#and it looks like that's finally in reach

[satellite-evans]

you don't have to be sorry

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Summary: Harry learns why you refuse to let him pay, uncovering your painful past.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: past abusive relationship, little angst, fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Harry had always found joy in giving. Growing up, even when he didn’t have much, he’d learned that the look on someone’s face when you did something kind for them was worth more than anything money could buy. That lesson had carried over into his adult life, especially once his career took off and his world expanded in ways he’d never anticipated. He loved surprising his family with impromptu vacations, treating his friends to dinners just because, and going the extra mile to make everyone around him feel cared for.

When he met you, he found himself wanting to do those little things even more. Your smile was infectious, your laugh a melody he didn’t know he’d been missing until you came along. You were so strong, so independent, and it only made him more drawn to you, your kindness, and your spirit. From early on, he’d noticed that you carried yourself with an ease that spoke of someone who’d learned to take care of themselves, and he admired it. You were thoughtful, always prepared, and fiercely capable of handling things on your own.

Still, that didn’t stop Harry from wanting to treat you. From the beginning, he’d try to pick up the tab here and there, take you out for meals he knew you’d love, or surprise you with little things—your favorite flowers, a new book he thought you might enjoy. But each time he tried, you’d flash that polite, unwavering smile and insist on paying your own way. It wasn’t just a gesture, either. It was firm, unyielding, and Harry quickly learned that it was one boundary you weren’t willing to compromise.

He brushed it off at first, thinking maybe it was just the way you were. And in a way, he appreciated your independence. He knew you’d never take advantage of his generosity, and that was part of what made him feel so strongly for you. But as time went on, he couldn’t help but notice the subtle ways you’d tense up when he offered to pay, how your expression would harden slightly when he’d suggest covering the check. It was almost as if his offers triggered something in you, something you seemed determined to hide but couldn’t fully suppress.

And so, he kept quiet, telling himself not to pry, to respect your independence. Yet, as the months went on, he found that it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t that he wanted to be the one to pay, necessarily—it was that he wanted to feel like he could express his love without it feeling like a violation. He wanted you to feel comfortable enough to let him in, to let him care for you in a way that didn’t make you feel trapped.

One evening in late autumn, he planned a special dinner. The two of you had been talking about going to this small bistro on the outskirts of town for a while. It was an intimate spot with candle-lit tables and soft jazz playing in the background, and Harry knew you’d love it. The idea of spending a quiet, meaningful night there with you had stayed on his mind for weeks.

The evening was perfect. The glow from the restaurant’s lanterns bathed the room in a warm, amber light, casting a soft radiance on your face that made you look even more beautiful than usual. Your laughter floated through the air as you both shared stories and exchanged glances, and Harry felt the gentle comfort of being in your presence, something he’d come to treasure more than he’d ever thought possible.

When the bill finally arrived, he reached for it out of habit, ready to do what he’d long hoped to: treat you to something special, just because he wanted to. But, as always, you beat him to it, your card already in hand, that same polite but unwavering determination in your eyes.

“Please, love,” he murmured, placing a hand gently over yours before you could hand the card to the waiter. “Let me take care of this one, alright?”

Your smile faltered just for a second, and he saw a flicker of something in your eyes—something that didn’t quite match the confident independence you usually displayed. It was a look of hesitation, one that seemed out of place for you, and Harry couldn’t ignore it any longer. The moment was brief, gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough to stir his concern.

As the two of you walked out of the restaurant, Harry held your hand, feeling the cool night breeze brush against your skin as you strolled down the quiet, lamp-lit street. His mind was still on that moment at the table, the look in your eyes that hinted at something more, something you’d been keeping from him.

He stopped walking, gently pulling you to a halt beside him, his fingers still laced with yours as he looked down at you, his eyes soft and filled with a quiet concern.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice low, careful. “I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but… why don’t you ever let me pay? I know you’re independent, and I love that about you. But… it feels like there’s something more to it. Like you’re keeping something from me.”

You met his gaze for a moment, but quickly looked away, shifting under the weight of his words. He could see a hint of tension in your shoulders, the way your hand tightened slightly around his, as if you were bracing yourself against an invisible force.

“It’s… it’s not about you, Harry,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you know that. This is just… it’s something I’ve had to do for myself.”

He nodded, encouraging you to continue without saying a word. He could see you struggling to find the right words, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on you, as if the memories you carried were too painful to release.

“My last relationship was… it was complicated,” you finally said, your voice wavering slightly. “My ex… he was controlling. It wasn’t like this—it wasn’t done out of kindness, or love. It was… it was about power.”

Harry felt his heart sink as he watched you, his own feelings of helplessness swelling inside him as he realized just how deeply those past experiences had affected you. His fingers tightened around yours, as if to ground you, to remind you that he was there, listening.

“He… wouldn’t let me pay for anything either,” you continued, your gaze distant as if you were looking back at a memory you’d tried to bury. “He wouldn’t let me work. He’d tell me it was because he wanted to take care of me, but it was… it was more than that. He made sure I depended on him for everything. And whenever I used his money, he’d remind me that I wouldn’t have anything without him.”

You swallowed hard, the pain in your eyes raw, the vulnerability in your expression stark against the mask of strength you usually wore.

“It was like… like every time I let him pay, he took a piece of me with it. I felt like I was losing myself, one little piece at a time.”

Harry felt a swell of emotions surge through him, a mix of anger, sorrow, and helplessness. He hated the thought of you going through that, hated the idea that someone had taken advantage of your trust, had tried to mold you into something you weren’t. The thought of someone treating you that way filled him with a protective instinct he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Oh, love,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he reached up, gently brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you went through that. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

The warmth of his hand against your cheek was grounding, soothing, a reminder of the safety you felt with him—a safety that was new, unfamiliar, and terrifying in its own way. You looked up at him, feeling the walls you’d carefully built around yourself begin to crumble, the armor you’d worn to protect yourself falling away under the gentle strength of his gaze.

“I didn’t want to feel that way again,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath. “When I finally left, I promised myself I’d be independent, that I’d never let anyone have that kind of power over me again. I didn’t want to feel… trapped.”

Harry listened, his heart breaking for the pain you’d carried alone for so long. He wanted nothing more than to reach into those memories and erase every moment of hurt, to go back and shield you from the scars that man had left behind. But he knew he couldn’t change the past. All he could do was be here, fully and completely, for you now.

He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm, protective embrace, as if his presence could somehow shelter you from every painful memory, every scar that still lingered. You felt yourself relax in his hold, the tension in your body melting away as you allowed yourself to simply be, to feel safe, without fear.

He held you for what felt like an eternity, his hand gently rubbing your back in slow, comforting circles. Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders, his gaze filled with a tenderness that took your breath away.

" I'm sorry." You said in a whisper, almost unhearable to him. Almost.

“ Oh lovie. I’m here for you,” he said softly, his voice a gentle promise. “You don’t have to carry this alone. You don't have to be sorry. I’ll never make you feel that way, I promise. You’re safe with me.”

The sincerity in his words touched something deep within you, and for the first time, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could let go of the past. You took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders as you allowed yourself to lean into his warmth, to trust in the quiet strength of his presence.

“Thank you, Harry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of gratitude and relief. “I don’t think you know how much this means to me.”

He smiled, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as you continued your walk down the quiet street. The world around you felt different somehow, softer, brighter, as if the warmth of his love had transformed the cold night into something beautiful.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Harry glanced at you with a playful grin. “You know, I was thinking… if you keep insisting on paying for everything, I might just have to start charging you a fee for dating me.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh really? And what would that fee be?”

“Let’s see… one home-cooked dinner a month, plus unlimited cuddle time, and maybe a few spontaneous trips to the ice cream shop,” he replied, feigning seriousness with a cheeky smile.

“Sounds like a bargain, but you might want to raise your rates. I’m a high-maintenance girlfriend,” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “High-maintenance? lovie, I don’t know if I can handle that kind of pressure.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll throw in a free consultation on how to keep your wallet healthy. You know, just in case you want to save up for our future yacht,” you teased, your tone light.

“Ah, yes! The yacht. I’ll need a solid financial plan for that one,” he said, nodding dramatically. “Maybe we should just start a joint account: ‘Harry and Y/N’s Fund for Epic Adventures.’”

“Only if I get to choose the adventures,” you countered with a grin.

“Deal! Just promise me one thing,” he said, suddenly serious.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Promise you’ll never stop being you—independent, sassy, and always ready to take the lead when it comes to dinner bills,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

You laughed, feeling your heart swell. “Oh, I won’t! But fair warning: you’ll always be my favourite plus-one, even if you are a bit of a freeloader.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Freeloader? I’ll have you know, I bring a lot to this relationship—like charm, good looks, and the occasional serenade!”

“Okay, you’ve got a point there,” you conceded, shaking your head with a laugh. “But just wait until I hit the jackpot. You won’t know what hit you when I start treating you!”

With laughter and lightness in the air, you both continued your walk, the future feeling bright and filled with promise, all while playfully nudging each other along the way.

[crookedteethed]

18+ -mdni

ᥫ᭡. eiffel tower me, please.

pairing: rafe x kook!jj x fem! reader

warnings: smut (pinv), language, threesome, oral (m and f receiving), drugs usage, a little voyurism (if you squint). porn with little plot (as per usual), dirty talk,

Rafe's fascination with you took place when he saw you fucking your boyfriend, his best friend, JJ Maybank, in the bushes during a Kook party. 

Rafe had been watching you two all night-- he watched as the both of you couldn't keep your hands off of one another--JJ's hand had squeezed your plump ass every chance it got, while your lips always found a spot on his sunkissed skin to smooch whenever the moment was right--so it wasn't a shocker that Rafe was the one to catch you two sneaking off.

For Rafe, it was disgusting seeing you two being all lovey-dovey and shit, yeah, yeah, yeah, Rafe was happy to see his friend happy and whatnot, but secretly, the boy was envious.

I mean, here Rafe was getting the worst neck by Gums McGee while JJ was getting some of the best piece of ass on Kildare Island. 

It's not like you were a slut or anything--Rafe really hadn't known if you were the best piece of ass on Kildare, but the way your boyfriend talked about your sex life when you weren't around sure made you sound like you were--and Rafe had wanted to know if the legions about you were true--like the time JJ had claimed you wrapped a fruit roll up around his dick and sucked it--or that time JJ said you simply let him cum inside of you--Rafe had wanted that, Rafe wanted that with you, because you were something Rafe couldn't have.

Rafe doesn't know why he'd followed you and JJ out to the bushes-- He'd stopped getting the worst head he'd ever received to be a peeping tom. But Rafe swears his plan wasn't to be a peeping tom; how could Rafe not be a peeping tom when he suddenly sees your bare heart-shaped ass--your mini skirt bunched around your waist--bouncing on JJ's cock, grappling in the bushes. Your slit was so little and displayed for him--it looked like it could barely take the penetration. Your pretty moans serenaded Rafe's ears--leaving him in a trance, like a mermaid's siren. You were alluring; how could Rafe not be a peeping tom?

When Rafe had found himself sprouting a boner, and quickly taking care of it in his car, he knew he was in some pretty deep fucking shit.

"I have a proposition for you." Rafe had told Jay, going nose first into a line coke--the boys had been slumming it up the next day, drinking beer and watching the box all day in Jay's new condo he'd gotten for his 20th birthday. 

Rafe then pushed the coke tray to JJ. "What is it?" he said as he followed in pursuit and did the same as Rafe. 

"I get to fuck y/n for one night, in exchange for my dirt bike." Rafe snorted, causing JJ to laugh. 

"You fucking kidding me?" Jay said, wiping the white powder underneath his nostrils. JJ continued to laugh until he realized that Rafe hadn't cracked one smile, meaning that Rafe Cameron has finally lost his damn marbles.

"You do realize that's the dumbest fucking proposition ever, man? You're supposed to propose some shit that I can't go out and buy myself." Jay said. 

"Last week, you said it yourself!" Rafe rebutted. "You said,' My dirt bike is way cooler than yours' ."

"Dude, that wasn't code for: I want your bike in exchange to fuck my girlfriend."

Rafe had been quiet momentarily, reaching over to JJ for the tray and snorting another line. Rafe had needed to hold his composer because ever since last night, he couldn't get the image of you fucking JJ, and Rafe just needed to see it again, but with his cock barely fitting in your pussy instead.

"Ok, what about this," Rafe said, bringing out his inner businessman. "What if I get to fuck y/n in exchange for my Bently?"

Now Rafe was talking, causing JJ's eyebrow to hitch and ears to perk. 

Let's be honest: JJ's father could fund him the money for a new dirt bike if Jay had wanted one. But a new car? Fuck no. Especially since he'd just gotten a new Porsche this January. 

JJ would be a fool not to take Rafe's new and improved proposition.

"Well, when you throw a Bently in the mix, you have yourself a deal, brother!" JJ had shouted, already getting revved up from the coke (and the idea of seeing his girlfriend taking another guy's cock.). 

"But one thing," JJ continued. "We have to say it's a threesome--make it seem like I'm tryin' to experiment or some shit, because she isn't going to agree to just fucking you alone."

In hindsight, Rafe made a really stupid choice by giving JJ his Bently, but as long as he was able to feel you, he didn't care.

So here you were, standing naked between the two hottest blonds on Kildare Island--supposed to be getting into doggy style to let Rafe Cameron fuck you. At the same time, you suck JJ off, all because your stupidly charming boyfriend wanted to try something new in bed, and you can't say no to him when he uses his puppy dog eyes on you. 

But it's not like you weren't totally against the idea--you'd always wanted to know what it was like fucking Kook royalty, Rafe Cameron--you weren't ashamed to admit that. 

Of course, a couple of lines of coke was snorted to get rid of all of everyone jitters, but that still didn't' help your nervousness.

JJ had done all the talking--since, to your knowledge, he was the one to set this shindig up. And because you were JJ's good girl and didn't know what else to do, you did everything JJ told you to do.

"Good girl, now let Rafe see your pussy, don't be shy, princess," JJ spoke so kindly to you, stroking your head softly as you choked on his cock. 

JJ had been very slowly--but harshly fucking his cock with your throat--ever so often, shoving his length as deep as he could go--until you started to gag--then stilling himself and letting your throat contract--while tears and saliva slid down your face. 

You found yourself obeying Jay's words--arching your back more and pushing your ass out to let Rafe view your sopping wet pussy. 

"Shit." Rafe cursed, his thump finding your fold and pushing it back to view the inside of your cunt. "Jay this all your's?" 

"Ain't she a beaut?" Your boyfriend spoke--talking as if you weren't even here--and pushing his cock further into your mouth.

Your eyes watered as you tried to focus on breathing through your nose, JJ's thick length stretching your esophagus.

You start to feel Rafe's fingers probing at your exposed pussy, spreading your folds and teasing your entrance, sending shivers through your body.

"Damn, she's dripping," Rafe marveled, running his fingers along your slick folds. "You mind if I have a taste, Jay?"

"Be my guest," JJ replied, his voice strained with pleasure. "Our good girl loves to please, don't you, princess?"

You whimpered in agreement around JJ's cock, your hips instinctively pushing back against Rafe's touch. You felt Rafe's hot breath on your sensitive flesh moments before his tongue lapped at your entrance. The new sensation made you moan, the vibrations traveling through JJ's length.

"Fuck, that feels good," JJ groaned, "Do that again to her."

Rafe obliged, swirling his tongue around your swollen clit before plunging it inside you. You cried out again, the sound muffled by JJ's cock. Your whole body was on fire, caught between the two men's ministrations.

JJ's fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you bobbed your head. "That's it, take it all," he encouraged.

Meanwhile, Rafe's skilled tongue was rapidly pushing you towards the edge. He alternated between teasing licks and deep thrusts, his strong hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place.

"Fuck, you taste good, sweetheart," Rafe lowly said to you, acknowledging you for the first time as a person, and not like your some dirt bike, and for some reason, you were about to come from this nearly. 

"I think our princess is close," Rafe murmured, his lips brushing against your sensitized flesh, his fingers pushing inside you, to feel your cunt convulse. "Should we let her come, JJ?"

"What do you think, sweetheart?" JJ asked, tilting your chin up to meet his, mascara finally beginning to crack, and run down your cheeks, JJ kissed you on the mouth, because, fuck, did you look hot like this.

Rafe had no right to kiss you ( a deal made before you all started, a deal Rafe should respect because JJ is his best friend). JJ's kiss to your mouth only made Rafe more envious of JJ, and Rafe decided to take out his anger on you, claiming you didn't deserve to come yet.

Rafe's fingers slowed their pace, teasing you mercilessly. You whimpered into JJ's mouth, hips bucking desperately against Rafe's hand.

"Not yet," Rafe growled, his voice rough with desire and a hint of jealousy. "You don't get to come until I say so."

JJ broke the kiss, looking down at you with a mixture of lust and amusement. "Looks like Rafe's feeling a bit possessive, sweetheart. Think you can hold out for us?"

You nodded weakly, trembling with need as Rafe's fingers continued their torturous dance. JJ's hands roamed your body, adding to the overwhelming sensations.

"That's our good girl," JJ purred, nipping at your earlobe. "Show us how well you can behave."

Suddenly, you were feeling Rafe's raw wet mushroom tip poking at your entrance--and fuck, did his cock already feel thicker than JJ's.

Your breath hitched as you felt Rafe's impressive length plunge deep inside your cunt—his hands gripping your hips as he slowly bottomed out inside you.

You gasped at the exquisite stretch, your walls clenching around Rafe's thick cock. He groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he held himself still, giving you time to adjust.

"Fuck, you're tight," Rafe growled, his voice strained with the effort of restraint.

JJ's hands continued their exploration, one sliding up to cup your breast while the other trailed down your stomach. "How does she feel, Rafe? As good as you imagined?"

Rafe responded by slowly withdrawing until just the tip remained inside you, then slamming back in with a powerful thrust that had you crying out in pleasure. JJ swallowed your moans with another deep kiss as Rafe set a punishing pace, each thrust driving you closer to the edge you weren't allowed to cross.

"Please," you whimpered as you and Jay caught your breaths--your body jerking up from Rafe's hard thrust into JJ's mouth, allowing you to breath the same air as him--right when you think you've caught a break--Jay's cock is back in your mouth, while you received backshots from Rafe.

Your mind reeled from the overwhelming sensations as you were filled from both ends. JJ's thick length slid deeper into your throat with each of Rafe's powerful thrusts from behind. You struggled to focus, torn between the dual pleasures.

Rafe's grip on your hips tightened as he pounded into you relentlessly. "Fuck, you're taking us so well," he groaned, his voice husky with desire.

JJ's fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you sucked him eagerly. "That's it, baby," he encouraged. "Just like that."

The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans. You felt your arousal building to a fever pitch, your body trembling on the edge of release.

When Rafe's tip found that spongy spot, you made a deep moan in your body that had affected JJ cock, and he found himself cumming in your mouth and on your face.

You were so fucked out of your brain, though, because of Rafe's thick cock; you hadn't noticed when your boyfriend had came, and then left the room, leaving you and Rafe to chase your highs together.

And because Rafe's cock had felt so good in doggy style--you didn't mind seeing how his cock felt when he switched the position to missionary.  

Rafe flipped you onto your back with surprising ease, never breaking his relentless rhythm. His dark eyes locked onto yours as he drove deeper, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

From this angle, Rafe could see just how small your slit was in comparison to his cock.

"God, you're incredible," Rafe panted, his muscled chest glistening with sweat. His thumb found your sensitive bundle of nerves, circling in time with his thrusts.

You arched into him, coherent thoughts scattering as the pressure built. "Rafe, I'm so close," you gasped, nails raking down his back.

He growled in response, increasing his pace. "Come for me, beautiful. Let me feel you."

With a cry of ecstasy, your release washed over you in waves. Rafe followed moments later, burying himself to the halt inside of you.

And just as Rafe was cumming, he found himself getting lost in the moment and kissing your rosy red glossy lips, and again, because you were so fucked out, you'd let him. 

As the both of you came down from your highs, Rafe lips stayed in motion with yours, his cock still stuffed inside side you--plugging his and your juices in. He shifted slightly, still buried inside you, and you gasped at the sensitivity.

Your body trembled with aftershocks as Rafe's lips moved languidly against yours. The kiss was rough, passionate, yet tender - so different from your boyfriend's soft demeanor. You found yourself melting into it, savoring the unexpected intimacy.

The kiss between you and Rafe could've lasted forever- if only your boyfriend hadn't walked in, asking his best friend why he was kissing his girlfriend, the last person Rafe should be kissing.

[furuu]

∘ʚ ♡ You hear the tapping on the glass again, and this time it’s unmistakable. Sukuna sits perched just outside the sliding door, his crimson eyes focused with laser intensity on you. Draped in morning sunlight, his fluffy face is utterly blank, but the bright colorful bird in his mouth is hard to miss, and he watches you like he’s expecting some grand reaction.

With a sigh, you slide the door open, and Sukuna pads in without hesitation, holding his “gift” with careful precision. He sits down, tails swishing in slow, deliberate arcs as he places the small bird at your feet, staring up with an unreadable expression. To anyone else, it might look like nothing more than a blank stare, but you know the slight twitch of his ears, the ever-so-slight narrowing of his eyes; he’s awaiting approval, maybe even the smallest hint of admiration.

“Kitty...” you say softly, doing your best to keep your tone gentle as you crouch down. “You can’t just go around killing birds. Poor thing…”

He doesn’t even blink, instead leaning forward to nudge the bird a little closer to your feet, his expression unchanging. It’s obvious that to him, he’s just presented you with the finest treasure in the world, and his eyes watch you intently, as if to say, Look. I brought this for you.

You chuckle softly, reaching out to give him a light scratch behind his ears. “Alright,” you murmur, smiling. “Thank you, Sukuna. I appreciate the thought.”

His ear flicks, but he keeps his gaze resolutely fixed on something in the corner, clearly trying to play off his satisfaction with a haughty air. But the tell-tale rumble that vibrates from his chest gives him away, and the second pair of his eyes flutter closed in contentment, clearly soaking up the affection even as he tries to pretend otherwise.

Just when you think he’s done, he prowls around the room, circling, casting occasional glances your way like he’s assessing whether his “gift” has truly pleased you. And each time he looks over, you feel a warm flicker of affection. In his own strange, sometimes intense way, Sukuna’s just trying to show he cares—just as any other cat might with an unfortunate, feathery offering.

Finally, he stops, tails flicking with contentment as he settles at your feet, looking rather smug, as if his job here is complete. And despite the unusual nature of his gesture, you can’t help but feel a warm gratitude, reaching down to pat his head.

“Thank you, tiger,” you say again, and he gives a tiny, almost invisible nod before closing his eyes, sinking comfortably beside you, his massive form nearly curled protectively around you. ・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

[mead-iocre]

˚　.˚　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　. ੈ

brat!reader is planning to wear this shirt to one of alexia's games. she paired it with her favourite black balloon mini skirt, coperni aged leather brown knee high boots, and her favourite vintage denim coach bag.

she double checked her bag, making sure all her essentials were in there-- sunglasses, gum, phone, and vape. check check check and check.

she was just about to walk out the door when all of a sudden she is yanked by the arm by none other than her girlfriend. alexia's eyes widen when she reads the text on her shirt.

"bebé, you cannot wear that"

an eyebrow raise. sometimes she underestimated how good alexia’s english is getting. damn. brat!reader was really hoping she could get away with it. "what do you mean I can-not wear this?"

"I mean-- people-fans might see you or the cameras might catch you--and people might think--"

"might think what? that all we do is hold hands and touch foreheads?"

alexia sighs audible, her hand instinctively coming up to massage her temple. her blood pressure is rising and the match hasn't even started yet. she starts mumbling a prayer in her mother tongue. the last thing she needs right now is a migraine before a home match against a tough opponent.

"estoy hablando en serio. just change the shirt and we can go"

brat!reader stomps one boot-covered leg down against the wooden floor, frustrated that she's being asked to change when her outfit looks so good. alexia willed herself to not pick a fight, not when she's got a match to focus.

"Vale. fine. puta madre. just wear this over it." Alexia shrugs off her own sweatshirt that she had on, hastily throwing it at her girlfriend before rushing to find something else to wear.

brat!reader could hear her cursing up a storm, muttering in broken spanish under her breath. she complies anyway because the sweatshirt is kinda cute, plus it smells like sandalwood, violet and old leather that lingers from alexia's signature perfume. she wears alexia’s sweatshirt, snapping a few pics with her new fit to post on instagram later.

she can wear the t-shirt some other time.

"ready to go, baby?" is what greets alexia when she finally manages to find another top to throw on that would suit the rest of her fit. her nicely styled hair a few minutes ago was now in slight disarray from the amount of shirts she tried on and then yanked back off. her face is stoic, eyes dark.

"cierren la boca. keep your mouth shut or else i will leave you on the side of the road." is all alexia says before she ends it with a pinch to brat!reader's ass beneath her billowy mini skirt. "do not piss me off. I mean it."

since the match will be played at home, players are free to drive to the stadium with their own cars. when they arrive at the stadium they have to split up— brat!reader to the suits and alexia with the team (obviously). by some miracle, brat!reader had somehow managed to leave alexia alone for the entire drive, far too focused on her phone, replying to instagram comments and messages. alexia was finally able to clear her mind for a short while.

“I’ll see you after” all low and monotone. alexia grabs her Louis Vuitton toiletry bag and locks the car behind her.

“still mad at me?”

“hm.” yeah. she's still mad.

“ok…kiss?”

alexia rolls her eyes and huffs, as if she just got asked to do the most tedious chore. she reaches for her jaw, cupping it with one hand, squeezing her cheeks and forcing brat!readers lips into a pout. she presses a rough kiss onto her lips before pulling away to mutter. “me estas enfadando. you get on my nerves, ya’know that?”

brat!reader just grins at her. oh how she loves to annoy her lover. she sneaks one more quick kiss and bounces away yelling “i love you too. have a good game, la reina!” behind her shoulder, waving at alexia as she walks towards the entrance to the suits. she knows alexia absolutely detests that nickname. she can picture alexia cursing her out in her head, probably saying the most obscene spanish insults she won't even be able to translate to english.

hopefully alexia channels that frustration for her into the game later on and scores a few goals. afterall, alexia plays her best games when she's angry x

˚　.˚　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　. 　

saw the shirt and had to write the quickest blurb ever. must cope the shirt one day x

[chosok-amo]

gojo about to purple geto because he accidentally slaps you + satosugu

the argument had been brewing for a while, the heat of it finally spilling over into the living room. you and geto stood toe to toe, voices raised in frustration, the specifics of the fight lost in a haze of exhaustion and irritation. you could barely remember how it all started, but the stakes felt incredibly high. the fatigue from long hours at work and the relentless pressure from the higher-ups amplified everything, turning a minor disagreement into a full-blown shouting match.

“how can you not see my point?” you yelled, your hands gesturing wildly, every word dripping with frustration. you could feel your heart racing, the adrenaline fueling your anger. geto mirrored your intensity, his brow furrowing as he shot back, “because you’re being unreasonable! it’s not that complicated!”

gojo stood a few steps away, his face a mixture of concern and frustration. “you guys, come on! this is getting out of hand!” he interjected, trying to find a way to defuse the tension that was palpable in the air. but you were too consumed by the heat of the moment to heed his words.

“i can’t believe you’d even think that! you always dismiss my feelings!” you continued, stepping closer to geto, the space between you shrinking with every heated word. his agitation was evident as he ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that typically signaled his growing frustration.

but the distance between you and him was too close. as he swept his hand back, the back of his hand accidentally caught your cheek with a sharp, unintended slap. the sound echoed in the room, slicing through the heated atmosphere like a knife.

instantly, everything fell silent. the only sound was the faint rustle of your clothing and the rapid thump of your heart. you stood frozen, a mix of shock and disbelief washing over you. your eyes widened, darting between geto and gojo, your mind struggling to process what had just happened.

“what the hell just happened?” you thought, your hand instinctively reaching up to cradle your cheek, feeling the barely-sting radiate beneath your fingers. the look on geto’s face shifted from anger to confusion, and then to horror as the reality of what he’d done sank in.

“oh my god, baby, i didn’t mean to—” he stammered, his voice cracking as panic surged in his eyes. he took a step back, the shock making him momentarily freeze. “i’m so sorry! i thought you were stepping back, i—”

but before he could finish, gojo reacted instinctively. with a swift motion, he pushed geto hard, anger flaring in his usually calm demeanor. “what the fuck, suguru?” he barked, his voice thunderous and echoing around the room. the sudden aggression caught geto off guard, his heart racing at the sheer intensity of the moment.

geto stumbled back, surprise flashing across his features as gojo positioned himself firmly between you and geto, shielding you from the fallout of the chaotic scene, his arm holding you. “you can’t just lose control like that!” gojo continued, his eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness.

“what are you doing?” geto snapped, his tone defensive and eyes flashing. he shot a glance at you, concern etched on his features. you flinched as his gaze flickered with something you couldn't quite decipher—perhaps regret, or guilt.

gojo’s gaze hardened, anger simmering beneath the surface. “take a step back, suguru,” he said through gritted teeth, positioning himself protectively in front of you, refusing to budge even an inch.

but geto, undeterred, took another step forward, desperate to bridge the gap between you. “please, satoru, i need to talk to her,” he insisted, his voice a mixture of frustration and urgency. you could sense his longing to reach out, to apologize and mend the rift, but gojo remained firm, taking a step back with you in his arm, keeping you safely shielded behind him.

“i said take a fucking step back!” gojo roared, the intensity of his voice reverberating in the room. his finger raised, making a gesture that signaled he was ready to unleash his technique at a moment’s notice—forefinger and middle touching his thumb, the familiar stance of him preparing to manifest his cursed energy.

geto’s eyes widened, recognizing the threat. he knew that gojo wasn’t bluffing, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be caught in the crossfire. with reluctant but determined eyes, he retreated a few steps back, lifting his hands in surrender.

the atmosphere thickened with tension, and you felt a pulse of fear as the situation escalated. you could see the flicker of uncertainty in geto's eyes, mingled with anger and a desperate need for reconciliation. “satoru,” you said, instinctively stepping forward despite gojo’s hold on you, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and urgency.

“please,” you whisper, holding his hand, arguing him to lose his hand down.

gojo’s gaze softened as he turned to look at you, the intensity of the moment tempered by the sincerity in your voice and the gentle touch of your hand. he hesitated for a moment, looking from you to geto, then back to you. the fire in his eyes began to dim, the concern for you taking precedence over the simmering anger. he released his grip on his cursed technique, the tension in the room easing slightly as the purple light flickered and faded.

you looked up at him, your eyes wide and pleading, whispering, “it’s okay, it’s okay, baby,” as you caressed his chest, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his usual uniform. the warmth of his body against your palm grounded you, a reminder that despite the chaos, you were all in this together.

gojo let out a deep breath, the weight of his anger and fear settling, the anger replaced with a newfound understanding. he nodded, realizing the consequences of his actions. he wrapped his arm around you, his embrace providing a sense of security.

“baby, i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with guilt. “i didn’t mean to escalate. i just... i couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

you gave a small nod, whispering, “it’s okay. i’m okay,” your voice soft and steady as you reach up to cup his cheek, letting your thumb gently brush against his skin. “suguru didn’t hurt me, not really. i didn’t even feel anything.”

his expression softened as he looked into your eyes, relief blending with the lingering guilt. but you couldn’t help feeling a strange warmth in your chest, a kind of happiness that went beyond the moment. it was comforting, in its own way, to see just how deeply gojo cared, how instinctively he had stepped up to protect you without a second thought, even to the point of using his technique against geto for accidentally hurting you.

as you held his face in your hands, his gaze remained steady, vulnerable in a way that you rarely saw. he leaned slightly into your touch, his hand resting over yours. “i... didn’t realize just how scared i was until now,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

you smiled softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek one last time. “i know. but i’m here, and i’m safe.”

the tension in gojo’s face eased, and he nodded, a soft sigh escaping his lips. he leaned into your touch, a warm reassurance. “i know. thank you. it’s... it’s a relief—”

you both turned to see geto standing there. he had remained quiet, his gaze fixed on you, his expression hard to read. there was something in his eyes—a mix of unease and sadness. he took a hesitant step forward, and gojo’s body stiffened, ready to step in if needed.

geto noticed, his hand raising in a gentle, pleading gesture, his voice soft and edged with desperation. “i’m not... i’m not going to do anything. please...” he swallowed, pain etched into every word. “i just want to apologize.”

you watched as geto’s usually confident demeanor cracked, his heart breaking over the fact that things had escalated this far. hurting you was something he couldn’t even fathom, a thought that made his chest tighten painfully. he took another careful step closer, watching gojo’s guarded expression, his movements slow and deliberate, determined not to set off any further tension.

when he was finally close enough, geto hesitantly reached out, his fingers hovering over your cheek where he had accidentally brushed you. his hand trembled slightly, and when you didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch, he allowed his fingertips to make contact, gently tracing the spot as if he could somehow erase what had happened.

your eyes met his, steady and calm, and in that moment, he saw it—that you weren’t afraid of him, that you understood. the hint of relief in his eyes was unmistakable, a fragile glimmer that softened the hurt. “i’m so sorry, baby, i’m so fucking sorry,” he whispered, voice breaking as he run his thumb over your skin. “it was a mistake... i never wanted... i would never—”

you reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, grounding him in the same way you had gojo, silently reassuring him. “i know, suguru. i know it was an accident.”

the tension in gojo’s body eased as he watched the exchange. he had been on high alert, ready to step in at any moment, but the sincerity in geto’s voice and the way you grasped his hand softened his stance. he let out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing. he was still cautious, but he could see the remorse and the genuine love in geto’s eyes, and he knew—he knew with all his heart—that you were safe.

he doesn’t take a step back, refuse to give you and geto some space, a silent reassurance that he is there if things went south once again. his fingertips bent your skin just a little, a reassurance.

you watched the subtle shift in gojo’s stance, how he leaned in towards you a little more, as if the tension in the room had created a magnetic pull between you and him. but you could see that he was trying to respect geto’s space, too, standing just close enough to stay in the eye of the storm but not quite in the center. it was a delicate balance, and he was walking it carefully, aware of the tension that still hung in the air.

your gaze went from gojo to geto and back, your hand still gently grasping geto’s in a gesture of reassurance.

geto’s eyes flickered to your cheek once more, and the guilt was evident in every line of his face. his voice was a low, broken murmur as he apologized again, his gaze fixated on the spot where his hand had accidentally grazed your skin. “i... i didn’t mean to... i was just trying to—”

he swallowed, unable to meet your gaze for a moment, his shoulders slumping as he finally admitted, “i just wanted to run my hand through my hair. it was an accident, i swear.” his hand hovered near your cheek, then hesitated. “i never wanted to hurt you. i’d never—” his voice faltered, a mix of pain and regret filling his eyes as he looked at you.

you squeezed his hand gently, grounding him, your expression softening as you saw just how deeply this had affected him. “i know, suguru,” you whispered, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand. “you’d never hurt me on purpose. i didn’t even feel it.”

relief flashed across his face, a tentative hope that maybe, somehow, he could let go of the guilt that was weighing him down. for a moment, his fingers brushed lightly against your cheek, almost as if to assure himself that he hadn’t left a mark. and when he didn’t find one, he exhaled, his hand falling back to his side, but the gratitude in his gaze remained as he looked at you, his silent apology shining in his eyes.

the atmosphere in the room shifted as geto’s explanation revealed the simple, unintended action behind the incident. gojo felt a twinge of discomfort at the realization that he had allowed the moment to spiral out of control, driven by his own fear and protectiveness. his eyes flitted between you and geto, a mix of relief and embarrassment settling in his features.

“so... so it was just a mistake then?” he asked, his tone laced with newfound understanding. his gaze was gentle as he looked at geto, a silent apology shimmering within his intense sky-blue orbs.

geto nodded, his expression a mixture of remorse and relief. “yeah, just a mistake,” he confirmed, his voice barely above a whisper. “i... i would never mean to hurt her, either of you. it just... it happened so fast.”

his eyes flickered to your cheek once more, as if he were searching for any sign of the unintentional harm he had caused. it was clear that he was struggling with the gravity of the situation, the fear of losing the one he cared about haunting him. but the reassurance in your eyes, the understanding, was evident.

gojo’s gaze lingered on geto, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced with an edge of caution. he studied him carefully, his piercing blue eyes narrowing slightly, as if gauging whether to trust geto’s words or stay on guard. the silence felt thick, stretching between the three of you, every breath weighted.

after a moment, gojo let out a long, deep sigh, tension slowly melting from his shoulders. he gave a reluctant nod, his voice low and serious. “if you ever actually hurt her,” he muttered, a hint of steel in his tone, “i’d be the first to kill you, suguru, i’m not playing.”

the threat was spoken in that familiar, almost casual way gojo had of handling serious moments, but you could tell he meant every word. yet, despite the words, he softened his gaze, the lingering tension easing as he finally dropped the guarded look. there was an unspoken understanding there, a recognition of how much you all meant to each other.

“but i know it was an accident,” gojo added, finally relenting, as he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “just... let’s all be careful next time.” he gave you a faint smile, a silent promise that he’d always be there, ready to protect, no matter what.

[littlelamy]

sleeping with rafe

Rafe couldn’t sleep without you. Whether it was his bed, your bed, or even the couch, he needed you beside him, wrapped up tight, grounding him in a way only you could. Tonight was no different. The moment you slipped under the covers, he pulled you into his arms, sighing deeply as he buried his face against your chest. After a long, exhausting day, all he wanted was to be tangled up with you.

Usually, he preferred to be the big spoon, wrapping you up in his embrace like a protective barrier against the world. But tonight, he craved your warmth more than ever. He nestled his way down, resting his head on your chest, sighing contentedly as he felt your soft skin under his cheek, the rhythm of your heartbeat lulling him. His hand drifted beneath your shirt, fingers gliding over your bare skin, sending tingles through you.

“Missed you,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses against the delicate skin just above your heart. His lips traveled slowly across your chest, savoring each inch, each gentle curve. When he finally reached your nipple, he paused, eyes fluttering shut as he closed his lips around it, sucking softly, his tongue flicking teasingly against the sensitive skin. (rafe having an oral fixation > )

A shiver ran through you, and your breath hitched as you tangled your fingers in his hair, feeling the heat pool low in your stomach. Rafe smiled against you, clearly enjoying your reactions as he took his time, lost in the warmth of you. Each slow pull of his mouth was both possessive and adoring, a perfect blend that made you feel cherished.

“God, you’re so soft… so perfect,” he whispered, pulling back for a moment to watch your face, relishing the flush on your cheeks. He pressed his cheek against your chest again, listening to your heartbeat, tracing gentle patterns across your waist with his fingers.

But as the moments stretched on, you felt that familiar pressure building in your bladder, and you knew you’d have to get up. You tried to shift out of his hold, but Rafe wasn’t having it. Even as you tried to ease your way out from beneath him, his grip tightened, instinctively, possessively and with a sleepy groan.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, his arms looping around you like a vice.

“I… I have to get up,” you whispered, trying not to disturb him too much. He just groaned, shaking his head as he snuggled even closer, tightening his hold like he thought you might just disappear if he let go.

“Just a few more minutes,” he murmured, pressing a sleepy kiss to your collarbone, his face still buried against your chest. “Stay.”

You chuckled softly, heart warming at how attached he was, even if it meant you were stuck for the time being. But eventually, nature’s call grew too insistent, and you had to put your foot down.

“Rafe, I really have to go,” you said, a bit more firmly this time. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at you, pouting slightly, as if to say how could you leave me like this?

With a defeated sigh, he finally relented, loosening his grip just enough to let you slip out of bed. But as you padded to the bathroom, you felt his presence right behind you, half-awake yet determined to stay close. You glanced over your shoulder to find him trailing you, eyes half-lidded and hair tousled, his expression one of pure sleep-addled stubbornness.

He leaned against the doorframe as you entered the bathroom, his gaze unwavering even as you went about your business. You shot him a look, but he only grinned, sliding down to sit by the door, resting his head against the wall with a lazy smile, as if this was perfectly normal behavior.

When you finally returned to bed, he wasted no time in gathering you back into his arms, settling back into his preferred spot on your chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he sighed in satisfaction.

“You’re not allowed to leave me again,” he muttered, voice muffled against you.

You chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, alright. I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that promise, he relaxed completely, his breathing evening out as he drifted back to sleep, held securely in the warmth of your embrace.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

[jxwl4k]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Voiceover .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ genre: fluff

☘︎ pairings: bf!bakugou x beauty influencer!reader

⤿ what happens when you let bakugou do the voiceover for your grwm video?

YN, the beloved beauty influencer, has a large fanbase that eagerly waits for every tutorial and product review she posts. Her followers love her charm, precision, and the care she puts into her skincare and makeup routines. For her latest video, she decides to mix things up with a popular new trend: a voiceover challenge where someone else narrates her skincare and makeup routine. And who better to rope into it than her boyfriend, Bakugou Katsuki?

Bakugou, despite his grumbling, agrees—albeit reluctantly. “Fine, but don’t expect me to know what half this stuff does,” he mutters, eyeing the neatly arranged products on her vanity with a mix of confusion and suspicion. YN just laughs, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before hitting the record button.

The video opens with YN introducing herself with a bright smile, followed by a little montage of Bakugou sitting in a separate room, headphones on, looking like he’s ready to tackle a difficult mission rather than a beauty video. He clears his throat, muttering something about how he can’t believe he’s doing this, which already has viewers laughing. “Alright, listen up. Today, I’m supposed to tell ya what my girl’s doing with all this… stuff.” He glances at a list of her products, clearly struggling with some of the names.

YN starts with her usual cleanser, massaging it into her skin. Bakugou narrates, “Okay, so she’s using some foamy stuff… uh, probably to clean her face? Gotta get rid of all that dirt or somethin’. Look, I don’t know why she’s doin’ it this way, but it looks kinda… relaxing?”

As she rinses and pats her face dry, Bakugou grumbles, “Now she’s dabbing her face with a towel, all gentle like. Ya know, if I did that, I’d be done in two seconds. But she’s got this whole routine down.” YN holds in her laughter as she watches his face pop up in the little corner of her screen, totally serious and almost endearing.

Next, she reaches for her toner. Bakugou’s tone perks up. “Oh, this is that… watery thing she slaps on her face all the time,” he says, clearly recalling her explaining it to him before. “It’s supposed to ‘balance her pH’ or some nonsense. Yeah, don’t ask me what that means. She just… pats it on like this and pretends she’s at a spa or somethin’.”

YN grins as she moves to her serum. Bakugou raises an eyebrow. “Alright, now this is, uh… some fancy oil-lookin’ thing? She’s droppin’ it on her face like it’s some kinda magic potion. It’s supposed to ‘hydrate’ her skin or whatever, but honestly, it looks like somethin’ from a science lab.”

By now, fans watching can tell he’s trying hard to understand her routine, but his cluelessness is oddly charming. “And now she’s doing the ‘pat-pat’ thing again. She says it ‘makes it absorb better,’ but I think she just likes smackin’ her own face,” he chuckles, clearly finding some amusement in this process.

When YN applies her moisturizer, Bakugou sighs. “Okay, now she’s puttin’ on this thick cream. Keeps her skin soft, I guess? Not that she needs it—her skin’s already damn perfect.” There’s a subtle admiration in his tone that he can’t quite hide, and YN has to stifle a blush, feeling flustered hearing him actually compliment her.

Finally, she reaches for her sunscreen. “Ah, this one I know,” Bakugou says, sounding more confident. “She puts this on even if she’s stayin’ inside. Says it ‘protects’ her skin, but I think she just likes coverin’ her face with more stuff. But whatever, it makes her happy.”

With skincare done, YN starts her makeup routine. Bakugou clears his throat, bracing himself. “Alright, now for the…paintin’ part.”

She picks up her primer, dabbing it across her face. Bakugou’s voice comes back, deadpan. “Now she’s smearin’ some kinda… lotion? Guess it’s supposed to make everything else stick to her face better. Y’know, like glue. Genius, right?”

YN laughs, making Bakugou scowl playfully at the camera. “Oi, stop laughing, I’m tryin’ to focus!”

Next up is foundation. “This one’s… the stuff that makes her look all smooth and even,” he says, watching intently as she dabs the foundation with a sponge. “And now she’s attackin’ her face with that squishy… thing. It’s like a little…pillow? Don’t know what it is, but she sure loves hittin’ herself with it.”

YN moves to her concealer, adding a few dots under her eyes. “And now, war paint,” Bakugou says dramatically. “Under the eyes, on the nose, chin… she’s gotta look like she’s goin’ into battle, but actually she’s just coverin’ up… nothin’. She doesn’t even have dark circles!”

As she blends it in, Bakugou sighs. “More pat-pat-patting. I think if I had to do this every day, I’d go nuts. But she’s committed, I’ll give her that.”

YN reaches for her eyeshadow palette, full of warm-toned shades. “Now she’s got this… box of colors,” Bakugou says, slightly intrigued. “She says it’s called ‘pumpkin spice’ or somethin’? Anyway, she’s paintin’ her eyelids with it, like she’s makin’ mini explosions on her face. Gotta admit, it’s kinda cool lookin’.”

He gets a little quiet when she reaches for her mascara. “Now she’s puttin’ this… black paint on her lashes. Looks dangerous. I swear one wrong move and she could poke her eye out,” he mutters, genuinely a little worried.

Then she moves to her highlighter, sweeping it on her cheekbones. Bakugou raises a brow. “And now…sparkles? I dunno why her face needs to be shiny, but… it’s like she’s glowin’ or somethin’.” His tone softens as he watches her finish up, clearly impressed despite himself.

Finally, she applies a vibrant lipstick, and Bakugou nearly chokes. “Okay, now she’s puttin’ on this…red lipstick. Real bright. It…makes her look nice,” he mumbles, clearly flustered. “Not that I care or nothin’.”

YN ends with a soft smile, blowing a kiss to the camera. Bakugou scoffs, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Yeah, yeah, alright. That’s how she does it. Don’t know how she has the patience, but… I guess she looks kinda…” He pauses, swallowing. “…stunning.”

As the video wraps up, fans are absolutely delighted with Bakugou’s commentary. They adore his tough exterior melting just a little as he describes YN’s routine, his hidden compliments giving away how much he cares. YN posts the video, and it quickly becomes a fan favorite, showing not only her expertise but also the softer side of the explosive Pro Hero by her side.

Later, YN teases him, saying, “See? You didn’t do too bad!”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, though there’s a slight blush on his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah…don’t get used to it.” But the way he looks at her, even off-camera, says he’d be willing to do it all over again.

[steveslevis]

all of you, all of me, intertwined.

azriel x healer!reader

summary: You met your mate during the war and have been obsessed with him–and his dagger–ever since.

warnings: smut!!!!!, improper use of of Truth-Teller (aka object in v), knife kink, dom/sub dynamic (+ hints of R in subspace), praise kink, lots of dirty talk, mentions of war & injuries, mentions of pregnancy

If anyone would’ve told you five years ago that the mating bond snaps for you when your brand new mate pulls a knife from his hip and presses it to your throat, you wouldn’t have believed them. Hell, even five days ago you wouldn’t have believed them. 

But here you are, a blade against your throat, back pushed against a wooden support of the tent you accidentally walked into as the most breathtaking male you’ve ever seen holds you in place, eyes narrowed and hands firm on your shoulder and throat as he stares down at you intensely with bright hazel eyes. 

You didn’t mean to walk into the wrong tent, exhaustion and confusion has taken over your body hours prior and it was an honest mistake to walk up the wrong row of tents in the middle of the night. So, you truly don’t blame the male for holding a knife to your throat. You would’ve done the same if a random fae waltzed into your tent while you were recuperating after battle, considering this is the middle of a Godsforsaken war with Hybern. 

A strained cry breaks from your throat as the bond tugs on your chest for the first time ever, feeling like your heart is about to beat through your ribcage as you stare back at the male in front of you, your mate. 

“Who are you?” he insists, blade pressing harder into your throat as he watches emotionlessly as you cry out once more.

You thrash in his grasp once, the blade slipping across your throat as you throw your head to one side. The male grips your chin to force you to look at him, making the blade slip across your throat once more, the tiniest ripples of blood coming to the surface as you lock eyes with him once more.

“M–Mate,” you whimper, voice barely audible as you stare up at him with terrified eyes, hands trembling as you try to reach for his blade. 

“Mate?”

Those are the only words you hear before you slip into unconsciousness, collapsing into the male’s grasp as he stands there, dumbfounded at your words. 

When you wake, you find yourself slumped in a chair, presumably in the tent that you accidentally entered prior to fainting. You’re faced with a familiar female when you wake, who you slowly realize is the High Lady of the Night Court. She’s standing over you, pressing a damp cloth to the shallow cuts on your throat. Your eyes wander as you process the people you’re currently in the room with, you see two very obviously Illyrian males next to the High Lord of the Night Court on one side of the room along with a tall, beautiful blonde female helping the High Lady with tending to you. 

It takes you a moment, but you slowly realize that you definitely wandered into the High Lord and Lady’s tent thanks to the fatigue from battle. 

On your final scan of the room, you finally comprehend that one of the Illyrian males on the other side of the room is definitely your mate, and it’s definitely the male that’s pacing back and forth in front of the other two while running his hands through his hair frantically. You finally recognize the two males with the High Lord as his General and Spymaster, the Spymaster being the one who bombarded you as you entered the tent, but you can’t remember either of their names in your haze.

You try to sit up straight as soon as you see him, but Feyre gently guides you back in the chair before you can. 

“Azriel,” she calls out, making the male snap his attention towards you. 

He’s next to you in an instant, kneeling next to the chair while peering up at you with those cautious hazel eyes. 

“H–Hi.” is all he says, voice shaky as he speaks. 

“H–Hello.” you stammer, finally sitting up straight in the chair, “My deepest apologies for barging in, I–I promise I thought I walked up the right row of tents, I was just trying to go–”

“It’s alright,” the male in front of you, who you now know to be named Azriel, interjects coolly, shaking his head as he notes the panic in your eyes. “The High Lord knows you mean no harm. He saw what you were trying to do.”

You furrow your brow, unsure what he means by the High Lord seeing what you were trying to do. Before you can question it, Rhysand himself takes a step towards your chair.

“And I saw how much blood you’d lost prior to your walk over to the tents, even before your new-found mate here decided to put a blade to your throat.” Rhysand says, “It’s Y/N, correct?” he asks, and you nod hesitantly, “Would you like to see a healer?”

It’s then that you remember that the High Lord is daemati and definitely infiltrated your mind when you entered the tent, in order to gauge the threat you posed to them. 

You shake your head quickly, a frown pulling on your lips as you’re reminded of the blood pooling beneath your leathers at your hip. You don’t want to see another healer, you’re a damn good healer, but you have to remind yourself that they don’t know that yet. Pain ripples through your side as you twist slightly in the chair to look at Rhysand and you have to force back a grimace as you give him a weak smile. 

“No, I am quite alright. Thank you very much, High Lord.” you say, nodding formally at him before attempting to stand from the chair. “I have plenty of healing and strength tonics back in my tent. I just n–need to wrap it and get some rest for the morning.”

You barely make it one step before stumbling, your mind going hazy and body going shaky due to the lost blood and lack of food or water throughout the day. Azriel is there to catch you as soon as you stumble, strong hands holding your weight up before settling you back into your chair. You see shadows skitter around you as you take a shuddering breath and you wonder if your vision is clouding again. But you soon notice them around Azriel’s hands as well and make a mental note to ask about them once you’re fully conscious and not feeling delusional. 

“It doesn’t seem like you’re fit to go anywhere right now.” Azriel mumbles with a slight growl in his voice, turning away from you immediately after you relax back into the chair. 

He walks over to a table on the other side of the room that’s filled with objects you’d find scattered across your own desk on any given day at work. There’s bottles of tonics, gauze, bandages and even some sutures strewn across the table. It makes sense that the High Lord and his Inner Circle would have their own supplies given to them during the war. 

Azriel takes his time gathering the supplies he needs, then sets them on a table adjacent to the chair before turning his attention back to you. 

“Do you need help, brother?” Rhysand questions, noting Azriel’s furrowed brow as he tries to decide what to do first. “I can call for Madja.”

“No, I can do it.” Azriel grunts insistently, sending a warning glare in Rhysand’s direction. 

There’s a tug in the center of your chest as he speaks, as he unintentionally sends his possessiveness and frustration down the bond to you. Without a word, you send a weak but soothing hum of power down the bond back to him, which makes his brows furrow again, his attention snapping to you instead of the High Lord now. 

The look in his eyes is wild, one filled with shock and awe as he processes what you just did. 

“Did you feel that?” you question softly, eyes wide and watery as your heart feels like it’s going to beat through your chest. 

He only nods, his own eyes wide as his hand rests over his heart. You hear the rest of them behind you beginning to exit, hearing the High Lady suggest that they go visit her sisters to give the two of you space. A feeling of relief washes over you as the tent empties, leaving you alone with Azriel, your mate.

“So it is real,” he says breathlessly, a strangled noise of shock falling from his lips as you tug on the bond once more, “you’re really my mate.”

“I am,” you say in reply, a smile playing on your lips as you gaze up at him, you reach a hand up to his cheek to cup it as you grin as you repeat his words back to him, “you’re my mate.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he notices how shaky your hand is against his cheek. He turns his gaze back to the slew of supplies he has in front of him. You hold back from directing him only for a moment before noticing the look of pure confusion on his face as he reaches for one of the tubs of salve that he’d grabbed. 

“Did Madja give you any strength tonics?” you ask, eyes scanning the table for the distinct bottle of aquamarine liquid that you have in mind. 

You spot it eventually, but can’t reach far enough to grab it, so you point to it for him to hand to you. Azriel does so and watches you closely while you shakily take off the stopper and take a drink from the bottle. You know that you only need to take half of the bottle, because you’d mixed these yourself and the amount in each was enough for male Illyrian warriors, not for an ordinary high fae healer. So you drink half of it and set it back down, noticing the male staring at you with wonder-filled eyes as you do.

There’s a beat of silence in the room as you reach for the healing salve on the table, making quick work of soothing the stinging cuts on your neck from Azriel’s interrogation. He continues to stare as you work on your own wounds, unsure of what he can do to help.

“Are you–” 

“A healer?” you interrupt with a smirk, giggling at the dumbfounded male in front of you. “I’m a healer working under Madja.”

“So you really don’t even need me to help with this, do you?” he questions, a small smile on his lips as he stares down at you soothing the cuts on your neck.

“Normally I wouldn’t,” you jokingly hum in return, “but since my healing abilities are stunted and I can’t twist too well right now to see what’s going on, I will need you to dress my wound.”

Azriel’s eyes widen at your words and he nods quickly, dropping to his knees in front of you again. His hands hovered over your waist, taking in the bloodied gash on your side. Your leathers are tattered in that area and there’s a piece of some other cloth shoved in between the holes of the leather, something you did while trying to keep the bleeding at bay while you fought. Truthfully, you can’t fully remember what caused the wound itself, but you’d rather not remember the traumas of the battlefield you endured over the last few days. 

“May I?” his voice interrupts your thoughts as his hands still wait for your approval to peel your leathers away from the wound. 

You nod silently, inhaling sharply as he pulls the leather away from your waist, tugging it up with your help. There’s blood caked on your skin, so Azriel makes quick work of carefully wiping down the area with a warm washcloth. You wince at the rough feeling of the cloth against your skin, biting back a cry as he continues to clean it. He mumbles apologies to you over and over again, his free hand grabbing for one of yours for you to squeeze.

“Almost done,” he murmurs, his thumb running across the back of your hand as he intently stares at your wound.

He finishes up quickly, pressing some dry gauze to the cut area before turning his gaze to you. Your eyes are watering when they meet his hazel ones, but you still give him a weak smile in return. 

“Now you can stitch me up, right?” you question jokingly.

Azriel misses the joke and the half smile on his face falls slowly at the thought. You giggle at his expression, shaking your head as he stares at you blankly.

“I’m only joking,” you tease, watching him finally relax once you start giggling. “I just need you to wrap me up, okay?”

“Yeah, yes of course.” he replies quickly, reaching for the large roll of bandage to his left to start wrapping it around your waist, “Do you harass all your healing trainees like that?”

There’s a smirk on his face as he places the bandage over the gauze on your side, eyes twinkling as he teases you back. 

“No, only the ones that interrogate me with a knife right before I find out that they’re my mate.” 

______________________________________________________________

Six years later

“Can you believe that it’s been six years since you held me at knife-point with Truth-Teller the first time we met?” you ask your mate, who just emerged from your en-suite bathroom in only a towel.

You’re laying on your side in the middle of your king-sized bed in the middle of your shared bedroom, toying with Truth-Teller that Azriel had left behind on the bedside table. 

“Are you ever gonna let that go?” Azriel says as he walks toward the edge of the bed, a smirk on his face as he pushes Truth-Teller out of your grasp. “I only did it because I thought you were gonna try to kill Rhys, or even worse, kill Feyre.” 

You gasp at his statement, throwing your hand over your heart dramatically. 

“I would never do such a thing and you know it.” you say with a dramatic frown, propping yourself up on your elbows as he inches closer to you by sitting down next to you. 

“I didn’t know that then,” he says matter-of-factly, “but now I know that you would never do such a thing and that you’re a little too fascinated by Truth-Teller after all that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re turned on by it.”

Your eyes widen at his bold statement, your body flushing with embarrassment as he smirks at you before pulling you in for a searing kiss. His hands caress your sides, fingers gently grazing over your scars from that fated night from over your silk nightgown. You grasp for any part of him that you can, your hands shoving their way into his slightly damp hair to pull him closer. He hums against your lips, pulling you onto his lap. 

He presses your hips down onto his, causing you to moan into the kiss and grind back into him as you feel his half-hard length pressing against your core. His lips trail from your lips, to your cheek, and up to your ear. His breath fans against your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Shadows trail along the hem of your nightgown, pulling the silky fabric up and up and up–

“How would you feel if I used Truth-Teller on you now, huh?” he murmurs against your skin, nibbling on your earlobe as he chuckles, “What if I took the blade and cut this pretty little nightgown off? What if I took the hilt and–”

Azriel’s lewd words are interrupted by a loud banging on your bedroom door, causing you to nearly jump out of his lap as the pounding continues.

“Training in twenty minutes with the Valkyries, asshole.” you hear Cassian’s booming voice call from the other side of the door, “Get your shit done and get out here, I can smell you two from out here.”

“I’ll be there, now fuck off,” Azriel retorts, biting back a smirk as he peers down at you to mumble, “remind me to look into new houses for just us soon.”

A pout pulls your lips down as you make the smallest bit of space between you and your mate, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you become all too aware of your arousal hanging thick in the room.

“Don’t worry, love. We can continue this later,” he hums, bringing his lips to your neck to pepper kisses along the soft skin, “I don’t wanna rush anything today, wanna take my sweet time with my sweet girl.”

The flush of your cheeks deepen as you pull him closer, whining in response to his sensual touch, grinding your hips ever-so-lightly against his as you try to silently convince him to stay with you. He only growls in response, shaking his head at your mischief as he realizes your plan. 

“It’s our anniversary, Az.” you whine, a frown on your lips once more as the scent of your arousal continues to linger around you, enticing your mate more and more with each breath. 

It’s the anniversary of the mating bond snapping into place along with the anniversary of your mating ceremony today. The two of you decided to wait a year to accept the bond in order to get to know each other, and you’ve been inseparable since.

“I know, love.” he coos gently, hand coming up to your cheek to stroke it gently. “That’s why I wanna take my time with you, wanna make sure my perfect girl is taken care of in every way possible tonight. Can you be a good little mate and hold out until after dinner with the family?”

You continue to frown at your mate, but nod at him slowly. He smiles in return, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before gripping your hips to remove you from his lap and place you back on the bed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to training?” Azriel asks as he stands, reaching for his coveted blade as he stands over you. “I could bring Truth-Teller out to play just for you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to ignore the familiar yet strange feeling of dread roiling within your gut as you try to feign annoyance with your mate. You shake your head at him wordlessly, rolling your eyes playfully when he shoots a lighthearted smirk in your direction. He’s only teasing you and you both know it, but the thought of training for battle does not sit right with you anymore, especially after you swore to him five years ago that he’d protect you forever, and that you’d never have to be on the front lines of war again. You could continue your duties as a healer for as long as you pleased, and would never have to worry about defending yourself, as your very own shadowsinger would do so for you. 

Ever since sustaining your injury six years prior, your body has never been the same. The injury you sustained was so intense that even the powers of you and Madja combined couldn’t heal the skin of your waist fully, nor could the two of you completely repair the damage to your hip bone that fractured from the impact of whatever took a chunk out of you. You can’t move as freely as you once could, though it doesn’t stop you from many things now aside from training, which you’ve only attempted once. 

“I’m only joking, love.” he reassures you, seeing the dimming light in your eyes as you drift off into thought at the idea of training. His hand runs along your side reflexively, as if his own scarred hands can heal the scarred skin of your waist. He plants one soft kiss on your lips before pulling away, taking you in as he smiles, “I love you, happy anniversary.” 

“Happy anniversary, Az. I love you so much.” you murmur, watching as your mate continues to get ready for the day. 

—

The day flies by quickly, filled mostly with fulfilling orders from Madja for illness tonics and salves in preparation for the coldest months in Prythian. It’s all a blur to you in all honesty, your mate being the only thing on your mind all day as you try to preoccupy yourself with busy work until it’s time to go to the River House for dinner.

It’s only 4:30 in the evening by the time you finish putting the rest of the salves into their tins. But you still decide to head to the River House a little early in order to speak to Feyre regarding an experimental tonic the two of you had brainstormed about a few weeks prior. 

She had commissioned you to do some research on non-Illyrian females giving birth to half-Illyrian children if there was any magic that could help to make the process less life-threatening. The High Lady never specifically asked you to make anything, just to research the topic, but you found a mix of tonics that would potentially help with flexibility and strength of a female’s bones during pregnancy in order to prevent major complications with the Illyrian wings and couldn’t help but start experimenting right away. 

It was a topic dear to your heart and you were more than grateful for Feyre’s commission, as you’d been told by Madja multiple times that it’s very possible that you’d never be able to mother Azriel’s children, especially due to the injuries you sustained in battle damaging your hip and pelvis. You’d hoped that this could be the cure for your feelings of inadequacy in being able to give your mate a child, but Madja still warns you to be careful and to wait as long as possible before deciding to try for a child in order to make sure you are truly healed. 

Despite the ringing thoughts of inadequacy in your brain after finishing the tonic, you nearly floated with excitement over to the River House at the end of your day, feeling beyond excited to tell Feyre the great news about your work-in-progress.

You enter the River House and are greeted with the smell of fresh pastries and a crackling fireplace. One turn into the drawing room and you spot Feyre lounging on the couch while Nesta plays with Nyx in the middle of the floor. Rhysand enters the room from the other direction as you do, three glasses of wine in hand as he strolls toward the couch to sit with his mate. Your chest blooms with warmth at the sight in front of you, admiring your found family that you lucked into becoming part of just a few years ago. 

Feyre is the first to notice you enter the room, greeting you with a grin as she motions for you to come in. You sit on the couch that’s facing the one the mates are sitting on, quietly greeting the others in the room as you settle. 

Nyx all but abandons Nesta when you come in, waddling over to you to give your legs a hug. You giggle at the boy, grabbing him under his arms to pull him into your lap and give him a proper hug giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“You’re here early today,” Rhys notes, summoning a fourth glass of wine for you before handing it to you. 

“I finished with my work early today, and had some exciting news to tell the High Lady that I wanted to share before dinner.” you retort with a smile, bouncing the toddler on your knee as you speak. 

Feyre’s eyes narrow at you as you call her by her formal title, but it’s so second nature to you that you almost always slip up when referring to her in conversation. You give her an apologetic look but her mood quickly changes once she realizes what you’re referring to.

“Oh, what have you found?” she says excitedly, sitting up straight as if that would help her hear your response any better. “Any good ideas for us to look into?”

“Actually, I have something better than good ideas to look into,” you say, reaching your hand into the bag at your side, pulling out a small vial of a cherry red tonic to show the three in front of you. 

“Is that–”

You nod slowly and hum in response, swirling the liquid in the vial before handing it to Feyre. She inspects it with wide, wonder-filled eyes as it sloshes in the tube. Nesta and Rhys crane their necks to look as well, both confused about the content of the vial.

“If it does what it is meant to do, it should be able to widen the pelvis of non-Illyrian females in order to aid in the birth of winged babes and make the process easier on our bodies.” you start, a bittersweet smile on your face as you catch yourself using the word our, referring to yourself as one of the females, though you know how unlikely it is that you’ll be able to. “It is supposed to help with the flexibility of the bone and grow the bone outward in order to accommodate the wings. We–We just need to complete some trials on non-pregnant females to confirm that it does what we want it to do before we can start advertising it to the public–”

“I’ll volunteer,” Nesta says, eyes wide as her own eagerness takes her aback. “I mean–If you need volunteers, I would love to help.”

“Of course, Nes.” you say with a smile, “You’ll be the first person on my list to contact when we’re ready for volunteers.”

“And what about you?” Rhysand interjects, taking a sip of wine as he peers over at you with nothing but pure interest and amusement in his eyes. “Would this be able to help you with childbirth, given your situation?”

Feyre immediately elbows her mate in the ribs, giving him a sidelong glare as she does. You know his curiosity is genuine and he means no harm by asking the question, but the thought alone feels like a knife through the heart. 

As you open your mouth to answer him, the doors to the house swing open, a booming voice flowing through the lower level as Cassian and Azriel enter. You thank the Cauldron in that moment for Cassian’s loud mouth, turning your attention to the two males strolling into the drawing room. 

Your mate’s eyes meet your own instantly, brow furrowed as he looks down to you, able to feel your discomfort, thanks to the conversation they’d interrupted, through the bond. You give him a weak, but reassuring smile, tugging on the bond lightly as if to tell him that you’re fine. 

“We thought we’d find you two here,” Cassian says to you and his mate, pulling Nesta into an embrace when she stands to greet him. “Neither of you can go a full day without seeing your precious Nyx, can you?” 

You smile down at the giggling boy in your lap, little wings flapping happily behind him as Cassian comes behind him to poke him teasingly. 

“As much as I love this little babe, I know my rightful place,” you laugh, standing from the couch to hand the child over to Nesta. “I know I’m quite far down on the list of favorites, especially since Auntie Nes is 1000% his number one.” 

Nesta hums in approval as she holds the little boy close, cooing as he plops his head down on her shoulder. 

Azriel makes his way over to you, his shadows immediately greeting you with lingering touches and whispers in your ears. His wing closest to you nearly wraps all the way around you like a protective shield, covering your back as he pulls you to his side to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Are you alright?” he mumbles against your skin and you nod, feeling better now that your mate is by your side again, especially when he sends a soothing hum down the bond to you. 

The rest of the night goes by smoothly, with flowing drinks and a bountiful feast. You told Feyre a thousand times that she did not have to do all of this just to celebrate your five year mating ceremony anniversary, but she insisted. It’s just you, Nesta, Feyre and your mates, and Nyx, present for dinner this time, as the others have other obligations. 

You don’t mind, though, since sometimes it’s overwhelming with all of the Inner Circle, including Varian and Lucien following their lovers around like lost puppies, present for dinners. So you’re grateful for the somewhat smaller crowd, meaning there are less people around to ask prying questions about your job, about your life before meeting Azriel, or–your least favorite–about what Azriel is like in bed. Those questions typically come from Mor or Amren after a few too many glasses of fae wine, but you’re grateful for the break from them for the time being.

You don’t miss the way your mate sneaks glances at you all night, sending his shadows to tease you and play with the crushed velvet of your skirts while acting engrossed by conversation with Nesta, using his own strong hand on your thigh to tease you. 

By the time desserts roll out, you’re having a hard time sitting still under his touch, ready to head back to the House of Wind to continue whatever you had started with him earlier in the day. You’re shifting back and forth in your seat while trying to focus on the chocolate tart in front of you when you feel a strong hand squeeze your thigh once again, making you snap your attention to your mate. 

Azriel smirks down at you, reaching his free hand to your cheek to stroke it gently. Your knee brushes his leg as he massages your thigh gently, pushing your knee against the sheath holding Truth-Teller flush to his outer thigh while a wicked smirk plays on his lips. He knows exactly what he’s doing and it’s damn near driving you insane.

“Are you going to be okay to leave after you finish your dessert, love?” he questions, feigning innocence as he knows at least Nesta and Cassian are listening to him from the seats on the other side of you. “I’m exhausted from training today.”

You nod quietly, keeping a cool and collected expression on your face while you tug on the bond between your souls sensually.

It’s only 8 in the evening by the time Az is shooting into the sky with you in his arms, two hours earlier than the two of you usually are leaving the River House on a family dinner night. He typically has to drag you out of the drawing room after multiple drinks with Feyre and Cassian, but this time you’re the one dragging him out. 

He doesn’t even bother entering the House of Wind through the front, just flies straight onto the balcony outside your bedroom, pushing the door open quickly as he sets you down gently. 

Before you can pounce, he turns away from you and walks over to his desk on the other side of the room, rummaging through the top drawer. He pulls out a black rectangular box that’s a little longer than his hand, adorned with a golden ribbon. You frown as he turns back around, shaking your head at him.

“Az, we said no gifts.” you say, brows furrowing as he runs his hand along the edges of the box nervously. “I–I didn’t get you anything.”

“I know, I didn’t want you to get me anything,” he says firmly, hazel eyes flaring with love and intensity as he stares down at you. “I–I just wanted to give you this, it’s something I’ve had for a long time and haven’t really known what to do with, until now.”

He’s firm in his movements as he places the box into your hands, not letting go until you accept the gift. You eventually grab it, a frown crossing your face as you look down at the box.

You choose not to argue with him anymore, giving in to his intense gaze as you tug on the golden ribbon to free the lid for the box. In all honesty, you’re expecting some kind of jewelry, some delicate and historic necklace that he’s had for centuries. What you’re not expecting to find on the other side of the black lid is a dagger. 

Lying within a blanket of velvet inside of the box is a silver dagger, one with a braided silver and gold hilt adorned with large white and golden-yellow gemstones in an intricate pattern imitating starlight all the way from the pommel down to the cross-guard. A gasp falls from your lips as you take in the beauty of the weapon in the box, unsure of what to say.

“I was given this dagger centuries ago by my mother. She told me she knew I would never use it myself because my hands had nearly outgrown it by the time she gave it to me, but she knew that I would find the perfect person to give it to.” Azriel says, unsheathing Truth-Teller to place it next to the box in your hand. “I think deep down she knew that I would meet you, love.”

The dagger within the box is almost an exact replica of Truth-Teller in shape and form but not size, only the color of the gemstones embedded in the metal and the gold-adorned hilt of the smaller one setting the two apart. 

The two blades seem to hum when set next to each other, as if they were Made together, as if they were twin flames, as if they were mates. You can feel the vibration in your hands along with in your own soul as you stare down at the gift in wonder.

“Az, I–I can’t take this from you,” you say, finally looking back up at him with teary eyes, “I know how much your daggers mean to you, I don’t want to take one from you.”

“My lightsinger,” Azriel nearly whispers to you, his free hand coming up to brush through your hair, “my beautiful mate, can’t you see?”

You smile gently at the nickname, one he’d given you shortly after the two of you had met. He’d told you that he thought you were a lightsingerwhen you walked into the tent that evening, joking that you were just like the faeries living in the Bog of Oorid in the way that you lured him in immediately. The nickname stuck, especially after the first time he’d watched you heal Nyx, seeing the bright light flowing from your fingers as you healed the boy’s scraped knee to ease his pitiful sobs. 

“Can’t you feel it, love? This dagger was made for you, it took me so long to realize it, but I just know this was made for you. It sings to Truth-Teller, just like your soul sings to mine. You are the light to my shadows, I–I really never thought I would find you in this lifetime, but then you just stumbled into that damn tent six years ago and my life has been so much better since. I was stuck in a constant state of darkness with no real purpose in sight until this bond snapped into place, but now I can see what my life is meant to be spent with you.” he continues, cupping your cheek. 

For a man of few words, Azriel always knows how to make you melt. Without a word, you pull him down for a gentle kiss, feeling the two daggers hum in rhythm with your bond between your bodies. You pull away from the kiss to peer up at him, eyes glowing with love and warmth.

“I love you, Azriel.” you whisper, pulling him close as his shadows skitter over your hand that’s touching his cheek. “My shadowsinger, my mate.”

He doesn’t say anything as he wraps one arm around your waist, the other pulling the daggers from your grasp. He sets you and the blades onto the edge of the bed, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he kisses you deeply.

“Can we finally finish what we started earlier today?” you tease against his lips, earning a chuckle from the shadowsinger.

“I think we need to finish the conversation we were having earlier before we continue anything else, yeah?” he murmurs, trailing kisses along the smooth skin of your neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hum innocently, grinding your hips up into his eagerly. 

“Hmm, you don’t?” he questions, blindly searching for the blade he’d strewn onto the bed next to you with his free hand before running it along your arm. You gasp at the contact, the coolness of the blade making your skin erupt in goosebumps, “Does this jog your memory at all, love?”

You open your mouth to make a teasing comment to your mate, but he trails the blade from your arm and up to your chest, stopping at the hem of your shirt laying between your breasts.

“Do you want me to use my blade on you?” he questions, voice low and sultry as he speaks, “I see the way you watch when I train with Truth-Teller, I can feel the way it makes your heart race every time I pull it out. I see how disappointed you get when I take it off my hip when I come into the bedroom, love.” he continues, the tip of the blade drawing tiny circles on your chest as your breathing grows heavy. “Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

You stare up at him with lust-filled eyes, pupils blown as you think about what’s about to happen. He gives you an encouraging yet lustful look in return, tugging on the bond between your souls to tell you how much he needs you. His shadows trail around you as well, tendrils swirling by your ears and down near your breasts excitedly to spur you on. 

“I–I want you to use Truth-Teller on me, Az.” you admit finally, a blush spreading over your cheeks at the confession. 

“How would you like me to use it, love? You gotta use your words or I won’t know what you want.” he coaxes, a smirk playing on his lips as he tries to get you to elaborate, since it always took much encouragement from the foul-mouthed shadowsinger to get you to talk dirty with him. 

“Want you t–to fuck me with it, u–use the hilt to fuck me.” you murmur, eyes falling to avoid his as the words fall from your lips. “Want you to cut my clothes off with it and–and then fuck me, mark me as yours, Az.”

He hums happily at your confession, one hand coming up to grip your chin. Your eyes meet his and you notice that something’s changed, something dark and lustful taking over his gaze as he trails the blade from the exposed skin of your chest towards the ruffled neckline of your pale marigold dress. Your breath catches as the blade digs into the velvet, easily creating a small nick in the fabric.

“This dress is one of my favorites on you,” Azriel states in an almost disappointed tone as he watches the blade slowly separating the bust of the dress, “but I guess I’ll just have to find a really good seamstress to make you a new one because I need to get this off of you, right now.”

Before you can process the scene unfolding, Azriel uses one swift flick of Truth-Teller to split the velvet all the way down to your navel, and one more to separate the skirt. His eyes are wide as he shoves the fabric from your body, helping you as you tug your arms out of the sleeves, leaving you in only a glittering navy blue bralette and thong, picked out specially for him. 

“You’re incredible,” the shadowsinger breathes out, feverishly pressing his lips to yours again once he takes in your figure below him.

Your heart races as you raise your hips up, grinding against his clothed cock while he trails Truth-Teller over your bare hip. He groans into your mouth before pulling away from the kiss, gently removing your legs from around his hips to spread them for you. Shadows work on your bralette as he moves the blade, unbuttoning the back of it so you can quickly toss it off, leaving you in only the glittering navy thong.

Truth-Teller is in Azriel’s hand as he takes a half-step away from you in order to trail the blade down to your core, the cool metal against your heat causing you to squirm slightly. He smirks at you as he flips the dagger around, hand on the blade as he presses the hilt against your clit. 

“Are you sure you want this, sweetheart?” he questions seriously, watching you closely for any signs of hesitation. He finds none as you shake your head firmly.

“Yes, Az.” you nearly whine as it takes everything in you to keep your hips on the bed, feeling like you’re going to implode if he waits another minute to touch you. “I need you..need Truth-Teller, please.” 

“Nuh-uh, love. I gotta hear what you want.” he purrs, a smirk playing on his lips as he holds your hips in place with one hand while pressing the dagger against your clit with the other, “Gotta tell me what you need from me and Truth-Teller.”

It takes everything in you not to scream as he urges you to beg for him, tears welling in your eyes as you stare up at your mate. His hazel eyes are blown with lust as he continues his relentless teasing, getting pleasure from you begging for him.

“P–Please,” is all you can say as your mind becomes fogged by desire, eyes glassy as you beg.

“Use your words, love.” he prods again, a wild smirk on his face as he watches you becoming a mess beneath him. He knows you love submitting to him like this, and loves watching you give in to his every desire, loves watching you give up all control in order to please him. 

“I don’t know what you want when you just sit there and whine at me,” he teases, removing Truth-Teller from your core to move it towards your lips. “For all I know, you could want me to fuck your face with it.”

He catches the way your eyes flare slightly with interest at his suggestion, the way your lips part slightly as if you’re ready to take the hilt in your mouth instead. He knows you’re close to giving in again just from the way you can’t take your eyes off of him, the look in your eyes showing him that you’ll do anything for him.

A low chuckle falls from his lips as your mouth falls open when the pommel presses against your plump lips, allowing him to slide the hilt into your mouth with ease. Your lips close around the metal and he presses it to the back of your throat, slowly pumping it in and out as you whine around it.

“This isn’t what you really want, is it?” he questions and you hum around the hilt and shake your head slowly. “That’s what I thought. Once I take this out of your mouth, you have five seconds to tell me what you want, or you don’t get to cum at all tonight, got it?”

You nod obediently up at him, heart swelling with pride as he smiles sweetly down at you. 

“Good girl.” he whispers, finally pulling Truth-Teller out of your mouth for you to speak.

“Want you to fuck me with Truth-Teller, Sir.” you beg almost immediately, “Please, I–I need to feel it, wanna cum on your dagger, wanna be your good girl.”

“Oh, I can’t say no when you ask so sweetly, can I?” he coos at you as he pulls your panties away from your core, making room for his fingers on your clit and the hilt of the dagger against your entrance. “Now, be a good girl for me and stay still, sweetheart.”

He presses the pommel into your cunt, groaning as he watches your heat swallow the metal so well. A cry of pleasure falls from your lips as the hilt is pushed deeper into you, mouth falling open as you squeeze your eyes shut. That familiar feeling coils in your core as the hilt reaches your cervix, pent up from all the teasing you endured leading up to this moment. 

“Look at you, already ready to fall apart on my dagger. Such a good slut for me,” he remarks, pumping the blade into you at a steady pace. “You’re not allowed to cum until I say so, alright?”

“Yes, Sir!” you whine, nodding feverishly as you squirm.

Azriel watches in wonder as you take the entire hilt of the blade, your hips bouncing in rhythm with his thrusts. He can tell you’re fighting hard to hold back your orgasm, getting even more turned on by the tears of pleasure and frustration pricking the corners of your eyes as you bite your lip harshly. 

“Love when you take what I give you and listen so well,” he praises, increasing the speed of his thrusts as you begin to chant his name mindlessly, “My beautiful little mate.”

“P–Please, Sir.” you beg, eyes opening quickly and hips snapping roughly as you feel the shadows begin to work on your clit when Azriel takes his hand away to palm himself through his pants. “I wanna cum for you, please!”

“That’s it, love.” he coaxes as you don’t dare to look away from him, watching as he smirks down at you approvingly, “C’mon, cum on my blade.”

You don’t have to be told twice, your release immediately washing over your whole body as you let out a loud cry of pleasure. Azriel wraps an arm around your waist as you squirm beneath him, pumping Truth-Teller into you at an unforgiving pace to fuck you through your orgasm. He kisses your neck gently, whispering praises in your ear that you can’t hear over the shout that falls from your lips. He doesn’t stop moving until you’re almost begging him to, squirming beneath him to get away from his relentless touches. 

“Did so good for me.” he murmurs against your skin, planting one last kiss against your neck before pulling away from you completely and placing Truth-Teller next to you on the bed. “Think you can give me another?”

You watch in a daze as he strips, discarding his clothes quickly before returning to the foot of the bed. In his own lustful daze, he begins to sheath himself into you immediately upon stripping, but stops himself when he looks down to see you blinking up at him slowly. He relaxes for a moment, reaching to stroke your cheek gently to bring you back to him. 

“Need your color, love.” he coos, smiling down at you sweetly.

“Green, Az.” you say confidently as you nuzzle against his hand, “Need you so bad, Az, please.”

He hums in response, leaning down to kiss you gently as he pushes into you, one hand toying with your clit as he does. You both groan at the feeling, his cock filling you to the brim, unlike the hilt of Truth-Teller that didn’t have the same thickness.

“F–Fuck,” he groans, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “You feel so good, love. Don’t know how long I’ll last.”

He couldn’t lie, watching you get off on Truth-Teller turned him on so much more than it should have. It turned him on so much that he’d almost cum in his pants at the sight of you, so he’s on the brink of cumming just from being inside your warmth for a few strokes. 

“Want you to cum in me, Az.” you whine, desperate to feel him, in love with the sight of your mate marking you as his. “Please, cum inside me. I’m close again too. Make me yours all over again.”

He nods wordlessly, speeding up his thrusts as you coax him now, the feeling of you clenching around him spurring him on even more. You wrap your legs around his waist, digging your fingers into his shoulder while you moan, his name falling from your lips like a chant. 

It isn’t long before his hips are stuttering, thrusts becoming erratic as he reaches his own climax. You’re not far behind, feeling his cum coating your walls making you cum quickly as you hold onto him tightly. 

“Gods,” he mumbles as he collapses against you, your sweat-slick bodies flush against each other as you feel your heart beating in time with his. “You’re unbelievable.”

You hum tiredly in response, trying to fight your weariness for long enough to get ready for bed. Azriel can tell that you’re exhausted as he pulls away, and he knows what he has to do. He plants a quick kiss to your forehead as he pulls his half-hard cock from your cunt, making you whine at the loss of contact. 

Before you can protest, he’s walking towards the en-suite bathroom to draw you a bath, though the House is already one step ahead of him. There’s already a steaming bath running, along with a bottle of fae wine and two glasses sitting next to the tub, ready for the two of you to clean off. 

Azriel quietly thanks the House and returns to where you’re sprawled out on the bed. You give him a tired smile as he reaches for you, stroking your hair to get your attention. 

“Let’s take a bath before you fall asleep, alright?” he suggests and you nod, willingly letting him pick you up bridal-style to carry you to the bathroom.

You wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling against his bare chest as he carries you effortlessly, “I love you, my shadowsinger.” “And I love you, my lightsinger.”

taglist: @wrecklesssly @slutforwordsfr @georgiadixon @dreamloud4610 @angelbunny222 @bookishbishhh @fanficscuziranout

[kaiser1ns]

#. SOUL EATER : RESONANCE

𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿/𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. takiishi chika, umemiya hajime, suo hayato, endo yamato, sakura haruka, kaji ren & itoshi sae, michael kaiser, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi

fluff. death weapon meister academy's best students and the resonance between you.

happy belated halloween! 500-600 words per scenario so hope you enjoy these treats from yours truly ♡

MEISTER!CHARACTER x WEAPON!READER

ITOSHI SAE

“Sae, please talk to me!” You tug at his blouse, practically pleading. “I’m sorry, okay? It just happened, and you know I’m still learning to control my powers—”

Sae’s gaze finally drops to you, cold and his face holds none of the understanding you’d hoped for. “You were being incredibly stupid,” he says bluntly. “Dr. Stein wanted us out immediately after you went out of control. When I wield you, I need to know you won’t act on your own.”

It’s not like you tried to go rogue. You’ve been with him through countless missions, pushing yourselves, and trusting each other even in the roughest of battles. But this? You bite back, your irritation rising. “It wasn’t my fault! And Dr. Stein helped, didn’t he? It’s not like I was going to die or anything!”

Your voice comes out sharper than intended, the words fueled by a frustration you can’t hold back. He knows you better than anyone and knows how hard it is to keep in sync, to keep this connection as flawless as he demands. Yet here he is, acting like one mistake makes you a liability.

“Y/N…” Sae’s tone turns low, a warning. “You were unconscious for two weeks. You don’t remember what happened. Do you want me to tell you?” His words hit you hard, hurting you more than any wound you have had so far.

He’s always held high standards for you that sometimes feel impossible. As his weapon, he expects you to be perfect—flawless, untouchable. You feel the weight of his pride as a meister, his expectations towering over you. And there’s a bitter ache that tightens in your chest as you wonder if he sees you as unworthy now as if you’re a weak link in his chain.

You exhale slowly, feeling the pressure of his stare, every unspoken word bearing down on you. “I know, I know! But it’s not fair to think I’d instantly be able to control all of that power the second it woke up in me! I’m trying, Sae.”

He sighs, and for a moment, the hard line of his mouth softens just a little. He reaches out and flicks your forehead lightly. “For someone who’s going to be with me for life, you’re rather annoying,” he says, his tone lighter. The tension eases, and every time he flick your head you know you have made up. He smiles a little and you can’t hold back as you grin.

“You’re the best,” you say softly, finally stepping forward and pulling him into a quick, impulsive hug. You press a light kiss to his cheek, the gesture small but he is used to your affection and he takes everything you have to offer. He rolls his eyes, but there’s a ghost of a smile in the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. You should be the best, too.”

TAKIISHI CHIKA

The night sky is colored with stars, tiny silver shards that seem to tease you with promises of power and action—things your meister, Takiishi Chika, rarely lets you offer. You sit on the cold stone steps, arms draped across your knees, watching him fight without you, again. He’s a human inferno slicing through enemies like it’s nothing. For all his talent, he refuses to call on you, even when a single second of hesitation could mean his life. 

You sigh, looking back at the stars, counting them just as you count each missed opportunity he has to use you. If only Takiishi would stop being so... Takiishi. The battle finally ends with him victorious, but there’s no acknowledgment of your presence—no glance your way, no word of thanks for even being there. He simply turns and begins walking off, leaving you alone on the steps.

“Takiishi!” Typical. You groaned, launching to your feet and jogging to catch up with him. “You can’t just leave me like that! Hey, are you even liste—”

Finally stepping in front of him. He pauses, looking past you, expression cold and bored. “Move,” he says, his voice flat and utterly indifferent, flames still flickering across his body as if they, too, ignore you.

“I won’t move until you realize that this is teamwork,” you counter, setting your stance. “You can’t do everything alone.”

“I don’t care. You’re in my way. Move.”

The indifference is like a cut, sharper each time he says it. You clench your fists, feeling the familiar ache of unspent energy ripple through you. “Fine. If that’s what you want, then maybe I’ll ask Umemiya. He’ll be more than happy to partner with me.”

The second Umemiya’s name slips from your lips, Takiishi’s face barely shifts, but something flickers in his eyes, gone in a flash. You feel the weight of his stare, and it makes you feel powerful that you have your meister in such an unusual state. It’s almost enough to make you stay but you take a step back, ready to leave, but his hand reaches out, catching yours.

You turn, surprised to find a softness in his face, he looks… lost. Vulnerable. “What?” you ask, brow arching. He doesn’t answer, just tightens his grip slightly. He’s like a wolf trying to hide its wounds, but you’re not about to let him off that easily.

“Don’t go...” he finally mutters, eyes avoiding yours. For someone who doesn’t want to rely on you, he sure hates the thought of anyone else doing so.

“And you suddenly care when I mention switching partners?” you retort, your voice softer now, realizing just how much the idea unsettles him.

Before you can question him further, a monster lurches from the shadows behind you. Takiishi’s hand snaps to your shoulder, pulling you behind him protectively, his flames flaring up in a blaze that makes the night momentarily glow. His eyes meet yours, this time without words, but you know what he’s asking.

You sigh, offering him a small, resigned smile, and nod. Maybe he’s stubborn, cold, and reckless—but he’s your meister, and for better or worse, you’re his weapon. He needed you now. Transforming and letting your power flow into his hands, trusting him to wield you to your fullest.

You would always be the strongest weapon in his hands, because even if he’d never say it, you were his, and he was yours.

MICHAEL KAISER

His hand trails through your hair, fingers brushing against your scalp in slow, gentle strokes that lull you deeper into rest. The exhaustion of yesterday’s training took a lot of energy and it’s hard not to sink into the comfort of him beneath you. His chest rises and falls steadily under your cheek, matching the rhythm of your breaths. 

“You’re that tired?” His voice is soft, a whisper more to himself than to you, but you manage a faint mumble, not bothering to move. It earns a small chuckle from him, and he pulls you closer, his hand never stopping its movement through your hair. “Still, you did well today. Especially against Isagi. That was impressive,” he murmurs. There’s a hint of pride there because he is so proud of you. He never expected less from the best weapon and girl in the whole wide world.

“Mmm, otherwise you’d still be complaining about losing,” you mutter, words muffled against his skin. Your fingers trace lazy patterns across his tattooed shoulder, and you can feel him smile at that. The Academy, your training, the never-ending cycle of challenges and rivals—it’s not important now when the two of you relax in his room.

You barely notice as your breathing slows, and the last thing you feel is his hand brushing your hair from your face before sleep overtakes you completely.

But all too soon, the alarm rings, pulling you out of the warmth of his embrace. You groan, stretching as you peel yourself off his chest, and the soreness from yesterday’s battles immediately makes itself known. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stumble to your feet as you walk over to where your uniform is laid out. You catch a glimpse of Kaiser stretching beside you, his hair tousled from sleep, his expression as groggy as yours. Yet somehow, he’s already flashing that smirk of his, the one he knows you can never fully ignore.

“You always look good when you’re about to kick ass,” he teases as you pull on your jacket, adjusting the fit around your shoulders. “Especially Isagi’s ass.” The playfulness in his eyes tells you he means it, though it’s more than just a compliment. It’s his pride, his own way of showing you how much he values you by his side. He can’t resist adding fuel to the fire, of course, but there’s this satisfaction of always being the winner, his appreciation for you and the way you fight.

“Shut up,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, but the smile slips onto your face before you can stop it. Kaiser grins, knowing he got through to you, knowing that he’s managed to start your day and remind you exactly why you’re here with him. As you finish dressing, he is in his uniform too, now wrapping his arm around your waist ready to go out and show you off, because as exhausting as it all is, being his partner—being the one he trusts, the one he praises and boost his ego—it’s something you wouldn’t trade for the world. 

UMEMIYA HAJIME

Everywhere you go, you hear whispers. First-years talking, pointing in your direction as if you’re something out of a storybook. "That's Y/N,” they’d say, praises dripping from their mouths, “Umemiya’s death scythe." There’s admiration there, and maybe even fear. After all, a weapon as powerful as you is rare, and with a laid-back meister like Umemiya, it seems like an odd pairing.

He’s known for his easygoing nature, approachable smile, and willingness to help anyone with anything… even if it’s absurd. To you, this sounds noble in theory. But in practice? It means moments like this one, where you’re looking down at your meister with your arms crossed, his hands clinging to your legs as he begs you to transform.

“Please, Y/N! I left my gardening tools in the shed back home, and we’re already here! Can’t you just… you know, turn into a scythe? Just for a few quick cuts!” You can only gaze down at him. A death scythe, being used to prune vegetables. The absurdity of it makes you grit your teeth. “Ume, I am not doing that! I’m a Death Scythe, not a hedge trimmer!” You try to shake him off, but he clings tighter, not one bit fazed by your irritation.

“Please, please, please!” he insists, hugging your legs harder. “I’ll cook for you, whatever you want! The most delicious meals, I promise!” He looks up at you, blue eyes pleading that would make a saint roll their eyes.

You narrow your eyes, pretending to consider. “Let’s see…” You tap a finger on your chin, drawing out the answer as long as possible just to make him sweat. “Eenie, meenie, miney… No!”

He sulks, face crumpling as he clutches at you dramatically. “Y/N! I thought you were my partner in crime! Partners always have each other’s backs, right?”

“Oh, don’t even try that on me,” you huff, crossing your arms tighter as you look away. “We are not partners in vegetable cutting.”

“Y/N!” he cries, the pouty lip and big eyes coming out, that was so immature for a strong leader and Meister, but that's just who he is.

“Umemiya Hajime,” you say, voice sharp and final, making him flinch. That full name is your last resort, and he knows it. “Go buy some vegetables from the market. I’m not wasting my energy on this.” Finally, with a sigh, he lets go and stands, running a hand sheepishly through his hair as he gives you a look of innocent exasperation.

“Fine, fine,” he mutters, deflated, but the spark never leaves him. “You win.” You’re about to turn away, feeling victorious, when he clears his throat, looking at you with a warning in his eye. “Just… to let you know, though, we’ve got to help an older couple with tree cutting tomorrow. They really need it.”

Your jaw drops and your eyes go wide. “What?”

He smiles, trying to look innocent. “Hey, they’re really nice! And they could use a little help from the strongest weapon-meister duo in the academy…”

You take a deep breath, feeling your energy drain just thinking about it. "You're unbelievable, Ume."

He raises both hands in surrender, laughing nervously as he grins, wide and bright, completely unaffected by the exasperation in your voice. It’s times like this when you wonder if you’re the meister and he’s the weapon. But one thing’s for sure: whether he’s charging into battle or begging for garden work, Umemiya Hajime is going to be the death of you. And if he pulls another stunt like this? He just might meet the wrong end of his own scythe.

NAGI SEISHIRO

“Sei, please!” you say, as you stand in front of the couch. “I’ll get you that new game if you accept this mission!”

Nagi Seishiro doesn’t even open his eyes. Instead, he gives a long, drawn-out sigh as he stretches his arms out behind his head, his tall frame too long to fit comfortably on the couch. His legs dangle over the edge, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Honestly, he seems to enjoy lounging around more than he enjoys actually doing his job as your meister.

It’s not that he can’t do the work. No, it’s the opposite. Nagi is ridiculously skilled—maybe even one of the best—but he’d much rather spend his time avoiding the responsibility altogether.

Missions? Too much hassle. Classes? Why bother. Training? He’s already good enough. Meanwhile, you’re trying your hardest to uphold your reputation, keep your grades up, and, most importantly, collect souls to be stronger. But none of that seems to matter to Nagi unless it somehow involves him not being bored during the mission or anything that has to do with moving.

He cracks one eye open, glancing at you with that familiar sleepy stare, “New game, hmm?” he mutters, finally giving you his attention.

You nod, your hands pressed together like you’re praying, “Yes! It's the new one from the series you like. With the best graphics and battles, you know the bes–”

“Hmm…” He rolls onto his side, considering if he should take up your offer. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Exactly,” you counter. “Just like this mission is going to be for us. But if we succeed, Lord Death said he’d give us a few days off, and… I’ll use that time to get you the game. You’ll have something new to play instead of replaying the same one a hundred times.”

The promise of the game seems more than appealing. He pauses, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he scratches his head. “But this mission’s rated hard, isn’t it? Ugh… fighting tough enemies is such a pain.”

“Yes, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. You’re a genius, remember?” you say with a smirk, hoping to stroke his ego just enough to sway him.

His options between taking the mission and going back to sleep. Finally, he sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Alright, fine. I’ll do it. But you better make sure you get me that game.”

You can’t believe that it took you all of your savings for a game, but you managed to pull him out of his comfort zone. As you gather your things and prepare for the mission, Nagi is already stretching out his arms, yawning. “Let’s make this quick, okay? I want to be back before I get too tired,” he says, already planning his next nap.

“Yeah, yeah, lazybones,” you mutter, walking out of your home, but even as you roll your eyes, you can’t help but smile. If tricking him with video games is what it takes to get your lazy meister in action, you’re more than willing to make that deal every time.

SUO HAYATO

“Come on, if you keep hiding things from me, I’ll keep seeking,” Suo’s calm, playful voice trails behind you as he walks with that unchanging smile, hands clasped leisurely behind his back. But you keep your gaze fixed forward, pretending you didn’t hear him, or at least, trying to. That relaxed, endlessly patient look of his was somehow just as frustrating as it was comforting, especially when you were feeling out of sorts. You know better that he is no stranger, he is your meister, and he knows when something is troubling you.

“I said I’m fine.” It comes out as a rude remark, and you immediately regret it. You stop, pressing your lips together in frustration, only to feel the softness in Suo’s eyes on you as he stops too. You turn, and though you try to fake your expression, the sadness in your gaze betrays you. He notices it all—of course, he does.

“Breathe in, then out,” he says softly, his hand settling on your shoulder. “I’m here for you.” His voice wraps around you like a safe embrace, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start falling. Your meister pulls you close without hesitation, his pristine white chang-shan serving as an unintended handkerchief.

You swallow, finding your voice as you mumble, “It’s just… Endo said I’m not worthy of being in Bofurin…” Your voice is muffled by his clothes, but he seems to catch every word. Each tear, each word, he hears and feels it. Your soul is connected to his so gets to experience your pain.

Suo’s hand moves gently over your back in soothing circles. “Ah, Endo,” he chuckles lightly, unfazed. “I should have guessed. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you, as usual. Remember how he did the same with Sakura?” He leans back slightly to meet your gaze, even if one eye is covered by an eyepatch. You blink, remembering that day. Sakura had been angry and lost after one of Endo’s comments about him. But he’d risen above it, and you had admired his strength then, just as Suo had assured him he was worthy. Now, it feels like he’s giving you the same gift of perspective.

“But what if… what if I’m not as good as him?” you ask, voice trembling. “What if he’s right?”

Suo’s expression softens, and his gentle smile stays. “If you weren’t capable, I wouldn’t have chosen you as my weapon,” he says simply, his words holding nothing but the truth. “Endo wants you to feel lesser because that’s his tactic, his way of keeping others from growing. But you don’t have to give him that power.”

You take a shaky breath, letting his words settle. The doubts lose some of their weight in the light of his quiet confidence in you.

“Besides,” he adds, his tone playful, “That guy lives to get under people’s skin. You don’t need to believe everything he says.” He winks, and you can’t help the small laugh that escapes. There he is again, always finding a way to make you smile.

“Now,” he continues, holding your hand in his, “How about a tea date instead? It’s been way too long since we’ve had one, and I could use an excuse to relax with my favorite and only girl.”

MEISTER!READER x WEAPON!CHARACTER

BACHIRA MEGURU

As Bachira’s laughter echoed down the school halls, you couldn’t help but smile, clinging tighter to his shoulders as he dashed ahead, but with him everything is more fun when you don't do things normally.

“Bachira, slow down! We’re gonna fall!” you said, more like screamed in his ear, your words nearly drowned out by his wild laughter. And as much as you enjoyed it, sometimes he went a little too far.

“Not a chance!” he shot back, barely avoiding a janitor’s cart as he took a sharp turn. You tighten your grip, feeling the wind rush past as the hallway blurred by. Finally, with a screech of his sneakers, he stopped just outside Lord Death’s office, grinning back at you. “Arrived at the destination! Kisses can be used as payment.” He tapped his cheek with a smug look, and you rolled your eyes but leaned in, giving him a quick peck.

“Not the best drive,” you muttered as you slid off his back, “wouldn’t recommend…but will see if I would do it again.”

Opening the door, you straightened up, slipping into professional mode, though it was hard with him right behind you, still buzzing with energy. In front of you, Lord Death stood by his massive glass mirror, wearing his jagged, dark robes and that cartoony skull mask that had a way of being both silly and terrifying.

“Lord Death, we’re here,” you said, trying to balance respect and calm as you addressed him. "What did you call us for?”

“Ah, Y/N and Bachira! My favorites! Please, please make yourselves comfortable,” he replied, gesturing toward a table absolutely loaded with cakes and sweets. Without a second thought, Bachira made a beeline for the table, already stuffing his face with something chocolatey as you tried to listen to Lord Death’s orders.

“Now, now,” Lord Death continued, “I need the two of you to retrieve this missing item. It’s a secret mission, so remember: not a word to anyone. It’s for your safety.”

You nodded, glancing over at Bachira, who now had chocolate smeared all over his face, looking like a kid who’d just discovered sugar. “Fo yu feef fus fu fo fere fand—” [So you need us to go there and–] he tried to say, his mouth completely full. But he was cute and was excused by such informality and Lord Death enjoyed how the young weapon was so himself.

You shook your head, amused, and finished the sentence for him, “And get the job done as fast as possible.”

“Pricelessly, yes!” Lord Death clapped his hands together. “You two make an excellent team!”

You shot Bachira a look and handed him a napkin, wiping away the chocolate smears with a grin. “If we’re going on a secret mission, we might as well look good.”

Your partner just laughed, grabbing you and hauling you back onto his shoulders, bright yellow eyes sparkling with his never ending playfulness. “Hold on tight, Y/N! Next stop: victory!”

“Not again!” you yelled, clinging to him as he left Lord Death’s office at full speed, rounding the first corner so sharply you almost slipped. But you knew he’d never actually let you fall.

Lord Death watched you both go, shaking his head with a smile. “Ah, youngsters. Full of life.” He knew there was no better duo for the job.

ENDO YAMATO

It was supposed to be a simple mission: slip in, take out the Kishin, collect the soul, and get out. No complications, no distractions. But when Endo was involved, even the simplest things became… well, complicated.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Takiishi used me in that fight against the ninja guy?” he whispers, just a little too loud. You shoot him a glare as you crouch low, scanning for any signs of the Kishin lurking in the shadows. But Endo, oblivious to the situation’s demands, just keeps going. “Seriously, it was incredible! The way he wielded me—I'm telling you, it was like magic! I mean, you’re amazing, obviously, but this guy? The two of you together would be unstoppable.”

Your patience was wearing thin, and it was showing. You glanced over your shoulder, whispering in a low, scolding tone, “Endo, would you shut up for once? We’re supposed to be done with this by now.”

He just smirked, leaning against the cold stone wall as though this was a casual night out instead of a mission. “Aw, come on, doll. What’s the rush? We’ve got all night to take down one little Kishin." watching you with those eyes that showed nothing good, "Besides, don’t you think you need to loosen up a bit? You’re always trying to be ‘Miss Perfect.’ But you’re already the best, hands down.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. There’s no way you’re letting his endless banter derail the mission. You extend your hand. He takes it with a lazy smile, intertwining your fingers just a little too slowly. “Transform, now,” you whisper, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand in yours and the playfulness in his eye.

Just then, you hear footsteps, a shuffle in the darkness. Instinctively, your grip tightens, and Endo shifts, his form glimmering as he becomes a sleek, polished pistol in your hand. The perfect weapon for one clean shot.

“Right on target, or I’m putting you in detention,” you mutter, aiming carefully. A soft chuckle echoes from the weapon in your hand.

“Only if you’re the one giving it to me,” he teases, his voice vibrating through your body.

You don’t bother responding, steadying your aim. Pulling the trigger, the shot resonates in the silence as the Kishin collapses. A faint smoke drifts from the barrel as Endo shifts back, grinning as he strides over to collect the soul—a glistening blue orb hovering above the remains. He snatches it with satisfaction, letting it vanish into his mouth as this was his dinner, but he is always ready for dessert.

You’re already turning to leave when he catches up, nudging your shoulder. “So, now that we’re done here, think we can swing by the party? Takiishi will be there, and—”

His words trail off when he catches your unimpressed look. But as always, he doesn’t give up. Instead, he steps closer, tilting your chin up with his tattooed fingers. “Or maybe,” he murmurs, his voice low, “I could show you a little more of what I can do. Just the two of us.”

You smirk, catching his hand and intertwining your fingers as you start leading the way back to the academy. “You’d better make it worth my while, then.”

He chuckles, that lazy, cocky sound trailing after you. “Oh, you know I will, doll. Anything for you.”

ITOSHI RIN

You’d been searching for him all day, irritated, annoyed but not surprised. Why does he have to pick a fight with Isagi again? Poor guy probably didn’t even do anything this time, just breathing and existing. But Rin’s temper? It seems to have a strong trigger, and you are fully prepared to be the one to finally make it go off on him.

You scanned the room, spotting your friends who gave you sympathetic glances, some even knew what was coming. When you finally spot Rin sitting at his desk in class, like he doesn't care about anything in the world, he's just there.

Without a second thought, you shove the classroom door open, and it bangs against the wall with a force that pulls every head in your direction. Even Dr. Stein, who usually comments on such disturbances with some dry remark, raises his eyebrow at you, his mouth opening. But one sharp look from you shuts him up. He knows better.

“Itoshi Rin. Out, now.” Your voice is hard as steel, nothing like the sweet tone you save for casual days, when you’re both training, laughing, maybe even getting along for once. But today, this? This is all business, and everyone knows that if you’re mad enough to pull him out of class, he’s in trouble.

Rin just rolls his eyes and scoffs, pushing himself up from his chair and sauntering to the door. You let the door close behind you with a polite, “Excuse us, Doctor,” as you exit. Stein just sighs, casting a pitying look at Rin’s empty chair.

Behind you, someone whispered, “Think she’s gonna be the first meister in centuries to kill her weapon?”

Dr. Stein gave an unbothered shrug. “I’d like to see the body afterward, for... scientific purposes.”

Outside the classroom, you stop, crossing your arms and tapping your foot. Rin is slumping against the wall, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he stares at you, his expression completely unbothered. He seems to be waiting for you to say something, but you wait for him, pressuring him to do something.

“What do you want?” he finally mutters, almost as if he’s bored.

“What I want,” you begin, warning him with that tone, “is for you to stop with this ‘I’m going to kill Isagi’ nonsense.” You can’t keep the anger out of your voice, but you do try to stay calm and controlled. He needs to understand that you are serious without having to scream it in his face. “Rin, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be the best. But you know as well as I do, we don’t need to crush everyone else to prove that. Not him, at least.”

He’s staring at you, but it’s clear he’s listening to you, but he doesn't hear. He finally scoffs, mumbling, turning his head in the opposite direction to avoid you. “As if.” What he hated the most was to be told what to do.

You take a step closer, pressing a finger to his chest. “Listen, I don’t have all day to deal with this. I don’t care if you have a grudge or if he has better luck sometimes. You’re my weapon. And that means you follow my orders.”

Rin’s eyes flash, and he grabs your wrist, his grip firm as he leans down just enough to be intimidating. “I do whatever I want.” You yank him closer by the shirt, unflinching. “And I can crush your soul if you ever cross that line with me again. So don’t forget, Rin—who’s the one with the control here?”

For once, his blunt expression falters. You’re not sure if he’s backing down…or if he’s just considering something else. Either way, he releases your wrist, mumbling under his breath, but for now, he’s been put in his place.

SAKURA HARUKA

"Can't you run faster?" As you leap from one rooftop to the next, Sakura's voice echoes in your head, scythe held tightly in your grip. To achieve his ultimate form as a Death Weapon Scythe, Sakura needed to consume the soul of a witch, and tonight, you had one within your sight. “Shut up! I'm trying my best here," you snap back, spinning the weapon instinctively to keep your balance. His groan vibrates through your hands as he starts to feel dizzy.

"Huh?! This is your best?" he taunts, irritated by your fighting, more like defending yourself. Your patience finally snaps, and you grind to a halt, releasing his weapon form as he transforms back to his human shape beside you. His expression is just as fiery as yours, brows knitted, eyes blazing. His sharper-than-normal teeth peek out in frustration.

"Sakura, stop! I’m fed up with your attitude," you say, barely keeping the anger out of your voice. He stares back at you, unyielding. "I'm your weapon for a reason, remember? Because you’re supposed to be one of the strongest Meisters out there. Don’t make me regret my choice of picking you."

The tension between you crackles, the adrenaline and frustration of the hunt mingling into something that even Lord Death won’t be able to stop, as he tried so many times to teach you to be one with your partner. But before you can respond, a voice interrupts from the shadows, lilting and playful, just what you need right now.

"My little pumpkins... I’m so sorry to interrupt," the witch croons, hovering just above you in the sky. Her glittering eyes shine in the moonlight, a smirk playing across her lips. "Are we going to do this tonight, or should I come back another day?"

The two of you whirl on her in perfect unison, “Shut up!” you shout, voices harmonizing as she pouts, clutching her hands to her chest in mock hurt. But you’re too caught up in the moment to notice the glint of magic in her fingers. Before you realize it, she’s already begun her spell. A sudden pulse of energy knocks Sakura against you, making you stumble on the edge of the rooftop.

You feel yourself losing your balance as the ground rushes up toward you, but Sakura’s arms find their way around you, his grip tight in fear of not letting you go. Instinctively, you clutch him back, bracing for a rough landing.

But instead of cold pavement, you crash into something soft and oddly bouncy, breaking your fall with an unexpected jolt. You open your eyes to find yourselves surrounded by squishy pumpkins conjured by the witch’s magic. You’re still tangled up with Sakura, his arms wrapped around you protectively, as he is more concerned now than angry. Your safety was his number one priority, even if you had arguments most of the time you had missions.

"Such cuties you two are!" the witch giggles, waving her fingers at you like she’s saying goodbye. “Well then, until next time!”

And with that, she vanishes, and your weapon mutters something under his breath, finally letting go of you as he stands up, brushing off imaginary dust with an embarrassed frown. You can’t help but smile at him, as he helps you stand up, handing his jacket to you as he walks forward, hands in his pockets as he sneezes and little air hearts appear around him.

"Soul resonance, huh?" you say knowing this won’t be the last time you’re stuck like this together.

ISAGI YOICHI

It was training time, the kind where you and your weapon partner go head-to-head against another meister and weapon pair. But this wasn’t just any opponent; this was Michael Kaiser, who had a habit of voicing his unwanted opinion about your partnership with Isagi. And, of course, Isagi chose him. His determination to take on Kaiser was fierce, and despite your reservations, you went along with it.

Running side by side, Isagi transformed into a set of shurikens, sharp and deadly, perfect for an offensive strike. You launched forward with a powerful kick, targeting Kaiser directly. He countered quickly, his weapon Ness—perfect, yet irritatingly well-matched partner—swinging to meet you.

"A strong meister like you using him? That’s so low of you, meine Prinzessin,” Kaiser taunted as he dodged your kicks, punches, and Isagi’s whirling shuriken form. His smirk was only growing wider as he grazed your defenses. Every time he opened his mouth, his mocking words were something you wish you could just cut with your weapon.

“Shut up, you stupid Emperor,” you spat, gripping Isagi as he shifted into his katana form, readying for another attempt to close in on Kaiser. You sliced left and right, and your movements were calculated, though the Emperor evaded most of your attacks. The best you managed was a slight tear on his shirt—a minor victory, though not satisfying enough.

“A girl like you, so strong, settling for a weapon like him?” His voice dripped with disgust as he angled Ness, testing your patience. “You deserve more than someone who thinks life’s a puzzle to solve. So much more. It’s honestly… cute, watching you struggle.”

It took everything not to let his words worm into your mind. You knew he was trying to rile you up until you’d snap and lose control. He wanted you to get reckless, to expose a weakness he could exploit. You clenched your fists, steadying yourself. You weren’t going to let him get the satisfaction.

“Isagi, I swear, I’m going to kill you for picking him instead of Barou,” you muttered through gritted teeth, tossing a glance at Isagi mid-battle. He chuckled nervously, though he knew just as well that this rivalry ran deep.

You darted forward, throwing Isagi in his shuriken form in a high arc behind Kaiser, who barely gave it a glance, his eyes pinned on you as you closed in. The fool thought you’d just thrown Isagi away.

“Oh, finally giving up and throwing out the trash?” Kaiser sneered, that self-satisfied smirk still painted across his face.

You mirrored his smirk, feeling the satisfaction bubble up as you locked eyes. “Quite the opposite. I’m taking it down.”

In a flash, Isagi shifted mid-air, transforming back into his human form just in time to land on Kaiser from behind, knocking him to the ground. Before Kaiser could react, you pressed a foot to his chest, holding him down firmly. Isagi stood beside you, eyes shining as he looked down at Kaiser with that victorious smirk.

“Who’s unworthy now, Emperor?” Isagi’s voice was laced with mockery, enjoying every second of the results. Kaiser, winded but not defeated, glared up at you. But even he couldn’t deny that for once, he’d been outmatched.

KAJI REN

You're patrolling the streets of Death City, trying to find the Kishin that has been disturbing the peace for a few days now. Beside you, Kaji Ren walks, hands in his hoodie pockets, a lollipop perched between his lips as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Headphones cradling his ears, pulsing with the beats of a very familiar song. Just as you’re about to comment on his distracted state, he freezes, eyes narrowing as he spots something moving in the shadows.

Without thinking twice, you reach out, snatching both his lollipop and his headphones when he barely has time to register the theft before you’ve popped the lollipop into your mouth, its sugary taste spreading across your tongue. Kaji’s eyes widen, and for a second he looks stunned, ready to make a witty remark but you’re already moving, sliding the headphones over your ears, the music from your shared playlist flooding your senses, pumping up your adrenaline.

“You—!” he starts, but he’s already transforming, his body twisting in a flash of light until the cold steel of his scythe form lands firmly in your grasp.

The music pulses through you and the beat matches your footsteps as you lunge toward the Kishin. With Kaji in your hand, you dance around the creature, slicing it as you move to the rhythm. You could feel his irritation vibrating through his blade form, and if he’d been human, you’d bet he’d be yelling, but his words are muffled by the blasting music in your ears.

“Y/N, watch ou—” You grin to yourself, knowing you don’t need the warning. You leap high, spinning mid-air, and bring Kaji down killing the Kishin with a powerful strike. It vanishes quickly, leaving only its blue soul glowing in the aftermath.

Landing gracefully, nodding your head to the rhythm as you pull off the headphones and let Kaji return to his human form. His mouth opens, clearly ready to throw an insult, but before he can get a single word out, you press the headphones back into his hands with a nonchalant smile.

“Yes, yes. Here you go. Return what I’ve taken,” you say, casually, popping the lollipop back into your mouth. “But I’m keeping this,” you add, twirling the sweet between your teeth. “It’s just too good to give up.”

“You won’t even he—” His protest dies as you press a finger to his lips, your teasing smile flashing as you look up at him, “Shhh, Ren. You’re so cute when you’re mad, you know that?” The faintest hint of a blush creeps into his cheeks, his brows knitting together, making him look even more annoyed. You always cut him off, you didn't listen to him and he was mad, but at the same time, he was too enraged to say anything. Turning away, looking forward to your next task—if only to tease him more.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

WBK. Weapon!Togame, Weapon!Hiragi, Meister!Nirei, Meister!Choji, Meister!Kiryu, Weapon!Suzuri

BLLK. Meister!Karasu, Meister!Barou, Weapon!Reo, Weapon!Otoya, Weapon!Shidou, Meister!Aiku

taglist :: @kiurona @nyxypoo @17020 @stunies @maruflix @ryescapades @yoru-exe @heartkaji @seneon @choccorin @littleplantfreak @meidiary

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[shrimpybbq]

you gotta believe me, baby

synopsis: when a stray bag of coke is found in rafe’s drawer, rafe’s fiancée grapples with its implications

The young woman trifled through Rafe’s desk, the pen he requested lost deep amongst his amalgamation of items. Frustratingly, she kept searching until her gaze landed on a small item strewn under a notebook, the clear bag reflecting in the light. Her heart felt as if it stopped beating. The small bag and its contents were instantly recognisable to the woman, her having seen her fiancé with it many a time. Except instead of keeping it hidden under a book, he would have the white powder diced and sorted into hefty lines on a table, a rolled up $50 set aside ready to help him snort it.

She remained still for a moment before tentatively reaching for the bag, as if it would suddenly change its contents if she waited long enough. And yet, as she picked the bag up it felt like a long forgotten truth was slapping her in the face. Of course it was coke. The woman pondered the situation for a moment for she was sure Rafe was clean - but then again, he had been under an increasing amount of stress lately. Cameron Development had been taking up all of his time, as had the move, so would it really be that far-fetched for him to start using again?

Soon, she began pacing around the room, her mind beginning to catastrophise the situation. It had been so hard to get through each day when Rafe was high, his constantly shifting mood and irritable personality making him intolerable to be around. Her mind flashed to the moments alone, trying to soothe a colicky baby that cried and cried alone in the guest room while Rafe spent his evenings getting high with Barry. She'd never felt so alone and isolated. She had no-one: Her parent's were a no-go, Ward and Rose could only help so much, and Sarah was busy being a teenager. Sometimes, it was as if Wheezie was her only friend, always loving to play with her nephew even if only for a moment. In those moments, she had wondered if any of it was worth it - maybe everyone would be better off if she left to the mainland to live with her aunt, removing her presence from Kildare completely. Rafe hadn’t wanted Charlie in the beginning, not really, and as she cried alone in tandem with her son, she felt it.

Rafe had called out his fiancée’s name three times by now, only to receive nothing in response. Initially assuming she had been sidetracked, it was only once he finally ambled over to his study did he realise the true cause of her silence. Rafe froze at the sight of the bag of white powder flung haphazardly atop his papers, his heart racing as a chill spread across his body. Shit shit shit.

Rafe’s panicked gaze met hers suddenly, each expressing a multitude of worries. Rafe watched as his sweet girl looked at him, so defeated and dejected, her shoulders slumped as she faced him. Initial words began to leave her mouth, only to be swiftly cut off by her partner,

“Baby, please, you gotta let me explain, ok?” Rafe was pleading with her, a tone he rarely utilised unless in the most dire of situations, “it’s not mine.”

Her eyes, once shifted towards the window, snapped back to his frame. “It’s in your desk Rafe! Whose else would it be?”

“Fuck, uh- fuck ok, well it is mine, but it’s not like I bought it last week. Shit, that sounds bad, I didn’t-” Rafe sputtered, his logical explanation getting muddled up as his anxiety grew. He could tell his fiancée didn’t believe it if the tears beginning to escape were any indication.

“Rafe, please, just tell me the truth. You owe me that much,” she pleaded. Rafe felt his heart shatter at the desperation she could not hold back.

“I had this desk moved from my dad’s office, ok? Whenever he used to catch me doing coke, he would lock my supply up in his desk in his attempt to get me clean - not that that ever fuckin’ worked,” he began to explain, “I never even properly cleaned out his desk, baby. I figured he would have something written down that would provide some of his infinite wisdom bullshit that would help me in the future, so I just didn’t touch anything.”

The young woman stared at the Cameron opposite her, feeling rooted to her spot as he answered her questions. Truthfully, she remembered Rafe’s occasional complaining about his dad’s attempts to control his drug habit. She could never truly comfort him properly when she silently thanked Ward, but his statement rang true in her mind. It was plausible that Rafe really hadn’t touched his dad’s things.

“Come on baby, you have to believe me! You really think I would throw all of this,” Rafe gestured, arms outstretched, “us, our family - away for a few fuckin’ ounces of coke? I got better and that’s because of you, because of you being there for me and the kids and - baby please, I’m telling the truth.”

As Rafe begged and pleaded, he had made his way to stand in front of her, taking her hands in his as his fingers gripped hers tightly. She looked up at him, tears still spilling down her cheeks. He had gotten better - ever since they arrived in Guadeloupe, she hadn’t seen him touch cocaine. Alcohol, sure, but even Topper offering him coke at a party had seemingly rolled off his back.

“You’re not lying to me? You swear it? On the kids lives?” She begged, needing to hear him say it again. She wanted to believe him so badly.

“I promise baby, I swear to god. I swear that I haven’t touched that shit in a year. Please, I’m telling the truth baby.”

With his final plea, she felt her heartbeat begin to slow, its return to normal allowing her to breathe properly once more. A large exhale left her body before she flung herself against Rafe, her arms wrapping around his torso. His arms immediately returned the gesture, comfortingly rubbing up and down her back.

“I can’t do that shit again, Rafe. Ok?” She muttered, her voice muffled against his shirt. He leaned down to gently stroke her hair before placing a tender kiss in her hair.

“You don’t need to worry about that anymore. I’m different now, for you and for our family. You can rely on me, ok? I’m always gonna be here for you,” Rafe stated firmly, his words filled with conviction. He felt a small smile tug at his lips as his fiancée nodded into his chest, her arms tightening around him further.

“I love you, Rafe. More than anything.”

“I love you too, baby. It’s you and me ‘till the end.”

As the pair stood in their embrace for a moment longer, they felt the tension seep away slowly and be replaced with tenderness. For such a rocky start to a relationship, the pair had watched each other grow and mature. Neither of them were perfect, but they would never give up on each other. Rafe didn’t believe in soulmates, but if he did, he was certain that the woman in his arms was his.

[lovelytsunoda]

you've got me under your spell | eddie brock and venom

summary: the then's and now's of halloween in the brock household

pairing: eddie brock x wife!reader (and their son!) x venom

warnings: i've turned eddie brock from a swagless loser to a dilf, venom is loaned to a child as a halloween costume, venom is almost like a second child tbh, implied smut, brief mentions of mental illness and pregnancy-related mental health issues. not to spoil anything at the end but the final section is pretty fucking funny if i do say so myself.

author's note: i have a very delayed last minute addition to my halloween fics for 2024! after flying through all three venom movies in about two days (as someone who doesn't watch marvel movies, might i add), i am pleased (and a little concerned) to annoucne that eddie brock is now my favourite marvel character.

yes, dylan brock is a canon character in the venom comics (or so i have been told) but all this dylan had in common with the canon version is his name.

2010.

she watched fondly from the doorway as eddie picked up the infant, who was currently trying to crawl towards the white pumpkin in the bay window. dylan laughed in his father's arms as eddie spun around before cradling the infant against his chest. he caught his wife's eyes from the doorway, a cheeky grin on his face as he looked down at dylan.

"hey kiddo, i think mommy's looking at us."

dylan smiled, wide and toothless, letting out the baby equivalent of a cheer as he looked over at his mother.

"are you guys ready to make the rounds? i promised mrs. chen some baby time." y/n laughed, reaching out to hold her son's small hand in hers.

the streets outside were lit up with fog machines and smiling skeletons, filled with the sounds of kids milling about. it was baby brock's first halloween, and he was dressed appropriately for it in his little pumpkin costume. after attempting to suck on y/n's finger, dylan dropped her hand and busied himself with attempting to trace the tattoos visible on eddie's forearm.

eddie beamed, kissing his wife softly before answering. "we're ready if you are. lead the way, mamas."

y/n had never pictured herself as a mother. in her twenties, when it seemed like settling down was the only thing people her age wanted to do, she was paralyzed with fear, insecurity and a little bit of self-loathing. being inside of her head was a nightmare, and she wasn't even sure she'd make it to thirty.

things had started to change when she met eddie brock.

slowly, she came alive again. she started to want things that she had thought were out of reach. she wanted to get married, have that house and that family and the white picket fence. to know that everything she had done had added up to this moment, and that everything had been worth it.

but she hated being pregnant. for her, growing another human being had been an arduous, terrifying experience. the eight hours of labour she had gone through on the day dylan was born was enough for her to decide that she didn't want more kids, and that she could still have the family she dreamed of with only one child.

she kissed dylan's forehead softly, brushing back his thin baby hair before tucking the small pumpkin hat onto his little head, and over his small ears.

the couple walked down the front steps of their bungalow, one of eddies arms around his wife, and the other holding his son (which was quite the feat, considering that the infant so desperately wanted out of his father's arms. dylan was an active baby, but he was allowed to crawl down the residential street, he would do so at such a pace that the brocks would never get him back.)

at every house they went to there was someone to coo over the littlest brock. eventually, eddie had to drop that arm around his wife so that he could use both hands to hold his son. dylan smiled that wide, gummy smile and laughed and babbled at all of the people that they passed, y/n clutching an almost-full orange bag of candy (she was convinced that some of their neighbours gave out extra candy to the couple, simply to reward them with the hit of caffeine found in chocolate that the new parents would so crave).

as they walked towards mrs. chen's house, dylan finally settled in his fathers arms, eddie looked over at his wife with nothing but reverence and love in his eyes. even carrying a little bit of extra weight around her hips and stomach, her breasts a little fuller and her arms a little chubbier, she was as radiant as she was the day that they got married. he would do anything for her, for his son. his little family.

"eddie, darling." she laughed, turning to face him. "you're staring."

eddie blushed, the rose in his cheeks barely visible in the dark. "uh, no i'm not."

"yes you are." she giggled. "i love you, eddie brock."

"i love you more." eddie beamed, leaning over to kiss her. "i think the little guy is worn out." he spoke softly, nodding towards the baby in his arms. "he's asleep."

"awe." y/n cooed, gently stroking her son's arm with her pointer finger. the sight of eddie holding their son in his arms would never grow old. she was starting a folder of pictures on her laptop of this very thing, as she knew dylan would soon be too big for his father to hold. "he's just like his father. he can go to sleep any time, any where and in any condition."

eddie laughed. "i feel like there was an insult buried in there somewhere."

"i still married you, didn't i?"

2024.

"dylan, if you want to get to eric's on time, you've gotta get going now! his mom's on the way!"

y/n knocked on her son's door, waiting until she heard the disgruntled teenage groan from the other side. satisfied that dylan had been served enough warning, she headed back out into the living room.

she had put eddie in charge of moving the halloween candy from the massive carboard costco boxes to the festive plastic bowls, and he was doing a surprisingly okay job at it.

their life had changed drastically in the years since her husband had begun to share his body with a symbiote. the symbiote had once given dylan nightmares, and she had fielded one too many concerned calls from the school after he had gone around and told all of the other kids that his father was an alien and would eat anybody who was mean to him (although, once eddie and venom had bonded, venom was steadfast in his commitment to eating any bullies that dylan may face) it had taken time, and a lot of home repairs to get used to, but alas, venom now felt like one of the family.

well, more like the cousin you don't want any of your friends to meet. or the alien that your husband is in a strangely homeorotic relationship with.

"i thought venom would have eaten half of those by now." she remarked, leaning over the back of the sofa to rest her head on her husband's shoulder, hands on his chest.

"i made him promise to behave today. i don't want him scaring the little kids." eddie shrugged, turning his had to kiss his wife softly.

"what did you have to give him?"

eddie paused, waiting a beat in order to formulate an answer that wouldn't send his wife into a spiral. in the distance, he heard dylan's bedroom door open and close, and then the fourteen-year-old came bounding into the living room.

"eric's mom is like five minutes away. is it okay if i wait outside?"

keeping her hands on eddie shoulders, y/n straightened, looking over at her son. "no costume?'

she didn't miss the way that eddie's muscles tensed up under her hands, or the way dylan's pinkie finger twitched. neither of them said a word, and when her eyes zeroed in on the full boxes of nestle chocolates, she got her answer.

"edward brock, please tell me that you did not lend your symbiote to our son as a halloween costume!"

dylan's shoulder rippled black over the top of his hunter-green sweatshirt, venom's inky head materializing next to a defeated looking dylan.

"okay, we won't tell you." the symbiote said , turning to face eddie. "you told me that this was okay with mrs. b."

eddie got up from the couch, pointing a finger at the symbiote. "i said no such thing. i said we were never supposed to tell y/n under any circumstances."

"mom, it's only for the night. you let dad have venom year-round!" dylan protested, stuffing his hands in his sweater pockets. "how is this any different?"

y/n stopped and counted to twenty, eyes closed before she breathed deeply and opened them again.

"that's because your father is the one who brought venom into this house in the first place, and i didn't get a say in the matter. also, your father is an adult, and venom actually listens to him."

"i listen to nobody!"

eddie coughed. "actually, he doesn't listen to me at all. he does what he wants half of the time."

"not the point, eddie! hosting venom almost killed you."

"actually- "

"not now vee!" eddie and y/n shouted together.

eddie reached for his wife's hand, knowing that she needed something to ground her, something tangible that she could hold on to. his hand was warm and calloused, comforting. she ran her thumb over eddie's knuckles as he stepped closer, dropping his voice in the hopes that dylan and venom wouldn't be able to eavesdrop.

"y/n, you know that i wouldn't let dylan take venom out if i didn't think he could handle it. its just one night."

"eddie, venom eats people. i don't want to get calls from parents stating that their sons hung out with my son, and then they came back headless."

"he has sworn to be on his best behavior tonight." eddie insisted. "and besides, when was the last time we had a night that was just the two of us? no dylan, no venom."

she paused, trying to think, the calm was starting to ease back into her body, the initial panic subsiding. her husband was right, she knew. while nights without dylan had become more common the older he got, with the boy staying over at friend's houses or going out late with his buddies, having a husband who hosted an alien sometimes put a damper on date night.

for the past five years, she had felt like she was in a never-ending threesome. don't get her wrong, the sex was absolutely phenomenal, but she missed her husband. she missed the days when it was just the two of them, curled up in bed on a sunday afternoon, with reruns of a bad sitcom playing in the background as they made love without a care in the world.

she realized that she was excited at the idea of having sex with her husband without an alien tentacle trying to slip into her ass (which felt absolutely incredible, by the way. after the first time venom did that, she downloaded all the monsterfucking books she could find on kindle unlimited. trying to explain the plot of ice planet barbarians to eddie had been quite the spectacle).

a honk in the front driveway snapped her out of her thoughts. dylan was looking at her expectantly, venom's head still hovering in the air next to him. if it were possible for symbiotes to give puppy dog eyes, she was sure that venom would be doing so. she looked at eddie, and then back at dylan, weighing her options.

"fine. dylan, you can take venom with you."

venom and dylan gave a cheer, the teen high-fiving one of venom's slinky tentacles.

"i promise not to eat any of the children, mrs. b. only gourmet chocolate. dylan says tonight is the best night for it."

"go on." y/n laughed. "don't keep eric waiting. and be careful!"

eddie and y/n stood by the front window, eddie's hand in her back pocket as they watched dylan run down the driveway and jump into the back of eric's mom's nissan. he had grown up so fast. it felt like just yesterday he was an infant in a pumpkin costume, cradled in eddie's strong arms. now he was almost as tall as his father.

y/n let out a small yelp as she felt herself become weightless, her husband's strong, beefy arms wrapped around her thighs.

"baby, be careful! you aren't as strong without venom! i don't want you to hurt your back!"

"i'll be fine! we have a heating pad for a reason!"

the headed down the hallway in a cloud of giggles, eddie kicking the bedroom door closed behind them with a cheeky grin on his face.

oh yeah, they were going to enjoy every second of having the house to themselves.

____

it was nearing midnight when dylan brock came home, shocked to find his father in the living room, sitting on the sofa in the dark and wincing every time he moved.

"dad? what are you doing? where's mom?"

eddie groaned, trying not to move too much. the heating pad rested against his lower back, and any movement sent a sharp pain up his spine. "she's asleep. tired out."

dylan made a face, dropping his backpack next to the couch. "god damn it, dad! i don't need to know that!"

eddie chuckled. "not like that." well, sort of like that. "this week has been hard on her. between you, me and venom, she's got her hands full."

"what's the heating pad for?" dylan crossed his arms over his chest, staring his father down.

"i hurt my back. it's nothing, not important."

"oh my god! you hurt your back banging mom!"

"dylan, keep your voice down! your mother is sleeping!" eddie scolded, screwing his eyes shut. "and she doesn't know. there is nothing less sexy than pinching something in your back while-"

"stop. please. i don't want to know."

"anyways, i waited until she fell asleep to put some muscle spray on it, and that didn't help, so here i am with the heating pad. how was your night?"

"it was good. venom's fun. we went trick-or-treating around eric's neigbourhood, where all the fancy houses are. also, i think i know what possum brain tastes like." dylan scrunched up his face. "venom decided he'd eaten enough snickers bars."

"snickers are for the weak." venom grunted. "real men eat brains."

eddie laughed. "now you know what the inside of my head is like. at least venom didn't try to eat any people. i wish i never knew what grey matter tasted like."

dylan extended his hand. "it's been fun, but i think he wants his host back."

eddie took dylan's hand in his, inhaling as he felt venom fill his veins once more, the familiar voice he'd come to tolerate returning to the back of his mind. slowly, the stinging pain in his lower back started to subside, the symbiote healing him from the inside out.

"thanks buddy. i needed that." he sighed. "and thanks for looking after dylan."

"no problem, eddie. you know, you'd get hurt less around the house if you stopped doing silly things when i'm not here."

"hey dylan, do you want the symbiote back?"

dylan laughed, heading to his room. "not a chance, dad. you're the only person in the world who could handle him."

[jjenthusee]

Our Love

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: something a lil mushy because I made a coffee to soothe my head from a couple drinks last night and i got inspiration HAHA nothing like some good fluff to start my morning ENJOY :) comment if your comfortable, please let me know if you enjoyed my silly words <3💐

Summary: It was a no sleep kind of night, but Jason being right next to you made sleep feel a little less important.

Tags: ✨FLUFF✨

Word Count: 1k

“I’m so tired that I can’t fall asleep.” You groaned into the pillow. Aches and sleepy eyes finally relaxing as you crawled into bed for the night, pulling the blanket over your body, morphing yourself into soft cushions.

You had all you needed to get a good night’s rest. A pillow with the perfect softness, comfortable pajamas, your teeth brushed, and your partner radiating a nice and relaxing warmth next to you.

But you only laid there, closing your eyelids trying to mimic sleep and unsuccessful in tricking your body.

“Welcome to the club.” Jason slightly chuckled as he laid in the spot next to you, the bed dipping at the two of you.

He laid on his stomach, arms laid beside his pillow with his head facing you. The blanket kicked aside, weaving between his legs from his movement.

You lazily reached your arm out and rubbed your fingers through his hair. Feeling the strands, swirling the white pieces to make it stick forward towards you. You smiled when you continued to section off different part of his head. By the time you were satisfied, the strands were going in every direction.

You listened to Jason hum while you played hair stylist, making mindless, unintentional movements, but Jason appreciated the touch, easing him into relaxation.

This time with intention, you slowly made your way down to rubbing his temples, physically making Jason melt into the mattress. The bits of tension in his shoulders easing.

Everything felt so perfect in the little world you both had. Fighting no night of sleep because it didn’t come easy tonight, but like the perfect person Jason was, you were in this together, soaking in each other’s presence at the fact that you didn’t have to face this alone.

Your fingers made its way to his cheekbones, gently smoothing the pads of your fingers into the bone. Using your thumb to rub his eyebrow, tracing the direction of the hair before touching the sensitive skin underneath his eyes.

The slightly darker skin, affected by months of no peaceful sleep. Only when he was so exhausted that his body would shut down for a moment, but it wasn’t rejuvenating, more akin to a reboot than a rest.

You analyzed his eye bags, letting a little bit of sadness seep into your own skin. Trying to soak up any of his struggles through the skin contact.

“We can’t sleep, but it just means I get more time with you.” You admitted, not fully realizing the cheesy line you said aloud.

“So romantic.” Jason smiled and your palm molded to the lift of his cheek. He kept his eyes closed, but the clear enjoyment from the skin-to-skin contact was felt in the way he was so content.

He was always a very patient man, allowing you to receive and offer the physical contact he didn’t give to others, but the way he didn’t flinch at even the smallest touch from you was bittersweet.

If he couldn’t sleep tonight, the least you wanted to do was get him to relax.

So, you continued to caress his face. Tracing over soft and textured skin. Feeling the slight overgrown stubble growing onto his jaw.

Jason’s breaths were even, letting you do whatever to his body. Trusting you enough to keep his eyes closed as you roamed his face.

“What should we eat for breakfast?” You asked him, your fingers gently touching the edge of his lips, tracing a healed over scar.

Memories came back to you, of you sitting in the rain of a back alley. As you felt your body freeze over looking at Jason covered head to toe in soot and a mixture of his and another’s blood, only the drops of rain cleaning tiny bits of his skin from the damaging night.

You tried to reach your hand out to touch him, to see if that really was the Jason you shared so many memories with. You remember that your hand shook so badly that you couldn’t even touch the gash on his lip profusely bleeding.

The flinch that ignited Jason out of his stilled state once you did manage to touch the sensitive skin for a moment.

“I’m thinking we could pick up something.” Jason suggested, interrupting your thoughts, slightly moving his head toward the hand that stopped moving while you stayed silent. “I remember you talking about the spot down the street. You must be craving it because you mentioned it every time we passed it.”

You continued your rubs again, pushing back harsh memories and resurfacing back to reality.

“We haven’t been there in a while. I wonder if the owner remembers us.” You used your thumb to trace Jason’s nose. The slight bump was no doubt from a previous fist fight gone wrong and it must’ve really hurt.

“We went there probably three times a week, we even have a photo on his wall.” Jason warmly laughed. “He might buy us a ‘Welcome Home’ cake if we go back.”

Jason opened his eyes, his eyelashes moving from his cheek to fully see you. A kind, childish sparkle was in the centers of his eyes. It brought another smile to your face.

“I wouldn’t mind cake for breakfast.” You let your hand travel down to his jaw, to the back of his neck.

You felt the overgrown hair as Jason also reached out to rub at your side.

A subtle ticklish feeling was making you want to flee from the funny feeling, but also refrain from breaking contact. Jason played at this motion by continuing to run his fingers into the fabric of your clothes, but once he was satisfied in making you slightly squirm, he let his hand rest on you.

“Breakfast cake it is.” Jason spoke into the relaxing air, tracing your face with his eyes. Making longer glances at his favorite features, knowing every detail.

“I can’t wait.” You looked back at him, seeing the messy hair you styled and his love-struck tender gaze. How his cheek slightly smushed from laying on the pillow, his scar that crushed your soul, and the gaze you would move Gotham for.

[solxamber]

Romance Clichés With: Leona Kingscholar

Cliché: Misplaced Jealousy

Others: Azul ; Vil ; Kalim

it's gonna be a little series where each of them gets a cliché!

For days now, Leona had been simmering. He’d never admit to caring about something so trivial, but that simmer was rapidly reaching a boil, one muttered “Savanaclaw guy” at a time. Because you—his supposed close friend, the only person he could actually stand around here—had developed some grand crush on… someone. Someone you kept bringing up. Some unknown, nameless, faceless moron in Savanaclaw.

And you just wouldn’t shut up about him.

Leona had been sitting through your monologues, listening to you talk about how strong and loyal and amazing this guy was, and it had started as a minor annoyance. But as you kept going, he realized something deeply frustrating—maybe even painful.

That after everything, you had gone and chosen some other Savanaclaw idiot over him. And it stung, more than he’d ever want to admit, to hear you talking about anyone like this.

But today was the breaking point.

You were lounging in his den, casually chatting with him between classes. As usual, the conversation took a familiar turn, and you sighed dramatically. “I mean, I guess it’s just… this guy, he’s just… I don’t know. He’s got this strength that’s so impressive, and he always knows how to take charge. Like, he doesn’t even need to try, you know? It’s like he was born to lead.” You didn’t notice Leona’s eyes darken or the way his fingers clenched into fists.

“Just the way he’s so confident,” you continued, “he’s got this whole ‘I don’t care about anything’ vibe that’s really charming in a weird way. It’s like he’s always one step ahead of everyone, even when he’s—”

Leona cut you off with a harsh scoff. “Right. Real inspiring. Sounds like a real prize,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “And I bet he doesn’t even realize how perfect he is, right?”

“Exactly! He’s the type who’s always underestimated,” you continued, oblivious to the thunderous look on Leona’s face. “But if people would just give him a chance, they’d see all his best qualities. He’s fierce, but he’s got this heart of gold underneath it all. People just don’t get him.”

“Oh, don’t they?” Leona’s voice was low and strained, a bitter edge cutting through his usual drawl. “Must be nice to be so adored by someone.”

“Hey,” you said, “don’t say it like that. He doesn’t even know I like him. I don’t even know if he’d ever see me like that.” You let out a wistful sigh that was like a slap to his face.

Leona’s patience finally snapped. “Unbelievable,” he snarled, standing up so fast that you jumped. “You’re completely clueless.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Clueless? Leona, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you,” he bit out, eyes blazing. “You’re here—wasting your time on someone who probably doesn’t even care about you while you throw yourself at him like some kind of fool. I mean, what’s it gonna take for you to get it?”

You were stunned into silence, and he kept going, frustration pouring out in a way that you’d never seen before. “After everything, you go and pick someone else?” His voice cracked a little, and it made your heart ache. “I thought maybe… maybe if there was anyone here you’d choose, it would be me.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You were utterly bewildered. “Leona… what are you talking about? It has always been you.”

He blinked, staring at you, completely thrown. “What?”

You took a step closer to him, speaking slowly, trying to get through his thick skull. “Leona, all that stuff I’ve been saying—every time I was talking about this person I liked, I was talking about you.”

Leona looked like he’d been hit by a lightning bolt. His mouth fell open slightly, and he was struggling to catch up, his usual composure completely shattered. “Wait… you’re serious?”

“Yes! Why else would I even talk about Savanaclaw so much?” You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “You were the one who kept assuming it was someone else.”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, running a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you saw a raw vulnerability in his eyes that he usually kept hidden. “All this time… I really thought you’d gone and chosen some other guy,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Thought at least you’d pick me.”

The way he said it made your heart break a little. He looked almost small, like the thought of not being chosen had left him gutted in a way he couldn’t fully hide. You reached out, gently taking his hand. “Leona, it’s always been you. You’re the one I’ve been drawn to from the start.”

A surge of relief softened his features, and he gave a quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle. His usual swagger returned, just a bit, as he held your hand tighter. “Well,” he murmured, his gaze becoming intense, “then what’re you waiting for?”

You didn’t waste another second. You closed the space between you, capturing his lips in a kiss that was long overdue. He responded immediately, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, pulling you closer. The kiss was fierce, almost possessive, and when he finally broke away, he was wearing a smug, satisfied grin.

“About damn time,” he murmured against your lips, though there was a warmth in his voice that softened the usual sharpness. He looked down at you, his fingers grazing your cheek with an unexpected tenderness. “Next time, just skip all the theatrics and tell me, alright?”

You laughed, leaning into his touch. “I thought I was being obvious.”

“Obvious?” He huffed, rolling his eyes with a faint smile. “Trust me, you’re terrible at ‘obvious.’”

But as he gazed at you, that smirk melted into something genuine, something that showed how deeply he cared. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you, and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… you’re really mine, then?”

You nodded, and he let out a pleased sigh, holding you even tighter. “Good,” he said, his voice low and possessive, like he was finally claiming what was his. “Now let’s ditch these losers. We don’t need anyone else, just us.”

You smiled, resting your head on his chest as his hand gently stroked your back. “Fine by me,” you murmured, happiness bubbling up as you pressed small kisses along his jawline, making him chuckle.

For once, Leona didn’t have any sharp retorts, no scowls or walls to put up. He just held you, his heart finally at ease, the weight of his doubts and insecurities melting away as he finally let himself be happy.

Masterlist

[vanteguccir]

mom! reader (of preferably twin boys) x chris (or matt) based on the indoor zoo video ?

── ୨୧ !　BLURB

chris sturniolo x mom!reader

where Chris's and Y/N's twins make an appearance on the 'we turned our house into a barn' video

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The Sturniolo house was in an adorable state of controlled chaos. Matt and Chris had planned everything down to the last hay bale, receiving help from Y/N in transforming their living room into a cozy indoor petting zoo.

Little Eudora, with her chestnut curls bouncing, was giggling as she raced around the room with a small white duck waddling after her. Calum, the spitting image of his father, clutched a surprisingly calm porcupine in his lap, his face lit with pure fascination as he gently patted its back.

In front of the full-body mirror, Matt was crouched beside a midsized goat, Buster, giving it gentle scratches on the back, while a curious little black pig kept nudging him with its nose, vying for attention.

Chris and Y/N stood side by side, standing in the middle of the living room with arms crossed, taking it all in with warm smiles. Y/N’s hand found Chris’s, and he gave it a little squeeze, chuckling softly as he watched Calum carefully cradle the porcupine with awe.

"Be careful with him, buddy." Chris's voice echoed, breaking the momentarily silence while moving to a cluster of hay bales, grinning as he adjusted the banner that read "Welcome Home, Uncle Nicky!" surrounded by multicolored prints of small hands.

Their cameraman, who was used to the lively energy in the Sturniolo home, was getting every adorable moment on tape, his own laughter blending in with the kids’ squeals of delight as he recorded.

Then, suddenly, they heard the unmistakable sound of keys rattling at the front door. Y/N and Chris exchanged amused glances, and Matt looked up from the goat, a gleeful grin spreading across his face with the twin's reactions.

The kids froze, looking at the adults, and Chris quickly raised a finger to his lips, signaling for quiet. Eudora's right hand flew to her mouth, her big blue doe eyes dancing with excitement as she bounced on her heels, her white dress flowing around her small body with her movements. Calum clutched the porcupine close to him, glancing over at Matt with eyes wide, receiving a wink from his uncle.

Chris leaned forward and called out.

"Hey, Nick! How's it going?"

A muffled "Hey" came from Nick, who had just closed the door behind him. He started heading up the stairs from the entryway to the living room, clearly oblivious to the surprise that awaited him.

Just as he reached the top of the stairs, Y/N called out.

"Careful with the thing blocking the door!"

Nick stopped abruptly, his brows knitting in confusion.

"What thing-?" He began to ask, then froze as he noticed a turtle calmly stationed right by the passage.

His eyes lifted to the rest of the room, widening comically as he took in the scene beyond: animals everywhere, little straw bales scattered, and his entire family - together with an unknown woman dressed in a zoo uniform and their cameraman - caught mid-laughter in a rustic, farm-like setup right in their living room. His mouth dropped open, completely dumbfounded.

"Wha-what the..." Nick started, his words catching as he tried to process what was happening. Before he could continue, the twins finally sprang up, squealing in excitement.

"Uncle Nick!" They yelled in unison, darting over to him, the small porcupine bouncing in Calum's hands.

Nick barely managed to drop his bags with a thud before crouching to his knees, throwing his arms open wide as Calum and Eudora barreled into him. His gaze roamed the room as he held his niece and nephew close, enjoying the warm heat emanating from their bodies while taking in the fluffy chickens clucking happily nearby and the small pig nibbling at a strand of hay.

"What the fu-freak is going on?" Nick stammered, catching himself just in time, though the sheer astonishment was clear on his face. His arms kept wrapped around the twins tightly, and with a breathy laugh, he shook his head. "I’m never leaving the house again."

Eudora beamed, wrapping her small arms around his neck as she squealed excitedly in his ear.

"We made this surprise for you, Uncle Nicky! Did you like it?"

Nick looked down at her, his eyes softening drastically as he took in her excitement, then looked over to Chris and Y/N, still stunned.

"Like it?" He repeated, almost at a loss for words. "I love it! This is insane!"

Just then, Calum piped up, holding up the porcupine he’d been cradling like a prized possession.

"Look, Uncle Nick!" He said eagerly. "It’s a porcupine! Do you wanna hold it?"

"Baby, be careful not to hurt your uncle with its prickles." Y/N was quick in warning the little boy, watching his movements carefully.

Nick’s eyes widened even further as he realized what Calum was holding too close to his face. He quickly glanced over at Y/N, and then at Chris, the fear evident in his expression.

"Uh... Chris?" He stammered, his voice high-pitched with barely concealed alarm.

Chris stifled a laugh and quickly stepped forward, taking the porcupine from Calum’s hands, ignoring the big pout forming on his son's lips.

"I got it, I got it." He said, giving Nick a playful grin. "Only the safest surprises for you, bro."

Y/N chuckled softly, her hand covering her mouth as she watched Nick’s face go through an entire range of emotions. Matt joined in, shaking his head as he pet the goat one last time before walking closer to the others, clearly reveling in his brother’s shock.

Nick took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face, then looked down at his niece and nephew nestled snugly in his arms. His expression softened into a disbelieving grin as he pulled them even closer, wrapping them in a hug filled with all the warmth he’d bottled up during his time away.

"You two..." He murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to each of their heads. "This might be the best surprise I’ve ever had."

Calum and Eudora beamed up at him, their matching blue eyes alight with pride.

"Even better than the band, Uncle Nick?" Calum asked, his small hands curling around Nick’s tattooed arm, eyes wide with hope.

Nick let out a heartfelt laugh, nodding as he glanced down at his nephew.

"Even better than the band, buddy. Was this all your idea?" He asked, focusing warmly on Calum but keeping one arm wrapped around Eudora, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her back.

Calum’s face lit up even brighter, grinning from ear to ear before looking over at his dad and Uncle Matt, seeking their approval.

"Well..." Calum started, only to have Matt jump in, flashing a teasing grin.

"You know how it is, Nick." Matt said, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. "We missed you, and these two couldn’t stop talking about going to the zoo all week, so..."

Nick’s eyes narrowed playfully as he turned to Chris.

"And you let him pick the porcupine?"

Chris chuckled, throwing up his hands in defense.

"Actually, the porcupine was my idea, but..." He gestured at Calum with a shrug. "He’s been attached ever since."

"Like father, like son." Y/N's voice echoed full of amusement, her plump lips forming a wide smile. "Do you want some water, Nick?" She asked gently, moving towards the kitchen, receiving a positive answer from the oldest triplet.

For a few more minutes, Nick just sat on the floor, surrounded by warmth and joy as the twins excitedly recounted every little detail from the week - even though they’d already shared those stories over FaceTime, feeling too excited to tell him all over again in person. Nick listened, hanging on every word, giving all of his attention to them.

A soft nudge against his side caught his attention, and he looked down to see the little goat butting his arm. Smiling, Nick gave it a gentle scratch behind the ears, chuckling under his breath at the delightful absurdity of it all. His gaze drifted up, finding Y/N’s across the room. Her eyes were warm, crinkling at the corners as she watched him with a look that needed no words, patting the small bunny in her hands.

He mouthed a "thank you", his expression soft, clearly moved by their thoughtfulness.

Chris’s arm snaked around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close as they shared a quiet, knowing smile, content to watch Nick settle back into the chaotic embrace of the family they’d created.

[shadowlord66]

Ok, so just putting this here so I can look for this thing I read in like 5th grade.

So there's this main character dude named Alexis (Or something like that) and he's born in a nation that's been at war for a long time. He is the royal heir. All royalty are taken to a church and placed in front of dice or some kinda marker thing with different symbols on it. He gets "Strength and either stupidity or cowardice", "Wisdom and weakness" and finally virtue. Which is placed so that a baby can't reach it without like divine intervention. So everyone knows Alexis is gonna end the war now cuz of that. Also there's a disease ravaging the nation, it fucks people up.

So alexis is a really good runner (This is how I got the advice to not bend over while breathing after running) and he's got a younger brother named Tayo (Or something like that) and his brother is kinda spoiled cuz he's not crown prince.

But somehow, idk how, Alexis contracts the disease and his father gives up on him. So Alexis gets like a ton of physical therapy and Tayo is now the heir. But Alexis out of resentment I guess drowns Tayo, which is kinda disturbing. Also Alexis' classmates start supporting him during the physical therapy stuff which is nice.

So yeah, can't find the book. uh not expecting anyone to be able to but no harm in trying ig.

modern day moby dick but my white whale is a middle grade fantasy novel i read when i was like eleven and haven't been able to find again

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Not So Rational

Summary: On a mission together, Azriel's composure slipped, leading to an unexpected confession.

Fictober Challenge

Everything had gone relatively smoothly on your latest mission until the path you and Azriel were following seemed to disappear. His shadows drifted around the both of you, protective and searching, as you both came to a halt in the clearing.

“Well, this is fantastic,” you sighed, placing your hands on your hips as you surveyed the surrounding woods. “We’re lost. I’m officially declaring it.”

Azriel shot you a dry look, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly. “We’re not lost. We’re…recalculating.”

“Recaluclating?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “That’s what you call it when you have no idea where we are?”

He let out a soft huff, but you could tell he was holding back a laugh. “I don’t think you’re in a position to critique my tracking skills, considering you’ve been following my lead without complaint.”

“Because I trust you, Shadowsinger. And your shadows are supposed to know the way,” you retorted, an impish grin spreading across your face. “But if you’d like me to take over, I’m sure my impeccable sense of direction will get us somewhere…maybe not where we need to be, but at least somewhere.”

Azriel’s eyes glinted with amusement, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Impeccable sense of direction? Is that what you call getting us turned around three times on our last mission?”

“Hey, that was one time,” you protested, jabbing a finger in his direction. “And I’m pretty sure it was because someone’s shadows were being…distracting.”

He playfully swatted your hand away. “My shadows were being distracting?” he said, looking at you with mock incredulity. “They’re practically invisible, Y/n. Especially at night.”

You leaned in, your smile teasing. “Partially invisible, maybe. But definitely distracting. Or maybe it was you being distracting. Hard to say.” You shrugged.

Azriel’s smirk faded ever so slightly, replaced by something deeper, more thoughtful. He stepped closer, and suddenly, the air between you shifted. His eyes searched yours, and for the first time, you noticed that he seemed…uncertain, hesitant. Vulnerable, even.

“Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. He’d noticed that he’d been the one always taking charge, leading you, giving orders without you ever complaining. And he wanted to share things with you. After all, you were partners, and he wanted you to feel equally involved. “What do you think we should do?”

You blinked, taken aback. “Me? Az, you’re supposed to be the rational one, remember? The steady, level-headed strategist. I’m the one who makes bad jokes to lighten all that seriousness and gets us around in forests.”

He tilted his head slightly, and a smile ghosted across his lips. “Supposed to be...”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right. One of the three strongest Illyrian warriors, the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster and torturer of the Night Court isn’t rational?” you teased, though your voice wavered slightly as he closed the distance between you.

Azriel’s hand reached up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “You make me question my rationality all the time,” he confessed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, swallowing hard. “I do?”

A rare smile curved his lips, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “You do,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “When it comes to you, I don’t think I’ve ever been rational.”

“Az, are you…flirting with me?” you asked hesitantly, trying to sound playful even as your voice trembled.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. “What if I am?”

You stared at him, searching his eyes for any hint of whether he was serious or joking. Words failed you as you kept looking at him, the silence thick and electric.

“What? No comeback, no retort? Have I finally managed to make you speechless?” he teased, his smirk deepening.

You wanted to say something- anything. To shoot back, but all you managed to let out was: “Uhm… I-”

He couldn’t hide the satisfaction he felt at seeing you so flustered, so off-guard, struggling. He closed the remaining distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that felt both inevitable and charged. His hands cupped your face, and you melted into him, your knees almost giving in as years of tension and unspoken feelings finally broke free.

When you pulled away, breathless and dazed, he rested his forehead against yours, his shadows wrapping around the two of you in a protective embrace. “I guess I’m not as composed as everyone thinks,” he whispered against your lips, his voice full of affection.

You laughed softly, threading your fingers in his hair. “Good. I like you better this way.”