you quietly as you step out of the hall. 

~

You are sitting at the edge of the ocean, letting the slate-crested waves wash over you, when he finds you. 

“You can dry me in a moment’s notice if I am to sit with you, right?” He says it almost reluctantly, even though he’s here anyways. He’s dropped his off coat somewhere along the way, and there’s something so naked about seeing him in just a shirt. He almost seems softer, without the harsh lines of battle-ready clothing or the fur that drapes around him, relaxed in a way he wasn’t in the banquet hall. 

You smile. “I can keep you dry whilst you're sitting.” 

He relents, then. Allowing the strangeness of sitting on wet sand without getting wet. 

“Was the banquet up to your expectations, then, Kaiser?” 

Expectations. He’s had none of a party like this. Being allowed to dream is a privilege, and privileges were not granted to him.

“You are officially my wife-to-be,” he says instead. “Shouldn’t you call me something a little more intimate?”

You gaze out into the horizon for a moment, and something in your eyes unfocuses, like you’ve gone somewhere else and then returned. “Very well. I shall call you Mihya.”

It strikes a chord in him, like a teaspoon hitting a glass. “Mihya? Where did that come from?”

“The water.”

“She speaks to you?” 

“She says in another life, you are given a nickname like that.”

“Another life…” He lies down in the sand, watches the streaks of sunset in the blueing sky. 

“Ask then, Mihya,” you lean over him slightly, until all he can see is the sky and the way your features soften. “The question we both know is on your mind.”

He almost wants to reach out, hold your cheek in his hand. It’s a foreign feeling to him, so foreign it almost feels like unease – to want to extend a gentleness like that to another person. “Won’t you just tell me?”

You breathe in the sea-salt air, and breathe out a heart-warmed truth. “The prophecy does not hold you captive in another life.”

Kaiser, for once, lets himself dream. Of a different life, where he is unburdened by a prophecy, and burns brightly.

~

“It would seem strange if you weren’t together, with all the other guests in the palace.” That’s what Oliver tells you as he gestures for you to take his arm, leading you to Kaiser’s room. 

It’s both plainer and more furnished than you thought, like someone who isn’t him had chosen the furniture and the color of the walls. But the items in the bookshelves seem well-loved, items taken out and put back haphazardly, scrolls and books placed back half-way. The bathroom door opens with a flood of light.  

“You’re here.” It’s rare to shock Kaiser in a way that doesn’t make him immediately reach for his sword.

You turn to look at him, taking in his half-dressed state. “Were you expecting some other woman?” 

“Oh, so you’re the jealous type?” 

He almost wants to laugh at the clear discomfort on your face. Gods don’t tease, he’s guessing? 

The bed gives way to you as you take your place. “I hear it’s common for princes to take many lovers.” 

The moonlight spills over the bedsheets as the room darkens, and you summon the sword to float right above you, looking into it. He joins you, wanting to see exactly what you’re seeing. 

“It’s not a night sky.” Your voice is so soft in the blanket of night between you both. 

“Hm?” 

“Inside the sword. Your people say it looks like the night sky. It’s not. It’s a galaxy.” 

He reaches his hand out, tracing over the glass along the middle of the weapon, a silent remark for you to continue. 

“At the beginning of all worlds, the first-ever contract was made between the first-ever forces, and with it, this sword was said to be conjured out of the galaxy. And so, a part of the galaxy at the beginning of all worlds was contained in this sword.” 

The stars in the sword move within like they’re responding to your words, borne witness to all the events. But instead of watching them, you turn to him. 

“You have held and wielded a primordial piece of this world. It has allowed you to hold it, granted you its blessing.” 

Blessed. That is not a phrase Kaiser would have ever used to describe himself. But coming from you, he can almost believe it. Almost hope to have a little more than he’s ever had. 

The sword disappears with a movement of his hand, and he rolls to lean over you. Silence drops like a curtain. The only sound he knows is your breath and his. 

During a fight, his feelings can almost be mistaken for adrenaline. But even under the shadow of the moon, with the cushioned silence between you both, the way you cut straight to the truth rings like a silver bell.

He can’t hide from you. Or maybe. Maybe he’s tired of hiding at all.

He is a man who has only known war and battle, was born and bred into it. War-forged, is what they call men like him. His hands know weapons, know how to kill.

He does not know if they know how to love. And yet-

He cups your face, and drinks you in.

He kisses you with caution, like you might melt from his grasp if he held too tightly. Presses his lips against yours slowly. He runs his hand gently over your hairline as he parts from you. 

Is this okay? He wants to ask. But instead, he says: “Tell me what you want.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, your lips brushing against yours when you answer: “You.” 

And then he kisses you like a man starved, never known by this feeling that gets caught up in his throat with every noise of yours he swallows. 

“Is this… is this what you want?” You try to ask as you part from him for air, but he presses his mouth to the space behind your ear instead, laying kisses down your neck. “Is this a decision that you are making for yourself, by your own hands? That is entirely for you?” 

That makes him stop. But when he looks at you with a surefire gaze… 

He knows it, undoubtedly. That this, for once, is his. 

“There are no lovers,” he tells you between kisses, to your shoulder, down your collarbone, to your breastbone. 

“What?” 

“I take no lovers.” He unclasps your bra, lets the material fall from his hands to cup your supple flesh. “I’ve never been princely, after all.” 

“You- Kai-” 

He runs his thumbs across both your nipples, admires how they perk up at his administrations, flitting his gaze between them and your face as he brings his mouth down over one of them. 

He presses kisses down your body, cups your heat in his hand like he’s begging you to respond, like he’s saying let me have this. The inside of your thighs is soft as cream under his calloused hands. His thumb moves along the outside of your underwear, from your slit up to your clit with his fingers pressing tentatively against the fabric until you’re grabbing at his wrist. 

“You’re so tense,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Want me to take care of that for you?” He runs the knuckles of his hand over your clothed slit, bumping into your clit with his thumb until your breathing gets heavy, your hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Kaiser,” you breathe, and he clicks his tongue. 

“That’s not what you call me, baby. Not anymore.” 

“Mihya.” 

“Mm,” he slides his fingers into your panties from the side, a huff of breath leaves him at the wetness he finds. “Good girls get rewarded, you know?” 

Heat coils hot deep in your stomach. He can’t take the restriction, pulling your panties down and revealing your core to the cold air. He lets his slickness pool on his fingers, collects it before bringing it to your clit. It’s like a drug, watching the way your face gives way to pleasure, how your body arches into him. 

“Mihya,” you gasp again, like a chant, a prayer. Is this what the gods feel like, to be asked of? 

“Let me watch,” he says it like a demand but it aches with desperation, a thing he won’t admit outside these four walls. He presses with more confidence now, slides one finger into you, then two. There’s little resistance with the way he’s riled you up, long fingers pressing into you until he reaches something that has you making a broken moan so pretty he can’t help but tilt into it again. 

“I want to see it,” he tells you. This is something he makes happen to you, with his own hands, his own words, his own body that shares its heat with yours. That notion alone runs arousal straight through him. Your panting breath, the way your body shakes with each swipe against your clit. 

“I want to see you fall apart in my arms.” He whispers, and you respond in kind. You always do to him, don’t you? He’s been seen too surely by you, now it’s his turn. Your body tenses entirely, tightly, gripping him as he grants you reprieve. A soft whine leaves your mouth along with something like his name, and the rough pad of his thumb circles over your clit until you crash, coming around his fingers. 

He swipes a thumb over your cheek, allows himself the gentleness that he’s held back for so long with you. 

“One more, okay?”

Your eyes widen. “Mihya,” this time it’s like a warning, but the way you say his name is so breathy it has him pressing a hand over his pants. 

“Yeah, say my name just like that.” He shuffles down until his mouth is pressing to your stomach, just above your mound. Then again to the inside of your knee, trailing up until the inside of your thigh, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there. 

“You’re-, wait, we just- I just” 

“Mm, and you’re gonna give me one more.” He kisses your clit first, like a promise, and then he laps at your core generously, from the bottom of your slit all the way to your clit, his flat tongue against the whole of you. Every drop of slick from your previous orgasm is taken in by him with each moan he makes against your core. If he had known this feeling was going to enter his life, that it would’ve felt like this, maybe he would’ve readied himself better for it. Instead, he finds himself starving at the table where it’s served. The taste of you on his tongue wraps him in a heady pleasure, but it’s every sound he takes out of you that has him pressing a little more insistently, tongue laving over you. 

“Pl-please,” your words break between gasps, and it has him lapping into your clit with more pressure. 

“I can never say no to you, can I?” he mumbles between your legs. And then he’s flipping you over, hoisting you onto your knees and skimming his hands over your rear and thighs before diving in again. Your face is pressed into the pillow, hands grabbing the sheets. Kaiser almost seems dazed as he moans into your cunt, swollen and wet like a siren’s call, hands wrapped so tightly around your plush thighs that it feels like it might bruise. 

“Let me taste,” he mutters, mouth still lodged into your cunt, like that isn’t what he’s already doing. “Come on baby, give it to me. Let me taste it on my tongue.” 

Your hole clenches and flutters around nothing as another orgasm rocks through you, your breath coming short as you break apart on his tongue with a whine. 

He flips you over again, and the look on his face takes your breath away. Your slick shimmers on his mouth as he trails his tongue over his lips, like he’s addicted, like he can’t get enough. He tilts his head with a grin so cocky that if you weren’t so blissed out you might just punch him. 

“There something you want, pretty?” He leans over you, hand to the bedpost, and how broad and tall he is becomes that much more obvious. You let yourself look, at the way his tattoo drapes over his arm, run your hands over the muscle of his torso down to his v-line. You hear a sharp intake of breath as your hand moves lower, running under his loose sleep pants to the base of his cock. 

He grabs your hand in his, bringing it over your head and circling both your wrists. “Ask.” 

“You-,” your eyes narrow and you huff at him, but it only makes him smile. “Won’t you just-” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

“I could cut you down here.” 

He drops his pants, pumping his cock once and then sliding it along your slit. “You could. And then who’ll give you what you want?” 

You want to roll your eyes, but then he has one hand tapping against your clit, the other gripping either side of your cheeks. 

“You begged so pretty for me earlier when I had my mouth on you,” he rasps. “What happened to that?” 

The harsh look you give him under those fluttering lashes of yours makes something stir in his gut, arousal shot through his veins, pupils wide. He plays with you, warm hands against your skin and between your legs, the soft skin of his cock sliding between your thighs until you’re gasping in his hold again, grinning like a battle won. 

“Please, Mihya,” you sigh. 

“Mhmm. Please what?” 

“Please- please fuck me.” 

He gets off on it, watching you yield to him, spreading your legs, dripping your hot slick onto his cock. He presses the head against you, petaled folds opening up to receive him as he slides into you slowly. Just the first few inches is so thick inside of you that your hands wrap around the muscles of his arms, nails digging in. 

“Shh, baby, you can take it,” he hushes your little whines, tracing your hairline with such gentleness it contradicts the way he pulls out of you just slightly only to push in again. 

“You’re- oh,” your body gives into him, even more so when he brings his hand down to tap on your clit, his mouth over your neck, to the side of your mouth, until he’s kissing you and taking in every noise you make. It’s almost a distraction, helps your body to relax so he can press into you deeper. You think you feel every inch as it enters you, all the way until the hilt, until the head is pressing deep inside of you and his hips meet yours.  

He lets out a rough, deep moan against the expanse of your neck, breath coming short as your walls tighten around him. 

“Fuck, baby. You gotta let me move.” Your arms wrap around him tighter, a whimper falling from your lips as he tilts his hips up to plunge into you again. It’s hard and slow and deep and if it wasn’t for his grip on you, you might’ve hit the headboard. But he’s careful about it – more than you might’ve thought he’d be. Pressing your body into the bed as his hips meet yours again and again. 

“It feels so good,” you tell him, and it has him pressing a kiss to your cheek in return. Makes every moan you make that much sweeter, to know it’s out of your pleasure, to know it’s because of him. 

“Good girl. Tell me again.” 

“Feels- you’re so big, so- please, I need-” Your walls can barely clench down onto him with how he feels inside of you. Chest to chest with him, the contact of skin on skin-

“You drive me insane,” he grumbles it into your skin; a confession, exacerbated with each thrust of his hips as he picks up the speed, until he’s slamming into you with a kind of strength that has you seeing constellations behind your eyes. He wants you- needs you to feel the way he feels. Needs to have you lying in his bed, thinking only of him and how he makes you feel. Heat pools in your core until you’re arching your back, and he knows it now – knows it like the back of his hand. 

“Give it to me.” It’s a command, a need, if you listen closely enough. “Come around my cock. Show me.” 

“Mihya, it’s so much, it’s so so much.” It’s treacherous, the way it works through your body, being on the brink. 

His thumb is slick over your clit, pressing just a little more, until your thighs are tightening under his unrelenting body. “Come for me.” 

You chant his name until the words start to become nothing in your mouth, until you’re breathless, until your whole body tenses under him and his hold against you gets that much rougher and your walls clamp down and then your body shakes as you come. You almost scream, only silenced by his lips on yours. He comes quickly after that, his eyes never leaving yours, taking in how you look underneath him as his cock gets more sensitive and paints the inside of your walls. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow until he feels your body start to relax under his. 

You can barely process coming down as he’s kissing you again, deeply and with force, like he’s etching the memory of you into his mind and onto your lips. 

For once, he lets himself recognize – how tiring the emptiness has been, to be devoid of this feeling and instead be filled with the fear that it’ll be turned against him. For once, he lets himself feel – to have something that is wholly his. to know and be known. To give and know you will receive. Not an offering at an altar but a hand in his, not a prayer but a soft word spoken in return. Kaiser does not want something as untouching as approval or attention from the divine. But he does want your waist in his arms, your forehead against his.

“Just like this,” he whispers it, a kiss placed to your forehead. You don’t know what he means, too tired to ask. 

This is exactly what he’s always wanted. Just like this. 

~

Not unlike a parent, Noa notices the closeness of your relationship. In touch, in stolen glances, in longing. A private conversation with him over afternoon tea is not unique, but the heaviness that weighs on him is. 

“As the goddess who cannot lie, I have to ask you.” The hardened look on his face makes you straighten your back, putting down your teacup. “You know, that I have to ask.”

Silence sits between you both like a shoe about to drop. 

Noa yields. “Has he truly been forsaken by all the gods?”

You are strangely silent as you look at him, then away, then back. 

“Answer me, demigod.”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I. Don’t. Know. I have told you before, that I am not a seer, or an oracle. Water holds memory. I can see the past, I can even see other lives parallel to ours, but I cannot see the future. This is the limit of my power.”

“You are of divine nature.” 

“I had said what I said at our first meeting, and that has not changed. As long as I am here, the Gods have not forsaken him. For I have not forsaken him. Is that not enough? How many Gods would travel to your realm, vow themselves to a human kingdom? Even if it is I alone that stands before you, is that not enough?”

Noa sighs, more exasperated than you’ve ever seen a serious man like him. “He deserves more, that boy. For what he has been put through.”

“All greatness comes with a price. All heroes face tragedy. He, no matter how much you may care for him, is not the exception to that.” You tilt your head, like a cat with curiosity. But unlike that sweetness, your words are cutting. “You made him a ruler. You made him a hero. So, stand by that. Or does it make you uncomfortable? To consider the role you, too, have played in his life?”

Noa, of course, has thought about this too. Had he not chosen Kaiser to rule, would he have had the prophecy weighing on him like a second shadow? 

“If the prophecy holds true, you will inevitably leave him.” Noa swallows, hand flat against the table. “He will inevitably be forsaken, even by you.”

“Then why,” you ask, genuinely, “did you ask me to stay?”

~

In the weeks that follow, you learn exactly why. Like Kaiser had predicted, talk of battle comes. 

“We suspect a neighboring nation wishes to wage war with us.” Noa looks out to the slate-blue ocean from the window of the war room. 

“A man who wants control of this whole world,” Karasu huffs. “There’s never a lack of them, is there?”

“He thinks himself a god. Or that’s what Sae has told us.” 

“You’re sure Sae’s information checks out?” 

“Shidou and Otoya like to visit neighboring nations for uh… fun, let’s say,” Chigiri rolls his eyes, then plants his face in his hands. “He said something along the lines of “you don’t wanna know how they found out” and “Shidou sleeps with both men and women, so it’s been cross-checked too.”” 

“And then we asked him about war,” Isagi throws his notes down on the table. “He said, and I quote, ‘I already have more land than I know what to do with. What could another few acres give me? What a hassle.’” 

“The enemy are bold to come for us first.” Kaiser frowns considerably. They are possibly the one nation blasphemous enough that would not blink at the thought of fighting a god. “There’s something we’re not seeing.”

Isagi nods in agreement. “We still don’t know the reason they’re coming here first. It could be the sword, or the goddess.” Isagi frowns. “I told you not to make a scene at the banquet.”

Kaiser gives him a curious look with a smile he fails to hide. “The point of a banquet is to wow the people. The people were wowed, were they not?” 

“It could be, it could not be,” Noa kills the conflict there. “That information would have been made public regardless of the spectacle. It could even simply be the throne itself they seek. An army like ours could parade into the neighboring nations and lay waste, our people are used to much harsher weathers.” 

“Or maybe he means to make a statement,” Karasu shrugs. “If he wants to be a god, maybe he means to punish the disrespect we’ve shown.” 

“What do we actually know?” Chigiri taps the map of this nation splayed across the table.

“We know he wants to take control of this world, and we know his plan includes something from us.” 

“He knows once he controls the world, he has to take care of it, right?” Oliver rests his jaw in his hand. “As in, it’s not just about buying the house, it’s about cleaning it too. The plan – it has to be bigger than this, no?” 

“Won’t happen once we kill him here. So as far as we know, there are three things we have that he could want: the sword, the goddess, the army.” Chigiri holds up his fingers as he counts. 

“So we’ll meet him with all three at the front lines. Fear does not wield us, after all. Only strength.” Kaiser says it like a mantra. You suspect it might be exactly that. 

~

“What a pleasant surprise to see you again so soon, princess.” 

As an ally, Sae arrived on the day of battle without question. He is much different from the first time you saw him, chainmail armor wraps tight and sleek around his body, clearly of a weight underneath his clothing. He stands straighter, shoulders broader, badges clipped to his outer jacket. It’s clear to anyone who looks at him, that it’s almost like he was born into them – meant for them. 

“You’re both on the front lines then?” 

“Idle hands,” Kaiser starts.

“Devil’s workshop.” You finish. You hear a horse galloping, then a voice. 

“There’s something wrong.” The people give a wide berth as Oliver arrives, with a sleek black mare that’s obedient as can be. “The majority of the enemies’ troops are not in front of us.” 

All of you turn to look, but it’s on the front lines that makes it most difficult to tell where the crowd begins and ends. 

“I did a rough head count from the tower. This isn’t the count we had observed just the other day. They’ll die easily, like this, against us. And I don’t mean that from an egotistical standpoint. I think these men are here to die, meant to die. It serves to mean –” 

“This is a distraction.” 

Karasu appears at your side, with an utmost silence only he is capable of. “They’re headed for the main castle, from around the edge of the border.” 

You and Kaiser look to each other with a whole silent conversation, and Sae sighs. 

“Go on, then.” 

You turn to Sae immediately, with a seriousness he doesn’t expect. “You’ll be unprotected.” 

“We chopped liver to you, girl?” Shidou sneers. 

Oliver drops down from his horse. “I’ll take over here.” 

“Your care for me is truly touching, princess,” Sae’s voice lilts touchingly, almost revealing how much he likes it. “But you swore a vow to this kingdom, so go fulfill it.” 

Even in the middle of a war, it gets Kaiser all worked up, his chin jutting as you both run back to the palace. But Sae understands duty, stands by it. It’s what makes him worthy of his own title in his own kingdom. 

Oliver waits until you’re both out of sight before turning to Sae. “Did you really plan to steal her?” 

“Well,” Sae shrugs. “Did you plan on letting her go so easily?” 

~

Your water runs in cascading waves through the whole of the palace, like the ocean itself comes rushing through the walls. It knocks all the soldiers down as you and Kaiser run through, and he picks up any stragglers with ease.  

“The throne room?” Kaiser slams the hilt of his sword into the guy behind him, and he collapses instantly. 

“It is the safest room.” 

“That makes no sense. If you knew anything about our people, you’d know we never hide ourselves there in a battle.” 

“Go anyways,” you tell him, as another man gets thrown off his feet. “Go, Kaiser!” 

He takes one final look at you, at the strength that you hold in your hands, and then he runs. 

The man he finds sitting on the throne has black hair cut blunt to his chin, a white mask over one side of his face. Kaiser unsheathes his sword, pointed straight and true. 

“That throne doesn’t belong to you.” 

“It will. Along with that sword you’re holding.” 

Kaiser chuckles, the kind that has madness interlaced in it. “If you wanted the sword so bad, you could’ve asked for a one-on-one combat duel. I haven’t had a satisfying fight in a long time, I’d be happy to lay the sword as a winning prize.” 

What must be the man’s most elite fighters drop down from the ceiling, crowding in on all sides. 

“Ah, I see,” Kaiser stands straighter, reaching behind him to unsheath his second sword. “It is your capabilities that do not match mine.”

When they come for him, it’s clear to even the heavens that he is exactly as he is fated – a force to be reckoned with. He moves like a spider-spun silken web, capturing each of them blow by blow. His swords cut like butter through them with impressive speed and strength. His breath comes fast and hard when he finishes, sweat dripping down his back. 

“I see now, prince,” the man approaches him, and it’s closer up that he realizes he’s simply in a suit, no armor. “Why they praise you, despite your blasphemy. You, a prince famous for cursing divinity at a whim’s notice, are a powerful ally. Kneel before me, then, and I’ll cease this all – let you join our cause in a war against the gods, in stealing their divinity from them. I’ll even forgive this transgression of bedding one.” 

“Me? Kneel?” The canned laugh that Kaiser lets out echoes. “I kneel to no god, let alone a man who wants to become one.” 

“So be it, then.” 

Kaiser hears something above him. By the gods, what’s with this guy and ceilings? Is that why he wants to fight here? A dust of something shimmers down, he pulls his cloak over himself- 

From the doorway, you throw your water across the room, shielding Kaiser from whatever it may have been. And in the same moment, a poof of shimmer bursts over your own head and tumbles down around you. 

“That’s the problem with you gods, isn’t it? You always think you’re infallible.” 

You cough, falling to one of your knees. Dread fills inside of you, like a faucet you can’t turn off. You can’t move. How is that possible? 

The man taps two fingers to the top of your head, and your world goes dark.

~

When you blink your eyes open, the first thing you’re aware of is the way your vision swims. Your mind feels clouded, stuffed with cotton. You press your palm to your head, and even that feels muted. 

“I’ve made her mine now. She’ll do exactly what I say. Does that make you upset?” Is what you think you hear, through the ringing of your ears. “Let’s see you put that god-killing sword to good use then, shall we?” 

“It’s. Magic.” You spit out the words as your hands press into the ground. Your legs cramp from the way you’re forcing them to stay down. “Mihya. Run, please.” 

“Awh, worried about me?” Kaiser teases as he logs the odds. There is no water that swirls around you, so it begs to reason – you can’t call it. The only weapon you have is a dagger. 

Kaiser tilts his head until his neck cracks. “Have some faith in me, princess. I’m not afraid, even against you.”

He breathes, in and out, until the calmness of battle seeps into him, raises his sword pointed right at you. “I’ll win, even against you.” 

And then he reveals that cocky, surefire smirk. “You should worry more about not dying yourself.” 

When you launch at him, it is without mercy, makes him realize how your kindness seeps into the way you fight. His weapon is bigger, larger, and he uses it to keep you at arm’s length, to wrap around towards the enemy. But he sees his problem almost immediately. Like a puppet on strings, you’re protecting the enemy. 

He knows it, the moment the prophecy solidifies into place in his mind. That feeling of being lost on a path, gone with the reigning down a light. The final puzzle piece in the picture. 

You will die by the hands of the one you love most. So, it truly was this feeling, after all. Love. An aching thing, something so undoing. An open wound that can only be tendered by you. 

For once, the prophecy is not a curse but a guiding starlight. He corners you with strike after strike, until you’re as close as can be to the enemy. And then he approaches you with no defense, lets you strike at him. In the same breath, his sword lands behind you and takes off the enemy’s head. 

None of the fight felt as clear as this moment, when your blade presses into his heart. 

He collapses, right in front of the throne with you on top of him. The throne that should be undoubtedly his, belonging to him as heir. Tears fall from your face before your mind can clear. Like you know, soul to soul, as his lifeform slips through your fingers. He brings his hand to cup your cheek, as he had wanted to do when you laid like this above him in the sand. 

“I did not expect a death so gentle for myself.” 

His smile is so bittersweet that it aches all the way to the bottom of your heart. His hand slips down from your face as you finally come to. 

“You will not die on me.” You gasp out, a statement said with so much conviction that the silver bell of truth rings in return. You call to your water immediately, a stream so fast it cuts into your skin but you don’t care. 

A magic that can only be done once. You take the divine sword from the ground, aim the blade carefully at yourself – your own soul. Only this sword can make a cut like this, with the hand of the divine. You slice your wrist, and instead of blood, pure golden lifeforce pours out. 

You separate your divinity from yourself, and you feed it to him. It will not turn him divine. You are only half-divine yourself, after all. What you can give is not nearly enough to turn a man into a God. But it will hold his soul in this world, let you do an unspeakable magic: an exchange of divine power for life, a process long enough for the water to heal his heart back together again. The hand you lay against his mouth shakes more and more with each second that your golden blood pours into him, but your other hand lays steady as ever over his heart, until you feel it beat once, twice. Hear him spurt out a breath. 

You collapse on top of him before you can see him open his eyes. 

~

“I see the prophecy has been completed.” 

When Kaiser wakes, there’s a split second where he thinks he might’ve just ended up wherever souls go at the end of their line. There’s what must be a full-fledged goddess standing right over him. It’s only your warm body splayed across his chest that tells him otherwise. His hands are lightning quick, sitting up and moving to your neck to check your pulse, only exhaling and relaxing once he feels it. 

Golden threads extend down the sleeves of the goddess’ arms. He’s seen the paintings. Fate itself stands before him. 

“How could you do this?” He makes his disdain clear, lacking any respect one might give to the queen of the gods herself. 

“I am sorry.” She answers immediately, and that makes Kaiser’s eyes widen just slightly. “Your grievances, you may relay them to me, if you wish. There is a bigger picture at play here, bigger than you or the water sorceress or even myself. The threads of fate are not woven selfishly.” 

“You gods up in your clouds play with the lives of mortals. That has always been written in history. But to her? To one of your own?”

“She is more one of mine than most. The heir to the throne of the Gods, I would’ve entrusted her with my life. It’s why she complies with Fate in every life, without complaint.”

“So she lends you her loyalty, and you take advantage of her. And you dare put yourselves above us?” 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Heavy too, are my hands, that weave the golden threads. You and her are one of many that have suffered by my hand. For that, there is no apology I can give. What I can give, well… Would you like to hear your full prophecy, prince?”

Lone Emperor who covets the throne, You will die by the hands of the one you love most. Forsaken by all the Gods but one, Re-emerge, awaken, as the ruler you are meant to become.

In any other circumstance, he would be eager as ever to finally hear the full prophecy. But his eyes are only on you, your slumbering state as he holds you in his arms. 

“What will become of her?” He asks quietly. 

“She will be a water sorceress, as she had initially been.” 

“She will die, then? Like a human does?”

“All things die, hero.” Hero. That’s what he is now, having been trial-passed. The title burns like bourbon down his throat. “Even the divine dies. But yes, she will die as a human, and be reborn again as the cycle permits.” 

“A life of such simplicity is not befitting of a woman like her.” 

“Who says it would be simple? Besides, she has gone through the trial of the divine once before. Don’t you have faith she could do it again?” 

The trial of the divine. He had not known such a thing prior to you. But if anyone could pass it, it would be you. 

“I will make her my wife. I care little for the words or respect of the gods, even a queen like yourself. But it is my duty to inform you. If she will have me, I will wed her as has been planned.” 

“The prophecy is complete. What happens now is too inconsequential for me to put effort into. However…” she watches you, teartracks streaked down your cheeks. “I’m quite fond of her. I hope for her an easy life.” 

In a blink, her form disappears. 

“Kaiser!” Oliver’s voice echoes through the halls, taking big leaps with Noa to his side, skidding to a halt when he finally finds you both. 

“The goddess-” 

“She lives,” Kaiser cups your head into his chest. “Though she is goddess no more. A trade. Not a fair one by any means.” His thumb traces across your cheek, a state of his so vulnerable it renders Oliver speechless. 

Noa approaches the threshold where Oliver does not dare. He rests his hand on the crown of Kaiser’s head. “Another chance at life is the greatest gift, and she has granted you as such. That is a debt you’ll never be able to repay her for..” 

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, then.” 

~

It’s only in the aftermath, that you find out how deep in you truly were.

Kaiser takes a big inhale of the winter air. It’s fresh and cold. And with him, the nation breathed a breath anew, and the trial laid in ashes under his feet.

You’re facing the horizon of the sea when he finds you. 

In the catch of the light, sometimes he swears he sees the divinity that had shimmered off of you before. It’s almost hard to believe, with the ring of water that floats around you, that it had ever left you at all. 

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, as it always is with you now. 

“Relearning the water.”

“What does it say?”

“That I am still its mistress. Still a sorceress,” the water around you drops into the wet sand. “That its loyalty with me is not dependent on divinity.”

He places a hand to the back of your neck, easing out the tensions there. “But?”

You smile weakly. “I have to strain to hear her now.”

“Guess we can’t do that spectacle again for our wedding.” He cracks a smile, something to ease the ache. “Water holds memory, right?” 

“That, it does.” 

He grabs your hand, pulling you up and towards the waves. You yell for him, but the ocean crashes loudly around you both, and he drags you into the water anyways. Once you’re deep in enough that the waves drape over your knees, he pulls you in close. 

“Let her bear witness, then.” He whispers it against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face. He kisses you, deep and with so much heart you might burst from it. 

A prophecy unfolded, a fate changed, a life saved. 

There’s a part of you that can feel an oncoming future. A sheathing that can block even the eyes of Gods. God-killing weapons that have descended from the heavens themselves. A potion that can cause madness in the minds of the divine. A war between mortals and Gods is coming, you’re sure of it. 

But not in this life. In this life, you are a water sorceress, and he is a trial-passed hero. And like in every life, you find your way back to each other, every time. 

author's note: ohmygod THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE tell me what you think!!! this is my longest fic ever so i really hope you enjoyed

extended author's note -- know that this is an incredibly realistic note about the perception of love that will take you out of the fantasy lovey-dovey space. it's a disclaimer for the parts of the fic i romanticize and how u should not romanticize them in real life, as well as some notes about kaiser's characterization if you're interested

[muqingslover]

[ you know it ladies, it's me, the virgin Caleb truther back at it again. I added a tag just this so you can find the posts easily under "virgin Caleb agenda" ;) ]

Let's talk about how messy Caleb is when he eats you out for the first time. His mouth moving in a way that's clumsy and almost awkward, unsure of what he is allowed or should do now that he's come this far. Was he supposed to use his fingers too? Well, he can safely assume he has to use his mouth to some extent but only god knows where he's supposed to actually put his tongue on...or in. Every woman is different, or so he's heard.

Oh but don't think he's anything if not eager because he has enthusiasm to spare. The only problem is that he doesn't know what feels good for you. He has his pride too sometimes and wouldn't want to ask for your help, not at first, so he can prove he is able to do something on his own too, but honestly? That is not happening, not this time at least.

By all means push this man down and take a seat on his face. Grab him by his hair, tight enough that he'll groan at his strands being tugged, and tell him to keep his tongue out and you'll take care of the rest. Having you manhandling him despite knowing he's stronger does things to his brain cock and god when you start to ride his mouth? He's died and gone to heaven.

His dazed eyes remain trained on you, taking in every and each moan that leaves your lips, while one of his hands pump his hard, leaking cock. You taste so damn good that he just can't stop himself from wanting more— His tongue darts out to push inside your little hole, relishing the sound of your gasp and feeling his confidence growing by the sight of you trembling in pleasure. Caleb absolutely loves when you use him, depend on him, need him, and gets off on the fact that he's the one making you let out those sweet sounds even if he's not in charge this time. He fucks your cunt with his wet muscle like a starved man, both spit and your juices dripping down his chin in a delicious mess that he couldn't be more proud of.

The clenching around his tongue makes him wish it was around his cock instead, oh how heavenly it would surely be to push himself into that warm, tight pussy of yours. Your hand tugged harder on his hair when you came, pressing yourself down and further into his mouth as your thighs tensed up around his head, unintentionally cutting off the man's air for a moment too long. When you realized you immediately tried to check on him, afraid you might've killed the man, only to feel Caleb shuddering and moaning against you like a bitch, finding him in a state of absolute ecstasy after lifting your hips off of him. His eyes glazed and his cheeks flushed a dark shade of red while he grinned, licking his drenched lips and feeling his own orgasm running through his quivering body.

"Please, do that again." Is all the man would say as he tried to catch his breath. He looked forward to the next thing he would learn about your body and maybe, just maybe, he also hoped that you would let him fuck you if he was an obedient, patient boy.

[alexanderwales]

We were driving down the highway, and Derrick was going exactly the speed limit, like a psychopath.

He was aghast. "You wouldn't let me use your fuckbot?"

"It would be weird," I replied. "You're saying, in the hypothetical world where fuckbots existed, that you would be fine with me saying 'hey, I'm super horny, can I come pick up your fuckbot for the evening?'"

"Hell yeah dude," said Derrick.

"We're talking something that can make a reasonable pass at acting human, who looks human," I said. "That's what we're talking about right now."

"Yeah," said Derrick. "I mean, the kind of thing that realistically would end up being your maid, your chef, all that kind of thing, because if it can carry on a conversation it can probably do your laundry and scrub your tub and whatever."

"If, hypothetically, such a thing existed," I said. "I wouldn't call it a fuckbot, I would call it a domestic robot or something. Even if, for whatever reason, such an expensive labor saving device also had parts and protocols for having sex with it."

"And you wouldn't let me use it," said Derrick. "Not even just to try it out. Like if I was interested in buying one of my own."

"I mean," I said. "No, because you could just ask me what it was like, and I could tell you."

"That's bad market research, dude," said Derrick.

"Look, I'm not letting you have sex with my sexbot," I said. "That's a line that I'm not crossing, in the hypothetical world where domestic servant robots with like personalities and stuff are also ready and willing to have sex with you."

"Is it a hygiene thing?" asked Derrick. "Because I'm imagining like, a little sleeve thing that they could pull out and clean. And it's not like contagion theory is real, that's like, essentialism."

"What?" I asked. "Contagions are definitely real."

"No, I mean ... like this thing where if a knife has touched meat even just one time, it's forever a meat knife unless you do a ritual to turn it back into a dairy knife."

"What?" I asked again.

Derrick was still driving the speed limit. People were going around us, and some of them were honking. He was easily ten miles an hour slower than any of the surrounding traffic.

"The Jewish thing, with the knives," said Derrick. "You touch a knife to meat even once, and then it's a meat knife, and it doesn't matter if you put it in a like, immersion steamer or something."

"This is about keeping kosher?" I asked. "You're talking about whether a sexbot is kosher?"

"I'm saying that there's this idea, right, that if I put my dick inside your sexbot, that sexbot is forever tainted, and it doesn't matter if there's a sleeve that can be sterilized, or whatever, it's just this idea that the act independent of physical reality is ... a contagion, I guess."

"Surely there's a way of making a knife kosher again," I said. "I mean, surely, if you accidentally touch a knife to a piece of meat it's not a meat knife forever, surely you don't throw your favorite knife out because it's ritually unclean."

"I don't know man," said Derrick. "I'm just gesturing at the idea, you know?"

"I mean, there's probably some ritual cleaning or something," I said. "Can I look this up?"

"No," said Derrick. "I'm driving, I need someone to talk to, if I let you look it up you're going to have your nose in the phone for the next half hour, easily."

"Fine," I replied. "Anyway, I get the idea, and it's not that I think it's like ... magic or something, like you using it would metaphysically alter the sexbot. It's more like ... in my mind, it would be my girlfriend, right? Or like a girlfriend replacement. If you can't find a girlfriend, store bought is fine, that kind of thing."

"Interesting," said Derrick. "I was thinking of it as a sort of ... maid, I guess. And if you hired a maid, and she said to you 'hey, I'm super horny basically all the time, so if after I'm done cleaning, or if I'm in the middle of cleaning, and you want to have a go, I am basically always up for it, then ... I mean, you might, right? And you wouldn't be surprised if she was having sex with other people. And if you explained this to me, and I said 'hey, can I get her number', you'd give me her number, right?" He glanced over at me. "Right?"

"I guess in that case, she would have agency," I said. "And it wouldn't be the same. Because if I hired a domestic servant robot, I would be extremely surprised to find out she'd been having sex with other people, like ... when I was away ... or something."

"But you'd give me her number, right?" asked Derrick.

"In this scenario, is this maid ... a sex worker?" I asked. "Like, is the understanding that I'm paying her for cleaning the house and sexual availability?"

"Nah, I don't know dude," said Derrick. "You know, when you think about it, a combination domestic servant and fuckbot is kind of fucked up. Like, misogynistic."

"Does it get less fucked up if it's a guy?" I asked.

"Honestly, yeah," said Derrick. "That's practically progressive."

"I mean, it's sort of inherent to the concept of a sexbot," I said. "I don't know how you do one of those that's immune from criticism. And calling it a fuckbot doesn't help. I mean, it's a facsimile of a woman, whose only purpose is doing domestic labor and having sex."

"And there's this power dynamic thing," said Derrick. "Like, you own her, right? And you tell her whether or not your friends are allowed to have sex with her. No agency, like you said."

"So you think that me loaning out my sexbot to you, in this hypothetical, is a win for feminisim," I said.

"Honestly, yeah," said Derrick.

"Well, I'm still not going to do it," I said. "I'd feel weird about it."

"I think it's this girlfriend mentality," said Derrick. "Like, girlfriend replacement, that's probably not a healthy way to think about a fuckbot."

"We said illusion of sentience, right?" I asked. "Like, it can carry on a conversation with you, and you mostly won't notice anything weird? Because if that's the case, it's kind of weirder for it not to be a girlfriend, or something like a girlfriend, like if it's only doing all the household chores and the cooking and cleaning and you have sex with it, and it's perfectly capable of asking how your day is or expressing interest in how you're doing in League, but you just don't talk to each other? That's weird. And seems less healthy than just carrying on a conversation."

"Yeah, maybe," said Derrick. "But like ... no way anyone is going to be your girlfriend if you have a fuckbot, that's a real concern."

"In this hypothetical world where someone like me without a huge amount of extra money can afford a domestic robot, I think attitudes would change," I said. "On dating apps or whatever you'd have people tagging 'robot friendly!' or 'absolutely no robofuckers' or whatever. And I would assume that women would have them too, and then when I did get a girlfriend, she'd move in with her own domestic robot, and I'd make peace with the fact that sometimes we'd have sex together and sometimes she'd want to just have her sexbot please her."

"Totally not what would happen," said Derrick. "You're trying to create some kind of normalcy around this? Like you'd just be in a little, I don't know, polycule with two robots?"

"I mean, they're sub-sentient robots, so no, not a polycule," I replied. "Part of the premise is that they are, in fact, incapable of cognition as we know it, that they don't actually have emotions or ambitions or agency beyond what's programmed into them. If we're saying that they're effectively humans but made of electronics and not meat, that's totally different, all my answers have to change."

"And if they did have emotions," said Derrick. "If they did have agency and cognition and whatnot, then —"

"Then they'd be slaves," I said. "And I'm not cool with slavery, so I wouldn't have one."

"What if they were volunteers?" asked Derrick. "If they had emotions and thoughts and all that other stuff, and they came off the factory line really wanting to be fuckbots and domestic servants."

"Sketchy," I said. "But ... maybe, depending on the details."

"And in that case, if they had agency of their own, would you let me have sex with your fuckbot?" asked Derrick.

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, fine, if the sexbots were fully human-level intelligent with agency and emotions and wants and dreams, and it seemed like the robot I lived with was actually interested, yes, I would give my blessing."

"Niiiiice," said Derrick.

Another car came up fast behind us and swerved into the other lane to avoid us, honking as it blew past.

"Can I ask why you're driving so goddamned slow?" I asked.

"Oh, I was doing it as a bit, I wanted to see how long it would take for you to notice."

Derrick smiled at me, then put his foot on the gas.

[s-lorelei]

I personally feel like Harry Potter is one of those franchises that's been practically corrupted by its fandom.

The fandom should respect the author, but doesn’t.

The fandom has people in it who say:

"I don't trust JKR with her own Intellectual Property."

"She doesn't know anything about the Marauders. The world and characters belong to us now."

"She would just make all the Marauders straight, white, and cis." (Not everything has to be gay? Wtf)

It's HER story. None of you children (or adults with immature minds) have any right to say that she doesn't know her characters. If she hadn't written them in the first place, you'd have nothing to do, would you? There would be no wolfstar or jegulus or marauders era to begin with.

And you guys do understand that Regulus is fucking dead, right? James and Lily got married. Remus and Tonks had Teddy. Sirius was too focused on the delusion that he thought he got his best friend back (through Harry) to give a shit about Remus. Evan Rosier was never important to the plot. Lily is actually an important character. "Pandora" Lovegood doesn't exist, and, no, she isn't Evan's twin so stfu. Marlene McKinnon is mentioned once (and it's implied that she married a man). Y'all can't even get Dorcas Meadowes's name correct.

The amount of canon-divergence absurdity in fanon culture is appalling.

...

Name mention counter (in the books):

Marlene McKinnon: 1 (twice if you consider "the McKinnons" as a mention)

Pandora Lovegood: 0

Evan Rosier: 1

Dorcas Meadowes: 1

Grant Chapman: 0 (because he is an OC/self-insert)

Mary Macdonald: 1 (in a flashback)

...

Like- there is absolutely no miniscule amount of evidence that Wolfstar could've ever been anything other than old friends. I wish you guys could see that and stop making up plots and delusional headcanons. (And just because headcanons are what "you believe/think about a character" doesn't mean they don't have to be logical and actually fit into the canon story, so I don’t wanna hear it.) 🙄

And before you tell me "if you don't like it then don't read it"— I don't "read it." I don't read ATYD or Crimson Rivers or Art Heist or whatever other fics are out there that you've decided is canon now. I read the real story, y'know, the seven, very much canon, books. And I was gonna read ATYD, but once I found out how y'all treat it as the Holy Grail of the 1970s Wizarding World, I decided it wasn't my cup of tea because I want to read a fic that is canon-compliant, that doesn't push every hot character into a gay relationship, that doesn't have explicit sex, that doesn't have self-inserts..

Thanks for reading all this if you did.

(This is me venting because I hate so much of fanon and I'm about to crash out.)

If you don't agree or have nothing nice to say about this post, move along and kindly do not engage. Thank you.

[bonbonly]

bon's thoughts (18+) a/n: adding lando to the hollywood!au

paparazzi photographer!lando norris who sees you stepping out of the limousine for the premiere of a new film under Sainz's production house. he was always your fan, even before he landed this job.

he snaps a couple photos of you, completely enamored by your beauty and grace and when you pass by him, flashing that darling smile of yours, you notice the way only his camera doesn't capture you.

his eyes do, however.

you've seen him around, you know his face very well. everytime he thought he was being slick and taking secret photos of you for the tabloids, you knew he was lurking around in the shadows. you also knew that a young man like him would be taking photos when you purposefully decided to stand naked near the large windows of your estate; he definitely has a collection of photos that he takes for himself. but it's all in good fun, at least that's what he's telling himself every time you laugh at him before closing the curtains.

and so when he sees you at the premiere tonight, all dolled up and only staring at him and his camera, he's convincing himself that you're not really looking at him. why would anyone try to take note of him? especially when producer!sainz had his arm wrapped around your waist possessively, when retired actor!alonso was grabbing your ass as he walked by you on the red carpet. or even when the new face actor!leclerc gently kissed your cheek that seemed more like a threat than a welcoming gesture.

the bathroom for the non-celebs are in the far corner of the auditorium that was rented out for the night. lando knows his schedule is tight since he has to run back right after to talk to the famed actor!verstappen about another film that will surely bring him a new set of accolades, but as soon as he opens the door, he sees you in your big white fur coat and a smirk on your lips.

"had to look all over the place for you, you know?" you snickered, "always trying to run from me, and acting like nothing's happened between us. come on, don't be so dull now."

he opens his mouth to argue, trying to push out the whole "i'm just trying to do my job miss, i don't know what you're talking about..." but it's quickly swallowed when he sees you getting on your knees. and then all restraint is lost.

you're bobbing your head around his thick cock, slurping up his pre-cum and batting your eyelashes. a sight that he swear he'll see every day in heaven and he grabs his phone, snapping a couple pictures of the way your tongue swirls around his tip. you probably even let your dress slip to your waist, forcing him to crouch down against the wall of the bathroom as you smush his cock between your tits, sliding them up and down as you watch him moan quietly at how good you feel, how this is pure bliss.

his cum splatters all over your tits, and you giggle obscenely as you kiss his throbbing tip. he bucks his hips up, groaning under his breath at how sensitive he is. and just as you're about to get up and exit, he grabs you and bends you over the counter.

"i'm really sorry, miss (l/n)," he grunts, hiking your dress up to reveal that you weren't wearing any panties for tonight, his cock gliding against your glistening folds, "oh fuck... i've always wanted to know what it really feels like beyond the photos."

and who were you to judge your number one fan?

[itadores]

let's ride!

note: he's plaguing me

pairing: sylus x gn!reader

word count: 1.4k

tags: gender neutral reader, reader is not mc, pre-relationship

"You have to be kidding me," you say, stopping right in your tracks. The sight laid out before has you going still.

Sylus raises a brow.

“Were you expecting something different?” he asks, looking back at you from where he stands a few steps ahead on the sidewalk. The glint in his crimson eyes betrays the fact he already knows your answer.

"When you offered me a ride, I assumed that you'd be picking me up in a car." You wave a hand, motioning to the vehicle that Sylus has parked on the side of the road. "Not a motorcycle."

"Don't tell me you're afraid?"

It's an obvious provocation. One that you shouldn't rise to.

"I'm not afraid," you scoff, the words falling from your tongue almost instinctively. You childishly cross your arms, well aware of how petulant you look. "I just wasn't expecting it. Do you even an extra helmet?"

"Catch."

You barely have any time to process what Sylus has said before you're fumbling to catch the motorcycle helmet that he's tossed at you. Once you're sure that it's secure in your grasp, you look up at Sylus and shoot him a glare. "A little more of a warning would have been nice. What if I had dropped it?"

He laughs. "A little scratch won't hurt it. Besides, I could just buy another one."

You roll your eyes as you take the few steps down the sidewalk necessary to be next to Sylus. "You and your infinite amount of money," you dryly comment before looking down at the helmet in your hands. Your nerves spike slightly. "I've, uh, I've actually never been on a motorcycle before."

"Oh?"

A flicker of surprise crosses Sylus' face but it doesn't linger long.

"Really?"

The smugness in Sylus' voice squashes any and all requests for assistance you may have had.

"Really," you grumble, pulling the helmet firmly down onto your head. The helmet is awfully snug, but not uncomfortable. It's actually surprising how well it fits you.

You nearly flinch when Sylus suddenly enters into your space.

“Tilt your head back.”

The retort of Why should I lies on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow it down (for once) and do what Sylus asks of you. You lean your head back, eyes falling onto the man in front of you. Sunlight casts shadows across the planes of his face, emphasizing the sharpness of his features and setting his ruby red eyes alight. The thought that he looks handsome crosses your mind fleetingly.

You go eeriely still when his fingers skirt across the underside of your chin, pulse quickening as the rough pads of his fingertips graze the delicate skin of your throat. Carefully, Sylus buckles your helmet’s chin strap with a gentleness that’s unexpected from the fearsome leader of Onychinus.

“Can’t have you getting hurt on your first ride now, can we?”

His eyes flicker up to meet your own, causing you to avert your gaze. Sometimes, it slips your mind how intense it can be to have Sylus' attention solely on you.

"I could have done that myself," you mumble, thumbing at the strap below your chin. You tug on the thick fabric, fingers fiddling with it.

"You could have," Sylus concedes. He rubs his thumb against his forefinger in that familiar manner of his before looking at you once more. "But I wanted to do it for you. Is that so wrong?" he coos, tone teasing and grin bordering on sharp.

"You're the worst,” you sigh, brushing off the warmth laced within Sylus’ words. You chalk it up to him being his usual flirtatious self. You motion towards the motorcycle. “Who gets on first?”

Before Sylus can get a word in, you narrow your eyes at him. “And I can get on by myself.”

“So feisty,” he murmurs, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. amusement clear as day on his face. “Like this you resemble an angry chipmunk.”

You pout at that, which probably doesn’t help your case. It's not like it's your fault that the motorcycle helmet rests snugly on your head, the padding within its interior squishing your cheeks.

Sylus laughs though refrains from making any further comments. “I’ll get on first so it’s easier for you to get on after,” he says as he smoothly slips his own helmet on.

You idly stand by on the sidewalk, watching how Sylus mounts his motorbike so you can mimic him when it’s your turn to do the same. His movements are fluid as he swings his leg over the body of it and lowers himself down onto the smooth leather material of its cushion.

“Your turn,” he says, beckoning you closer by patting the seat behind him.

Although you were closely observing Sylus' movements, by the time you cross the short distance to make it to his side, you're still unsure of how exactly to get onto the motorcycle. You can't exactly steady yourself by holding onto the handlebars like Sylus did.

"Put your hand on my shoulder."

"What?" you say, startled out of your thoughts.

"How else do you plan on getting on?"

Sylus cocks his head at you, raising a brow as you try to think of an alternative. You sigh when your brain fails to produce anything. Lightly, you place your hand onto his shoulder. His customary black leather jacket is smooth beneath your touch.

"Now swing your leg over."

You use Sylus as an anchor, palm pressing into the firm muscles of his shoulder as you clamor onto the motorcycle, not nearly as graceful as him but at least you've made it on. Once you're sure that you're not at risk of somehow toppling off, the first thing you take notice of is how close you are to Sylus. Your knees rest on either side of his waist, your chest nearly pressed against the expanse of his back. You've been near Sylus before, but never like this. You scooch backwards and try to put as much space as you can between the two of you.

Sylus glances back at you. "I don't bite. No need to put so much distance between us," he says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"Somehow, I highly doubt that," you deadpan, which draws a bark of laughter from him.

"Is that so?" Sylus' eyes darken a touch. You have no time to try and decipher what it means before he blinks and it's gone, replaced by amusement. "You might fall off if you don't hold on tight."

"I'll be fine like this," you say. You look down at the motorcycle and wrap your hands around the grab bars.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs his shoulders before turning forward once more. The motorcycle roars to life, steadily thrumming beneath you. Sylus nudges the kickstand up with his foot. You tighten your hold on the grab bars as the motorcycle shifts slightly as Sylus prepares to pull away from the curb.

A loud squeal escapes you as the motorcycle starts moving much faster than you anticipated. Your grip around the grab bars slackens in your shock, and you press yourself closer to Sylus, arms tightly wrapping around his torso, before you can reconsider your actions.

"You really are the worst, Sylus!" you shout over the wind that rushes around you as Sylus continues picking up speed. Your heart is hammering so loud in your chest after the stunt he pulled that you're sure he can feel it with the way your chest is pressed firmly against his back.

In response, Sylus accelerates more, eliciting a shriek from you. The buildings around you start to blur together, and the wind bites into any sliver of skin you have exposed. You're going so fast that you're confident that Sylus is breaking every speed limit there is in Linkon City. But you don't dwell on that thought for long.

Your initial nerves transform into giddiness as you slowly grow more comfortable with the sensation of riding on a motorcycle. There's something surprisingly exhilarating about going at such a high speed. You poke your head from around Sylus' body, a wild grin spread onto your cheeks. His eyes flicker from the road to you for a brief moment.

“Having fun?”

You lean in closer to him to be heard over the whipping winds. “Yeah!” you say earnestly, cheeks aching from smiling.

You don't have a smart remark or a quick-witted quip at the ready like you usually do. For as much as you bicker with Sylus, you do actually enjoy his company and you appreciate him going out of his way to give you a ride, even if it's not exactly what you had envisioned.

"Thanks again for the ride Sylus."

Out of the corner of your eyes, you catch a glimpse of Sylus smiling. Not as sharp or as teasing as his usual ones. It's a little softer around the edges. Genuine.

"Anytime."

[simbiotictears]

LnDs Boys if they were an Idol!boy group:

I won’t hear anyone out. I need this group to become a reality. Infold make a card of them as idols and I am yours!!

Leader + Main Rapper: Zayne

Appears to be the most mature but isn’t. He was voted the pettiest by the members followed by Sylus and Rafayel. He was given the role of leader due to his ability to keep the fans and his members under control (minus Sylus).

Designated translator: he can speak the most languages in the group. As a result, he leads the international interviews and fan interactions.

His fans know he likes sweet things, so they often gift him sweet treats in fan meets. The staff end up confiscating most of it to stop him from eating them all and getting cavities.

His stage persona is the cold nerdy type, this is because he refuses to wear contacts, so this allows him to wear his glasses when he's not performing on stage.

He gets injured the most. Don't even try to tell me he doesn't.

In terms of his voice, he has a mellow voice. He doesn't really sing but he raps well.

When it comes to dancing, he can’t really dance, but he works hard. After the main and lead dancers, he trains the third hardest. If dance was a science, he'd have top marks. It's the moving the body part he struggles with.

He did aegyo once and it got clipped and shipped and he hasn't been able to live it down since.

He doesn’t post on social media often, but when he does, he posts book reviews (mostly nonfiction and medical books) on Substack.

His day in the life YouTube video for the group channel was him visiting Cafes and testing their sweet treats. All of those Cafes have been packed ever since he went.

He is the third most popular in the group, and his fans are the most mature and peaceful. However, they do go feral when he gets freaky for the concepts.

Main Dancer + Lead Vocalist/Rapper: Caleb

He is a jack of all trades. If he was the youngest, he’d be golden. But he’s not, so he’s just the most versatile.

He sings, he dances, he raps, he’s pretty—what can’t he do?

His rapping is far better than his singing, but his singing is nowhere near terrible. He had to work very hard on his vocals before debut, but only his bandmates know that.

He is a hit or miss with the fans, still extremely popular, but those who love him are very devout.

He’s had the second most scandals in the group, after Sylus, for fake rumours and clips taken out of context.

He’s a big nerd and is very chaotic despite his cool more chill front he shows sometimes (when he’s not in the mood). His stage persona is the popular boy next door/big brother type, and he fits the role perfectly.

He is the one to say the most random facts in the middle of a video. Definitely watches 'Cunk on Earth.' He is chronically online.

He has 'Train with me' videos which sound a little questionable due to his loud breathing.

He surprised his fans with the news of his piloting license by randomly uploading a video of him piloting a fighter jet.

He pranks Zayne often and likes to dance late at night in the studio with Xavier.

Him and Sylus have beef that no one else understands— but they do and that’s all that matters.

He has a girlfriend who he unapologetically talks about, whilst not mentioning anything at all. This has got him into a lot of trouble, but he doesn’t care. He doesn't want his fans to try and hit on him. He is a committed man. Other than that, he is very private.

Designated cook: he used to cook for the members when they all lived in the dorms together.

Visual + Sub Rapper: Sylus

Actually, the most mature. He is the oldest and hottest. People ignore the fact that he can’t sing (though he is getting better) because of how hot he is.

He usually leads when the concepts are suaver and sultrier.

I can't emphasise this enough, but he got in because he’s hot— can’t lie, that’s most of the reason he got in.

His stage persona, much like his real life personality, is the bad boy/daddy type. (I am not sorry, you know he's going to be in a suit giving it an ateez level performance)

He speaks the second most languages in the group, so he usually sits behind or at the end of the line in interviews and takes some of the stress off of Zayne. Once the interviewers know he speaks their language they do try to get him to answer a lot of questions just to hear him speak... and you know what? same.

The camera loves him.

People beg him to do aegyo and he only does it very rarely. Not even losing a bet could force him to do aegyo. It has to be if one of the boys has got his (secret) girl on the line.

Has the rich man laugh. Hear me out, he once accidentally laughed at the end of a recording session when the mic was still on, and they kept it in the track… let’s just say that track and that specific part of the track won them their first seven awards.

He has the most ravenous, horny fans. Even straight men go feral for Sylus.

He is the most likely to be put on stage shirtless or told to rip his shirt mid performance; he’s not opposed, he works hard for his abs.

His 'Day in the life' YouTube video on their group channel where he drank wine, played the organ, made steak, boxed, and watched a movie over the span of ten hours has over 109 million views.

Still, he goes live the least. Mostly because he doesn’t know how to use the live feature properly.

Naturally, he has had the most scandals in the group, not by his own fault mind you. And there have been public issues with their company's unfair distribution of his lines in most songs. (Sometimes they’re lucky if he gets four lines.)

He calls his fans “kittens” which makes all the other members hurl.

Face of The Group + Centre + Main Vocalist: Rafayel

The pretty boy of the group.

Designated Brat: he will argue with everyone about everything. He is the sassiest of the group and also the whiniest. He acts like the youngest but isn’t??

Has the voice of a literal angel and the face to match.

He spends the most time with Xavier because Xavier doesn’t argue with his insane logic (the boy is exhausted, save my boy Xavier).

He pretends to hate acting cute, but he secretly loves it.

People ship him with literally everyone in the group, but mostly Xavier and Zayne. It’s the icy x sunshine dynamic.

Designated model: He has the best fashion and always dresses like he’s about to hit the runway. His airport photos are basically photo cards in and off themselves. And a few times they've ended up on the cover of high fashion magazines. He would never be caught dead in anything less than the best.

He is the laziest in terms of training, but who needs to train when they’re that beautiful? (His words, not mine.)

Zayne has to threaten him to get him to go to dance practice.

He goes live with Xavier most often.

He is the one who controls the social media pages. He loves posting the most random stuff.

His ending fairies always go viral.

One time a fan asked him to marry them when he was live and he asked how big their paycheck was.

Should have more scandals than he does, most of his drama is people arguing about his sexuality— to which he tells everyone to mind their own business.

He’s terrified of cats. The group went on a YouTube Channel where they got to play with cats as they answered questions. Rafayel hissed at any cat that came near him and hid behind Sylus.

He once did a paint with me stream and everyone was shocked at his skills and art knowledge to which he said he went to art school.

Maknae + Lead Dancer + Sub Vocalist: Xavier

The youngest of the group.

His stage persona is the shy boy/prince type. Because of this, everyone thinks that this sweet man is innocent, but he’s a freak.

Can pull off literally any concept.

Has insane dance skills. (I don't want to hear it. In a world where they are idols that man can dance.)

Him and Caleb are the most likely to be in the dance studio late at night practicing.

Because he works so hard at night and off camera, the fans think he is lazy or “always tired.” He is anemic, but his sleepiness mostly comes from his excessive training.

He has a secret dance TikTok called Lumiere; where he dances with a hood on, a face mask, and in baggy clothes. Some fans have hypothesised that him and Lumiere are the same person, but he never confirms it.

He nearly got caught once when Rafayel was live, and he walked back into their hotel room with the same hoodie on as his latest TikTok video.

He mostly enjoys releasing dance videos on their group TikTok and YouTube channel with Caleb because their styles blend well together.

When they do more lifestyle like content, he is either with Rafayel or Caleb.

He has a very soft and pretty voice, which makes most people swoon though he actually prefers rapping, but the group would have too many rappers, so he sticks to singing.

He once sat in on Caleb’s live with Sylus and Zayne and rapped a whole cypher, which shocked all the fans because he sounded so good! He’s got insane flow.

It started the #letXavierRap trend.

Has a secret partner, and his biggest scandal was a hickey that wasn’t covered up properly.

People love the princely concept on him. He lowkey hates it. He only wears it on the stage.

He grew out his hair once and everyone begged him not to cut it again (he did, it got in the way of his face when he was dancing.)

They once had a concept where they all had to act. Much to everyone’s surprise, Xavier did so well that he started to get offered acting gigs. He mostly turns them down, but once in a while his fans might spot him as the lead in a C drama or two.

He can’t cook to save his life.

He relies on Caleb and Sylus to make everything; however, he does eat pot noodles when they refuse.

He once tried to cook for the members, and they had to move dorms because the place caught fire. Of course, that was before they all moved to their own places.

[goinggoingghone]

hreh. pushes up my glasses and cracks my knuckles, dusting off the cobwebs of this blog.

~~~

There's a boy in the alleyway.

Well, that's already been established. There's a boy producing inhuman sounds that crack through his skull like a baseball bat, and he's in an alley by himself. Statistically speaking, in Gotham, this is a normal night. Children wander, especially in a city as violent as Gotham. He might not have parents.

The screeching and trilling and crying is a new one, so Tim checks it out.

He's not Robin tonight, having gotten out of a meeting particularly late (he hated going to investment meetings, he always had to convince the shareholders that sometimes being helpful was more important than profit), but the drive to protect a kid by himself is too strong to ignore. He comes closer, but doesn't get far in at all before the boy's head snaps up and wild red eyes bore a hole through him.

Immediately the boy pushes off the ground, his legs fusing into a long, winding black tail. He hisses, his white hair crackling like a flame and his teeth bared with impressive looking flames. He's in Tim's face in a flash, a growl reverberating through the alley.

What the hell.

A little thrown off, Tim and the boy (who, now that he's got a better look at him, looks around sixteen or seventeen) stare at each other for a few seconds. The boy---meta(?)---unsure why Tim hadn't fled, and Tim stunlocked by the sudden shift in behavior.

"Haven't you got the memo, runt?" His voice is low and crackly, thick with rage and choked with tears. "Scram."

"Uhhh," Tim starts, nose to nose with a snarling blue creature that probably shouldn't be this close to him, "Dude. No offense but if you didn't want anyone to come find you why were you screeching like that."

The boy blinks, his face still keeping its sneer, and then he huffs, the sound echoing. "Who's asking?"

"Me? I'm right in front of you. Look, I've had a long night, man, so like... I don't know. You seem like you're having a worse night than I am. Feels bad to just leave you when you're, uh, doing whatever you were doing." He can feel a headache building behind his eyes. He's unsure of why he's still talking to this thing, but he's admittedly kind of curious what's going on.

The creature-boy-meta-thing narrows its-his eyes, the flames of its hair calming. "And who are you?"

"...Tim." He doesn't think it's particularly important to give his full name here, and might even be counterproductive. In his experience, scared kids usually don't react very well to the presence of a billionaire.

"Tim. That's a stupid name. Tim. No. I'm gonna call you Scalpel. Way cooler name. You're welcome." The boy's sneer morphs into a wide, sharp, frankly terrifying grin full of dagger-like teeth.

"Scalpel. Okay. I can work with that. Sure." He feels like he's getting somewhere with this. He just has to play his cards right. "Do you got a cool name I can call you?"

The creature turns over to float on his back, brandishing claws covered by thick, white hazmat gloves.

"Phantom. Dan Phantom."

Short DPXDC Prompts #654

The eerie cries and screeches fill the air. Grating trills and chuffs that make the ears ring and ache. Tim expects a fight when he approaches the source of the sound but to his shock and horror, he finds a boy roughly his age curled into a ball sobbing into his knees.

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen help their s/o who's scared of the dark

requested by @klmllr ! sorry for getting to this so late </3

PLEASE REMEMBER TO REBLOG WHAT YOU LIKE ‼️

masterlist

seungcheol

puffs his chest out and squares up like he's about to fight the shadows to protect you when you tell him you're scared of the dark. very much goes into “dw babe, i’ll keep you safe” mode. all the lights in his house are voice controlled, so all you have to do is yell “turn on the [insert room] lights” and they'll automatically turn on for u so u don't have to wander around his house in the darkness. and when the power goes out at night, he's totally more than ready to have you cling to him like a koala bear for the entire time until you feel relaxed enough to fall asleep in his arms

jeonghan

you're scared of the dark? like, actually actually scared of the dark? he's not making fun of u, it's just that this means he can't play any pranks on u by going “boo!” in the middle of the night like he wanted to :( it's no fun when you're actually terrified, yk? he's actually super good at helping u thru power outages. tells you silly stories to take your mind off the dark, and has a whole drawer in his bedside table full of torches and extra batteries ready at his disposal to provide you with some light so ur not too afraid. 

joshua

never ever ever leaves ur side in the evening when you're together. like even if you're walking down the street after a date and it's actually quite a well-lit main road, he's not letting go of ur hand at all and sticks vvv close to your side. he's not going to leave you for one second, no sir, not him. power outages at his house are never a big deal, because he has so many fairy lights strung up and candles and battery-powered lamps at the ready to light up your life so you're not left in the dark. never let it be said that joshua hong is an inattentive boyfriend. 

junhui

you sheepishly admit that you're kind of embarrassed to still be scared of the dark even after so many years, and he just blinks at u bc. what. that's a totally valid fear to have. who knows what could be hiding in the dark??? he does his best to rid you of your fears tho, encouraging u to talk thru your thoughts with him as you lie together in bed, the door cracked open only the slightest bit. his nonsensical reasoning and the way he manages to reshape all the dark creatures in ur mind into silly and cute shapes really does help you calm down. 

hoshi

you're scared of the dark????? nooo wait that's actually so cute :(((( pls he actually can't take this wdym ur fear is the dark??? that's the cutest thing ever </3. kinda just thinks that's super adorable of u tbh. you complain that it sounds like he's making fun of u but he rly doesn't mean it like that!!!!! it's just so cute that out of all the phobias in the world, what you're most scared of is. blackness. you pinch him for saying that bc hey >:(( it's a real and valid fear ok. he gets it tho and when it gets super dark, he's always the one to cling to you first to reassure u he's there for u

wonwoo

dw about it baby. he makes enough money that you can leave all the lights on 24/7 so don't even fret over that for a second, okay? ‘most prepared bf’ award has to go to him because not only does he buy lamps, torches, fairylights etc etc in case of a power outage, but he also invests in solar panels and energy storage electric battery banks so he always has energy spare to power some lights so you never have to sit in the dark. he's the light of your life, literally, bc you never have to worry about the darkness when he's near

woozi

pretends to not be scared of the dark for ur sake but man. sometimes it's really hard. he totally understands ur fear of the darkness and while he's cringing in fear on the inside, he stays gentle and calm for u, taking you through breathing exercises and offering to show u what he's working on on his laptop to take both your minds off of ur fears. however, strangely enough, being with you has helped his fear of the dark begin to lessen also. as he becomes more focused on taking care of you, his own terror seems to melt away, as he focuses only on you and how to make you feel better. 

minghao

switches on all the lamps, puts in a classical music cassette into his cassette player, hauls you to your feet and starts dancing with you across the living room to take your mind off any fears you may be having. teaches you silly little dance steps bc having to concentrate on learning choreo means your brain doesn't have time to start conjuring imaginary fears. not when minghao's hand is warm in yours and his voice is soft and all you can feel is his guiding touch as he directs you to move with the music. it's terribly romantic, really. only minghao could turn your fear into the sweetest memory of all. 

mingyu

you've never told him about ur fear of the dark before so when the power cut happens, you scream super loud. this prompts mingyu to scream too, making you scream again, and then he screams also and then you scream too, going round in a cycle until you're shaking with fear and are too scared to scream. scaredy cat mingyu x you who's scared of the dark is a terrible combo, but he eventually calms down, turns on his flashlight and makes his way over to u, apologising profusely. makes sure he's always prepared for the next power outage so u guys never have to have an impromptu screaming match again

dokyeom

oh no :(((( dw sweetheart he's there to help u thru any worries u have!! lowkey understands your fear of the dark very well bc like. who knows what can be hiding in the pitch black darkness?? has sooo many of those battery powered lamps at his disposal already but when you moved in with him, the amount only increased bc like hell is he not gonna be The Most Prepared Boyfriend Ever. scoops you up in his arms and sings softly to u to take ur mind off the darkness when the power goes out. he's so warm, and you can feel the vibrations when he sings, and it's so comforting that you actually end up falling asleep against him

seungkwan

tbh he's kinda scared of the dark too, especially when it's the kind of pitch blackness that comes with a power outage, so he totally gets u. the two of you huddle together in the middle of the bed, blankets pulled tight around you, pretending that you're not shaking with fear. fortunately, though, the experience is always marginally better bc seungkwan is by your side — even though he's shaking like a leaf, he's still warm and grounding against you, and you just know that it would feel 10x more terrifying if you didn't have him here. 

vernon

buys you different shaped night lights every year on your birthday as a way of showing his support for u. they inhabit different areas of the house and act as like guiding lights for u whenever the power goes out. the crescent moon shaped one sits on your bedside table; the glowing, spinning globe resides in the living room; the squishy lying-down goose is splayed out in the study. even tho they're a pain to turn off bc every single one of them is battery powered with the tiny switches that hurt his hands to get to, he makes sure to diligently do so once you've fallen asleep so the battery lasts til the next day so u can use them again

chan

helps you through your fear of the dark by loudly talking to you about anything and everything he can think of as he hugs you tight. it certainly provides good enough distraction, bc his voice is so animated and captivating that u can't pay attention to anything else apart from what he's saying. it only occurs to him a long while later that he can, like. buy lights. to help you. and he doesn't have to help just by talking loudly to u in the dark. almost buys out the entire lights section in ikea before seungkwan stops him and tells him to just get the highest wattage bulbs he can find

request guidelines

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[ittybittyfanblog]

Ok, so another fic blurb! (loosely inspired by the recent banner hehe)

What if...... Sylus, the beast tamer, the liberator of the caged and broken, has a pet of his own? 

What if, in this scenario, you are the beast in question—his wild, fickle, untamed little plaything?

He doesn’t mean for it to happen. He caught wind of a trafficking ring auctioning hybrids of varying types—a setup he knows all too well, having freed countless creatures from similar fates on planets far away. And it's only supposed to go about one way, bringing along the kind of chaos he excels at: quick, efficient, brutal.

He will play the instigator, the matchstick to the pyre, and watch as the oppressed tear their captors apart. Blood will spill, chains will break, and he will revel amidst the pandemonium, a spectator to the glorious enactment of rightful vengeance.

But then—he sees you.

The runt of the pack, small and unsure, trembling in the eye of the storm he unleashes. Hackles raised, little fangs bared—not in defiance, but in fright.

You don’t fight. You don’t flee. You only flinch at the sound of slaughter, shoulders drawn tight, tail coiled around yourself like you can somehow disappear from it all. There’s something about the way you cower at the roar of violence, how you huddle in on yourself even as freedom crashes down around you, that makes something in him snap. Something visceral ignites in him.

An unfamiliar, wretched need to protect curls inside his ribs.

He can’t leave you here. He won’t.

And before he can even think to stop himself, his body moves on instinct, eviscerating anything in his way, cutting a clean path to where you stand frozen in fear. His hands find you, steady. Certain. 

He doesn't let you look—doesn’t let you see the finale of the insurrection that has made you shake in fear. The next thing you know, you’re in his arms, pressed against the unyielding heat of him as he makes a swift exit.

And the next thing he knows, you’ve already claimed him as yours.

It’s different this time, you think. You barely know this man—your unforeseen savior—but something about him calms the noise in your head, stills the frantic pulse in your throat. An inexplicable sense of security settles deep in you, and you swish your tail in contentment, loop it possessively around his leg—pressing your face into his neck, just breathing him in. Marking him in your own way. 

Warmth. Steel. Something sharp beneath it all.

Something dangerous. 

Powerful. 

Safe.  

And when you burrow deeper, seeking, instinctive, Sylus exhales like you’ve punched the air from his lungs.

He knows he can’t let you go.

His pretty beastie. His precious, skittish thing.

He doesn’t call you a pet. That word is foreign on his tongue, wrong, too close to what he stands against. And the last thing Sylus wants is for you to feel like you’ve simply exchanged one owner for another. No, never that. 

But then you look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes—innocent and somehow sly at the same time—pressing your body against him like you want to nestle under his skin.

You, his restless little distraction, his playfully insistent creature; always demanding his time, expecting the infamous leader of Onychinus (not that the title means a thing to you) to indulge you.

And he does.

Because he never gives you a reason to think otherwise—never denies you anything. Always so willing, so devoted to your happiness.

____

It starts small.

Or maybe that’s what he tells himself.

Maybe it starts when he catches you preening in front of the mirror, grooming yourself with little licks, arching your back, testing the stretch of your limbs—and something about the way you move makes him clench his jaw and avert his gaze. 

Maybe it starts the first time you crawl into his lap without a second thought, tail curling idly around his wrist as you press close, heedless of the tension thrumming beneath his skin.

Or maybe it starts when you purr for him, soft and endearing and so achingly sweet, whenever his hands find themselves mapping the smooth expanse of your back. 

He shouldn’t touch you the way he does.

It’s indulgent, the way his fingers trace your spine, stroke the soft patch of fur at the base of your tail.

It’s indulgent, the way you stretch beneath his touch, arching, sighing, rubbing yourself against his palm like you need more.

It’s indulgent, the way he lets you.

And it only gets worse.

Because now, you’ve started seeking him out.

It’s innocuous at first. Always pressing against him whenever (and wherever) he’s seated, stealing his warmth, basking in his protective embrace. Curling around him like you belong there, lazy and spoiled, like you already know he won’t push you away.

And he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. 

Because when you tuck yourself against his side and let out that soft, pleased little “mrrr,” it does something terrible to him.

(It snaps his unraveling restraint, thread by thread.)

-

-

-

His adorable, darling kitten. His. The moment he laid eyes on you, he knew. And oh, there is nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

His sweet little thing….. who’s getting bolder with each passing day. Pushing. Teasing. Learning exactly what makes him falter.

His baby, who goes into heat at certain times of the month, and expects him to help—because he always helps, doesn’t he?

So it’s not your fault when you arch your back so shamelessly beneath his touch, when you shudder as his fingers find that sensitive spot on your tailbone.

It’s not your fault when you grind needily into his lap, rubbing yourself against his hardening cock in slow, lazy motions, feeling the change in his breathing, the sharp exhale through his nose (something that excites you to no end).

It’s not your fault when you whimper so prettily, let your tongue flick over his pulse, nip at his skin in playful challenge.

And it’s certainly not your fault when you feel it—massive, hot, and unmistakable beneath where you’re situated on top of him. 

The air between you shifts. Thickens.

His fingers tighten, grip bruising as he stills you.

His breath is slow, painstakingly measured—and he knows he’s fighting a losing battle.

Sylus, torn between the animalistic desire to give you everything you ask for, and the absolute immorality of wanting to render you useless, to force you down on all fours and thoroughly fuck you, breed you on every surface in this damned house, and the last, fraying threads of his restraint wavers.

Then his precious little pet mewls for him.

And it’s like a switch flips inside him.

A breaking. A liberation.

That’s all it takes.

Because when you whimper his name, voice desperate and pleading, hips pressing forward so insistently—when you beg him, hiccuping, to do something, please, please—

Sylus gives in.

[excusemyobsessions]

ok I wanna ask bcs I really love teaching young children and I wanna indulge myself but I think the guys prefer MC being a badass hunter, do you think you could do a fic or headcacnon with a reader or MC that is a kindergarten teacher? if is not everyone just Caleb is fine, thankyus

Hi! First of all, that's very sweet that you've found what you really like to do! Now, with your request, I wrote a few bullet points for each of the boys, kinda headcanons. Sorry it isn't too elaborate but hope you still enjoy it!

LaDS boys and you as a kindergarten teacher

Rafayel

Rafayel actually loves kids (have you read about all the charity work he does? Like com’on) so I can see him being so involved in your work

He offered himself up for an art class with your kids and the whole time he was beaming

He ended up covered in paint quite literally all over and later you had to help him scrub it all off

He's Mr. Pretty Artist for your kids

They ask about him all the time after that.

Caleb

Oh, you betcha seeing you with the kids triggered Caleb’s baby fever

I can see him ultimately melt while watching you

The kids love him because he's a walking and talking jungle gym. And he's such a gentleman with the shyest little ones

Why do I see him as the kind to cry along with the kids? Like one day he's waiting for you and one of your kids is crying, throwing a tantrum and suddenly he's crying, pretending to throw a tantrum and the kid quiets down, just so confused.

Xavier

Xavier is super gentle with the little princesses(gender neutral), and treats them like actual royalty.

They believe he's an actual prince (which isn't exactly a lie but ya know)

You once caught him fast asleep out on the yard, one of your most peaceful little ones tucked in to his side

Now your baby fever is triggered.

Zayne

Zayne has experience with kids (queue Spring Remnants memory) and he actually likes them, he just doesn't actively search for any sort of interaction

But he's got this calm and safe aura so the kids are naturally drawn to him. They flock him when he shows up, to either bring you lunch or pick you up. 

They think he's a wizard because somehow he always produces candy out of nowhere! (it came from his pockets)

He'll help them build snowmen in the winter while he waits for you.

Sylus

Sylus is big and scary but he's surprisingly good with kids? Yes, he's all muscle and height but he'll crouch down really low to talk to your kids

They learn sarcasm from him

Also, they call him Mr. Rich Man (no, you had no hand in that, what do you mean?)

Mr. Rich Man does occasional anonymous donations to your workplace when you complain about something at home. Swing broke? New one the day after. Kids need more toys? There's a truck delivering a bunch of stuff straight away. If you work with endangered kids, you betcha he's sponsoring everything.

You tell him he doesn't have to do all that. Does he stop? Absolutely not.