#thus leading him to meet the love of his life

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers: Character Interviews (Kant/Bison Focus)

So this proved to be super interesting. Let us see what can be gleaned from these brief little interview segments with Kant and Bison.

Immediately, I'm struck by how serious and stoic Kant comes across. He has a very mature aura, and is quite hard to read (which I guess is a plus considering what he gets up to). I didn't expect this, based on how flirty and forward he appeared to be in the trailer, and that makes me wonder if it's all part of a persona he's playing. Or whether the real Kant is in fact more measured and introspective, and Bison just brings out his playful side?

A notable trait that gets signposted repeatedly is Kant's care for his brother Babe. I believe Khao has made a similar comment about him being family-oriented. It makes a tonne of sense to me as to why Bison would be drawn to a 'family man'; someone who has strong family values, when Bison's essentially been rejected by his own.

"My goal in life is to make sure my brother grows up into a good man. I want to make sure he doesn't feel like he's lacking anything. We're all we've got right now." "I just live day by day, just keeping with my goal which is making sure my brother grows up well." This is so telling of Kant's mentality. Not only does it suggest that Kant is a stand-in parent of sorts, but that he doesn't live for himself. (Which could be something of a parallel to Bison - who is unable to live by his own rules). His goals centre entirely on his loved ones' needs being met and supporting them. This definitely gives provider with self-sacrificing tendencies.

"I feel like my goal is just to make sure my loved ones get to live their dreams. For now, I just want my brother to have a good life. But one day, if someone comes into my life and I love them, my goal would be to make sure they get to achieve their dreams." And yet another selfless, touching sentiment. The desire to aid your loved ones to actualise their dreams, possibly before or over your own. I expect Kant will be a very doting, nurturing soul. (Lucky Bison).

I wonder if Kant and Fadel will empathise with one another over their respective little brothers, and the sense of responsibility that comes with it. Bonding opportunity perhaps?

The most mysterious thing Kant says is "One more thing I'm not a big fan of is the beach." (The reason is personal). Curious. First has specifically talked about filming on the beach, where they were able to do a lot more improv. Any speculations on the above are wide open.

Now let's move onto our resident Murder Kitten. I've always said that Bison reads as a real sweetie-pie based on everything we've seen thus far. He's very animated and expressive. Khao very deliberately uses a softer, lighter vocal register as Bison, which just accentuates this cute, darling image. A real child at heart who wants to make up for a life he didn't get to lead. "I go out, I'm just trying to live outside the burger shop." His childhood dream about seeing the northern lights is just another example of a boy who has daydreamed of escape, and welcomes any excuse to be as far away from his actual life as possible. He also mentions being fond of a stray cat who resides near their burger bar, who he enjoys feeding and playing with. This precious boy, I cant. (Note: I need to have scenes of this in the show PURR-LEASE).

Everything about Bison as a person feels at odds with his violent lifestyle, which seems to be a central conflict in Bison's character arc. It does beg the question of what if Bison had never been adopted, what kind of life would he be living instead? And I think this drives Kant's desire to fight for Bison's chance at a new start. A boy with big dreams meets a man who wants to realise them. What a match.

Another comment we've heard before in the pilot is "I also don't like liars", no doubt foreshadowing the fallout when he finds out Kant did exactly that. I do think it's likely that whatever drives Kant to take the detective job has reasons to do with his own brother. He may wish to clear his record of anything untoward for his brother's sake. Based on this premise, when Bison does find out why Kant did what he did, I think that will help soothe any hard feelings.

On a side note - I've seen a comment mention that Kant apparently calls Bison 'kitten' in the novel. ERM HULLO?!! I will allow one spoiler, and that is whether this is true or not. And if so, I DEMAND that it is a featured pet name in the show, because why on earth would you miss an opportunity like that?!

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I'll be updating as the show airs.

[2030kamenriders]

Just realized Kamen Rider Blade turns 20 this year

[espace--positif]

Mornings With Him

A collection of husband!Zayne x F!Reader domestic headcanons [Love and Deepspace]

Summary: Mornings are always better shared. Especially with the love of your life. A collection of fluffy snapshots of mornings spent with husband!Zayne. Pairing: Zayne x F!Reader WC: ~2.1K Content tags: Established relationship, Domestic fluff, Fluff, Romance, Mild suggestiveness Read on AO3 // My Masterlist

Ever since you married the love of your life and began living together, your mornings have changed for the better. But things haven’t always been so smooth, on account of a few differences in your lifestyle that made themselves glaringly obvious early on.

For one, Zayne is a morning person, and you’re regrettably not. Not to the extent that he is, anyway. You don’t ever clash on this, but it’s caused some… unforeseen difficulties in the past, especially for your husband.

He’s always been the type of person to be ready a full hour before he has to leave, whereas you’re more likely to be rushing out the door exactly on the dot, if not later. On top of that, he’s also a morning runner. So when he would try to quietly sneak out of bed to begin his rigorous routine every morning and you’d sleepily cling to him, coaxing him back to the warmth of your shared bed with an almost 100% success rate, to the point where he started regularly missing his morning runs, he figured something had to change.

His solution? He’d find a way for the two of you to spend your mornings together, outside of bed.

Thus, he carefully crafts a shared routine for the both of you, easing you into his way of life while easing himself out of the constancy of his own diligence, little by little.

One early morning, as Zayne woefully pulls himself away from your iron grip, he decides to venture towards the kitchen on a mission. He brews two large cups of coffee and returns to your shared bedroom, where he finds you sprawled on his side of the bed, trying to soak up any residual warmth. You lift your gaze, meeting his with sleepy eyes, and he instantly recognizes the look on your face - his betrayal will not be forgiven nor forgotten, especially this early in the morning when you’re less than agreeable on most things. Well, on all things, really.

He sits at the edge of the bed and silently offers a cup — your favorite cup — and you glare for a while before sitting up and grabbing it. It warms your hands, and you start to think about forgiving him for abandoning his duties as your personal heater.

Over the next week, Zayne gradually adds more layers to your shared routine, carving out a space for you in his little tasks. You’ve become less and less insistent on dragging him back to bed by force, knowing that you’ll be rewarded with a delicious coffee delivered straight to you within a few minutes of his departure. Once his peace offering is well received, he wraps your robe around you and takes you by the hand, leading you to sit by the patio window to enjoy your coffee - in the warmer months, you often sit on the porch — and only then does he take the opportunity to complete his run.

There, while listening to birdsong and being caressed by the gentle breeze, you’re thankful for the brief moment of tranquil solitude. Besides, you know that your husband will be back like clockwork, right as you’ve had your last sip. The corners of your lips inevitably tug upwards every time you see him rounding the bend, jogging back to you. It’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time all over again. You stand to meet him halfway through your yard, and he gently kisses your forehead. You wrap your arms around his warm chest, and his embrace feels as comforting as it has ever felt.

You wash your face and brush your teeth while he showers, and vice versa, both of you relishing in the proximity and safety of each others’ presence even while doing something as mundane as getting ready. While you complete the final touches of your routine in the mirror, Zayne works on a simple breakfast. You’ve never been a breakfast person, but after much insistence and lecturing about how it’s the most important meal of the day, you end up caving, graciously accepting anything he offers you in the morning. His prowess at cooking helps too, of course.

Once you’re ready, you sit across from each other at the dining table, where a helping of sometimes egg and toast, sometimes waffles, sometimes fancy greek yogurt, sits waiting for you. There’s often no need for very many words as you share breakfast together. Both of you sit in the solace of each other’s company for a while, comfortable silence occasionally truncated by a comment of yours on how good the food is, or a comment of his on the weather forecast. Eventually, your renewed energy causes conversation to naturally take off, and you end up rambling about mundanities while he listens attentively, as though it’s the most riveting thing in the world.

By the time you’re set to leave, your morning has already brightened, your smile shining brighter than the sun as you offer to tighten your husband’s tie, a ritual he never refuses even though his tie is already in perfect condition. He returns your beaming smile, and finds that his morning has brightened too, more than he ever could have imagined. For a moment, Zayne blissfully contemplates how he would gladly upend his entire mornings, afternoons, evenings, and nights, all at once, in exchange for this view.

Not all mornings are so predictable. In fact, some morning are simply a continuation of a long, long night…

Zayne almost thinks his eyes are deceiving him when he sees your hunched-over form lit up by dancing blue light from the TV screen. When he awoke at four in the morning to an empty and cold bed, he assumed that you fell asleep in front of the lawyer drama you were so captivated with, but he didn’t imagine that you’d still be watching.

He gingerly comes down the steps, socks muffling his movement, and you’re so caught up in your show that you don’t hear him coming. He stands there, amused and baffled all at once, taking in the sight of you. Here sits his wife, normally a pinnacle of responsibility, huddled in a blanket with nothing but her face poking out, eyes bleary with tiredness, but burning with fervent focus at whatever ridiculous plotline is surely unfolding before her. He lets out an incredulous chuckle. The TV volume is almost too low to hear and you’re busy squinting at the subtitles; you’re considerate even in your most unreasonable moments.

“Honey,” he says, breaking the almost-silence.

You slowly turn to face him, a serious expression etched on your face.

“I think Jacob’s gonna cheat… with Anna-Maria,” you say gravely, as if the world hangs in balance.

He makes a mental note never to leave you to your own devices in front of these shows, even if you swear up and down you’ll only watch one more episode before you join him in bed. But for now, he figures you’ll need proper closure on whether Jacob truly plans to cheat on his wife with his legal assistant, and though he’s loath to admit, he’s curious himself, as Jacob always struck him as an honest enough man.

So he plops down next to you, reserving his lecture on your late-night escapade for another time. You unfurl yourself from your blanket-cocoon, wrap the blanket around you both, and snuggle up against him, thankful for the added warmth on this chilly winter morning.

You watch two and a half more episodes together, in which the Jacob storyline wraps up neatly with a bow on top - he was majorly guilty, of course. Zayne turns the TV off when all is said and done, and you sit in silence, processing the somewhat unsatisfying end to the plotline.

“Don’t you think he got off too easy?” you look up with half-lidded eyes and ask Zayne with genuine curiosity. At this point, the show has become entirely too real in your sleepy mind, and you seem to suddenly have a big problems with the gaps in realism. “His wife immediately went to ‘let’s try couples therapy’ and not ‘you’re an asshole and I’m divorcing you.’ She even put some of the blame on herself!”

Zayne can’t help but smile at how serious yet unserious you look right now - it’s frankly adorable.

“Well, Jacob seems to have something called plot armor, so that helped to lessen his sentence.”

You chortle at the clever wordplay, lightly tapping your husband on the chest. Lazily reaching over to pick up your phone, you check the time and let out a groan.

“Oh no. It’s almost six.”

“It sure is,” Zayne replies with a resigned smile.

“And now I’ve kept you up too,” you whine. “Ugh, I’m sorry. We should go get ready.”

But just as you’re about to drag yourself away from him, Zayne pulls you back into his chest.

���Call in.” It’s more of a gentle command than a suggestion.

You contemplate his words for a while, and he hopes that the warm comfort he feels right now, your body against snugly glued to his, will entice you to stay right where you are as much as it’s enticing him.

“I do have a lot of sick days saved up…” you ponder out loud. “Okay, fine, but under one condition.”

Zayne tilts his head at you inquisitively. Conditional capitulation being one of your specialties, he presumes you’re going to drag him through another one of these dramas that you enjoy so much, and that he’s grown to enjoy as well since meeting you (though he would never admit it).

“You call in too,” you say with a mischievous smile. “I stole two whole hours of your beauty sleep, and a certain someone once told me that any less than 8 hours is unhealthy. So let’s just stay right here and nap all day.”

Zayne leans over and plants a gentle kiss on your lips. You have a knack for saying exactly what he wants to hear — yet another one of your specialties.

“Deal.”

Even when you’re on vacation, hundreds of miles away from any and all possible responsibilities, Zayne doesn’t seem to have an off button. He’s up at seven thirty in the morning, and despite your countless nagging about how that’s too early, he’ll insist that it’s far later than his usual, and that it’s perfectly reasonable.

He’s seemingly impervious to jet lag - he’ll tell you all about how good sleep hygiene and optimal nap times contribute to mitigate its effects, though you’re convinced your husband must have some kind of genetic or occupational advantage over you.

Your mornings together begin almost two generous hours after he’s begun his own routine. His 6AM runs are replaced with what he calls a leisurely maintenance routine at the hotel gym. Then, he comes back upstairs to quietly shower off while you’re still dozing, but not before scouting the hotel buffet. This is a very crucial part of his plan for the two of you.

Zayne is thoughtful enough to let you sleep in on vacation, completing the rest of his morning routine as silently as possible, knowing how much you both need the time off. However, once his shower is completed, your time is up. By 9AM, the curtains are flying open, room service is already on the way with coffee, and he’s crawling into the bed you’ve now appropriated as your own, gently but firmly coaxing you awake as you try to cover your eyes in vain. You settle for gluing yourself to his body and using him as a makeshift shield against the bright sun filtering through the window.

“Mmh… ‘s too early,” you mumble into his chest. He smells of hotel soap, and hotel soap has never smelled so good.

“It’s nine in the morning, dear. You’ll stay jet lagged the whole time if we don’t fix that schedule of yours.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah - you’ve heard it all before. But staying right there, on soft plush covers, cuddling with your husband in the morning sun sounds like an awfully good deal in exchange for a little bit of jet lag.

“And the buffet closes at 10:30.”

He never tires of the way your entire body perks up at the magic word. You look up at him, blinking remnants of sleep away, and repeat his words, as if they’re too good to be true.

“Buffet?”

“That’s right.”

“What’s the pastry situation?”

Your suddenly stern face and steadfast determination sends a low rumble of laughter through his chest.

“Full spread. Salty and savoury. Heated on demand.”

You gulp.

“And eggs?”

“However you want them. Unlimited toppings and fillings.”

You practically shove him off and commando-roll out of the queen bed, scurrying around the room to start getting ready. Normally your not-so-gracious dismount from your impromptu cuddle session would’ve earned you a cheeky comment, but as he watches you discard your robe on the bathroom floor, then saunter over to your open luggage to find your “buffet-primed clothes”, as you like to call them, your bare curves basking in the sunlight, he finds that he doesn’t mind your enthusiasm at all.

Thank you for reading! I’ve been thinking about domestic Zayne nonstop so of course I had to write about it. He’s so husband-material coded it’s not even funny. I might write something like this again in the future if I think of more scenarios! 💜

[hmusunoo]

𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒!

(✶) - smut

(♥) - series

ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴅᴀʏ ᴇᴛɪqᴜᴇᴛᴛᴇ (ᴘ.ꜱʜ) (✶) - @simpjaes

▏Park Sunghoon is not dull, nor is he the clean cut neighbor your mother thinks he is. Oh, the horrors of if she found out that the man she set you up on this date with immediately took you home and rendered you unable to walk...he'd never be able to defend himself without a swift slap to the head.

ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ꜱᴇx ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ! (ᴘ.ꜱʜ) (✶) - @munivrse

▏phone sex. kinda public. mutual masturbation, mentions of breeding, face fucking, degradation & praise sandwiches, reader cums once, sunghoon is a whore so he cums twice.

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ (ꜱ. ᴊʏ) (✶) - @heehoonies

▏you and sim jaeyun have been academic rivals for as long as you can remember, competing intensely to beat the other in every class you've ever shared. for years, you've hidden your feelings for him, burying them deep down where jake can't find them, and you're hellbent on ensuring he never discovers your secret.

ʏᴏᴜ % ʜᴇᴇꜱᴇᴜɴɢ (ʟ. ʜꜱ) - @postalenha

▏heeseung’s new gaming console has been a hinder to your relationship. but you know better, and tries to understand that he’s just enjoying the new equipment he worked so hard to have.

ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇɴɢᴇʀ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ (ꜱ. ᴊʏ) (✶) - @cupcakedkiss

▏Your boyfriends job was dangerous, you knew this. Putting his life at risk every night at exactly 12 am had never been ordinary to you, thus never stopping you from being his passenger princess.

ꜱᴀꜱꜱʏ (ᴘ. ᴊꜱ) - @jaysng

▏jay trying to re-gain his drama queen daughter’s attention after she got mad at him.

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ (ᴘ. ᴊꜱ) (✶) - @ja3yun

▏visiting your tax fraudulent dad in prison and nothing was new, except the boy being carted in to the police station in cuffs. when you follow your connection on a reckless whim, it opens you up to a world filled with crime, love, and realisations about who you are.

ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ (ᴘ.ꜱʜ) (✶) - @i2sunric

▏just like eva did in the garden of eden, you fell under the serpent's court and now are under his spell. you knew you shouldn't betray your boyfriend, jake, like that when he was (not) so right for you, but seeing that he spent more time out for work made you seek the love and affection you needed, and who if not sunghoon could give you what you deserved?

ᴍᴇʟᴛɪɴɢ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ (ᴘ.ꜱʜ) (✶) (♥) - @ja3yun

▏when circumstances unexpectedly bring you and your brother's long-time ice skating rival, park sunghoon, together, you discover a surprising connection. However, your brother forbids any relationship between you. Will you heed his advice or follow your heart?

ꜰᴀʟʟᴇɴ ꜱᴛᴀʀ (ꜱ. ᴊʏ) (✶) (♥) - @h5eavenly

▏after being fired and blacklisted from the entertainment industry your life is on the verge of falling apart. An opportunity arises to save you when you get a job offer to work as a personal assistant for ex lead singer of the rock band PARANOIA! and now turned model, nicknamed the nation’s sweetheart- Jake Sim. However his image crumbles quickly when you discover he’s nothing but the devil in disguise.

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ (ᴘ.ꜱʜ) - @stllmnstr

▏After an ankle injury lands you in mandated physical therapy sessions instead of on the ice where you should be training for nationals, you're absolutely certain you must be the most frustrated, emotionally volatile figure skater on the planet. Park Sunghoon proves you wrong.

ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴄᴇ (ꜱ. ᴊʏ) - @jaylver

▏Punching a guy in the club then kissing him not long after at a hockey game wasn't exactly a fairytale, but for you, it was your reality. The worst part of all it wasn't even the incidents that happened, but the fact that you didn't know him or his name. That was until another stir of events that happened which caused you and him to actually meet, so what was the best way to break the ice after a disastrous punch and a shocking kiss together? A date. It could be love at first sight, or more accurately, it was love at first punch, or … kiss?

disclaimer - if any of the mentioned authors do not wish to be on this list and want to be removed please dm me and ill remove it! This is just a appreciation post (:

[cinnamon-galaxies]

Hi! I saw that your request box was open. Could I request a Alastor x fem!reader who is a mornigstar, charlie's older sister and she is engaged with Alastor. In episode 5, Dad beat Dad, I thought their relationship is kept secret and was revealed later on shocking lucifer and their friends

Dad beat Fiancé beat Dad

Pairings: Alastor x Fem!Reader / Alastor x Morningstar!Reader Tags: hurt/comfort, (a little bit of) fluff, secret relationship/engagement, Alastor vs Lucifer, Morningstar!Reader, Fem!Reader Warnings: language/swearing, kiss, argument/bickering, reader is Charlie’s older sister, English is not my first language! Summary: You are Charlie's older sister and secretly engaged to Alastor. When your sister invites your father to the hotel to ask for his help with her rehabilitation program, you look forward to his arrival. However, things take a turn when tensions escalate between your father and your fiancé, leading to heated bickering. Overcome with frustration, you finally lash out and accidentally reveal your engagement to the King of Hell and the hotel's residents. Wordcount: 5.4k A/N: This one turned out so long! I really hope you like it and that the story meets your expectations! English is not my first language so I want to apologize for possible grammar and spelling mistakes. I really tried my best to make as few mistakes as possible!

“Well, I’m actually running a hotel to rehabilitate sinners. Maybe you saw our commercial,” you heard your younger sister speak into the telephone, releasing a nervous chuckle here and there. Then a sigh escaped her lips. “Listen, dad, I’ve got kind of a big ask…”   You stood a few feet away and stared at her, unsure what to think of this whole idea. Was it really that smart to ask your father to organize another meeting with heaven? The last one already didn’t end well. But what other choice was left for you? Still, it released a weird feeling inside your guts, now that you watched Charlie calling your dad, since your and your sister’s relationships with him were kind of… special. Your father tended to distance himself from the both of you for the most time, bathing in his own emotional dilemma and not even trying to do anything about it. Thus neglecting the both of you. Well, at least he called your sister five months ago regarding that meeting with Adam in heaven’s local embassy. But when it comes to you it’s been even longer since you’ve talked. Maybe a year? Or even longer. You didn’t actually know and also some part within you didn’t even want to. But what you knew is that you missed him. Although, in contradiction, you weren’t really fond of him at the moment. It’s not that you didn’t love him. He was your father, regardless, and you both shared a lot of wholesome and fun memories. But since your mother had left him seven years ago, things had turned out strange and you didn’t really approve of his weird-ass behavior towards you and your sister. Still, you hoped your father would agree to help you out. Maybe, just maybe, there was a probability that you saw him again. You had so much to tell him. Your life has changed a lot since you started supporting your sister in the hotel. And even before, when you met Alastor…

Lost in your thoughts you missed parts of the phone call and as your consciousness returned to reality, you saw your sister taking the phone down and ending the call. Curious about the outcome you cocked your head. “What did he say?”

   “Well,” Charlie stared at an empty space for a brief moment, “it seems that dad will be coming over.”

   Your mouth fell agape and your eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, really?” you asked her and a huge smile grew on your face. “That’s awesome! When?”

   Charlie proudly straightened her back and stemmed her hands into her hips. “We have an hour until he gets here.”

   You turned around to face the other residents who sat on the couch and raised your voice, “Okay people. Dad’s on his way, so we’re getting this place presentable and we are all going to make an amazing impression. Let’s go!”

   That’s when Vaggie spoke up, “That’s a great idea! Husker, Angel and I will go get some decorations for the lobby,” her eyes wandered down to Niffty, “Niffty, you and Sir Pentious will bake some cookies so we have something to eat when it’s time for coffee.”

   Nifty nodded exaggeratedly, almost vibrating from that force she put into her motion. She instantly grabbed Sir Pentious’s hand and dragged him down the hallway towards the kitchen. When Husker, Angel and Vaggie went to get the decorations from the storage room you and Charlie were left alone. 

   “Are you as excited as I am?” You asked her with a moving voice and examined your sister expectantly. It was no secret that Charlie took that whole situation with your father a bit differently from you. While you almost imploded waiting to get a chance to meet him again, your sister was more reserved and kept herself a bit more distant from him. Even though she was the one your father seemed to favor when it came to dealing with the conflict with heaven. It didn’t matter that you were the older daughter… 

   “Ahm… I don’t know,” Charlie responded nervously stroking her neck, “I mean, yes, I am. But at the same time…” She hesitated and you put your hand on her shoulder.

   “Don’t worry, sis. I can understand,” you reassured her with a calm voice and smiled at her with genuine eyes. You could feel her shoulders relax under your supporting gesture.

   “Thank you,” she responded and returned your smile. “It’s just… You know, since he and mom split, I often don’t feel like his daughter anymore. Yet he sounded very excited to come over.”

   You took a deep breath and removed your hand from her shoulder. “We’ll see how things are going when he arrives.”

   Charlie chuckled. “Well, I think you should go and inform Alastor about our special guest,” she requested, raising her eyebrows in concern. Charlie was the only person at the hotel who knew about your secret relationship with him. When you decided to knock on the door to propose your support to your sister, you and Alastor were already dating. In fact, you were the one who dragged him here because – regardless of his fearful and sketchy reputation – you knew he’d make a great hotelier and protector for the residents during future exterminations. But you both didn’t introduce yourselves as a couple right away. Instead, you found common ground in letting your sister know but keeping it hidden from the other residents. There were several reasons you both had decided against making your relationship public: Alastor’s reputation as the Radio Demon, yours as Lucifer’s oldest daughter, the gossip, the media… These and many more were all things you didn’t want to deal with. Especially since Alastor was a very private person who despised showing affection outside his private space and you, as a person who had no desire to brag about your partner, were totally fine with it. What happened in private chambers stayed in private chambers. That was your agreement, and if you let your friends know about your relationship, there would be too much risk that it would eventually become public. The only other person next to Charlie, and outside the hotel, who knew about your and Alastor’s connection, was his decades-long friend Rosie.

Repeating your sister's request in your head you nodded in agreement. It was the best to prepare Alastor. Even though an hour alone wouldn’t be long enough for him to digest the fact that he was about to meet your father. “Oh, I think he’ll be excited about the news,” you responded with a sarcastic tone and couldn’t help but release a malicious laugh. Oh, how much he will hate this...

You heard Charlie laughing along and shaking her head in amusement. But as quickly as the amusement appeared, it disappeared as you continued to think about the fact that Alastor was actually going to meet your father. With a deep breath you dropped your smile and lowered your voice. “Do you think it would be a good idea to tell dad about Alastor and me?”

   “Ahm…” Charlie seemed to think about it more carefully before commenting, “I actually don’t know… I wish I could tell you but that’s something you and Alastor have to decide. First of all, I’d wait until after they had their first impressions of each other. Then… maybe… introduce him to the truth? I mean, if you and Alastor plan to stay together, what I hope – I mean… It’s obvious, why else would you date if it isn’t for staying together?” She chuckled at how much she was lost in her words and cleaned her throat. “I’m sorry. What I mean to say is that it would be beneficial for your shared future if you let dad know. At least at some point in the future.”

   You nodded in understanding and gifted her a slight smile. “Thank you. Maybe I’ll talk to him about this later. First of all, I need to prepare him for meeting his soon-to-be father in law.” You laughed and excused yourself before you left the lobby and went upstairs.

   When you arrived at Alastor’s radio station you knocked on the door.

   “You may come in!” you heard Alastor’s dulled voice through the door and opened it. When you entered the radio station you immediately saw him sitting at his desk, leaning over some papers and holding a pen in his hand. When you closed the door, he placed the pen to the side and turned to look at you.

   “Why hello, darling,” he greeted you, his signature smile on his face but his red eyes revealing a neutral expression. “What brings you here?”

   “Well...” You took a deep breath and strolled towards him with your hands folded behind your back and your lips pressed to your teeth. “I’ve got some news for you that you’ll probably hate.”

   “Oh?” he responded curiously and tilted his head to the side. His red hair swayed with the movement.

   You arrived at his desk and leaned against the tabletop, your front mostly faced towards him. You tilted your head in the same direction as he did and couldn’t manage to suppress an amused smile. “My dad will be here in less than an hour,” you said with a cocky voice and watched Alastors expression shift as his lips curled up around his smile and his eyes immediately twitched. An awkward silence fell over the room before he broke it with a snippy tone, “You’re right. I hate that news.” His neck returned to a straight and more natural position and you chuckled.

   “Vaggie’s the one to blame. She came up with the idea that Charlie should call him to ask for help because she could no longer bear seeing my sister ripping her hair out in despair over her missing rehabilitation success,” you explained and a growl escaped Alastor’s throat. He already didn't like Vaggie and now he probably liked her even less.

   “Splendid,” he said without enthusiasm and stood up from his chair, grabbing his microphone cane and leaning on it. Now taller than you, you had to tilt your head back to be able to look him in the eyes. “How about I excuse myself and disappear for another set of seven years?”

   “Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” you responded, raised your index finger and waved it in front of him. “You will stand your ground and behave. It’s just my dad.”

   “He’s the king of hell, darling.”

   “And that's why you'll be going down there and prove to him that you're a worthy partner for his princess daughter.”

   He gritted his teeth and your smile widened as you nonchalantly brushed the wrinkles out of his coat.

   “Are you questioning my abilities, darling?” He asked, placing one of his hands on top of yours, thus stopping your movements and squeezing it.

   You felt your cheeks blush at his affectionate action and stepped closer to him, your body now close enough that it almost touched his. You could feel the warmth radiating off him and tilted your head slightly, your eyes still locked with his. “No, I’m not. And that’s exactly why I want you to do as I said.”

   “Oh, is her dear royal highness misusing her mightiness to give me an order?” he asked with a low and unusually soft voice and a shiver ran down your spine. Oh, how you loved it when he became flirty. His charm was able to captivate you instantly, weakening your legs and waking those tingling butterflies in your stomach. He removed your hands from his coat and pulled you closer to him. Your body now touching his, you felt the urge to rest your head into the crook of his neck but resisted.

   “She indeed is. And you better behave, peasant,” you teased him back and Alastor narrowed his eyes at you degrading him like this.

   He let go of one of your hands and instead cupped your cheek before using his fingers to lift your chin up. “You seem to forget that I’m your finacé”, he purred, leaning in closer until only a few inches separated your noses from touching. His hot breath stroked your face and you could’ve sworn that his eyes had turned to a darker hue.

   Without further hesitation he pulled you into a tender kiss. His lips brushed over yours and you leaned in closer, succumbing yourself completely to him. Your free hand roamed up and slid through his hair, pressing his face closer to yours. After a few moments of togetherness both of you let go of each other.

   “We should return to the foyer. My dad can arrive any minute,” you said and stroked his cheek before heading towards the door. You could hear Alastor sigh behind you.

   “Just as a reminder: I can’t promise you things will go well.”

   You rolled your eyes as you left the radio station together. “At least try.”

   After you entered the foyer most preparations were already done and it didn’t take long until your father arrived. Your body was shaking from excitement as you and Charlie went up to the door and your sister opened it.

   "Charlie!,” your father shouted with joy. A huge grin sat on his face and his yellow eyes sparkled as his gaze fell on your sister who stood much closer to him. He held out his arms and approached her, pulling her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you!”

   “It’s good to see you too, dad,” Charlie pressed through the tight hug of her father, overwhelm and a little bit of uncomfort in her expression.

   When Lucifer let go of her his eyes fell on you. "Y/N! You’re here too?” his pupils dilated in surprise and you immediately found yourself wrapped in his arms as well.

   “Dad!” you greeted him as you placed your hands around his torso and squeezed, the soft fragrance of his cologne entering your nose. He smelled the same he always did, the scent taking you back to the past when your family was still together and healthy. It was wonderful to be this close to him after such a long time and you wished this moment could last longer. You looked to the side and saw Alastor standing near your sister. But what you didn’t see was one of his eyes twitching at your father’s gesture.

   You let go of each other and Charlie held out her hand, spinning and pointing at the lobby. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

   The other residents greeted him with waving hands from afar and your father smiled back at them, walking through the lobby and letting his gaze wander around. “Wow, this place looks, uh…” he twisted his mouth in an unpleasant manner and frowned, searching for the right words. He chuckled nervously and you and Charlie exchanged glances as he stammered around, turning to the side and surveying the establishment as if he was a property inspector. You could tell that nervousness spread across Charlie’s face as she probably hoped his words wouldn’t be too dismissive. You shrugged your shoulders at her to dismiss your father’s unsettling behavior and followed him.

   “What do you think, dad?” you dared to ask him in hopes he’d come up with a response a little faster if you pushed on him a little.

   “It’s got a lot of character,” he eventually said and winched with a squeak when he turned around and laid eyes on the bar. “What in the unholy hell is that?” he asked repulsively and pointed to the swampy-looking counter decorated with skulls and two full snake skeletons wrapped around the poles. The green wood paneling disrupted the noble red wallpaper of the looby, making it appear like an eyesore amidst the otherwise mostly luxurious decor.

   A dark shadow crawled around the floor and took the form of Alastor who appeared right next to him. “Just some of the renovations we had done! ” he explained, pointing his cane at the bar, his signature smile wide and confident before he turned towards Lucifer and leaned on his cane. “Adds a bit of color, don’t you think?”

   “And you are?” Lucifer asked with raised eyebrows, a skeptical tone in his voice.

   You, again, exchanged glances with Charlie and held your breath. The moment has come in which your father and your financé had their first contact and somehow you got the feeling that this won’t end well. Your sister seemed to be fearing the same and she stepped closer to you. Her presence calmed your tension at least a little. 

   “Alastor,” your finacé introduced himself, “Pleasure to be meeting you, sir. Quite a pleasure!” He shook your fathers hand and you could see the disapproval in both their eyes, before they let go. Your father grimaced while Alastor wiped his hands over his coat.

   This most definitely won’t end well. But before you and Charlie could say something, Alastor continued, “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. You are much shorter in real life.”

   You breathed in sharply. Your father didn’t seem to take his comment well as his expression immediately turned to annoyance. You and Charlie both approached them, your sister standing next to your father while you kept closer to Alastor. You really hoped that he’d notice your disapproval over how things were going and slow down a bit. But you knew him well enough to be sure he wouldn’t notice the tension in the room and also wouldn't care if he did.

   “Who is this?” your father asked, his eyes fixated on the demon before him. “Who’s this now? Are you the bellhop?”

   Alastor laughed in response. “No! I’m the host of the hotel. You might’ve heard of me from my radio broadcast,” he explained.

   Your father pretended to ponder his words for a very short moment but then denied with a derogatory snort. “Nope! I guess that’s why Charlie called it the ‘Hazbin Hotel’?” He laughed at his pun, this time more maliciously. The tension grew stronger and you didn’t even realize that you held your breath and pressed your fists so tightly together that your nails painfully stung your palms. Your sister, on the other hand, nervously rubbed her hands.

   Hiding his offense, Alastor piled into your father’s laughter, “It was actually my idea.”

   “Well, it’s not very clever!” your father responded, increasing his laugh.

   Alastor did the same and leaned in closer, “Fuck you.”

   “Alastor!” you yelled at him in shock and disbelief over his rude words and took him by his arm, dragging him to the side while your sister shoved your father into the other direction.

   “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you scolded him with a lowered voice to keep your conversation as private as possible. He’d never been someone who cussed so why did he have to do this now of all times?

   “He started it,” Alastor explained, keeping his face turned in the other direction to avoid eye contact.

   You breathed in sharply, anger boiling within you as you hissed, “I don’t care about who did what. You were supposed to make a good impression!”

   “Excuse me, dear, but it seems that your father and I don’t get along. And this seems to be based on mutuality. I don’t know if you noticed this but he already looked at me disapprovingly before we even exchanged words.”

   Oh, you did notice this. But you didn’t care because in this moment it was important for both of them to at least pretend to tolerate each other. You couldn’t afford your father and your finacé to already disembowel each other during their first encounter. Important aspects of your shared future relied on their correlation. And… Was Alastor even listening to you?!

   You snatched his cane out of his hands and spinned it around.

   Alastor finally turned to look at you, his teeth gritted and his eyebrows pushed together. His gaze became softer as he eyed your expression but he still seemed tense.

   “You’ll put this right, Alastor. Or otherwise…” You don’t finish your sentence and instead poke the pointy end of his cane between his ribs.

   “Fine,” he growled and took his cane back.

   You both turned around and saw Charlie pushing your father in your direction, her arm resting on his shoulder while she talked to him insistently with a calm but worried voice, “Without Alastor, we wouldn’t have been able to pretty it up this much!”

   Alastor took a step closer, tapping his fingertips on his cane. “Charlie has a very unique vision,” he started and stood next to her, forcing himself to sound as honest and courteous as possible, “I am happy to fulfill her bizarre requests.”

   “Thank you, Alastor”, your sister responded, ignoring your frowning father who looked anything but amused.

   Alastor continued, “Quite an impressive young lady. We’re all very proud of her.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and Charlie gave him a genuine smile before he let go and turned towards you. “And her sister, Y/N, well…” He laid his red eyes on you with a genuine and almost loving smile and rested his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly in an almost unnoticeable but reassuring manner. “She’s an extraordinary being. Introduced me to this very special place so we can give her sister all the support and assistance she needs.”

   You smiled at him, grateful that he followed your request to at least try to make things right.

   Your father growled and narrowed his eyes as he noticed the way Alastor looked at you, the demon’s hand on your shoulder triggering his already strained nerves. He snatched his head in the other direction to face your sister. “Charlie… Why don’t you introduce me to your other friends?”

   “Oh, yes, of course!” she called out and walked up to the other residents. “This is Vaggie. She’s my girlfriend!” She pulled Vaggie with her who shyly raised her hand in a reserved greeting gesture.

   Your father laughed and his mood immediately switched from annoyance to excitement. “Oh my golly! You like girls? So do I! We have so much in common!” He pulled Vaggie in a rushed embrace, letting her go as fast as he got close to her. “She’s beautiful!”

   You felt your heart sink in your chest at your father’s opposite reaction to your sister’s partner and a strike of anxiety hit you at the thought of telling him the truth about you and Alastor. It wasn’t only the fact you both were a couple that made you this insecure but the fact that you were even engaged to him.

   Alastor seemed to sense your inner tension and squeezed your shoulder again, now with more pressure and you were grateful for him that he hadn’t removed his hand yet. His closeness was exactly what you needed at this moment. You moved a bit closer to him, hoping that you both didn't appear too close in the other eyes, and breathed in his scent while your thoughts raced in your head. You reviewed the events again and realized that Alastor was right. You had little reason to be so angry (only) at him because your father didn’t really behave either from the first second. Hopefully you could somehow dismiss this conflict as a matter of miscommunication between them.

   You watched your sister introduce your father to the other residents which he seemed to get along with very well – contrary to your finacé who seemed to be the only one he immediately despised.

   You sighed and that’s when your father turned around to face the lobby. With a determined expression he raised his voice so everybody could hear him, “Well, it looks like I could give you some help. With a little bit of alakazam,” he wiggled his fingers, indicating a magic spell, “we could turn this place into something much more appealing! I mean, who needs a busboy now that you got the chef?” He faced Alastor with narrowed eyes and poked his elbow teasingly into Charlie’s side.

   You could feel Alastor’s grip on your shoulder tightening. His smile turned into a strained grin as he obviously thought about saying something. You begged that he kept his mouth shut to not reinforce their conflict… 

   “Well, Charlie…” your father continued before Alastor could even say something, “I’m not almighty but I could give you a lot. Almost anything, if you ask for it. You know, normally, I’d charge a lot for my help but since you’re my daughter and I love you with all my heart, it’s a matter of course I do it for free. Unlike that sketchy prick who probably has some devious intentions in his mind.” He raised his cane and pointed at Alastor.

   Charlie blinked a few times and pressed a nervous and drawled ‘Thank you…’ through her uncomfortable smile. It was obvious that she didn’t approve of your father’s comment but she also didn’t want to increase the drama by intervening.

   Alastor took his hand off your shoulder and leaned on his cane. “At least I’ve been here from the start,” he commented and eyed his claws with a hint of arrogance.

   You breathed in sharply but tried your best to keep your patience up as Alastor continued his monologue. “Let's not forget that I’ve always been faithful to you, Charlie. I support you, care for you and this hotel, and execute whatever you demand”, he exclaimed with such confidence that it was almost awkward listening to him.

   “That’s true,” your sister responded carefully with a grateful smile on her face and your father rolled his eyes. “You know, dad, Alastor does a lot for the hotel and its residents.”

   “No matter his capabilities, because sometimes, Charlie, there’s no substitute for pure angelic power, which – not to forget – also happens to be your blood!”

   “Dad…” Charlie sighed and you growled, the anger cooking inside of you.

   “Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud,” Alastor interfered again, his grin still as prominent as always but his eyes narrowed, darting invisible arrows at Lucifer. He straightens his back to appear even taller in comparison to your father, the arrogance undeniable in his expression. “Seems like the family you chose is better.”

   “You’re such a loser!” your dad spat out.

   “And yet here you are proving me right with every word you speak,” Alastor snatched back.

   “You know nothing, you prick!”

   “Well, unlike you, I don’t abandon my responsibilities!”

   “How do you dare question my commitment?”

   “At least I care for your daughters.”

   “Oh you tacky little piece of–!”

You jumped between them. “Shut the fuck up! Both of you!”

 you yelled as your anger burst through the walls you’ve tried to maintain hold of. Your voice cracked with the strain of suppressed fury and your appearance began to morph into a much more demonic form as pointy horns grew out of your head and your eyes turned a gleaming bloody red. “I’m sick of you bickering like children, you fucking attention whores! Is this how you get your kicks, by not being able to keep your mouths shut over such trivial nonsense? Do you even realize how goddamn irritating it is for the rest of us to be subjected to your constant squabbling? You know each other for ten minutes and already start pushing each other to the limits!”

   “Y/N–,” Alastor tried to interrupt you but you stretched out your arm, pushing him away from you.

   “No, Alastor, back the fuck off!” you scream, looking up in his red eyes and poking his chest angrily with your index finger. “Everytime I tell you to keep your shit together and make a good impression, you make things worse!”

   Your head snatches around and you now stare at your father with the same fury in your eyes. “And you, dad, stop your irresponsible nonsense and don’t taunt him as if he were a punching bag for your own insecurities!” Now you poke at your father’s chest, towering over him with floating hair and fire in your eyes. “Because Alastor’s right! Where have you been all the time? Instead of helping us and supporting Charlie in her project, you didn't even contact us! Especially not me! The last time I heard from you was over a year ago! And now you come here, finally ready to help your daughters, and the moment you arrive you start lashing out at my fiancé to deflect from your own mistakes because you can't stand the fact that he was there for us while you preferred to wallow yourself in your depression!”

   Silence fell over the room when you finished your rant, all eyes locked on you in shock and disbelief over your courage to attack the Radio Demon and the King of Hell himself in such a manner. Your heart raced, pumped your blood through your veins with such a pressure that you felt your whole body pulsating under your tension as relief washed over you.

   “Y–,” your dad tried to say, stuttering and completely overwhelmed by your confrontation and what you just revealed to him. “You–, Your… fiancé?” He ripped his eyes open, his mouth agape in disbelief.

   You breathed in heavily and closed your eyes for a brief moment, realizing what you just revealed, before you opened them again and responded to his question with a much calmer but also weak and tired voice, “Yes, dad. Alastor is my fiancé.”

   “What the fuck?” you could hear Angel exclaim in the background but ignored him.

   “Well…” your father hesitated. He struggled hard to find the right words and put his hand over his mouth, rubbing his skin like a stress ball. “Well, I’m… Wow…”

   Alastor approached you, his steps echoing from the high walls in the silent room and he put his hand on your shoulder. Feeling his touch through your blouse, caused a jolt of electricity to rush through your body. It erased the rest of your anger and your appearance returned to your normal form. Alastor’s presence calmed you down to an almost relaxed state. You felt the need to lean on him but resisted because everything that just happened was already enough – for you, for your father, your fiancé and all the other residents who were forced to witness this nerve-wrecking spectacle.

   You watched your father’s gaze roam over Alastor’s presence, from his head to his toes and from his toes back to his head.

   “I–, I don’t know what to say… Uh… I–... I’m speechless,” he stuttered, unable to look away from the man that stood next to you and encouraged you with a little but meaningful gesture and with who you wanted to spend the rest of eternity with. “I–, excuse me. I need some time to think.”

   Your father indicated to turn around and leave as your sister grabbed him by his arm, holding him back. “Would you like me to give you a tour around the hotel?” she asked him reassuringly in hope he would agree, what he then did.

   “Yes. Please.”

   Your sister gave you an encouraging look before she turned around and guided your father towards the stairs, Vaggie following right after to accompany them.

   Now, you and Alastor were alone with Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk and Niffty. All of them stared at you, speechless. Especially Husk appeared a bit traumatized by your accidental announcement.

   “So… Mister fancy-talk-creepy-voice managed to slide into the royal family?” Angel asked you with interest but you raised your hand, interrupting him.

   “Stop it, Angel.”

   The spider demon pressed his lips together in a thin line and hummed.

   You turned towards Alastor. “Are you mad?” you asked him, afraid that you damaged his trust by revealing your biggest secret you had sworn to keep.

   Alastor leaned his head down sideways to look you in the eyes. His grin was replaced by a genuine smile as his red eyes surveyed your expression. “It’s alright, my dear.”

   He looked over to the other residents, walking a few steps closer to them and cocked his head in an unnatural and unnerving way. His antlers grew in size with pointy ends while his eyes changed to a black color with red, moving radio dials as irises. “If you dare say a single word about mine and Y/N’s relationship outside of the hotel, I will tear you apart and hang your guts as flags on the hotel roof so everybody will be able to see what happens if you dare gossip about the radio demon and his lady.”

*****

[loveluvrs]

not enough l max verstappen x reader

request/summary – Hi! Can I request for an angsty Max Verstappen x Reader where she is just a normal girl y’know not the “supermodel” type like the other WAGs and she also leads a normal life with a normal job, thus why she got so much hate from the media and the fangirls. Never quite fit in with the other WAGs either. At some point it’s all getting too much and she decided to break up with Max because she truly believes that she’s not meant for this life but then she saw Max stands up for her during a press conference?? I had this scenario in mind while listening to Gold Rush by Taylor Swift, if that also helps! Thank you <3

author's notes – HELLO??/ LANDO WIN??? IM SO PROUD OF HIM! do expect another fic coming out this weekend around lando's win. it will be self indulgent about reader missing the race 🤕 keep an eye out but enjoy this in the meantime and keep sending in requests!!

Max and I sat in our hotel room the night before the race weekend started. I was sat on the floor as I tried to help Max with unpacking his suitcase. I had, by some miracle, convinced my lovely (but not exactly fashionable) boyfriend to wear some non-Red Bull clothes for once to the paddock. He reluctantly agreed, since he knew I barely come to races with him due to my tight schedule, and this was the least he could do for me. 

“Okay, idea. How about, you wear the Miami GP button up…and then the black jeans I bought with you, the baggy ones, and then your usual shoes? Not too much out of your comfort zone, I hope?” I ask with excitement as I look back up towards him. 

“And what if I don’t like it?” He asks, clearly unsure of the whole idea. I nod understandingly. “Well, I mean, of course you don’t have to, Maxie. But I just thought it’d be fun. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I say softly as I try and search his face for any signs for the reason to his reluctance. 

I watched as his head dropped down to his lap. “And what if I look stupid in it?” He asks quietly. I immediately felt my heart melt. “Baby, why ever would you think that? You’ll look great in it, promise. But it’s okay if you don’t want to, we can try again some other time, okay?” I say softly as I interlock our hands to comfort him. He nodded. 

——

When we got to the paddock, I felt a little out of place, knowing all the other WAGs would be there. Max notices me fidgeting nervously with my fingers, and he brings my hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on it before intertwining our fingers. During all the practice sessions, quali, and the race, I felt awfully like an outsider. All the other girls were supermodels, and very conventionally attractive. I felt like the stand out amongst them, and not in a good way. They all talked with each other earnestly about the newest dress shop they just found, and while they had no malicious intentions of leaving me out, it just didn’t work with my humor and their tastes. 

With a sigh, I go roam the paddock. Max finds me afterwards, a little confused. “Hey schatje, I thought you were with the other girlfriends?” He asks softly as his arm slings around my shoulders to bring me with him as he walks to the garage. I try and brush off the left out feeling I had from earlier and just shrug. “I was just getting a little bored, nothing much,” I say as I shoot him a quick smile. “You sure?” He asks with raised brows as he looks at me knowingly. I nod with a hum, giving him a kiss before I send him off to his meetings. 

After the race, Max flies to Monaco for the next race, and I fly back to the UK to my place as I didn’t have any more days off. I open my phone a few days after, scrolling on twitter as usual. I felt my heart sink a little as I see a tweet with all of the WAGs being spotted hanging out. I felt my stomach churn at the way their skin glowed, and their clothes hung off their figures so delicately yet so effortlessly. It was stupid to feel jealous of them, I knew it was. But it was also stupid of me to think I could ever have been a part of the same category they were. And unfortunately, the replies to the tweet all agreed. 

maxfan93739 – I wonder why max’s girl isn’t there? 

georgeschassis – why would she be there? she’s not even a model?

dutchlion – I don’t even think she’s talked to them before

landosbandage – yeah she’s not like the other gfs, she usually keeps to herself

I turned off my phone, unable to think straight. Max called me that night to let me know that he got his schedule cleared by some miracle and was gonna fly out to be with me in the morning, but I had already fallen asleep from exhaustion. I hadn’t ate the whole day, staying in my bed under the covers, burying myself from everything and everyone until my eyes closed from fatigue. 

I woke up the familiar sound of Max playing with my cat in the morning, a few laughs from him. I felt like I was going to throw up, so dizzy that I didn’t even question the fact that Max was at my place so suddenly. I opened up my phone to the usual tweets, and I couldn’t stop myself from searching up my name, seeing what people were saying about me. 

she’s so much fatter and shorter than the other gfs, don’t know why max is with her….. 

annoying people attract annoying people ig……. 

Max is a three time world champion, he shouldn’t be with an ugly girl whose using him for his money and fame……

we’ve never even seen her support him in public, she plays it off as being introverted and shy as if we don’t know what she’s doing. 

I slam my phone face down as I hear Max’s voice. “Schat? Hey, I didn’t know you were awake. I called you last night to tell you I was gonna fly in last minute, but I think you already fell asleep, right?” Max asks with no suspicion of what I was just doing. I nodded. “You want some breakfast, love? I ordered in some waffles from that place you love?” He asks excitedly. 

I stay silent for a moment, thinking of the tweets. “Uh, you know what? I think I’ll skip out on breakfast today,” I say with a nonchalant smile. His smile falters. “Baby, you need to have breakfast or else you’ll be hungry. It’s not healthy,” he says as his voice softens. “No no no, I know, Maxie. I just had a really heavy dinner last night. Like really heavy. If I need a snack before I’ll lunch I’ll take it, don’t worry,” I say to try and convince him. I hold my breath as he scans me, thinking about my answer, before finally nodding and accepting it. “You tell me if you need a snack, alright?” He says as he presses a kiss on my forehead. 

This kept going on for many days, me making excuses about my meals like me eating when he was working out, or having a snack earlier, or that I felt super full from the last meal. Finally, one morning Max confronts me. 

He walks up to me while I’m sitting on the couch, my cat in my lap as I’m petting it. “Schatje, we need to talk. I know exactly what you’re doing. You’ve barely been eating, my love, what’s going on?” He asks with concern lacing his voice as he sits down next to me. 

I stiffen slightly, my stomach knotting up as I think about what he’s referring to. “Why don’t you ask twitter?” I say coldly. I see him sigh immediately, pursing his lips. “You know twitter isn’t good to listen to. It’s all bullshit, love,” he says as he tries to reach his arm out to me. I pull away, letting my cat go as I stand up. 

“Max, this is exhausting. I cannot constantly feel like every part of me is ugly because of the other WAGs being so stupidly beautiful because they’re models. I cannot handle being in the spotlight and having every single mannerism of mine criticized, every fluctuation in weight pinpointed and spotlighted for the world to see. I can’t do….. this,” I say with a sigh. 

He takes a few minutes to process what I’ve just said. “You can’t do…. us? Is that what you’re saying?”

I gulp, my silence being enough of an answer for him. “Oh come on, you can’t be serious. You’re gorgeous, and I don’t care that other girlfriends are models. I only care about you. Please, we can make this work,” he pleads softly. 

I shake my head. “I’ve been trying, Max. I’ve been trying to make it work this whole time. It’s just not happening. It’s too much for me. I need time away from it all.”

“You’re doing this to yourself, it doesn’t have to be like this,” he mutters with a voice of frustration.

I felt my eyes roll in frustration. “You just don’t get it! I wish so badly the I could just, not care the way you do, but unfortunately I care very very much about what they all say! And don’t you fucking dare blame this on me!” I snapped at him unintentionally, hurt that he’s blaming me right now when I very clearly needed him right now.

“I’m not trying to blame you! But why don’t you believe me? That I’ll protect you from it all like I have been doing! You don’t need to break up with me for this, for fuck’s sake,” he mutters out, his voice slightly raising now. 

I felt myself hold back tears in the back of my throat, not used to the angry tone my boyfriend was using, as I flinched at his tone. I sniffled, trying to hold back the tears with a shaky breath.

He takes a few seconds before he sighs, unable to change my mind. He clenches his jaw, slamming the door to our bedroom. By morning, all his stuff, including him, were gone from my place. 

Soon enough, the fans noticed. Noticed that I was no longer liking and commenting under Max’s posts, that I was no longer interrupting his streams, that Max didn’t talk about me much anymore. 

 A media reporter came up to Max during the race weekend for an interview. At the end, he asked, “It looks like you and your partner are not talking anymore, no?”

Max brushed it off casually in the way he always does about private matters to the media. “Uh, well, every relationship has its ups and down, you know? But that is something I prefer to keep private.”

“Well, better to be rid of her,” the reporter says jokingly. Max’s eyes suddenly shifted into a more serious tone. “No? She’s amazing and gorgeous and kind and intelligent. So no, it’s my loss, really. And either way,  you have no right to talk about any woman like that,” he says firmly before walking off. 

[zaczenemiji]

absolutely no rush if you're occupied with other asks :D!! I love your writing so so much your descriptions and dialogue are so good 😭💓 could I possibly request a scenario where the reader (working alongside kenji as ultraman/on the sidelines as a civilian, whatever you desire!!) unexpectedly throws herself in front of kenji and takes a hit for him (bonus points of they had unresolved tension before [argument, interrupted confession, one character was sick and rejecting help etc etc; no pressure at all and pls write whatever you'd like i'm just throwing out random suggestions!!]) + the hurt/comfort to follow after? thank you so much! ☺️ i wish you the best!

In the Heart of Danger

Kenji Sato x Reader

Synopsis: As tensions between Kenji and the KDF rise, you become entangled in the conflict, leading to a dangerous confrontation that puts your life at risk.

Word Count: 2,710

Genre/Warning: Action, Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Sacrifice, Violence

Author’s Note: Slight mention of themes from Too Good, Too True

MASTERLIST

For many years, Ultraman and the Kaiju Defense Force worked in harmony. But as KDF evolved under different leadership, so did its philosophy. Their arsenal grew more lethal, their strategies more aggressive. Dr. Onda's vision was clear: the complete eradication of all kaiju was the only path to true safety.

Ultraman held a different perspective. Those magnificent creatures had their own place in the natural order. He believed in protecting life; only fending them off to prevent destruction, not to annihilate them.

KDF’s methods became increasingly ruthless. Where Ultraman sought balance, KDF saw only the necessity of total elimination. The final straw came when KDF started viewing Ultraman's reluctance to kill as a liability, a hindrance to their ultimate goal of eradication.

Thus, the Kaiju Defense Force turned their attention to identifying Ultraman's human form, intent on neutralizing this perceived threat.

"Kenji, you can't keep dismissing this," you said, frustration lacing your voice. "The KDF is closing in on you. They know something's up, and they're not going to stop until they confirm you're Ultraman."

The evening air was thick with tension as you and Kenji sat across from each other in his house. It started with a simple disagreement but it had escalated so quickly.

Kenji ran a hand through his hair, his expression one of exasperation. "I know the risks, (y/n),” he replied. “But I can handle it. I've been doing this for a while now."

"Handling it?" you echoed, incredulous. "You've barely been able to stay one step ahead of them. They've got advanced technology, Kenji. They're not just going to give up."

You remember the incidents with Gigantron, how KDF was willing to get rid of Ultraman, so as to obtain Emi. And for what reasons? To use a frikking baby to lead them to Kaiju Island—to massacre, for the mass murder of those misunderstood creatures.

Kenji sighed heavily, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of determination and fatigue. "I can't stop,” he said. “If I don't transform, people will die."

"I'm not asking you to stop," you said, your voice softening. "I'm asking you to be more careful—to consider the danger you're putting yourself in."

Kenji's jaw tightened and he looked away, the weight of your words settling heavily on his shoulders, “I know you're worried about me. But I can't just sit back and do nothing."

"Then let me help," you pleaded, reaching out to touch his arm. "We're a team, remember? You don't have to do this alone."

"I can't put you in danger, too,” he pulled away slightly, his expression hardening. “It's bad enough that I have to deal with this. I don't want you getting hurt because of me."

"Kenji," you said, your voice firm. "I'm already involved. Whether you like it or not, I'm in this with you. And I'm not just going to stand by and watch you risk your life without doing anything."

He shook his head, his frustration evident. "You don't understand,” he said. “If something happened to you... I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

"And what about me?" You shot back, your eyes filling with tears. "Do you think I could live with myself if something happened to you, and I did nothing to stop it?"

There came a long silence.

He never asked for any of this—you know that firsthand. You didn’t want this either. Only a fool would want to throw away the peaceful life they had in LA, away from the chaos, the danger, and the constant fear of losing their beloved.

But when Emi came and when Kenji reconnected with his dad, you both understood. Ultraman is a vital element, the pinnacle of balance, the one that would keep the world in its equilibrium.

He who holds the scale holds the lives of many. He who carries the burden also carries fear. And with it, the sacrifices to ensure the collective safety of humanity.

Your tears spilled over, and you wiped them away angrily. "You're an idiot, Kenji,” you said. “A noble, self-sacrificing idiot. But I'm not going to let you do this alone. Whether you like it or not, I'm going to help you. And you're just going to have to deal with that."

"No. You don't get it,” Kenji's expression hardened again. “This isn't about what you want. It's about keeping you safe."

"And what if I don't want to be safe?” You demanded, your voice breaking. “What if I want to be there for you?"

"That's not your choice to make!" Kenji shouted, his frustration boiling over. "I can't lose you, (y/n)!”

"And I can't lose you either!" you screamed back. "Why can't you see that?"

Kenji's eyes flashed with anger. "You should have just stayed in LA!" he snapped, his voice cutting through the night. "You're becoming too nosy, and it's dangerous. I can't have you getting involved in this.”

You stared at him, stunned. Kenji never hurt you in any way, especially not physically. But the weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut.

Without another word, you turned and stormed off, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn't look back, even as the tears blurred your vision.

Kenji stood to follow. But with the way you ran away, he knew you didn’t need him at the moment. Still, he worried for your safety. Quickly, he rode his motorcycle and followed you quietly from a distance to ensure you reached home safely.

Everything that unfolded hurt Kenji as much as it did you, if not more. This was the time he finally truly understood his father—why he let them move to LA, why he had to endure the pain of being separated—all because he wanted them safe.

Kenji loves you more than anything, more than you ever knew. He loved you enough to have the resolve to let you go if you finally wanted to be out of all this. You deserved the best, better than a complicated life with him.

When he had seen to it that you’re home safely, he stayed in front of your house a little longer, wanting to be there in case you needed him.

You knew what he was doing. You knew that he was following you. And you were grateful, truly grateful, that he didn’t let you be out here alone. He understood the space you needed and he respected it. This was just one of the infinite reasons you love him so much.

When you arrived home, you sat by the door, leaning on it as you let your tears flow freely down your cheeks. Kenji is a hero, and heroes need saving, too. You wanted to be the one to do that.

Little did you know, you were already doing so. You didn’t know how much you were saving him by being there for him. You have been doing so since day one—since meeting you in LA, losing his mom, coming back to Japan, raising Emi, and fully accepting his role as Ultraman.

Your eyelids became so heavy from all the tears that you didn’t notice that you’d drifted off to a nap. You were awakened by the sound of Kenji’s motorcycle engine as he started it.

You stood to take a peek through your window, careful not to let him see you. He looked your way one last time before driving off into the night.

When he was out of sight, you decided to head on over to your bed but before you could do so, you heard the mechanical sounds of drones.

Your eyes widened as you quickly looked back to see KDF’s drones heading in the direction Kenji went to. With a gasp, you hurriedly slammed the door open and ran out, forgetting about the identical watch you had with Kenji that was repeatedly beeping with an alert of a kaiju attack.

You ran as fast as you could, following the drones as you were sure that they were after Kenji. Suddenly, you heard familiar screams in the distance as the neighborhood awoke to a mundane scene of a kaiju attack.

You looked to your hand only to see an empty wrist. You groaned to yourself, of all the times you could forget it, why now?

Despite being unaware of what was happening or which kaiju was it this time, still you followed the drones. Upon turning the corner, you saw Kenji parking his motorcycle aside so he could transform.

However, this time, KDF came prepared. A squadron of heavily armed soldiers arrived, their weapons calibrated to disrupt his transformation sequence.

As the soldiers closed in on Kenji, one of them set up a cannon, aiming it directly at him. Realizing the gravity of the situation, you sprinted toward the scene, your heart pounding in your chest.

The targeting system locked onto Kenji's energy signature, and the barrel began to glow with a blue hue, signaling the impending shot. Just as the operator pulled the trigger, you threw yourself in front of Kenji.

The concentrated beam of energy hit you with full force, sending a searing pain through your body. You screamed as it disrupted your bio-energy field, causing immediate paralysis and intense agony. You collapsed to the ground, feeling your strength drain away.

The soldiers, momentarily stunned by your intervention, hesitated as Kenji caught you in his arms. "No, (y/n)!" Kenji's voice was filled with anguish as he held you close.

The effects of the cannon had taken their toll on you, but your selfless act had given Kenji the precious seconds he needed. He transformed into Ultraman with a flash of light, creating a barrier to protect you from further harm.

With the kaiju approaching the city, Ultraman's form loomed large, and the soldiers were forced to retreat, their weapons ineffective against his fully transformed state.

Although hesitant he had to make a heart-wrenching decision to choose between being your lover and being Ultraman.

He carried you as gently as he could. In the palm of his hand, your fragile body lay unconscious. He quickly ran back home where Mina awaited him.

Upon arriving, he carefully placed you in the bed Mina took out of the house. “Mina! Emergency analysis, please!” He begged. “Call my dad, do everything to save her! I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

With that, he dashed off to the scene of the kaiju attack. His mind was a mess as he fended it off as quickly as he could, even if it meant hurting it unintentionally, and even if it caused more infrastructural damage.

Ultraman’s heart pounded as he rushed home, the streets blurring past him in a haze of worry and exhaustion. As he reached the familiar door, he transformed back to his human form.

Kenji burst into the house. The scene before him made his heart ache even more. You lay unconscious on the couch, pale and still, with Mina and his father sitting beside you, their faces etched with concern.

Hayao looked up as his son entered. "Kenji," he said, his voice a mix of relief and sorrow. "You're back."

Kenji dropped to his knees beside you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "What happened? How is she?" he asked, his voice breaking.

Mina spoke up. “KDF used a new weapon, something we haven't seen before,” she started. “It emits a high-frequency pulse that disrupts the transformation process. When (y/n) threw herself in front of you, she took the full brunt of the attack."

Hayao nodded solemnly. "It's designed to incapacitate Ultraman before he can fully transform,” he said. “But on a human... it's much more dangerous. It's a miracle she's still alive."

Kenji's hands trembled as he held yours, his eyes never leaving your face. "Is there anything we can do?” He asked, tears racing their way out of his eyes. “Anything at all?"

"We've done what we can for now," Mina said softly. "She needs rest and time to recover. We'll monitor her closely. But Kenji... it's serious. The weapon has caused significant internal damage."

Hayao placed a reassuring hand on Kenji’s shoulder. "You did what you had to do, son. You saved countless lives tonight,” he said. “But we need to be prepared for what comes next. The KDF won't stop now that they know you're Ultraman."

Kenji nodded, his resolve hardening. "I'll protect her. I'll protect all of us,” he said through small sobs. “But right now... I need her to wake up. I need to know she's okay.”

As the night wore on, Kenji stayed by your side, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement. He thought about all the times you had supported him, how you had insisted on helping despite the danger. The argument from earlier seemed trivial now, overshadowed by the reality of your sacrifice.

"Please wake up," Kenji murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I should've listened to you. I should've protected you better."

The room was filled with the soft hum of medical equipment and Kenji’s quiet sobs that refused to give up on the person he cared about the most.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, Kenji felt a slight movement in your hand. His heart leaped, and he leaned closer, his eyes searching your face for any sign of awakening.

"(Y/n)?" he whispered, his voice trembling with hope. "Can you hear me?"

Your eyelids fluttered, and a faint groan escaped your lips. Slowly, you opened your eyes, blinking against the light. When you saw Kenji's worried face, a weak smile crossed your lips.

"Kenji..." you murmured, your voice barely audible. "You're okay..."

Kenji's eyes once again filled with tears as he nodded, his grip on your hand tightening, "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks to you. You saved me, (y/n)."

You tried to sit up, but pain shot through your body, and you winced. “What... what happened?” You asked.

Mina quickly intervened, gently pushing you back down with mechanical hands that protruded out of her spherical body. "Don't try to move too much,” she said. “You were hit by a weapon KDF used. It was meant for Ultraman, but you took the hit instead."

Hayao added, "You were incredibly brave, (y/n). You saved Kenji's life."

You looked at Kenji, your eyes filled with concern. "I couldn't let them hurt you,” you said softly. “I had to do something."

Kenji leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "And I promise, I'll never let anything happen to you again,” he said, his tears falling down on your face.

The days that followed were a blur of pain, recovery, and quiet moments shared between you and Kenji. True to his word, he never left your side, his worry and guilt evident in every action he took to ensure your comfort and healing.

Each morning, you woke to the smell of freshly brewed tea and the sight of Kenji bustling around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Despite his own exhaustion, he insisted on doing everything himself.

"Good morning," he greeted softly one morning, bringing a tray of food to your bedside. "How are you feeling today?"

You offered a weak smile, propping yourself up on the pillows. "A little better, I think,” you answered. “Thanks, Kenji."

He set the tray down carefully. "You need to eat,” he said. “You've got to get your strength back."

In the afternoons, when you felt strong enough, Kenji would help you sit up and move around. He'd guide you outside to the lawn, where the sun's warmth and the gentle breeze seemed to hasten your healing. He'd support you with a gentle but firm grip.

"I don't want you to overdo it," he'd say, worry etched on his brow. "Just take it slow."

As the days turned into weeks, your strength gradually returned. The pain lessened, and the color began to return to your cheeks.

The days of your recovery were not just about healing physically but also about rebuilding and strengthening the trust and love between you and Kenji.

You had faced danger and come out stronger, more united. With each passing day, you became more sure than ever that together, your love could overcome anything.

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart @marimargirlies @mixvchelle @lannnu @lailuv21 @christiinee @abracarabbit @youngbananamilkshake @flutterfly365 @o-schist @brazilsho @arrozyfrijoles23 @finestflora @mmeerraa @mianbaobaoo @skyeliteratures @themourningfox @despacito-uwu16 @crimson-mage-02 @vinegarjello @btszn

[queenofterrasen418]

Cruel Fates (Part 3)

Pairing: Azriel x f!Reader, little Eris x f!Reader

Summary: Azriel is your mate but only you know it. You are very aware that he has eyes for someone else and thus you decide not to hide it forever. After all, what could go wrong right?

Warnings: Angst, again.

3.1K words

A/N: Thank you @vanserrasimp for your ideas!!!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

“Do you want some more water?” Feyre asked softly, her brows knitted with concern. You shook your head slowly, your gaze lost in the shadows of Rhys’s study, overwhelmed by the storm of thoughts in your mind.

“What happened, Y/N?” Rhys’s voice was gentle, but his eyes were intense, probing. They sat across from you like worried parents, and you sighed, lifting your eyes to meet theirs. Slowly, you recounted the meeting with Eris.

“Beron and a human queen?” Feyre repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“He spoke true. I saw their correspondences with my own eyes,” you replied, the memory still fresh and unsettling.

“So he wants to join forces with us so he can rule,” Rhys mused, the wheels already turning in his mind.

 “And he proposed a marriage alliance between us.” You finished his sentence.

Their eyes widened, and Rhys gestured for you to continue.

“He said our powers together would be formidable and the alliance would be very convenient. I told him I’d consider it.”

“Are you insane?” Feyre frowned, disbelief colouring her tone. “Why would you even think about it?”

“Because he had a point,” you answered, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “It would benefit both courts, and before you question his sincerity, let me assure you, he was.”

You turned to Rhys, searching for his reaction. He simply asked, “What did Azriel say?”

“That’s where things got messy,” you admitted, recounting Azriel’s outburst and Eris’s proposal. When Azriel brought up the mating bond, it made you snap.

Rhys’s brow furrowed as you spoke, a knowing look passing between you.

Feyre noticed his reaction and asked, “What am I missing?”

He shrugged in an ‘ask her’ manner.

“Azriel is my mate.”

“WHAT!?” Feyre’s eyes widened in shock.

“I’ve known for a few months. I didn’t want to tell him, considering everything with his love life.”

“And now she downright denied that she has a mate,” Rhys concluded, shaking his head slightly.

Feyre buried her head in her palms for a few moments before looking back at you with a mix of disbelief and sympathy. “You lied to him.”

“I didn’t plan to,” you said, frustration lacing your words. “I’m not sure what came over me.” Even as you tried to defend your actions, you knew you had messed up.

Rhys, who had been silent, suddenly perked up. “He knows!”

“Huh?” Blood drained from your face.

“He brought up the mating bond and was against even the idea of a marriage with Eris. He knows you're his mate.”

“He said he cares because I’m important to you, and he hates Eris on a normal day, let alone when he asked for my hand.”

“Fine, but how will you argue with him bringing up the bond point?” Rhys pressed.

“I don’t know. Maybe he assumed I’d have a mate too, considering the rest of my sisters do?”

Rhys thought about it for a while and shook his head. “I still feel like he’s aware of his mating bond, too. He probably didn’t tell you yet.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “I have legitimate reasons for not telling him. What does he have?”

“And what are those reasons exactly?” Feyre inquired curiously.

“One, he is in love with Elain, and she is also in love with him. Everyone knows that. Second, the mating bond is forever. It is permanent and painful. I have seen people fall in love easily and fall out just as easily. If ‘love’ can’t get through a mortal lifespan, how can it withstand an immortal one? Accepting the mating bond will only lead to pain, one way or the other.”

Feyre’s eyes narrowed while Rhys’s were filled with pity. You knew your views on love were not popular. You weren’t a pessimist, just someone who saw the world as it was. You wanted to believe in love so badly, but your past had taught you better. Rejecting the mating bond was far less painful than getting rejected.

After a few beats of silence, Feyre spoke in a haunted whisper, “I truly am sorry for you, sister. Whatever pain you’re trying to avoid will come no matter what. But when it does, don’t blame the bond. Blame yourself.”

Azriel

To say Azriel was confused was an understatement. He had never really understood Y/N, not that he'd ever made much of an effort to, but now he desperately wished he had. He had always thought of her as smart and careful, but not reckless. A child would know Eris was bad news. What was she thinking when she said she’d consider his proposal? Azriel was not a male to lose his temper, but she made him go feral. Ever since Y/N winnowed out of that room, her words constantly echoed in his mind. She asked him why he cared, and he did not know. He simply did, right? And what did she mean by “I don’t have a mate”? Did she just assume she didn’t, or did her mate die? Why was Y/N so furious at him?

He needed answers, and he knew who had them: Rhys. Which is exactly why he stood in front of his high lord on the balcony of the River House.

“Ask her, Az,” was the only response he got from him.

“Uh, why didn’t I think of that? Maybe because she asked me to stay out of her life?” Azriel said in a dry tone.

Rhys sighed. “It’s not my story to tell, assuming there is a story.”

“There is.”

“Then ask Y/N.” Rhys shrugged. “Or don’t.”

The spymaster could not remember when was the last time he was this crazed out. He was well aware of how unreasonable his reaction to this whole show was, but he couldn’t help himself when he asked, “How could you let her marry Eris?”

Rhys gave him a pointed look, his eyebrows raised. “One, she hasn’t decided yet, and two, no one lets Y/N do anything, let alone me.”

Azriel shook his head, at himself for his poor wording and at Y/N for her poor decision-making.

“She’s new to all this. Maybe she doesn’t know how Eris is.”

“She says Eris spoke true, and I believe her. Even a mind reader can be fooled when you practice enough, but you can’t fool her powers. Nothing escapes her, Az.”

True, very, very, very true. Azriel knew it, and yet he couldn’t accept it.

It was when his brother asked, “Why are you so bothered by it?” that he realized he didn’t fucking know. 

Why was he bothered by it? Why did he care? Why?

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t.”

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean?” His eyes narrowed at his high lord.

“Nothing. Just speak with her? Maybe you’ll know.” Cauldron, he wished it was that easy. Y/N was a mystery to him, a stranger. It didn’t feel right to ask her. He wished he knew her well like Rhys and Cass do. The only thing he knew was that she was powerful and dangerous.

“She might kill me.”

Rhys laughed at that. “Then give her some time.”

A whisper of a shadow brushed his ear. But you also know she is loved, how your family cherishes her.

Y/N

You walked through the corridors of the River House, your mind a whirlwind of confusion after your conversation with Rhys and Feyre. Your decision to keep your bond with Azriel a secret weighed heavily on you, but the thought of facing him—and the inevitable pain it would bring—was even more daunting. And then there was Eris. He occupied your thoughts equally, but you welcomed it; he was a very pleasant distraction, but the thought of Azriel interfered there too. Why was he so against Eris? Was Rhys right? Did he know about the bond? As your head swarmed with even more questions, you decided you needed some quiet, some space, a moment to breathe and process everything, away from bonds, decisions, and the pressure of court politics.

As you turned a corner, you heard soft voices coming from the garden. Curiosity got the better of you, and you slowed your pace, your footsteps quiet on the stone floor like a wraith. Peering through the open archway, you saw Azriel and Elain standing amidst the blooming roses, their figures bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun. 

Wonderful, you thought to yourself, this is exactly what I needed right now.

You knew you had to get out of there; witnessing whatever was going on between them was a terrible idea, but you found your feet stubbornly rooted to the ground.

Azriel's back was to you, his wings slightly drooped as he spoke to Elain. You couldn't make out their words at first, but the tender expression on Elain's face and the way she gently touched his arm spoke volumes. A pang of something sharp and bitter twisted in your chest, a feeling you couldn't quite name or rather refused to, but you recognized it all the same.

Azriel looked at Elain like she was the sun, the light to his shadows, his eyes filled with an emotion that you deep down wished was directed at you, to feel the warmth and certainty of it. But another part of you recoiled, reminding yourself of the pain that love could bring, the scars it could leave behind.

Thanks to your fae ears, Elain's voice carried over the breeze, soft and melodic. "Azriel, you deserve to be happy. To find someone who truly sees you."

Azriel nodded, a faint, wistful smile touching his lips. "I thought...maybe I could be that person for you, Elain. Maybe we could be right for each other."

Your heart clenched at his admission. Leave, Y/N, leave, your brain urged, but you didn’t. Despite everything, it was clear that Azriel's heart leaned toward Elain, and he was still chasing the idea of love he believed they could have. Yet, as you watched, you noticed something in Elain's eyes—sympathy. She seemed to understand Azriel's confusion.

Elain gave him a gentle smile, her eyes kind yet firm. "Azriel, you've been a wonderful friend. But you need to be honest with yourself about what you truly want."

He nodded, though his expression remained troubled. "I just want to do what's right. I pined for Mor, but that was just a wishful dream, and then you came. All signs pointed to you. I just want to be with someone who fits."

Apparently, that was enough pain for your heart, so finally, you took a step back, your heart heavy with the realization of Azriel’s struggle to find where he belonged, to understand the love he craved. But the sight of him seeking comfort in Elain's presence confirmed your doubts. It was enough to solidify your resolve. He was searching for something in Elain that he yearned for, and it looked like he found it, and it hurt you more than you wanted to admit.

You had to protect yourself. You couldn't risk exposing the bond, not when Azriel's heart was clearly elsewhere. The risk of rejection, of enduring the inevitable heartbreak, was too great. It was certain; it was no longer just a possibility.

You retreated down the corridor, determination settling in your chest like a cold, hard stone. You would accept Eris's proposal. It was the logical choice—the safe choice. An alliance with Eris would protect your heart and the Night Court. And if it meant denying the bond you felt with Azriel, so be it. This was not the first time the bond was denied, and it wouldn’t be the last. At least this way, you would be spared the pain of seeing Azriel look at Elain with love that wasn't meant for you.

Your footsteps echoed in the quiet halls as you made your way to your chambers. Each step felt heavier than the last, burdened with the weight of your decision. You had a choice to finalize and preparations to make. The path ahead was clear. It was time you started to face destiny on your terms.

Reaching your chambers, you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. You had always been strong and always made the difficult choices. This was no different. You would marry Eris, forge the alliance that would protect Prythian, and bury the bond deep within yourself, where it could no longer hurt you.

As you stood there, alone in the dim light of your room, you allowed yourself one moment of vulnerability. A single tear slipped down your cheek, which you quickly wiped away as you squared your shoulders. Determined, you sat at your desk and reached for a parchment and quill.

Dear Prince Eris,

I hope this letter finds you well. After giving it a lot of thought, I’ve come to a decision about your proposal. Let’s discuss it further at the Midnight Solstice Ball in the Hewn City. It’ll be a good chance for us to talk privately and to discuss more about our deal. I’ll give you my answer then, but I think you’ll find it worth the wait. Until that time, I trust you’ll keep this between us.

Looking forward to seeing you,

Y/N

Azriel

The conversation with Rhys replayed in Azriel's mind as he made his way through the corridors of the River House, the sound of his footsteps a dull echo. Why are you so bothered by it? Rhys's question had struck a chord within him, and Azriel found himself restless and searching for answers he couldn't quite grasp. He needed clarity—needed to understand what was happening between him and Y/N.

As he reached the garden, he saw Elain among the blooming roses, her presence as serene as the morning sun. Azriel hesitated at the threshold, a familiar mix of comfort and uncertainty settling in his chest. Elain was his friend, someone he could confide in without fear of judgment, and yet a part of him wondered if she could help him understand Y/N's behaviour.

"Azriel?" Elain's voice was gentle as she turned to him, a welcoming smile on her lips. "What brings you here?"

He approached her slowly, the scent of roses mingling with the crisp morning air. "I needed someone to talk to," he admitted, his voice rough with the weight of unspoken thoughts. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," she replied, gesturing for him to sit beside her on the garden bench. "What's on your mind?"

Azriel sat down, his wings folding neatly behind him as he stared at the vibrant flowers. He struggled to find the right words, unsure of how much to reveal. "It's about Y/N," he finally said, glancing at Elain to gauge her reaction.

Elain's expression softened with understanding. "I heard there's been some tension," she said. "Is everything alright between you two?"

He shook his head, frustration creeping into his voice. "I wish I knew. She... she makes it difficult to understand her. I thought I knew her, but now I'm not so sure." He paused for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts, “I...I don’t understand her,” his voice strained. “She told me she doesn’t have a mate, but that’s not true, i gathered that much from Rhys. And then there’s Eris. She’s considering marrying him, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much.”

Elain’s gaze softened, and she reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Azriel, Y/N is a complicated person. She’s been through a lot. Maybe she’s scared.”

“Scared of what?” he asked, his frustration evident. “I just want to understand her, to know why she’s doing this.”

Elain sighed, looking thoughtful. “Sometimes, people lie about things because they think it’s the only way to protect themselves. Maybe she’s afraid of the bond, of what it means.”

Azriel clenched his fists, trying to suppress the anger and confusion roiling inside him. “But why would she lie to me? Why not just tell me the truth?”

Elain shook her head. “It’s not always that simple, Azriel. Bonds are...intense. They can be overwhelming. Maybe she’s trying to herself from getting hurt.”

“I feel like I’m missing something, like an important piece in a puzzle.”, he confessed.

Elain turned to him and offered one of those healing smiles, “Time will tell, Az. You shouldn't worry yourself too much.”

He nodded, right now he just needed to wait.

A few minutes passed as they both sat in silence, taking in the beautiful garden.

He turned to her, taking in her gentle presence. There was a time when he had believed she might be the one to fill the void in his heart, but now he questioned everything he had assumed. "Elain, I've been thinking," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Elain gave him an encouraging smile, her eyes filled with understanding. "What is it, Azriel?"

“I have been searching for love for a very long time but I never felt like I deserved it.” He admitted to her. 

Elain’s eyes furrowed as she placed a comforting hand on his arm,  "Azriel, you deserve to be happy. To find someone who truly sees you."

Azriel nodded, and a sorrowful smile graced his lips. "I thought...maybe I could be that person for you, Elain. Maybe we could be right for each other."

Elain sighed softly as she spoke, "Azriel, you've been a wonderful friend. But you need to be honest with yourself about what you truly want."

He nodded, as he searched for words, "I just want to do what's right. I pined for Mor, but that was just a wishful dream, and then you came. All signs pointed to you. I just want to be with someone who fits."

Elain remained silent as she listened to him, “But I think I made you seem like something you are not, you are one of my closest confidantes but I thought or rather hoped we’d be more. I was desperate to have something that my brothers had, so much so that, I was sure you were my answer.” he paused, "I wanted to be the person for you, Elain. I thought that the cauldron was mistaken, but now I see that I've been chasing something that isn't meant to be." 

"But I've realized," Azriel continued, "that while we share something special, it's not the kind of love I thought I was looking for. We're better as friends, aren't we?"

Elain nodded, her smile warm and understanding. "I think so too. We have a bond, Azriel, but it's different from what you have with Y/N."

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound tinged with relief. "I suppose I've been chasing shadows, hoping to find the light in the wrong places."

Elain nodded, understanding in her eyes. "It's okay to want love, Azriel. But maybe you need to look beyond the obvious, beyond what's easy."

Next Part

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Let me know if you want to get added to the list or if I missed someone!

[cuubism]

Idk if you are still taking prompts, but: After their first meeting, while Hob still thinks it is a joke, he escorts Dream out. It is only when Dream returns to the Dreaming that he realizes his ruby has been stolen by Hob. Thus begins a game of cat and mouse through the ages, and Hob keeps slipping through his Endless fingers.

oh dear, this was from last year. fun though! could be the basis for a much longer fic. i love thief hob

-

Hob knows better than to gloat openly about his winnings, but he can't help tossing the ruby a few times in his hand as he walks, admiring it. Such a stunning gem, he's never seen its like but in paintings of kings, and even those are rare enough. Invaluable. And the strange lord had just had it about his neck, for all to see.

Hob shakes his head, tucking the ruby away in his tunic. Money can't buy common sense, it seems.

He finds his horse in the stable and leads it outside, stepping into the stirrup and swinging up into the saddle. After a find like this, best to disappear. Easy as the ruby had been to snatch, that strange young lord will doubtless come back looking for it, once he notices it's gone.

Night is falling by the time Hob reaches the treeline. He hasn't been followed--the path behind him has been empty for hours, and the trees show nothing but birdsong as he steers his horse into the darkness. Hob knows this route well, and by the time the moon is high above, he's navigated to a familiar clearing, untacked his horse, and sat back against a tree for some rest.

He can't help but look at the strange ruby one more time before going to sleep. It glows unnaturally in the moonlight, a blue-white reflection on a background of venous red. He tilts it back and forth in his palm, studying the cut. Who, exactly, is going to buy this from him, he can't yet say. But it'll pay his way for years once he finds them.

Hob kisses the ruby's cool surface, then tucks it away in his tunic again, chain wrapped around his fingers for safekeeping. He quickly falls asleep.

-

The moon is still high when Hob wakes, startling back to awareness against the trunk of the tree. He scrubs a hand over his eyes, looking around, disoriented. Strange, it's like it's been only moments since he fell asleep--

His horse is gone. So's his pack. And for that matter, the clearing is smaller, closer, darker than he remembers--

Heart pounding, he scrambles in his tunic to find--

"I imagine you are looking for this," says a low voice, and from the darkness emerges the wine-red glint of the ruby. Following it is the dark shape of the lord Hob had robbed in the tavern, only he's-- he's--

He's horrible. His eyes glow white in the dark, his hair waves in a strange wind, and everything about him is sharp and wrong, like an uneasy nightmare Hob might have in the wee hours, consequences coming back for him.

"Look," he says, holding up his hands in self-defense. Shit, his sword's gone from his belt, too. "S'really your fault for swanning about with that thing, innit? 's bandit country, m'lord."

"Is it?" He... doesn't seem angry. He's smiling. Oh, it's a terrible smile, but nevertheless. "How foolish of me, then. To expect to maintain ownership of my belongings."

"Like I said, thieves about," Hob says. "Got to be careful, now." Really, what did he expect Hob to do? Let someone else get the score?

The strange lord sits down on the grass across from Hob, still with those glowing eyes and that terrible smile playing about his lips. "And what, Robert Gadling, ought I to do, having caught one of these thieves?"

And the thing is. Authority doesn't work very well on Hob. One of his 'flaws' most like to get him killed, 'cuz Authority didn't tend to care whether it worked on you or not. Hob's been hauled before the magistrate for theft before and no matter that he knew he'd be lucky to get away with his life he could never quite bite his tongue. Always a smart mouth, his mum used to say.

It's no different with this lord. Hob's hardly about to bow his head and apologize. He remembers the smirk on the other man's face at his challenge in the tavern. Pretty little thing to be talking big words about punishing thieves.

"Dunno," he says, tracking his gaze over the soft lines of the man's dark robe, his fine neck and narrow shoulders. The longer Hob looks, the less frightening he seems, though there is still something of the otherworld about him. God's teeth, if Hob's brought the ire of the fey about him... "What would you like to do?"

And the strange creature laughs. Just a chuckle, but nevertheless. "I could make you spend your next one hundred years paying a thief's price over and over again in the Dreaming, as penance for taking my ruby," he says. "Should I do that, Hob? Cut off your hands, and again and again as you regrow them?"

"If you did you wouldn't get to see what they can do for you," Hob says. Hell, Hob'll do it even without threat of punishment. He's a pretty little lord, for certain, even if he is fey.

The lord chuckles again, and closes his fist around the ruby, stealing its light. Without the reflection, his eyes seem even wilder. "Hm. Perhaps not this time. I am too curious to waste your next century in sleeping punishment." He takes Hob's face in one hand, holding his chin in sharp fingers. "Be wary what your hands touch in the Waking World, Hob Gadling. Not all creatures will find your insolence humorous enough to wish to be merciful."

He lets go, and Hob falls backward through the tree at his back, falls into darkness--

And wakes in sunlight, his pack beside him, his sword at his side, his horse grazing a few feet away.

Heart pounding, he shoves his hand into his tunic, though he already knows what he'll find.

Or what he won't find. The ruby, gone into the darkness, into dreams, with his strange, fey lord.

Hob shivers.

Well. He'll certainly have to meet him again in 1489, now. Not to retake the ruby--that hardly matters in the end.

But answers to all the mysteries it's brought: those Hob would gladly steal.

[brucewaynehater101]

Hm if Janet/ Talia happens there is a chance that Tim met Damian before the rest of the bats, which means there is also a chance that Damian prefers Tim to the rest, which means Damian might either

a) be given Robin willingly by tim

or

b) go with Tim to save Bruce

I love your brain. Fudge. We're gonna add into Lady Shiva [Sandra] too :)

Okay... Hmm... So, Talia and Janet get together in a way that both Damian and Tim know of each other.

Let's just say Jack died when Tim was five, which caused Janet to either take Tim with her or visit Gotham more often. This includes taking Tim to meet up with Talia after the two get serious.

The siblings have a seven year age gap (depending), so the theoretical youngest they can be is when Tim is seven. I would assume Talia is still somewhat enamored with Bruce... So let's say the youngest is when Tim is eight.

This is vital because this is before Tim figures out that Batman = Bruce. Tim meets his maybe brother who's one. He knows he's the son of Batman (which is really cool to the eight year old!!!), but doesn't know who Batman is nor that he should inform him.

Nine year old Tim figures out who Batman is... and does he inform his moms or keep it a secret? Either way, he doesn't tell Bruce about his two year old son. That's Tim's little brother, and he doesn't want to share with Dick (he's nine, y'all. He's intelligent, but he assumes he wouldn't become a brother to Dick. After all, Janet isn't dating Bruce too). Therefore, Tim asks for some lessons from Talia so he can continue being the cool big brother.

Talia asks Lady Shiva to come over and help out. This leads to a romance between Janet, Sandra, and Talia. Tim also becomes well-trained with the bo staff and other measures (he's not training for Bruce, but Janet won't let him kill. She thinks he should be older before making that decision for himself [since she's dating two killers, she can't really tell Tim no]. She's fine with Tim learning how to as long as he isn't actually doing it).

Lady Shiva, after seeing both of her partners with kids, tracks down twelve year old Cass. Cass thus learns to speak with Talia and Janet's resources and becomes an older sister to Tim and Damian. She will spend time with either Damian or Tim [or both if they are together] when she's not spending time with her mom (and the two of them are able to resolve their differences a bit more with Talia and Janet's help). Cass will travel with Tim sometimes to Gotham.

Damian, with Talia, Janet, and Tim around, does not become as adverse or guarded to Bruce's family. It helps that Tim gushes about the Robins and Nightwing to Damian and refers to them as Damian's brothers (but not Tim's. Thus, Tim accidentally gives Damian the mindset that Tim and the Waynes are separate groups that might fight. Damian is extremely loyal, so he'll choose the brother he's known practically his whole life over the strangers he's only heard of in stories [if it came down to a fight]).

Then Robin (Jason) dies. Damian is five and thus much too young to become Robin. Tim talks to Talia (and then Janet) about Tim stepping in.

The moms do *not* want to do this. This would mean less time with Tim, hiding his travels from the Detective, and their soon to he thirteen year old getting into harm's way (even though he's only planning to ask Dick at first).

Tim is a stubborn guy, though, so they agree as long as Tim passes a certain marker in training. It takes a few months, but the moms nervously allow Tim to do what he must. Cass goes with him, though, so they'll be more reassured. She doesn't make her presence known to the Bats, but Tim's gotten used to knowing when she's there or not.

The moms are not pleased when they realize he's Robin. They do find out that Tim is able to lie to Bruce and pretend to be a prodigy with training. Tim tells the grieving man (who's not as focused as he should be) that the kid got experience from gymnastics and mixed martial arts. That's why his base is so good. He also takes down King Snake again and excuses some of his more lethal moves (that he learns to adapt to less lethal) as training from Lady Shiva during that time. He lies that he will have no further communication with the woman (his third mom).

So Tim is a scarily efficient Robin who makes time to visit Damian and his moms (where he also receives more training). He tells Damian that he's merely holding the title of Robin for the kid if he wants it when he's older.

The timeline is a little fucky, but Tim finds out (maybe less than a month into being Robin), that Jason is alive.

At first, he's excited, relieved, and disappointed. Jason can come back to being Robin, but all of Tim's work (him putting up with Bruce's bad attitude [and no. Tim does not tell his moms about that]) is for naught.

Then he visits Jason without informing Bruce to confirm. He quickly understands that Bruce can not know about Jason in that current state. However, Tim encourages Damian to seek out a relationship with Jason (who's Damian's older brother).

Tim goes back to being Robin, and Cass finally gets caught tailing Tim. Tim vouches for her but asks Barbara to look out for her instead of Bruce. Cass is then allowed to patrol and assist Tim officially (as well as gain some independence and her own cases outside of her younger brother).

Jason becomes close with Damian before and after being shoved into a pit. This becomes fractured, however, when Tim first shows up to meet Jason again.

Jason does not like Tim and spits all the shit he did in canon. Tim becomes upset but allows Jason his space. Damian becomes upset with Jason, so Jason reluctantly starts hiding his resentment (he eventually gets to thinking of Tim as a younger brother. It takes a bit, though. It then takes a while for Tim to believe him).

Anyways, yes! Damian knows Tim will give him Robin when the time is right, and they also have healthy communication set up.

[11rosebunny]

Bofurin + shishitoren boys’ ideal partners? 🥺

Their ideal partners (BOFURIN + SHISHITOREN)

Haruka Sakura

A girl who is patient.

Sakura is known for his shy outbursts for anything that is closely related to anything in the romance. To add on, his lack of communication skills when he was younger came back to put a strain on his social life in his teenage years, so when it comes to finding a love life, he genuinely needs someone who is patient and willingly listen to his needs and requests.

When it comes to looks, he prefers more of a girl around his height, purely because he hates feeling inferior about his height. If you so happen to be taller than him, he has to suck it up.

Hajime Umemiya

A girl who respects everyone.

Something big on his preferences for women has to be someone that withstands practically everyone, even if they come across someone that disrespects them. The reasoning behind his outrageous input for girls he tends to put interest in is because he finds it important for a woman to balance her emotions. If he finds someone that continues to victimize themselves while being progressively perpetrating others, he can not stand that type of behaviour.

A second reason is because he wants them to be just as independent as himself while at the same time, treat him with more affection than others.

Looks don't exactly play a big role in his interests, even so, he still prefers women that are kept clean and pretty.

Toma Hiragi

Shy girls.

As much as he'd hate to admit, he finds timid, scared girls to be quite attractive. This hard core punk generally falls into the category of egotistical ballsacks that feed off of seeing a girl get embarrassed or shy around them, but in a respectful way. Usually, whenever he's come across the shyer type of women, he finds them to be more toned down, quiet, and deeply misunderstood just because they keep to themselves. He's the type of person to want to break those types of girls out of their shells, because deep down, he has a decent understanding that shy girls tend to be the nicest person anyone could meet in their entire lives.

He has a thing for girls with glasses which even adds on to his accusations of liking shy girls.

Ren Kaji

Strong-minded girls.

This boy loves the tangents and arguments whenever he's arguing with a hot-headed girl that's equally as heated as him. He thrives off of the fights and competitions with the other woman that still manages to somehow keep hot on his tail. As much as he hates the feeling, it's one of the very few things that gets him going to continue to become even better.

Girls with long hair fall into his types of preferences.

Taiga Tsugeura

Cheeky, cute girls.

He loves nothing more than a girl who loves doing girly things, because for him, he's a real man and would also be accompanying with you doing those girly things. If you're shopping he helps you pick out a dress. He'll even pay for your nails, buy you pink stuff, and even encourages you to wear different types of make-up sometimes. He's aware of how cheeky girls tend to act, and he really enjoys it too. He loves the way they blabber about utter nonsense that probably has no meaning to life or the way they get excited over small things like cats and sweet cakes.

Long eye lashes and plump lips are one of his top favourites in girls when it comes to features.

Mitsuki Kiryu

Academically smart girls.

He doesn't know the exact reason behind why he finds it attractive, but seeing a woman care a lot about her future and her next whereabouts makes him very intrigued. One of his deepest fears is being with someone that ties him down in life, especially how at any given moment, it could be ruined in a second. Thus, he primarily goes for girls that like to study and get into controversies that lead her to go into a spiral. He finds it amusing.

He likes wispy bangs and long noses. What an odd boy!

Hayato Suo

Energetic girls.

Nothing makes him more happier than seeing others happy. Knowing how monotone he could be, it makes him feel special whenever energetic people approach him and grow a bond. Hence why, when it comes to a girl showing her true personality knowing he's a quiet person, it makes him feel warm inside that someone like that would even give him a chance. He likes it when they drag him everywhere, try new things with him, and even make him go out of his own comfort zone.

He doesn't focus on looks, if you have short or long hair, glasses or none, taller or shorter, as long as you're fairly pretty, he's okay with anything.

Jo Togame

A girl who smiles a lot.

When it comes to personality, he actually does not mind whether or not if it's extraordinary or toned down, the only requirement is you can't be an asshole. He doesn't mix well with people who think too highly of themselves. Because he's not very picky and gives everyone a shot, something that really gets him going, is if a girl tends to smile a lot. It makes him want to punch holes if he sees your pearly whites.

Surprisingly, he likes tall girls. Can't be taller than him though, sorry.

Tomiyama Choji

Funny girls.

When meeting people that are interested in him, he usually finds boredom and loses lack of interest rather quickly because of his short attention span. So if a girl manages to catch his attention, 9 times out 10, it's because he heard something than made him caught off guard with a sudden burst of laughter. He loves spending his time chatting about random shananigans, so when meeting someone similar to him that can withstand his yapping and keep interested in the conversation, he can go on for hours just talking to you alone.

He finds petite girls to be cute, he doesn't really care for any of the curves or stretch marks of any sort. Bonus points if you have acne or freckles.

[mustainegf]

Helooo

No clue how I came up this thus idea but hear me out plz.

You know the infamous the GnR & Metallica tour in 1992? So reader and James are together but Axl keeps flirting and making sexual remarks about her. James is pissed but cause of the contract obligations can’t beat him up. So as a joke, Lars (or someone else) suggest to get the reader pregnant, because then it’ll be pretty clear whose girl she is. This leads to the nastiest, filthiest sex in James’s dressing room.

A few months later, Metallica and GnR meet again at Grammy’s/VMA/whatever and the reader has a very prominent belly, so it’s obvious. And James is there, hands on her belly all the time and the alpha male smirk “yup, she is mine, I’ve put a baby inside her” directed at Axl.

I love your stories so much 😊😊😊

THIS IS SO GOOD HOLY SHIT!???

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐃 ¹⁹⁹²

Any tour with Metallica had always been... something, but the infamous Guns N' Roses and Metallica tour was another animal altogether. A whole new level of chaos. Not just because of the music. By that time, I had been with James for a couple of years, and we were engaged. He was an understanding partner, so it wasn't a big deal to live life on the road when we had to. I loved James more than words could say, and my feelings were returned.

But Axl Rose, with his constant flirtations and sexual remarks, was testing our patience.

James and I tried to brush off the comments from Axl, well aware that a fight would surely end the tour. But it was clear he was just barely keeping a lid on his anger.

One night, after one aggravating encounter too many, James and I sat in his dressing room, trying to cool off.

"He's such a fucking prick," James growled, pacing back and forth. "I swear to God, if it weren't for this damn tour, I'd knock his teeth out out of that stupid, pretty boy face of his."

I reached out and grabbed his arm. "I know, James. He's just trying to get under your skin. Don't let him win."

James sighed, holding me close. "I know. I just… I hate the way he looks at you, the things he says. perverted, and he fucking knows we're together..."

Lars, while walking in, decides to lighten the mood with one of his stupid jokes. "Hey, I've got an idea," he said, smirking. "If you really want to shut Axl up, knock 'er up. That'll show him whose girl she is." Lars snickered.

I couldn't help but laugh at how absurd it sounded, but James's eyes lit up with a wicked glaze. "You know what? That ain't a bad idea..."

Lars' eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, are you fawkin' serious?"

James glanced at me with a smirk now playing on his lips. "What do you think, baby? Want to make sure Axl knows you're mine?"

"James, this isn't just a revenge story, this is a baby we're talking about. A little tiny human that you and me have to dote on." I tried my best to be rational, but I had to admit, I liked the idea of having his baby.

"Honey, the revenge is an afterthought, I'd love to have a baby with you. So? You wanna make this baby or what?" I snickered evilly.

It was a nuts kind of idea, but something about it refused to be denied. I laughed. "Let's do it."

Lars laughed, shaking his head. "You two are insane..."

The instant Lars was out of the room, all bets seemed to be off with James. He yanked me close, his hands scouring over my body. "Come 'ere," he growled, smirking into my lips as we kissed.

His tongue probed my mouth with such hunger, the only clear though on his mind seemed to be getting me pregnant. His hands slid under my shirt, whisking it over my head and out of the way. I moaned when his lips wandered down my neck, his fingers unhooking my bra faster than ever before.

"James," I hummed, fumbling with his belt. "I need you..."

A low dark chuckle sent sparks down my back. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget all about that asshole."

He pushed me onto the couch, his hands on my hips, yanking my jeans down. I shivered and giggled as cool air hit my newly exposed skin. James quickly shed his own clothes; his erection was already straining against his boxers, just begging to be swallowed inside me.

He knelt between my legs, his fingers teased at my entrance before delving inside. I purr softly, closing my eyes and drowning in that sweet feeling of his fingers. "God, you're so wet," he murmured, "Excited for me to fuck my baby into you, huh?"

"James, please," I begged, my hips grinding against his hand. "I need you inside me..."

He didn't need any more encouragement. He slid into place at my entrance, his cock gliding against my swollen, wet lips. "You ready for me?" he asked, his eyes locked on mine.

"Yes," I breathed, the word shaking with desire. "I'm ready, James."

With a deep rumbling groan, he gently thrust inside me, filling me completely. I whined, my nails scraping into his shoulders as he began to move, and my god it felt good to have him raw, without a condom like we always did. "Mine..." he hissed against my ear. "No one else can have you."

"Yes," I gasped, my body trembling. "I'm yours, James. Only yours."

His hands gripped my hips, driving into me, making sure to focus on rubbing that sweet spot, that he knew so well. "I'm gonna fill you up," he growled. "I'm going to put a baby inside you, and everyone will know you're mine."

"Yes, J-James..." I strained as my body was just on the edge of climax. "Fill me... Make me y-yours.".

Finally, he thrust once more and buried himself full length within me. We both came, a shared tremor taking both our bodies as we held for each other. James collapsed on top of me, burying his face in my neck and delivering lazy, sweet kisses.

For some time, we cuddled nude on that couch. Finally, James lifted his head, a smug smirk on his lips. "That ought to shut him up."

The months just flew by, and there was the event we all had been waiting for, the VMAs. My belly was very noticeable then, it was like the whole world knows that I'm pregnant. I'm 6 months along now. James was elated, always touching my belly and talking to our unborn baby.

The minute we arrived at the awards show, the buzz was immediate. Whispers followed us everywhere we went, and I could feel eyes on us as we made our way down the red carpet. Every fan, every groupie, every metalhead in the world wanted to catch a glimpse of me, carrying the legendary James Hetfield's baby. James's hand was firmly on my belly, his other arm protectively around me.

We mingled for a bit then with other celebrities, but as expected, shortly found ourselves face to face with Axl. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of me, his gaze falling first to my swollen belly in my glimmering cherry-red dress. James smirked, his hand resting possessively on my stomach. "Hey, Axl," he said, his voice obviously smug. "You remember my beautiful fiancée."

Axl's face flushed, but he forced a smile. "Congratulations," he muttered,very clearly uncomfortable.

James's smile stretched wider. "Thanks. We're real excited. Can't wait to be a father."

Axl grunted a reply, but I hardly even heard him. My attention was on James, the way that he looked at me with all of that pride. I snuggled into him.

The congratulations kept coming from our friends and many others whom I'd never met in my life, but they surely knew James' name. James was just the portrait of a proud, expectant father, his hand never left my bump. His eyes shine every time somebody asks about the baby.

We finally sat at our table, and James came close to me at the table, his lips brushing my ear. "Just can't wait for our little baby," he whispered, his hand gently rubbing on my tummy. "I love you so much."

[the-artist-grimm]

Crimson Angel AU - Narinder’s Betrayal

(Text updated as of Nov 8th, 2024)

Been editing and working on the AU and changing just what makes Narinder go from being the lamb’s friend to commanding them to sacrifice themself to him after all the Bishops are dead

Originally the idea was more just him not understanding his feelings towards them, then after overhearing part of a conversation about them planning on proposing to someone (not knowing its him) his heartbreak/confusion leads him to think they’re leaving him behind and thus sacrificing them is killing his feelings, but now tying it more into what’s becoming the main theme of the AU-how it’s important to communicate your feelings. (read more cause we got a lot of lore for this one!)

Narinder's Side

Narinder was imprisoned because he and his siblings didn’t talk to each other. They didn't ask how he felt about being death, and he in turn didn't tell them his frustrations regarding it/their treatment of him for being death. He was always the child Shamura never had to worry about-while his siblings needed attention left and right, he was the one Shamura could depend on being 'ok'.

Even if it meant hiding whenever he needed help. Even if it meant being the scapegoat. So long as Shamura still loved him, still looked at him and said he was their favorite for being easy, he was fine.

Yet as the other four’s domains all connected/dealt with life, they got closer as the years went on, whilst he in contrast remained the odd one out by being the sole one centered on death, with a side domain of sleep most usually forgot about. It felt isolating, even more than when he was a kid, but he tried to push it back.

But then the others started getting mad at him. Leshy, Heket, and Kallamar started blaming him for ‘taking’ a favorite friend, follower, or lover through death. He could handle it. They didn't know his domain was the Dead not Death. They didn't know he was the shepherd rather than executioner. It was fine. It was fine...

It wasn't fine.

He tried once. Just once to tell Shamura. To go to them for guidance, ask for their help. To ask if the others hated him-and yet...Shamura got angry at him, yelled at him for complaining, they had enough on their plate with the others and now him? Work it out himself, he can do that, right?

He returned to his domain swiftly after that. He returned, and slowly, figured out a plan.

Resurrection was his last-ditch effort to please them. If their anger was over him 'taking' people away, then he'd just give them back. Leshy had Order and Chaos, Heket Famine and Harvest-his secondary was sleep, but that's just death you can awake from-he could try being Life.

His followers became the experimental batch in hopes that he'd be able to perfect it for the real thing. He'd then resurrect his siblings' fallen and maybe, just maybe, that'd get them to love him again.

The Siblings' Betrayal

To the bishops, Narinder's distance was at first...normal.

He always kept to himself after all. He disliked the bustle of the mortal realm. Hated the noise of parties. Typically would hurry away the second their group meetings would end. They just thought he preferred his space since he'd never said otherwise-he'd always been like that. They never had to worry about him.

Him being Death was frustrating, but he never seemed to not mind the 'rightful' upset it caused. Yet here he was, suddenly gaining mass amounts of followers and them having no idea why or how. So Shamura decided to look into things, but as he would neither answer their letters to meet nor open his domain, they decide to use their future sight instead. (Though if they recalled...he had stopped by their office last, hadn't he? Shamura hardly remembered what he'd wanted-Heket had needed to borrow their army last minute while Kallamar had spent half the night wailing to them about a fight with his spouse. They hadn't meant to snap but...they just didn't need another thing to worry about-he'd forgive them surely)

Yet the vision they saw was blood on Narinder’s claws as he was dragged down by chains into the Afterlife, and the wailing of their other siblings in the distance.  

A fight-a betrayal?

Shamura couldn't understand. Narinder loved their family-loved them, he would never...they could not remember what he'd stopped by for last time, but oh he'd been...angry after, right? He had looked angry? They were too afraid to try and look deeper-to try and see the context. They just gathered the others and convinced them that they had to enchain him before he had a chance to destroy them. They summon him to their domain with one last vague letter stressing the importance of him visiting, and Narinder, with his now completed ritual notes in hand, eagerly went thinking this was his chance to present what he'd discovered.

He arrived and at first things seemed fine. He looked...happy. Oddly happy-more that Shamura had seen him in years. They couldn't falter. They decreed him traitor the moment the door to their chambers slammed shut, telling him that they knew of his plan, and that his ploy for power ended right there. His other siblings appeared and restrained him from the shadows, and during his panic, his claws met godly flesh in his struggle, with his notes scattering across the floor as sigils flared to life and chains surged to drag him down into the Afterlife. This look of pure sorrow on his face being the last Shamura saw-

This look that suddenly looked like the one he'd had when he'd fled their office that day...

...the...vision played out the exact same as what had just occurred. They had made a mistake. Narinder hadn't planned a betrayal, he wasn't going to hurt them. As their shattered skull pulses pieces of that day come back...he thought they'd hated him.

The others picked up his notes, and now all of them realized what they'd done.

The betrayal was from them, not him.

Yet to Narinder as he came to in the static, lifeless void of the Afterlife? His siblings knew of his plan somehow-they knew of his ressurections, and yet...it wasn't enought. He'd tried everything and it wasn't enought. He was now trapped in the Afterlife all alone, and right there decided that trying to please people didn't matter anymore. That no one would ever like him so why should he bother hoping for something he'll never have?  

1000 Years...

After a thousand years Narinder had gone through many stages of grief. Sorrow, anger, regret, though since the twins came to him-little three day old kits with their hearts carved out, all he could focus on was being freed so they'd no longer suffer. He was tired and just wanted it to be over. The boys had softened him, did somewhat ease that wound his siblings had left, but they were there not because they had choosen to, but because they were made to.

He was their master rather than their dad. He loved them so much, wished to call them his-but he had no right now, did he?

But then the Lamb appeared. He hadn't thought much of them at first, they were already devot to him prior to dying, that was a plus. They were eager, a tad lax, but overall appeared capable. What he didn't anticipate, however, was how kind they could be.

They would talk to him out of nowhere throughout the day, whenever in the gateway they would ask if he was in pain, bring him gifts, treated the boys with just as much kindness and more where so many vessels had ignored the two...they were teaching the boys to read, bringing them toys...even using the crown to show all three of them the most simple things from the world above.

So unused to it as he was, Narinder had questioned them. Did they desire a boon, was this a ploy? And yet the lamb had only laughed and said they simply wanted to see him and the boys happy-to ease their struggle within the Gate. He hesitated still but...over time...it felt nice. It was nice to be taken care of, to be seen. His walls dropped without even realizing, and even the most fragile of admissions still being hurt over his siblings' actions were met with nothing but understanding and a gentle touch to his hands.

This little lamb who saw someone as worthless as him and treated him like something precious...who he gradually began to see also hid their own pain, called them out because he wanted to make things even, they listened to him so he'd listen to them. They became his friend, and before Narinder knew it, he'd fallen so deeply in love he could've drowned in it.

Thus when ‘accompanying’ them via the crown to the remains of their childhood village on the anniversary of their family’s death, and upon hearing the lamb finally break down from their survivor's guilt and swear that they’ll free him regardless of the cost to themself, he couldn't stop himself from telling them no.

The final hidden chain was to be broken via the sacrifice of the devout heart which freed him-that’s what the prophecy said. The lamb doesn't know this, but he did. And while he wouldn't tell them that-he feared they might try and go through with the death, what he did tell them is that he either left the Afterlife with them by his side or not at all. He'd prolong his imprisonment for them.

He wanted them to live. He wanted them to live beside him

Everything seemed fine, but then the lamb started getting distant. They stopped 'calling' him at night before bed, started asking for more privacy. Long talks until they fell asleep stopped. And though during the day they'd still visit and talk and bring gifts...something was different. At night they would go silent.

His siblings had grown distant too, way back when. When 'Death' began to mean more than just that their playthings had broken. When they'd started realizing he wasn't worth it to be near.

But busy as he was trying to find a way to break the spell without killing the lamb, he choose to ignore it. They were still his friend, right?

But as Shamura’s death drew near one night when the twins were off exploring and he was all alone, Narinder just couldn't take it anymore and listened in. He swore to respect the lamb's privacy if signaled for it, but he couldn't wait anymore, he was alone, stressed, scared.

The crown's eye showed the wall of Ratau's hut, but he could hear what was happening inside, and it was busy. Chattering old men and clattering dice, the clinks of glass drinks, and an odd mechanical like sound? Someone sharpening a weapon perhaps, he wasn't sure. What he was sure of though, was that someone suddenly asked if he suspected anything, and he froze.

The Lamb, cheerful as ever, said no, and he heard that mechanical sound again so it must've been from something they were doing. Ratau asked if the lamb had told Forneus yet and they replied that they had and that she'd wished them the best-another former crown bearer who was in on whatever this is, and the Lamb said that if all went to plan then they needed Ratau to distract the twins should Forneus be unavailable the night after the three were freed, and that the rest of the group was to make sure no one followed the lamb as they took him for a walk off the grounds. 

Narinder didn't stay to hear the rest. He couldn't breathe suddenly, and the moment the connection is cut all he could remember is Shamura inviting him to their domain, and the feeling of his siblings forcing him into chains. All he could remember is how badly a heart can break, as his own shattered in his chest.

He...he'd been a fool again...

What he didn't get to hear however was the final sound of a loom shuttle flying through wool, then the sound of the Lamb tapping the last threads of a long, beautiful sash into place. Ratau and the others came over, and though they teased the Lamb relentlessly, all Anthea could think of is of their own parents’ sashes-beautifully hand-woven gifts given upon their engagement  to one another which within sheep culture represented the gifter’s devotion and oath of commitment to the receiver. That day their god comforted them and declared that they were to be by his side was the day Anthea realized they’d fallen in love, and regardless of the form of love he felt for them, Anthea had wanted to give him something to tell both him and themself that they finally wanted to live, and to live with him. 

Yet Narinder doesn't hear that. He doesn’t think to ask the lamb about what he heard because he was too afraid of the answer, he didn't even tell the twins what he heard, just lets them think he finally found a way to spare the lamb. It was only when Shamura was dead and the lamb arrive to, as Anthea put it, ‘Bring him and the twins home’ that he declared them traitor and commanded that they die, said he knows of their plan to usurp power, and refuses to let them win. 

He couldn't be chained again-the boys needed to get out. He couldn't be betrayed again-he feared being alone

The cycle repeated.

The twins died by trying to use their battles with the lamb to snap him out of it, Narinder fell regardless, and when he awoke on the dais to a furious, heartbroken lamb who was not only hurt by his ignoring of their privacy but also in assuming the worst of them that he realized his mistake.

It was easier to assume the worst, than to ask and risk seeing it confirmed. It was easier to hide how you felt, than to let it show. And yet because of that, reality was realized too late.

And alone again he was, he felt he deserved it

Boarders are by @lambouillet

[coyotelip]

☆ jegulus kinktober: marking, riding, aftercare || @jeguluskinktoberr || rider!regulus × massage therapist!james || wc: 730

Regulus Black loves riding and he is undoubtedly a great rider. 

This is logical when your family owns a horse breeding business and organizes races for the rich ones. After all, almost every member of the Black family is a good rider who regularly participates in races, enriching the family even more. However, not every one of them really loves it and makes it their life's work. 

Regulus is not one of them. He has spent his entire life at the horse racing stables and is not going to quit anytime soon. The horses love him and he loves the horses, a perfect union in almost every way. 

And James doesn't mind, on the contrary, he enjoys the sight of his boyfriend in the saddle. 

Covered in tight pants and a bunch of straps, his thighs clutching the saddle between them. Hands firmly holding the leash and confidently leading his favorite black stallion. And the moment when Regulus bends down, leaning against his horse to accelerate it faster, thus showing an incredible view of his cloth-covered ass...

Yes, James doesn't mind watching this picture for hours and hours. 

However, what he loves even more is meeting his lover at home after his practice. James runs him a hot bath, takes away all his dirty clothes, loads the laundry, and finishes cooking dinner. Only after a fragrant bath does he kiss Regulus, knowing that he will call him gross if James touches him before he has washed off all the aromas of the stables. 

James always talks more during the meal, recounting everything that happened during the day, and Regulus nods slowly and smiles softly as he enjoys his dinner.

And after dinner comes James' favorite part of the day. Working out with his hands in the gym and studying to become a massage therapist was worth it to him, so that years later he could be Regulus Black's personal bodyworker. 

Taking off his robe, Regulus settles down on their bed in just his underwear, lies down on his stomach, and folds his hands under his chin. James, meanwhile, dims the lights, lights the aromatic oils, and turns on the background noise. He lubricates his hands with massage oil and finally gets down to his favorite part of the job. 

Starting with the feet, he slowly works his hands over the guy's tense body, moving on to the calves, firmly but gently massaging the visible muscles under the pale skin. Abruptly, he moves to his shoulders and back, making Regulus purr in satisfaction as James drives the tension out of his posture. 

Last but not least, he gets to his hips, the part of his body that needs the most attention. 

Of course, James had to sit in the saddle a couple of times when Regulus arranged romantic dates for them in the form of horseback riding. And take his word for it, even the gym didn't make his thighs shake as much as those three hours he spent in the saddle, mesmerized by the conversation with Regulus. So he has nothing but respect for his boyfriend's hips, knowing how much they can take. 

All the other parts of Regulus' body are slim, with a thin waist and thin arms, but not his hips. Many years of riding have developed his thighs and buttocks muscles to an incredible level, which looks incredibly hot on the guy and attracts the attention of others. 

And James's chest feels warm because he is the only one who has the opportunity to touch it all. At first, as an expert in his field, his hands confidently wrap around the shape of those hips, squeezing, meeting the resistance of tense muscles. 

James' fingers are placed parallel to the distinct bruises on Regulus' skin - traces of the strong straps that a rider uses to attach himself to the saddle. This design allows him to stay firmly in the saddle even at record speeds and incredible jumps over obstacles. 

If you ask James, at first seeing Regulus voluntarily leave such marks on himself bothered him. But over time, the man began to find pleasure in those moments when he treats the colorful bruises on his lover's thighs, gently covers them with salves and massage oil, and runs his fingers over the pattern. 

And at that time, Regulus relaxes enough, closes his eyes and purrs softly in response to all James's gentle touches on his tired body.

[augiewrites]

"secret admirer" - dead poets society

summary: y/n receives yet another profession of love under their door—too bad the hallway is always empty when they open the door

pairing: anonymous!dead poet x gender neutral reader

word count: 591

i am back two years and one english degree later to write a fic that no one asked for! now that's what i call self care!

part two

Winter proved the student body of Welton wrong when they thought the school couldn't get any more dull. The cold can be cruel like that.

Just like the winter stripped the North of all life, Welton stripped it's students of all identity. In a place where boot licking is the norm and conformity is the goal—Y/N's only retreat was the 200 square foot box they called home for ten months of the year. The only place anyone in Welton was allowed to be themself.

That was exactly where Y/N and their roommate—Quinn—found themselves on a particularly cold Sunday morning.

Y/N sighed and looked from their homework over to Quinn, who had yet to get out of bed, "Do you know that guy that's like...scary good at latin? What's his name? Minks?"

"Hmm," Quinn hummed, wrapping the blanket closer to their body, "the ginger kid? Always hanging out with that tall dude?"

"Yeah, him," a pause and yet another sigh from Y/N, "I think I need a tutor if I want to keep an A this semester. I—"

Suddenly an envelope skidded under the door and across the floor. Rapid footsteps followed soon after and Y/N could hear a door slamming further down the wing.

Quinn rolled their eyes, "God. Not another one."

Y/N just shot them a look and picked up the envelope—one of many addressed to them and left unsigned.

"You wouldn't be rolling your eyes if you were the one with a secret admirer."

"You wouldn't be rolling your eyes if you were the one with a secret admirer mehmheh blah," Quinn mocked in a high tone, "Yeah. If they were for me, they'd be romantic. For you? Prepare to be murdered."

"Shut up."

Y/N opened the letter and dove in. Their heart was beating much faster than they would like to admit.

Lovely Y/N,

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

I couldn't help but think of you when Keating had us reciting Lord Byron's work last week. The sun was so bright for a dreary winter day, and the rays illuminating from the window painted an image of heaven around your silhouette. You looked so lovely, I could barely register Byron's words.

I would happily go toward the light if I knew you were waiting for me within it.

Sincerely,

Yours.

Y/N could feel Quinn's eyes on them as their cheeks burst into a rosy flame.

"He's in my English class."

Quinn gasped, "Finally! We have a lead!"

"Quinn, I really don't want to play detective on this...what if I think it's the wrong person and make a fool of myself? I think I would have to drop out. Die, even."

But Quinn kept rambling on, completely ignoring their roommate's apprehension, "it's too bad I'm not smart enough for AP English—I would for sure be able to catch that creep staring you down. You're so oblivious. He could be telling you all these things to your face and you would doubt that he's into you."

"I'm not that oblivious, Quinn."

"Oh, please," Quinn exclaimed, "you're so romantically challenged! This guy has been right under your nose and you don't have a single clue!"

Y/N scoffed and returned to their homework.

"Whatever you say, Quinn. We're just going to have to wait and see."

~~~

a/n: who could it possibly be?? 🤯

part two

[crescenthistory]

c5 with paul atreides please 🫶🫶

ah, paul atreides, my favourite childhood best friends to lovers man. hope this is what you were imagining, love<3

Prompt: C.5 "There will not be a day where I am not there for you"

Words: 3.5k (oops)

Warnings: canon typical political unrest and tension, paul and reader have a lot on their shoulders, reader gets sick, implied chronic illness/flare-up/autoimmune reader but can be read as a normal fever (i'm indulging myself okay), hiding/avoidance, confrontation if you squint, hurt/comfort, they are in the unspoken stage between best friends and lovers, confessions of love, crying session, cuddles and kisses

The days on Caladan felt numbered.

Everywhere you looked, the subtle reminders of impending change crept in like shadows. The halls of Castle Caladan, once warm and full of life, felt quieter now, more solemn. The sea beyond the window still whispered its familiar lullaby, but even that seemed muted, like it was holding its breath, waiting.

Thus, you waited too, feeling the weight of the future settle over the estate like a shroud. Arrakis loomed on the horizon, distant but unavoidable. You could see it in every furrow of Duke Leto’s brow, in the way Lady Jessica moved with a deliberate grace that betrayed her own hidden tension.

Most of all, you saw it in Paul.

Your closest friend, your confidant since childhood. He carried the weight of all that was to come more heavily than anyone. It showed in the slight weariness under his eyes, the way his normally steady hands trembled when he thought no one was looking. He hadn’t spoken of it directly to you, not yet, but you knew him too well to be fooled.

The Paul of your memories – the boy who would laugh with you in secret corners of the castle, who would pull you into the sea on a whim, clothes and all – was slipping away, bit by bit. In his place stood a man, shoulders squared with responsibility, eyes far too wise for someone so young. It was a transformation that frightened you, not just because it meant losing the boy you once knew, but because you weren’t sure whether anyone could truly withstand all that waited him. Whether anyone would even notice how much it was wearing him down. Anyone but you.

It was why you were careful, watching him as you always did, trying to gauge when the weight would become too much. You had become a fixture in his life over the years, someone he could rely on when the pressures of being Duke Leto’s heir seemed too heavy to bear. A constant.

The days leading up to the move to Arrakis felt heavier, their passage marked by subtle shifts in the air. Paul was being pulled in so many directions – meetings, preparations, plans – and you saw him less and less. Worry grew in your stomach, but, as always, the two of you cut out time for each other, even if only a quiet hug for a few minutes in a corner somewhere.

Which is why, when you first felt the dizziness creeping in, the strange bouts of fatigue that left you breathless and weak, you kept it to yourself.

At first, it didn’t seem like much. Just a few moments of light-headedness, easily dismissed. You brushed off the way the room swayed, grounded yourself by gripping the edges of tables or leaning discreetly against the walls. When Paul looked at you, concern flickering in his eyes, you waved it away with a smile, pretending it was nothing. He had enough to worry about – you refused to add to it. Not when he was already carrying so much.

As the days passed, though, it became harder to hide. Your body betrayed you in small ways – your steps slower, your hands unsteady when you reached for things. The ever-present ache in your bones was becoming harder to ignore. You found yourself avoiding the castle’s common spaces, spending more time in your room, curled up in bed, trying to will away the growing sickness that had taken hold of you.

Even the servants noticed, their eyes lingering on you with concern as they brought trays of food you barely touched. It was not uncommon for you to grow sick occasionally, there was a running joke around the castle about your weak immune system, and usually the servants would let Paul know if you stayed in your room. This time, though, you gave them strict instructions not to speak of it to anyone, especially not Paul. He didn’t need to know. He didn’t need this on top of everything else.

You could handle it. You always handled it.

Yes, you kept it to yourself. Unfortunately, to achieve that, you also kept to yourself.

***

The evening sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the walls of your bedroom. You had not left the room in two days. The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out the golden light that you usually loved. Today, the brightness hurt your eyes, each beam of sunlight sharp as it hit your feverish skin.

You had barely eaten, your appetite vanishing as the sickness rooted itself deeper. It was more than just the fatigue now – your stomach churned, and your head pounded with every small movement. Beams of pain adorned your lower forehead, temples and eyesockets, and no amount of massaging seemed to help.

You told yourself the words Paul had always whispered to you on days like this; it will be fine, it is temporary, you are safe. You just need some rest.

It didn't have the same effect.

As you shifted under the blankets, trying to find a more comfortable position, you heard a quiet knock on the door. You froze. The knock was too familiar – soft, hesitant, but with a certainty that told you exactly who it was. Your tried to bite down a groan all the while your heart squeezed.

It was Paul.

This was the longest period of time you had gone without seeing each other in ages, and not from a lack of trying on his part. You knew his schedule by heart and had purposefully lived around it for the past week before you finally caved and retreated to your bed to get over this bout of sickness. Even there, you had the servants tell him you were elsewhere, should he ever ask them.

It was not that you did not miss him terribly nor a disdain for him seeing you sick – you had worked together to get over equating sickness with weakness in your head. However, a part of you clearly still saw it as a burden, because your heart ached at the thought of worrying him with this.

You could not hide forever, though, and now here he was. You felt oddly unprepared to face him as you scurried up, fixing your hair and trying to put on a more assured smile.

When you didn't respond to the knock, the door creaked open slightly, and Paul slipped inside. His eyes found you immediately, and you could see the worry in them as he took in your pale face and the heap of blankets surrounding you that seemed to scream I am hiding from the world.

"Hi, my love," he whispered, and you responded with a greeting yourself, sounding weaker than you had hoped.

He closed the door quietly behind him, his movements deliberate and calm, but you could sense the tension beneath his composed exterior.

“You’ve been avoiding me." His voice was low, soft but with a quiet accusation woven through it.

You swallowed, trying to summon the energy to continue to smile, to pretend like everything was fine. “No, no, I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lied. “I’ve just been… resting.”

Paul’s brow furrowed slightly, and he crossed the room with slow, careful steps until he stood at the edge of your bed. He looked down at you, his gaze searching, as if he could see through the weak façade you were putting up. He sat down beside you on the bed, body angled towards you, and reached for your hand.

His touch was gentle, cool against your feverish skin. “Resting...” he echoed, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. “Because you're sick. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You flinched inwardly. Of course, he knew. He always knew. Paul was nothing if not observant, especially when it came to you. You had been foolish to think you could hide this from him for long.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you admitted, voice barely a whisper. “You have so much going on right now. With Arrakis, with your father… I just didn’t want to add to your burdens.”

Paul’s expression softened, though the worry in his eyes remained. He shook his head slightly, as if unable to comprehend what you were saying. “You think you can ever be a burden to me?”

You didn’t respond immediately, because a part of you did feel like a burden, no matter how irrational it may be. Paul had so much on his plate already – how could you possibly ask him to worry about you on top of everything else?

Paul’s hand tightened around yours at your prolonged silence, attempting to ground you, pull you out of your spiraling thoughts. He sighed, a soft, weary sound, and then he spoke, his voice tinged with a quiet desperation you hadn’t expected.

“You are not a burden, my love. There will not be a day where I am not there for you – you just have to let me.”

The words hit you like a wave, gentle but powerful, their weight sinking deep into your chest. Paul’s gaze never left you even when yours flickered from nerves. In that moment, you saw the truth in his eyes. He wasn’t just saying it to comfort you, he meant it with every part of him. There was a fierce honesty in his voice, a promise.

"I'm sorry, Paul," you began, unsure of how to phrase yourself. "I just really did not want to worry you more than you already are."

“I was more worried when I didn’t see you,” he continued softly. “When I didn’t know what was wrong. To not know how you are or what is going on hurts more than anything else.”

Your breath caught in your throat, guilt and relief swirling together in a confusing mixture. You hadn’t realized how much your absence could affect him. Paul always seemed so steady, so unshakable, but now, as he sat beside you, his hand still holding yours with that familiar tenderness, you could see the vulnerability in his eyes. There was a fear there that you wanted to smooth away, the fear of losing you, of not being able to help.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, dragging your intertwined hands closer to your body. "I didn’t mean to make things harder for you. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Paul sighed again, this time softer, and he shifted closer, so his side was flush against yours. You moved some of the blankets around so there would be no barricade for him, your breathing somehow already easier at his presence. His hand left yours only for a moment, but you immediately missed the warmth of his touch. He reached up to cup your cheek, tilting your face so you were forced to meet his gaze again.

“You could never make things harder for me. You are what make things easier” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “You are my anchor. Without you…”

He trailed off, but the weight of what he didn’t say hung in the air between you. Without you, he’d be lost. Without you, the pressures of his future, of the impending move to Arrakis, might consume him entirely.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you blinked them away, not wanting to cry in front of him. Paul saw the flicker of emotion and leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, his closeness comforting in a way that words could never be.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was a whisper, eyes searching yours. "Be honest."

You let out an almost teary-laugh, overwhelmed by emotion. "Terrible, quite frankly. My body is aching and I feel like I'm on a boat."

Paul hummed, thumb still brushing your cheek. "Would it help to lay further down?" He always knew.

You tried to nod, but frowned when the movement caused you more pain. Paul immediatley leaned forward to kiss away the furrow of your brows, knowing the tension usually worsens your headache, and then went to help you lay down in a better position. With your heads laid on the same pillow, Paul held your waist with one hand and your face with another, trying to massage out any tension.

“You don’t have to protect me,” he whispered, voice low and steady, wrapping around you as much as his comforting embrace. “Not from this. Not from you. Even now, with everything – especially now actually – you are the one thing I need.”

His words settled over you, soothing the ache in your chest, yet stirring something deeper, something raw that you had tried so hard to suppress. The weight of everything – the move, the sickness, your unwavering care for him – all of it was bearing down on you, but hearing Paul speak with such sincerity, seeing the tenderness in his eyes, it made something inside you break. The kind of break you could only do around him, because you knew in your heart you were safe to do so.

You exhaled shakily, feeling the tears that had been threatening to spill finally break free. A small sob escaped your throat before you could stop it, and suddenly, it was as if the floodgates had opened. The tears came in earnest now, unbidden and unstoppable, all the emotions you had kept hidden pouring out.

Paul didn’t flinch, he didn’t pull away. Instinctively he pulled you closer to him, gathering you gently into his chest, his movements slow and careful, so as to not hurt or startle you. He held you close, head against his chest, his warmth enveloping you, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear. He moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he whispered soft, soothing words you couldn’t quite make out over the sound of your own quiet sobs.

You had not realised just how much you had been holding in until this moment, how badly you had needed him. The world outside felt too heavy, too uncertain, but here, in his arms, you felt safe. The weight you had been carrying melted away, leaving only the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.

“I’m here,” Paul murmured softly, his voice soothing, as if the words themselves could hold you together. “I’m right here. I'm not going anywhere, I'm with you.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, letting the sound of his voice calm the storm of emotions inside you. The soft, rhythmic strokes of his fingers in your hair, the way his hand pressed gently into the small of your back, holding you against him. Everything about his presence was grounding, reminding you that you are not alone. You never had been.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a long moment, your voice thick with emotion, though the tears had finally begun to slow. “I didn’t mean to–”

“Shh,” he interrupted gently, his lips brushing the top of your head in the softest of gestures. “You don’t need to apologise.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes still glassy from the tears. His face was close, his expression softer than you had ever seen it. His usually composed features, now filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His thumb brushed a stray tear from your cheek, and he offered you a small, reassuring smile.

“I was just trying to give you space,” you said quietly, your voice hoarse from crying. “You’ve been dealing with so much, and I didn’t want to add to it.”

Paul’s brow furrowed slightly, as though he fundamentally could not understand how you could view yourself or your relationship that way. His hand still rested on your cheek, his touch light but steady.

“I know what’s happening around us is overwhelming,” he admitted, careful, like he didn’t want the weight of the words to fall too heavily between you. “But I’m not leaving Caladan behind to face Arrakis alone. I need you with me. In spirit as much as in person.”

“Oh, Paul,” you breathed, his name slipping from your lips like a quiet confession. You searched his eyes, unsure of what to say, unsure if you could even find the words for everything you were feeling. You moved one of your hands that was clutching his shirt up to trace his face.

You could see in his eyes that he knew everything you wanted to say. He had always known.

“I’ve always needed you, my love,” he whispered, his gaze unwavering, the intensity of his words cutting through the quiet of the room. “Not just now. Not because of Arrakis. I’ve needed you for as long as I can remember. Please just let me.”

The tears that had begun to dry on your cheeks threatened to return, but this time, they weren’t tears of sorrow or guilt. They were tears of relief, of knowing you never had and never would be alone in your care for him. Paul is there for you, just as you are there for him. Paul will worry for you, just as you were there for him.

"I'll let you, if you let me." There was a slight teasing smile on your lips, though its effect was lessened my the glossiness that remained in your eyes.

"I swear to."

You hummed, ducking your head back down to hide in his neck, breathing both him and the moment in.

“I'm afraid of it,” you admitted softly, your voice trembling. “Afraid of just how much I need you, even if you need me too.”

Paul’s expression softened even more, if that was possible. He gently tugged your face back up to meet his, so he could rest his forehead against yours and cup your cheek. His closeness was dizzying – but you much preferred this form of dizziness. You felt tethered to him in a way you had never felt with anyone else, like the two of you were the only ones in this vast, overwhelming world who truly understood one another.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmured, lips almost brushing yours due to your proximity. “Not with me.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing against his as you looked into his eyes. His thumb brushed across your cheek again, his touch as soft as ever, and before you could stop yourself, before you could dare to think twice, you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a tentative, gentle kiss.

Paul responded immediately, his hand moving to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate tenderness. The kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t frantic – it was filled with years of unspoken longing, of quiet moments that had been leading up to this. It was a kiss that felt like home, like something you had been waiting for without even realising it.

When you pulled back, your foreheads still resting together, both of you breathing softly, you felt the weight of everything lift, if only for a moment. It all faded into the background, leaving only the two of you, together, in the quiet safety of this moment.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, echoing the unspoken promise between you. “Not without you.”

Paul’s lips quirked into a small, almost boyish smile, the kind you hadn’t seen from him in so long. He pulled you into his chest again, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, reassuring embrace. You could feel the tension leaving his body, as if holding you like this had given him the strength he had been searching for.

"Take care of me, Paul?" you whispered, knowing now that this is what he needed.

He sighed, relieved, whispering a yes, please into your hair before placing a series of kisses there, holding you unbelievably tighter. His hands went back to massaging your neck and temples, moving languidly as he did anything he could think of to make you more comfortable in the moment.

For a long while, neither of you said anything. You simply stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside your door quiet and distant. This was the kind of rest you had truly been needing.

“I will always be here for you,” Paul whispered against your hair again, as if he needed to reassure himself of it. “I swear it.”

"And I you, my love."

You held him closer, letting your eyes drift shut and your body aches ease. You let yourself believe him. Because you knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just another comforting assurance. It was a vow, one that would last long beyond the move to Arrakis. 

No matter what storms came, no matter what weight the future held, you and Paul would face them together.