#genuinely love this and the pose this was all from the heart and I love it dearly

[tohruies]

hi hi mrs yao !!!! christmas is coming up, are you going to celebrate anythinf with xiangli ? :33 btw, since miss coco doesnt have a tree, here's a little something to say thank you for being one of my lovely moots 🥺

oh! 😁 hi hello mr puppetgear! 😁 christmas celebrations with xiangli you ask! 😁 well actually! 😁 you see, i was th— *dies upon seeing the image you’ve attached to this ask* 😳😲🤯😱😱😱😵💀🪦

[digi-destiny]

DigiDaily Day 8 / BlackGuilmon

I really really like the pose here :) ill probably finish it someday

[shotmrmiller]

getting shot down by ghost without even asking him out or anything because he'd heard from one scottish bird that your type of guy was exactly like him and thinking back on it now, all the qualities you'd listed for your dream man do sound like as if you were describing him. yikes.

you don't take his rejection to heart, even though it does lightly sting but before you get a chance to explain that said scottish bird is an idiot and very mistaken in his assumption, ghost is telling you that it'd never work, you'd only get hurt and that you do take to heart because what does that mean, exactly? does he think you some dewy eyed farm girl looking for love? that you can't have casual sex with someone without eventually wanting for more?

"tha' ain't wha' i said. you'd get hurt, i mean look at ya." what about you? it's not like you'd let any of what happens behind closed doors affect your performance or anything, you and kyle always keep things professional while in the field.

also, is he aware that he doesn't have to have a reason to not want to sleep with you, or anyone else for that matter?

"you're small," he states, as if fact.

small? small where? your irritation dissipates, shoulders bleeding tension as genuine worry begins to set in. his vision might actually be going bad. could it be the black paint he wears under his mask? is it even safe to use on the face let alone near the eyes? did he read the instructions?

but then you realize he's looking at your legs, or specifically, what's between them and things click, and now you're wondering how someone so bloody brilliant could be this fucking stupid.

"while i appreciate your concern, lieutenant," you pointedly snap, "that's not even- i'd be just fine." he's a big guy, for sure. massive, if being honest. his neck alone is easily bigger than both your hands and you've caught him once or twice having to duck his head to enter the debriefing room but him being so endowed that it poses a threat to you is idiotic at best.

he hums, long and low in his throat, as he peers down at you through heavy lidded eyes, and raises his right shoulder in a shrug. "as you like," and that's the one and only warning you got.

simon had given you as much foreplay as needed, had lapped at your pussy until you forgot what day of the week it was, curled and scissored his fingers until his bedsheets were sodden and it still hadn't been enough. he'd only fit about a fourth of it in before he took pity on you and fucked your thighs instead until he got close, pushing his ruddy tip back into your aching cunt because "spillin' outside is a waste," and sent you on your merry way.

you're no quitter though and after some shopping online, your saving grace (dilators) will be here in a week.

(now to find soap and rip the rest of his hair right out his scalp for wagging his tongue.)

[meggalice]

Happy Birthday to the Rise movie, 2 whole years, man how time truly flies.

If you'd told me 2 years ago that I would still be knee deep in the trenches of an intense hyper-fixation of TMNT of all things, I highly doubt I would have believed you.

Yet here we are, my best friend had decided that "hey, you'll probably like this show I've been watching..." from there the rest is history. Every so often you come across a piece of art or media that just lights a creative fire inside of you that refuses to be ignored. The Rise series as a whole has been responsible for inspiring so much growth in my art, whether that be more techniques to push pose designs even further, become more daring with composition and finally, finally have human anatomy studies make sense.

I've also met some truly wonderful people thanks to the Rise fandom, I've not been bold enough to reach out to artists/writers I admire in the past but after taking the plunge and becoming apart of some community servers I've been lucky enough to forge some special friendships with some truly wonderful people. (Y'all know who you are and I love you so so SO much.)

Happy Birthday to a movie and by extension series that continues to inspire me with its incredible directing, genuinely hilarious writing and warm, tender heart.

Keep writing, drawing, painting, posting and talking about this truly special little series and maybe one day we'll see get to see it light up our screens again.

[itsnesss]

would you ever do a kimi antonelli x famous actor movie star reader! who is at the met gala and he is just like in love with her outfit and is complimenting her so much or something like that? even maybe when they do vogue grwms??

𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 | kimi antonelli × fem!reader

summary | you attend the met gala looking like a goddess, and kimi can't take his eyes off you

warnings | famous!reader, fluff, mild romantic tension, flirting, public attention / media speculation

word count | 0.9 k

🖇 more ka12 🖇 f1 masterlist

The hotel room smells like fresh roses and expensive makeup. You’re seated in front of the lit-up mirror while your stylist finishes the final touches on your hair.

Your lips, painted a deep wine red, curl into a small smile when the Vogue assistant asks if you're ready to film the GRWM for their YouTube channel.

"Been ready since they said 'Met Gala'," you reply with a wink, adjusting your silk robe as the camera crew sets up.

This isn’t your first red carpet, but it feels like the most special one. This year, you’re not just attending, you’re one of the main attractions. Your movie is topping the charts, your name is everywhere: on posters, on blogs, in whispers behind velvet ropes.

And apparently, in the eyes of a certain Italian racing driver.

"We’re rolling in 3, 2..." the director says, and you let out a soft laugh.

The recording begins, and you talk about your dress, a custom Schiaparelli design, deep black with hand-stitched golden details. The sculpted corset gives off armor vibes, while the tulle skirt floats like smoke around your legs. You talk about the inspiration: constellations, baroque art, the kind of goddess who gets dressed to conquer the sky.

You don’t say it aloud, but you're hoping someone out there notices all the details you poured your heart into.

That “someone” shows up two hours later.

The Met Gala is already underway when your car pulls up to the Met steps. The second the door opens, camera flashes explode around you and the crowd screams like a wave crashing over your ears.

"You’ve got this," you whisper to yourself as you adjust your dress and your perfectly practiced expression.

You walk the carpet, you pose, you smile. Everything is routine… until you see him.

Kimi Antonelli. The breakout Formula 1 star. Dressed in a perfectly tailored tux, elegant and effortlessly youthful. He shouldn't be looking at you. But he is. Like you're the only person on that carpet.

As you approach, someone from the event staff tries to guide you away, but Kimi steps forward.

"Can I...?" he asks, his smile shy as he offers his arm.

Your laugh is more genuine than anything you've done tonight.

"You're going to escort me, racer boy?"

"Only if you’ll let me say you look like..." he pauses, glancing at you from head to toe, a bit dazed, "...like a piece of art. Literally. I think time stopped for a second."

Your cheeks heat up slightly. No one’s ever said it quite like that, so direct, so honest.

"That’s a pretty poetic line for someone who drives at 300 km/h," you reply, looping your arm through his. "Are you always this charming?"

Kimi chuckles, soft and genuine.

"Only when someone takes my breath away. And you... you did that the moment you walked in."

You walk beside Kimi as the flashes continue nonstop. Every step with him on your arm becomes a moment worthy of a magazine cover. The cameras aren’t just capturing your dress, they’re capturing the way he looks at you: unapologetically, fully present, as if the rest of the world simply disappeared.

"Did you know I was coming tonight?" you ask under your breath, still smiling for the Vogue Italia photographer.

"They invited me about a month ago," he replies. "But I didn’t know you’d be here. If I had, I would've dressed better."

"Better than this?" you glance at him briefly, taking in his look. "You're flawless."

He smiles, but glances down for a moment, slightly shy. So different from the actors you usually hang around. Younger, yes but also more transparent. Like he’s not trying to impress you… but somehow still doing it.

That’s when an E! News reporter appears with a mic and an excited grin.

"The two of you together! This is unexpected!" she exclaims. "Can we steal a second of your time for the fans?"

You nod politely, and Kimi though a little surprised stays right beside you. The questions are light. They ask about your dress, your movie, your prep for the night. But when the reporter turns to him:

"And you, Kimi? Are you here with our star tonight, or was this a coincidence?"

He doesn’t even hesitate.

"If it was a coincidence, it’s the best one I’ve ever had."

The reporter laughs, you laugh too. But there’s a quiet flutter deep in your chest.

"So drivers don’t just go fast they think fast too?" you tease.

"Only when they’re in danger," he says. "Or when they’ve got a goddess on their arm."

The interview ends with light laughs, but you're not the only one who noticed the exchange. As you turn toward the entrance, you spot a few people whispering. Some fans filming with their phones. The internet is probably eating this up already.

"You did that on purpose?" you ask Kimi, still holding onto his arm.

"Did what?"

"That line. Letting everyone think we’re together."

He gives a small shrug, but his eyes are dead serious.

"I didn’t plan it. But... if the world wants to believe it, I don’t mind."

The silence that follows feels warm. Unexpected.

And then, the doors to the Met close behind you. Classical music spills across marble floors, and golden light gleams off ancient sculptures. Everything glows, but nothing glows quite like the smile he gives you when he leans in and whispers:

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

Your heart skips.

"The whole gala?"

"The whole life, if you let me."

[kxsagi]

hihihi!!! i was wondering if you could do a pt 2 of the bride's polaroid's but with rin, yukimiya, and any other characters u would like!! thank u mwa mwa :33

“𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐”

a/n: i'm glad that people are liking pt. 1! ofc i had to deliver pt. 2 and thank you for being patient 🤍

ft. itoshi rin, yukimiya kenyu, shidou ryusei

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐫𝐢𝐧

he’s suspicious the second your maid of honor walks up to him with a sly smile and an envelope tucked behind her back. “she told me to give this to you before the ceremony,” she says, and rin takes it reluctantly, side-eyeing the bridesmaids giggling in the corner like this is a setup. 

because he knows you. and he knows that when you’re nervous, you get impulsive. he can already feel something unholy waiting inside that envelope, so he opens it slowly, heart thudding. 

the first thing he sees is skin. a lot of it. his entire body jerks like he’s been electrocuted. 

“what the fu–” he whispers, snapping the envelope shut like the polaroids personally insulted his blood pressure. he blinks at the floor, stunned, trying to reboot his brain. then he checks again, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. nope. you’re definitely wearing that lace thing he told you he liked in passing once. only that lace thing. maybe less. 

he flips to the next photo and feels his soul leave his body. 

now his hands are shaking. he glances around, panicking. no one can see this. no one should see this. it’s a sin. he’s already planning to burn it and also guard it with his life. rin tucks the envelope inside his suit jacket with such urgency, you’d think it was a state secret. 

someone asks what it was and he glares, cheeks red. “mind your business.” 

later, when he sees you walking down the aisle, veil soft around your face, looking all angelic and innocent, he narrows his eyes. 

you are a menace, he thinks, heart racing. but also, you're his menace. 

and someone help him, he’s never been more in love. 

𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐮

when he’s handed the envelope, yukimiya thinks it’s a letter. a sentimental note. something poetic and sweet. so he opens it with this soft smile, already rehearsing the romantic things he’ll say to you after reading it. 

then he pulls out the first polaroid. 

and promptly forgets how to breathe. 

his eyebrows shoot up, lips parting in genuine awe. oh. oh, you didn’t write anything, you posed. posed in that lingerie set he half-jokingly sent you a link to two months ago. except now it’s not a joke, it’s very real, and he is officially the luckiest man alive. 

“my goodness,” he whispers, blinking at the photo like it’s the eighth wonder of the world. 

he’s quiet for a while. just taking his time with each polaroid. handling them like they’re priceless artwork. he’s not even thinking indecent thoughts, he’s just floored by you. by how beautiful you are. how confident, how thoughtful. it’s the most intimate kind of present. and it’s for him. 

when he finally looks up, his cheeks are flushed and there’s a dreamy glint in his eyes. “she really did this for me,” he says, to no one in particular, sounding absolutely smitten. 

one of the groomsmen teases him and he just laughs, all flustered. “i’m marrying the most stunning woman on the planet. i’m allowed to gloat.” 

he tucks the envelope into the inside pocket of his suit like it’s sacred and keeps checking it every few minutes, like he needs to reassure himself that it’s real. later, he pulls you into a quiet corner after the ceremony and leans in, voice low and warm. 

“those photos were dangerous,” he murmurs against your ear, brushing his lips over your cheek. “you’re not sleeping on our wedding night, you know that, right?” 

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐢

the moment one of your bridesmaids slips him the envelope, shidou’s grinning like he’s just been handed a lottery ticket. “what’s this, huh?” he drawls, already shaking it next to his ear like it’ll talk back. “a secret mission from my sexy bride?” 

he doesn’t wait. he never waits. just rips it open right there with zero shame, surrounded by his groomsmen, a few cousins, and, unfortunately, your grandma. 

he pulls out the first photo. his jaw drops. 

“OH HELL YEAH,” he shouts, holding it up like it’s his new prized possession. “SHE’S TRYNA END ME BEFORE THE CEREMONY EVEN STARTS!” 

the room goes silent for a second. then erupts into chaos. people laugh, someone gasps, and your grandma clutches her pearls. but shidou? he’s thriving. flips through the photos like a guy watching a fireworks show. each new picture gets a new reaction – whistles, groans, straight up kneeling on the floor at one point. 

“this woman is gonna be the death of me,” he mutters dramatically, lying on his back like he’s been slain. “what a way to go though.” 

he clutches the envelope to his chest and looks up at the ceiling. “i love her,” he sighs. “she’s a freak and she’s all mine.” 

some poor relative tries to walk past and accidentally glimpses a photo, and shidou just shrugs. “don’t look if you can’t handle greatness.” 

he pockets the polaroids like a dragon hoarding treasure and proudly announces, “these are coming on the honeymoon. framed. maybe laminated.” 

and when you finally see him at the altar, he winks at you like you just told him a dirty secret. 

“you’re in so much trouble later,” he mouths. 

and he absolutely means it. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[mandukkul]

Weird Boyfriend — ot7

synopsis: things your Enhypen boyfriend does

tags: bf!ot7 x f!reader, crack/ humour

warning: none

word count: n/a

likes + comments appreciated

author's note: Thank you for 1k followers! i know i don't actively post on here because its a hobby account but i seriously am so grateful for for all the support!!

#°❀⋆manny's 1k celebration event .ೃ࿔*:･

희승 | heeseung

- has toxic league humour running in his veins

- don’t let his cool sexy hot guy persona fool you

- one time you caught him on YOUR twitter account OLBITERATING his own haters

- lich got you banned on twitter for saying kys your mums a hoe!

- thank god he doesn’t know how to dox or else he’d abuse that shit out of that ability

제이 | jay

- actually tends to drown you out on instinct now

- NOT BECAUSE HE DOESNT LOVE YOU

- but you seriously talk so much and about so many different things

- your ability to switch from one topic to another is uncanny so he’s bound to miss a few things

- plus he can’t waste good memory storage on the 100 reasons why superheroes are just grown adults with accepted fursonas

데잌크 | jake

- is so smart and yet lowk so dumb

- like his brain just turns off around you and you don’t know if you feel happy that he feels comfortable around you or sad that he makes you do all the thinking

- playing fire boy and water girl would suck! because you’re yelling at him to wait for you because he can’t jump over the green liquid but bro is nawt listening and thinks he can raw dog it (he doesn’t)

- makes you rage quit!

- also the type to say “babe i just found this awesome new underground artist i think you’d love them”

- and it’s like rex orange county or soemthing 😭

성훈 | sunghoon

- leaves a message that only appears when the mirror fogs up

- something like “you’re stunning”

- also leaves cute messages around the for you to find.

- “you got this!” “you’re the best!” “you’re so handsome” “you are so strong and buff!”

- okay that was a bit weird but you love sunghoon regardless

- you bring it up with him and he laughs like it’s the smartest idea in the world

- only, his laugh seems a bit too genuine

- turns out he’s been leaving those messages around for himself.

- #can’tgoadaywithoutmydailyaffirmations!

선우 | sunoo

- lowk a diva

- gets mad when you don’t want to go and get a sweet treat with him

“im just too full, get one without me”

- fuck off. and he sulks until you cave in.

- when you bring him around on shopping days with your friends, he ends up gossiping with them and shopping and you’re just standing there like YOUR the bf being forced to walk around and follow them

- at least he ends up getting ALL the tea and you debrief at home

��윈 | jungwon

- lowk judgemental but loves you so much so don’t take it to heart

- like you bite his bicep and he gives you a look that’s akin to killing all his future hypothetical bloodline

- or pull on his teeth

- or pick his nose

- like stop being a weirdo (affectionate)

- but then he says outrageous shit

“okay but like what if we fuse, i would totally be satisfied with life if i lived under your skin” “wonnie… you aren’t going to skin me alive… right?“what? no i just want to crawl under your skin, i think it’d be warm, and snuggly”

- you may do weird shit but he says weird shit

- “i just want you to stop saying odd shit”

- but don’t be fooled, he still judges you with a loving look

니키 | niki

- fake ass emo!

- spends at least 20 minutes posing to take a good selfie for you and sends it to you and actively checks if you seen it

- and when you do see it, acts like he “just took it randomly” LIKE WE KNOW YOU VOGUED THAT SHIT RELAX

- tries to act nonchalant when you give him a dry ass reply:

“okay, riks, whatever you say”

- JUST BELIEVE HIM FOR YOUR OWN SAKE

- one time on call, he caught himself using his higher register

- so next sentence he drops like 2 octaves and acts like it’s his normal voice

“and so i totally think big chill is the hottest alien out of ben’s arsenal” “yeah 👹” “????”

- gaslights you to thinking that’s what he sounded like the whole time

- also, would give you a thousand yard stare if you take a photo of his left side

[solxamber]

Romance Clichés With: Vil Schoenheit

Cliché: The Airport (Dark Mirror?) Confession

Others: Leona ; Azul ; Kalim ; Idia ; Jamil ; Riddle

Vil had told you last week about his upcoming movie shoot in another country. He’d casually mentioned he'd be gone for a little while, which you’d taken in stride. After all, he was a famous actor—it wasn't like he was leaving forever. At least, that’s what you thought. But Rook had other ideas.

“Oh, mon ami,” Rook sighed dramatically the day before Vil’s departure, “how brave you are. Truly a testament to love, to be able to bear such a tragic farewell without shedding a single tear! Many would crumble under the thought of not seeing their beloved for years.”

You blinked, pausing mid-bite of your sandwich. “Years?”

Rook nodded, his eyes misting over, clearly lost in some inner poetic monologue. “Oui, it may well be years before we see Roi du Poison’s radiant visage again. Some might say he is embarking on an odyssey, one that will only return him to our shores once he’s ascended to an even greater pinnacle of fame.”

“Y-Years?” you echoed, a pit forming in your stomach.

“Bien sûr!” Rook leaned in, whispering with all the seriousness of a tragic romance novel. “In showbiz, a project could take ages—rewrites, reshoots, promotional tours... Why, he may even settle abroad to cultivate his craft.”

You dropped your sandwich, horror dawning as the words hit you with full force. Your mind went into overdrive. Vil... leaving? Maybe forever? You pictured months, even years of unanswered texts, long-distance video calls, and eventually, just fading away from each other’s lives.

You couldn’t take it! And if he was leaving, you had to make it clear that he’d be leaving someone who would do anything for him.

Which was why, mere minutes before Vil was set to leave, you were charging across campus, heart pounding and absolutely zero plan in mind.

He was standing in front of the Mirror of Darkness, his poise immaculate as always. His entourage surrounded him, but you were zeroed in on only one thing: making sure he knew you would sacrifice anything to keep him.

He was taking a few moments to pose with his usual elegance, utterly unaware that you were barreling toward him with all the grace of a charging rhinoceros.

“Vil!” you yelled, gaining speed as you neared him. He turned, brows raised just slightly before you flung yourself into his arms, nearly sending him toppling over.

“Please,” you blurted, “don’t go!”

Vil’s face softened, and he looked about to speak, but you were already mid-rant, words tumbling out in a fevered rush.

“Vil, I swear, I’ll change my entire skincare routine if you want! Every day, double cleanse, essence, eye cream—I’ll use every serum, sheet mask, and exfoliant you recommend.” You grabbed his hands, clutching them tightly. “And if it’s my diet, I’ll cut out carbs or sugar or whatever you want! I’ll even drink green juice, Vil!”

His eyes widened in something like amusement, but you didn’t give him a chance to interject.

“Please, just don’t leave forever. I don’t care how famous you get or how much international recognition comes your way, or how you’ll become the new face of high fashion—I’ll do anything. I love you, Vil. I’ll do whatever you need me to. Just. Stay."

Vil blinked, clearly stunned, but before you could spiral into another tirade, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft, breathtaking kiss. It was enough to shut you up instantly, and when he finally pulled back, he looked at you with an exasperated but deeply affectionate smile.

“Darling,” he said, brushing a hand down your cheek with a chuckle, “I’m really only leaving for two weeks.”

“Oh.” You stared up at him, cheeks flushing red as his words sank in.

“Two weeks,” he repeated, laughing softly, and his face lit up in a way you’d never seen before—completely unguarded, genuinely amused, and utterly, hopelessly in love.

Your flustered mumbling was drowned out by his gentle laughter. “So… all that talk about green juice and sheet masks…” His chuckle turned into a full laugh, rich and uninhibited, echoing through the hall as a dozen phones captured the moment.

He gave you a lingering kiss, entirely unconcerned with the crowd, before pressing his forehead to yours. “You really thought I’d leave you forever?” he whispered, a teasing sparkle in his eye. “Oh, my sweet, melodramatic potato.”

You mumbled something unintelligible, hiding your face in his shoulder as your embarrassment finally caught up to you.

By the time he returned two weeks later, it was all anyone on campus could talk about. The candid video of him gazing at you, laugh lines softened, love written all over his face—it had gone viral. Even Vil was taken by surprise at how the internet had swooned over the whole scene, declaring you both the new “It Couple” of NRC.

And if Vil noticed the way his likes had outpaced Neige’s on Magicam, well, he wasn’t above a little bragging.

He’d make a show of it too, asking Mira each morning, “Who’s the most popular couple on Magicam?” And every time, he would grin, smugly satisfied with the answer.

And if anyone dared ask him how he got so much traction on his account lately, he’d just smile, gaze in your direction, and shrug with feigned innocence.

Masterlist

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 3:58

No amount of hectic schedules, exhausting patrols, rowdy villains, and never-ending legal paperwork could ever keep Bakugou from attending his daughters’ extracurricular activities—because he’d literally go through literal hell and back than to ever see a disheartened pout along with the silent treatment after he gets home from work.

You think he’ll ever miss any of his daughters’ milestones? Fuck no!

Bakugou insists on being at every event, his phone—and even an actual camera during a good day—in hand, his heart swelling with pride and unconditional love that makes his chest figuratively hurt; it might as well be a medical problem at some point. 

Because, if anything, Bakugou Katsuki is a father first and a hero second.

“Shit, ‘m late. Have they started yet?”

He’s sweating as if he just used his explosions to propel himself in the air to get to you quicker, but, in truth, he sort of had to just run since the traffic on the highway today would’ve only angered and slowed him down. He left patrol to Halfie, who offered to take his shift, knowing how many times Bakugou covered for him when he was in his son’s piano recital.

“They just started doing warmups,” you answer. “Did you run? You’re drenched to the bone; you’re going to catch a cold if you don’t get changed into some dry clothes.”

“Hah, doubt it.” He snorts, though he does appreciate the thought of you bringing him a spare shirt for just-in-case purposes.

You're always the one who thinks ahead, aren't you? Bakugou knows he’s a very lucky man to have such a doting, caring wife that humbles him whenever he gets too focused on his pride. The balance that he didn’t know he needed!

Ignoring the gawking stares of the other parents—because it’s not everyday you see the Pro Hero Dynamight in mundane activities such as watching his kid take gymnastics’ lessons—he looks through the glass in search of his little princess.

Just as he saw her, his lips curled to that oh-so genuine smile, one that just said, “That’s my daughter, right there! Look at how awesome she is!” 

Bakugou remembers how his parents were the same and how they were very supportive of his interests and hobbies, no matter how odd they may be for a five-year-old. How often do you see someone learning to take on both hiking and archery at the age of five? Bakugou was sure he learned most skills during his childhood that made him a firm hero in the field today.

“She has a bit of trouble with tumbling because of her tummy.”

“Yeah? And does that have somethin’ to do with my awesome cooking?” Bakugou replied smugly. “Besides, ‘ts just baby fat, and I’d prefer to see her like this than to see her thin but often sick.”

“Mhm, and she makes up for the cutest ending pose.”

“And her effortless splits. Have the coaches seen her do that?”

You shook your head. “Not yet,” you say, “but I think they’re about to do it—oh! Look, look!”

And he does; his phone’s camera is already recording his youngest daughter doing a perfect vertical split, while the other girls somewhat struggle to maintain a consistent posture. 

“She’s a natural, hun.”

“She is,” you chuckle, “just like her Daddy to a certain extent.”

“Damn right, she is.”

Bakugou tries to hold back his laughter when your daughter once again attempts a forward roll with the guidance of the staff. Her tummy somewhat makes it a bit difficult for her to do so. The way she hesitates but then does the forward roll, albeit a little lopsided with a smile that shows her adorable tooth gap—it was safe to say that your daughter was over the moon with her gymnastics lessons.

It’s all too much for him to take.

And when all is over, he greets his daughter by picking her up and blowing raspberries on her neck that have her squealing in laughter before he insists that he’ll be the one to talk to the coaches about the upcoming schedules and the progress your daughter has made. 

“Mr. Bakugou, she’s a good listener, and I believe that she’ll be moving onto the next class with the older children in no time,” they told him. “Has she received prior training before this one?”

“She’s also taking ballet lessons,” he answers, “but gymnastics is what she really likes. Ballet was just a compromise since your services weren’t available in our area at that time.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. It’s a joy to have her in class. I’ve already sent Dr. [Last Name] the schedules we offered, and we are looking forward to having your daughter in the upcoming lessons.”

The walk back to your car was light and quiet for a change. Your youngest daughter, Kusami, was out like a light in Bakugou’s arms, having worn herself out with socializing, rolling, doing splits, and whatnot the gymnastics’ instructors told her to do. And Bakugou was just letting the simple moment sink in because this is what he considers the most rewarding part of his day. 

Time spent with his family.

Bakugou also warmed up to the thought of having to interact with other parents. He chatted with a single father earlier, whose daughter was the oldest in Kusami’s class. It was nice to converse with equally enthusiastic and supportive parents that you meet through your children's extracurricular activities.

“Let’s go through a drive-through; get Katsumi her usual order,” Bakugou murmurs, remembering how his oldest daughter, Katsumi, would’ve probably woken up from her nap by now and was probably anticipating her family’s return. 

“Alright,” you nod. “Katsumi and Kusami have swimming lessons tomorrow at five in the afternoon, too. Do you think you’d get home that early?”

“Of course,” he answers. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[gf2bellamy]

Oh my god, can I just say that I absolutely love your newlyweds fic!

Can I please request a spin on that where Spencer and fem!bau!reader are still in the pining/completely and utterly smitten stage of their crushes on each other and need to go undercover as a married couple to catch the unsub?

And Spencer just completely bluescreens/shuts down/gets his IQ slashed to 20 when he first hears reader refer to him as his husband (while internally he's just giggling like crazy) and then reader is the one that gets completely flustered when he calls her his wife and the two of them are just happily dreamily smiling at each other as if a psychotic serial killer is not within three feet of them.

married — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: they interact with the unsub, mention of the unsub's victims / motive , a/n: hi hi hi ! i hope you like this <3 i literally had so much fun writing this

“You okay?” you asked softly, stopping Spencer with a gentle touch on his arm.

The two of you were standing in front of a modern art exhibition building. Hotch had assigned you both to go undercover, posing as a married couple to lure out the unsub—an artist with a vendetta against happy couples.

It was a solid plan, but Spencer had been acting… off. More than usual, anyway.

He hesitated, his eyes darting away from yours as he adjusted the collar of his shirt. “Yeah, I just—” His voice trailed off, and he glanced over your shoulder, avoiding your gaze. You noticed the way his fingers fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, a telltale sign that he was nervous.

But why? This wasn’t his first undercover assignment, and he’d handled far more stressful situations.

You tilted your head, stepping slightly into his line of sight to catch his attention. “Hey,” you said gently, your voice warm and reassuring. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” You flashed him a smile, hoping to ease the tension. “You can tell me about all the art styles. Didn’t you once tell me about surrealism?”

At that, Spencer’s eyes flicked back to yours, a spark of interest lighting up his face. “Yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “Salvador Dalí, René Magritte… their work challenges the perception of reality. It’s fascinating, really.”

You grinned, encouraged by his response. “Well, you can tell me all about that inside,” you said, gesturing toward the entrance of the exhibition. “I’m counting on you to be my personal art historian tonight.”

Spencer’s lips twitched into a small smile, but you could still see the faint unease in his eyes. You tried to ignore the way your own heart was racing, the way your stomach fluttered every time he looked at you.

When Hotch had assigned you this mission, you’d nearly fallen out of your chair. JJ had noticed, of course, and her knowing giggles hadn’t helped. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on your feelings. Y

ou had a job to do, even if that job involved pretending to be married to the man you’d been quietly crushing on for months—a man who had no idea how you felt.

You held out your hand to him, your heart pounding in your chest. It was a bold move, but you told yourself it was necessary for the case.

You had to act like you were married, right? Holding hands was part of the job. At least, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself as you tried to ignore the way your pulse raced at the thought of touching him.

Spencer looked down at your hand, then back up at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, he reached out and took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. His hand was warm, his grip gentle, and the contact sent a jolt of electricity up your arm.

You tried to ignore the way your cheeks heated, focusing instead on the mission.

“Ready?” you asked, squeezing his hand lightly.

Spencer nodded, his smile a little more genuine now. “Ready.”

The two of you walked into the exhibition hall, hand in hand, the sound of your footsteps echoing against the polished floors.

“Which one is his?” you mumbled, leaning slightly closer to Spencer so only he could hear you. Your breath brushed against his ear, and you didn’t miss the way he stiffened for a moment, a faint shiver running through him. He cleared his throat, trying to focus, and glanced around the room.

“Straight forward and then on the right,” he replied, his voice low.

His thumb instinctively brushed over your knuckles, a small, unconscious gesture that made your heart skip a beat. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot.

This was supposed to be a mission, but it was getting harder and harder to separate the act from the way you really felt.

“Okay, so let’s start here and work our way to the front,” you said, pointing to a painting nearby. You couldn’t rush straight to the unsub’s work—that would look suspicious. Instead, you had to play the part of a curious couple, taking your time to appreciate the art. Spencer nodded, his eyes following your gesture, and the two of you stopped in front of the first painting.

It was a colorful abstract piece, a swirl of blues and greens that seemed to dance across the canvas. “That’s pretty,” you said, tilting your head as you studied it. You weren’t just saying it to keep up the act; you genuinely found it beautiful.

But when you glanced at Spencer, you noticed he wasn’t looking at the painting. His gaze was distant, his mind clearly somewhere else.

Spencer was barely focused on the artwork. How could he be, when you were standing so close to him, your hand warm in his? He could feel the softness of your skin, the way your fingers fit perfectly against his own. It was distracting in the best possible way, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to hold your hand like this outside of a mission.

To hold your hand forever.

“Oh, yeah, it’s pretty,” he mumbled finally, realizing you were waiting for him to say something. His voice was soft, almost absentminded, and you couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness.

“Spence,” you said gently, tugging his hand slightly to bring him back to the present. You could tell he was lost in his own thoughts, and you wanted to pull him out of it. “What do you think about it?” you asked, your tone encouraging. You were practically giving him permission to ramble, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

Spencer’s eyes lit up at your question, and he felt his heart skip a beat. He loved the way you always asked for his opinion, the way you genuinely seemed to care about what he had to say. Most people tuned him out when he started talking about things he was passionate about, but not you.

You listened. You always listened.

“Well,” he began, his voice gaining confidence as he turned back to the painting. “The use of color here is really interesting. The artist is playing with contrast—see how the cool tones of the blue and green are balanced by the warmer accents here and here?” He pointed to specific areas of the canvas, his words flowing easily now.

You watched him as he spoke, a soft smile playing on your lips.

And as the two of you moved through the exhibition, discussing almost every painting in detail, you found yourself wishing this moment could last forever.

But soon enough, the two of you had talked your way through nearly every piece of art in the room, and you were inching closer to the unsub’s painting.

Most of the artists stood proudly beside their work, ready to discuss their creations with curious visitors, and the unsub was no exception.

He stood there, his arms crossed, his eyes scanning the room with an analytical gaze.

He seemed to be searching for something—or someone.

You and Spencer exchanged a quick glance as you both spotted him. The unsub’s painting was just ahead, a dark, brooding piece filled with jagged lines and splashes of red.

It was unsettling, to say the least. You and Spencer stepped closer. You pretended to study the painting, your hand still firmly clasped in Spencer’s, while keeping the unsub in your peripheral vision.

The unsub’s eyes locked onto you almost immediately, and you could see the flicker of satisfaction in his expression. He had found what he was looking for—a happy couple, just like the others he had targeted.

Spencer must have noticed it too because his grip on your hand tightened slightly.

Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing close to your ear as he whispered, “You okay?” His breath was warm against your skin, and you had to close your eyes for a second to steady yourself. His voice, so soft and concerned, sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your heart race in response.

“Yeah,” you nodded, turning your head slightly to look at him. His face was inches from yours, his hazel eyes searching yours.

For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped, and all you could see was him. His lips were so close, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to close the distance between you.

But before you could say anything, the moment was shattered. The unsub stepped closer.

You could feel Spencer tense beside you, his protective instincts kicking in as he subtly shifted his stance, positioning himself slightly in front of you. His grip on your hand tightened. But before either of you could say anything, the unsub broke the silence.

“Hello!” the unsub said in a cheery tone, his voice a stark contrast to the dark, brooding painting behind him. His smile was wide, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and you couldn’t shake the unease that settled in your stomach.

“Hi,” you replied, turning to face him fully. You forced a polite smile, trying to ignore how queasy it made you feel to talk to a man like this—a man who had caused so much pain.

“I love your piece,” you said, gesturing toward the painting with your free hand. “Especially the red stripes in this corner. They add such a striking contrast.”

The unsub’s smile widened, and he nodded appreciatively. “Thank you,” he said, his eyes flicking down to your and Spencer’s interlocked hands. His gaze lingered on the rings on your fingers.

Before you had left for the mission, Derek had handed you both simple silver bands—props to sell the married couple act. You remembered the way your heart had skipped a beat as you stared down at the ring, your fingers trembling slightly as you slid it onto your finger.

Spencer, standing next to you, had done the same, wiggling his ring finger slightly.

He hadn’t been able to suppress the big smile that spread across his face as he looked at you, and you’d felt your cheeks heat up at the sight.

Now, as the unsub’s eyes narrowed at the rings, you felt a fresh wave of nerves. Spencer was still silent beside you, undoubtedly profiling the unsub. You weren’t sure how to continue, so you took the lead, hoping to fill the awkward gap.

“My husband loves paintings,” you said, your voice natural despite the way your heart was racing. “He decided to bring me here on a date.” You paused, glancing up at Spencer with a soft smile, but the moment the word “husband” left your lips, Spencer’s brain—which was always working overtime—seemed to short-circuit.

He froze, his eyes widening slightly as he stared down at you. You could practically see the gears in his mind grinding to a halt. The red crept up his neck, spreading to his cheeks, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at how caught off guard he looked.

You looked up at him, your eyes slightly widening in a silent plea for him to snap out of it. When he didn’t, you quickly turned your attention back to the unsub, hoping to distract him from Spencer’s awkward silence.

“I think he made the right choice bringing me here,” you continued, your tone light and conversational. “I love your painting. It’s so… evocative. What was your inspiration?”

The unsub’s eyes lingered on you for a moment before he finally looked away, his gaze shifting back to the canvas behind him.

“Love and heartbreak,” he replied, his tone heavy with emotion. He stepped closer to the painting, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the frame as if caressing a memory. “They’re two sides of the same coin, aren’t they? You can’t have one without the other.”

You nodded, trying to maintain your composure as the unsub’s words hung in the air. But before you could respond, you felt Spencer’s hand slowly untangle from yours.

Instead, his arm slid around your waist, pulling you gently into his side. His hand settled on your lower back and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched at the sudden closeness.

Spencer’s grip tightened slightly. He didn’t like how close the man was standing to you, and his protective instincts were kicking into overdrive.

You, on the other hand, were trying desperately to keep your heart from leaping out of your chest. The warmth of Spencer’s hand on your back, the way his body pressed lightly against yours—it was all too much, and yet not enough at the same time.

The unsub continued to ramble about love and heartbreak, his voice growing more animated as he delved into the darker aspects of his inspiration.

But Spencer had finally decided it was time to step in. He had let you lead the conversation for long enough.

“It’s fascinating,” Spencer said, his voice calm and measured as he interrupted the unsub’s monologue. “The way you’ve captured such complex emotions in a single piece. It’s… visceral.” He paused, his hand still resting on your lower back as he glanced down at you, his lips curving into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “My wife has always had an eye for art, but even I can appreciate the depth of your work.”

Your heart stuttered at the word wife, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. You had been the one to bring up the “husband” angle earlier, but hearing Spencer say it so casually, so naturally, was something else entirely.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and slightly dazed, and for a moment, you forgot where you were. The unsub, the mission, the danger—it all faded into the background as you stared at Spencer, your lips parting in surprise.

Spencer, for his part, seemed completely unfazed by your reaction. If anything, the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and you could have sworn his hand pressed just a little more firmly against your back.

He was enjoying this—enjoying the way you were flustered, the way your breath caught when he called you his wife. And despite the situation, despite the fact that a psychotic serial killer was standing mere feet away, you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

The unsub, oblivious to the silent exchange between you and Spencer, nodded enthusiastically at Spencer’s comment. “Exactly,” he said, his voice tinged with excitement. “That’s what I was going for—raw, unfiltered emotion. Love, heartbreak, betrayal… it’s all there, if you know how to look.”

The unsub beamed at the praise, clearly pleased with your reactions. But as he launched into another detailed explanation of his creative process, you found it increasingly difficult to focus. Spencer’s hand on your back, the way he kept glancing down at you with that soft, almost dreamy expression.

The conversation dragged on.

Spencer could tell that the two of you were done with the job here. He straightened up, his hand slipping from your back to take your hand again. “Well, it’s been a pleasure,” he said, his tone polite as he addressed the unsub. “But we should probably get going. We have… dinner reservations.”

The unsub nodded, though his expression was slightly disappointed. “Of course,” he said. “Thank you for stopping by. It’s always nice to meet people who truly appreciate art.”

“Thank you,” you replied, forcing a smile as Spencer gently tugged you away.

You walked out of the art exhibit, Spencer’s hand still wrapped around yours.

“Do you think he bought it?” you murmured, casting a quick glance over your shoulder.

The sky had begun to darken. Right on schedule.

The plan had been for you to leave as the exhibit closed, ensuring that the unsub would mark you as his next target. Now, you and Spencer just had to make it to the car and drive to the safe house, where the team was waiting.

“I think so,” Spencer replied, though his voice was a little distant.

You both had the same thought running through your minds—but different words lingering there.

Husband. The word echoed in your head, refusing to fade. It had felt too easy, too natural, to call him that.

Wife. That was the word Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about. The way it had slipped from his lips so effortlessly, like it was something he had thought about before. Like it was something he had wanted.

Neither of you said anything as you reached the car. Spencer walked ahead, pulling the passenger door open for you. A small, old-fashioned gesture, but one that made your heart stutter nonetheless.

“Thanks,” you said softly, sliding into the seat.

He walked around to the driver’s side, settling in but he didn’t start the car right away. Instead, he sat still for a moment, hands gripping the wheel, his eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the windshield.

You turned to him, brows furrowed. “Spence?”

His grip on the wheel tightened briefly before he finally spoke, his voice softer than usual. “You called me your husband.”

Your stomach flipped. You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat rising to your face. “Well… yeah,” you said, attempting to keep your tone light. “That was kind of the whole point of the mission, remember? Happy couple and all that.”

Spencer let out a breath that was almost a laugh. He finally turned to look at you, and for once, you couldn’t decipher what was going on behind those warm, hazel eyes. “I know. It’s just… you said it so easily.”

You blinked. “Was I supposed to make it sound awkward?”

“No,” he said quickly. Then, after a beat, “It didn’t sound awkward at all. That’s what’s messing with me.”

The car felt smaller suddenly. Your heart was pounding again, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the way he was looking at you or the fact that he hadn’t even tried to start the car yet.

Spencer's fingers were still tapping anxiously against the wheel. He hesitated for a second, like he was debating whether or not to continue, but then he spoke again, voice quieter this time. “I liked it.”

Your breath caught.

You weren’t sure if he meant the act, the mission, or something more. And you weren’t sure if you had the courage to ask.

Before you could say anything, Spencer finally started the car, the engine humming to life and breaking the moment like shattering glass. He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes firmly on the road as he pulled away from the curb. “We should get to the house. The team’s probably waiting.”

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to look out the window, even though your mind was still spinning.

But one thought lingered, circling back over and over.

Spencer liked it.

And so did you.

[vamptizm]

PHOTOBOOTH — p. bueckers

summary — you tell paige that you love her for the first time, inside a photobooth (inspired by that tiktok trend)

pairing — paige bueckers x reader

genre — fluff fluff fluff

warnings — paige has a motorcycle lol. shitty writing.

note — this was written ages ago abt no one in particular tbh so don’t be surprised if it doesn’t live up to my usual writing i just feel like publishing this for whoever might wanna read it after the game lol

it was an unusually calm and comfortable day at uconn. for once you didn’t have to deal with the usual mountain of problems on your shoulders or unbearably long practice hours. it was just perfect, in your opinion.

“can we go to the mall?”, you asked a relaxed paige who was sitting next to you on the sofa, with your legs thrown over her lap. paige’s thumb had been drawing shapes onto the exposed skin of your thighs while scrolling through her phone, as the side of your head leaned against the backrest, silently admiring her beautifully sculpted side profile, as if memorizing each angle and curve.

paige wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of crowded malls and going out on days off, — she preferred shopping online — so it only came to your surprise when the blonde nodded her head at your suggestion. “sure, baby.”

not wanting to ruin it for yourself with any questions, you smiled brightly and lifted yourself from off of her and the couch. standing straight in front of her, you held onto both of his hands to ‘pull’ her up. paige pretended to struggle in lifting herself up without your help.

“damn, ma. when did you get so strong?”, she teased you with a grin on her lips once she was standing on her own two feet.

you simply rolled your eyes in faux annoyance and proceeded to drag her out of the apartment and towards her motorcycle. back then, you had been deathly afraid of the vehicle that you liked to call a ‘death trap’, but after countless times of riding in the back of it with paige, you learned to trust the girl and her beloved motorcycle. you were her little backpack, as she liked to call it. you knew she would never let anything happen to you, especially since she insisted that you wear the helmet at all times, despite voicing your wishes of letting the wind blow through your hair and feeling it on your face.

after visiting countless of stores and with multiple bags held by your girlfriend, you gasped once you saw an empty photobooth. you happily dragged her towards it by the hand that was less full. paige hadn’t complained a single time, the smile on your face and the way your eyes sparkled whenever you bought something that you liked was like a reward to her, especially when she was the one buying it for you. it’s as if your constant protests of not wanting her to spend money on you, went in one ear and out the other.

the chair of the booth was small, so naturally you found yourself sitting on top of the girl’s lap as you faced the camera and waited for the countdown. what paige didnt know, is that you had something very important to tell her.

“don’t make ugly faces”, you jokingly warned her.

once the countdown had reached zero, the first pose you and paige did was a normal one. two cute and happy smiles for the camera, with the sides of your faces softly pressed up against each other and your arms wrapped around her neck, while her’s draped over your waist.

in the second photo, you turned your face towards paige and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek, causing the girl to smile wider than she had before.

before the click for the third picture went off, you leaned a bit closer towards paige’s ear. “i love you so much. did you know that?”, you softly whispered.

paige turned to you in disbelief, a look of genuine surprise on her face as she stared at you with a soft gaze and hearts in her eyes.

before the last click went off, paige gently wrapped his hand around your throat and pulled you in for a deep kiss, just in time for the camera to capture it.

“i love you more”.

[sordidmusings]

jealousy headcanons and scenarios r my kryptonite! especially for emotionally constipated characters lol. for shanks, mihawk, and crocodile seeing their crush interacting with someone that turns out to be said crush's ex? there's chemistry between the exes and are those lingering looks he's seeing?! 🫢

OOOOOOOO GOOD CHOICES GOOD CHOICES 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 I must say I am weak for some jealousy too 💀 why does it have to be so hot in fiction huh??? Or make me feel wanted????? Rude 😤

Three jealous DILFs coming right up 🫡

Jealousy from Shanks, Mihawk, and Sir Crocodile

Your ex comes back into your life and stirs up some feelings - How are these men taking it?

Form this took: started as a bulleted headcanons but then became a scenario/ficlet for each ahsdjajskdajs

Word count: Shanks - 1.1 k, Mihawk - 1.2 k, Croc - 1.2 k

Shanks

The clinging and diverting type

This mf tries to be sneaky about it

Key word: tries

It’s no secret that Shanks is the jovial sort and that his welcome and cheer extend easily to newcomers. However, something curious happens when the next one joins your large table.

You always have at least a part of Shanks’ attention, so the way you shift uncomfortably and curl slightly in on yourself is not going to go unnoticed. You catch yourself and relax back into your usual posture, but Shanks knows you well enough to see there’s a posed touch to all your expressions. It tames them from the genuine displays of your thoughts and emotions that Shanks so loves into something more suited to a diplomat seeking favor. Now that had him wary.

It took no genius to notice that each time a great laugh broke out your eyes would sweep to that newcomer to take them in, or how your would flicker your gaze over to them every time you had the spotlight, as if seeking approval.

Gods Shanks hopes that isn’t the case

Driven to seek comfort in your presence, Shanks leans into his affectionate nature to keep close to you. You can’t think too long on someone else with him constantly leaning into your space to whisper dumb jokes and silly observations. He made those laughs and he gets to enjoy them up close and personal. You may look to others but you always look back to him when he ventures to lay his hand on your shoulder or hand or thigh and give a happy, hearty squeeze before retreating. He relishes in the fact that you had been uncertain of his touch when you first met yet now you trust and even welcome his hand on you.

Shanks is burst right out of his bubble of avoidance when you suddenly jolt and sit straight, separating yourself from his side.

The cause of his sudden and very dire lack of you is that very same newcomer. The newcomer, who is leaning in so close to you. The newcomer, who now has all of your attention. The newcomer, who is giving you a smile that Shanks very much does not like. It’s very charming and holds a twinge of remorse that Shanks knows from experience would strike straight and true right to your heart

“I’m glad to see you in happier times. You look good,” they have the audacity to say, the words even seeping with honesty. Shanks isn't sure he focused on anything in his life as hard as he does on your reaction in this moment.

Your smile is breathtaking, one he isn't sure he’s seen before, all affection and understanding and a dusting of yearning. It turns his heart to goo right before it clamps it tight and squeezes, because that smile isn't for him. He needs that smile to be for him. His mouth is moving before the thought even sinks in.

“We do like to keep things cheerful here!” Shanks chuckles to the newcomer. He turns to you, making sure to catch your eye. “Life’s too short to anchor yourself to your sorrows.” Now back to the newcomer. “And this one-” an arm slips around your shoulders, hugging you to his warm side, “-helps keep it that way.”

The smile you give him isn’t quite as overflowing with emotion as the one you gave the newcomer, but he loves it all the same.

Unfortunately, that’s not the end of it and the newcomer actually sits down on your other side and insists on catching up. Shanks is a damn charmer though, and he knows it, so he’s not one to give up on keeping your attention through the night.

He stays in the conversation easily, not deterred by the newcomer outsider bringing up shared memories with you, even though they squeeze at his heart and lungs tighter and tighter. He uses it to get to know more of you, a part of him truly enjoying the new insights. However, a much larger part is simply set on keeping the reminiscing light instead of romantically charged.

As the time and drinks flow, his and the outsider's tactics get more obvious yet you get more oblivious, simply cruising on the comfy fuzz everything had taken on and enjoying the company. Your unintentional refusal to pick a favorite has both of them getting desperate and daring.

Try as they might, the outsider is clearly outmatched

By the end of the night you’re wearing Shanks like a perfume, he’s stuck to your skin at the heart of your body, chest always tight to your back or side, chin often hooked over your shoulder or on top of your head. His slight scruff tickling at your ear when he moves and talks is exceedingly distracting. So is the softness of his hair on your neck when he turns his head to bed his cheek into your shoulder and pull you a little tighter to him, saying its just 'cause he's a little sleepy and trying to get comfy. He unearths himself from his resting place only to seek it again every few minutes.

His arm is always around you when he wasn’t using it to drink (of course) or toy with you - tugging at your clothes for attention, tickling your sides to interrupt you, sweetly scratching your scalp to derail your train of thought, teasingly rubbing a thumb into your hip or thigh to feel you squirm.

Shanks is a handsy motherfucker (ironic right-), so you don’t take any of this as a proclamation of his love. The most you think is that it has just hit that point in your journey together where his vast appetite for partners has finally swept its way to focus on you.

You end the night giggling the whole stumbling way back to the ship, tucked into Shanks’ side. You manage to stay there despite being at the mercy of both of your swaying, constantly blending who’s supporting and who’s slipping. Your ex is far from your mind when Shanks tucks you in sweetly (well… sweetly to a drunk; in all reality you kinda flopped in, but he did make sure you were shoeless and properly under the blankets, and he even shuffled back in to put water, crackers, and medicine where you could reach).

Shanks does however have a flash of your ex in his mind when he's happily gloating to himself that he had won.

His last blurry thoughts are of how to make sure you and everyone else unquestionably knows that you are off limits. The unspoken claim understood by the crew while he works at winning you over doesn't seem to be enough anymore. Especially if that pesky ex comes sniffing around again. Maybe they just need a lesson in what staring down Conqueror’s Haki truly feels like.

Mihawk

The intimidating and biting type

Mihawk would likely be the most covert of these three, at least as far as your notice goes

Your ex has no questions about Mihawk’s dislike for them. With his reputation as emotionless and solitary, it’s not guaranteed that your ex will put two and two together to realize that Mihawk's dislike stems from their previous relationship with you. Even if Mihawk hints at it, they'll tell themselves that they're imagining things. It’s much more likely that they’ll think it’s because Mihawk is that way with all but the Few Exceptions, and they have definitely not made the cut.

It definitely didn’t help that they were a marine

Mihawk is already unhappy to see a marine on his doorstep, no doubt sent to yip at him about some nonsense or other that the admirals were in a twist over. That unhappiness quadruples when he hears you tentatively call to this marine by name, and then it multiplies again when the marine responds by breathing out your own name with shock and hope

This pest needs to be out of his castle quickly

Yet he can't bring himself to simply throw them out when you come over so disgustingly happy to see them. There were a few times where he'd interrupted or snuffed out your joy while adjusting to you joining his home, and he found the feeling it gave him insufferable. That's what forces him to let the pest in and guide them with you to the smaller dining room.

He’d simply have to find what the pest needs fast and expedite whatever catching up you two apparently must do.

That's easier said than done; you and the pest are insistent on taking time between flustered pleasantries to share uncertain smiles and lingering looks of longing in charged silence.

It's giving him the worst mood he'd had in years.

At first he tries to discourage this lingering with his mere presence. He knows he's capable of pumping out enough sheer displeasure into the air to knock out a squadron, so he keeps it to his other tools: body language that makes him feel larger than the room and a glare sharp enough to split hair. Both make the pest cringe and shy away, but the chance to gain your favor makes them push through it. Even though he hates it, Mihawk can't blame them.

Mihawk can tell that his mood is setting you on edge too - almost anyone would with the perturbed looks you've been sending his way - but that isn't technically taking your joy, so he doesn't back off.

In fact, he decides it's time to push even more.

He begins interjecting in your conversation, mostly with little insults to take the wind out of the pest's sails.

You aren't yet tipped off that there's something hiding behind his mood; he was never fond of braggarts so it isn't so out of the ordinary for him to humble someone. Of course, you wouldn't exactly call what your ex is doing "bragging" so much as filling you in on their growing career. They are actually relatively humble about it, clearly just excited to fill you in and not phrasing things to seek your praise.

Then Mihawk starts complimenting you.

Mihawk is not one to dish out praise. You've had to fight tooth and nail to get the mere drops of it you'd tasted so far, so his sudden highlighting of your positive traits trips your sensors. It isn't exactly alarm bells ringing, more it makes you feel like there's something you're missing. You figure it's the sudden disruption and old instincts from his Marine Hunter days cropping up.

You would have never guessed that his aim with his nitpicking and praising is to make sure your ex knows for a fact that you are out of their league. They don't deserve you. But he could.

No matter the reason though, you certainly relish in Mihawk calling you things such as "necessary for [his] castle", "smarter than those inane marine trials", "finally proficient and needing no distractions to ruin that", and "better company than a bunch of sea monkeys". Sure, from most anyone else they'd feel slightly insulting, but from everything you've so far seen of Mihawk that's a glowing review.

The uncanny nature of this whole interaction, from Mihawk's tank in mood to the sudden praise, keeps your focus away from your ever shrinking ex.

Mihawk is simply delighted to see your attention going to its rightful place, on him. You should be looking at him with such interest and joy. You should be seeking his approval; not some simpering swine's.

He figures he's been patient enough (it's been almost a whole ten minutes after all) and it is time to end this farce.

Mihawk stands from his spot and goes to sift through the wine rack. He returns with an above average vintage (even by his tastes) and two glasses. He sets them at the corner of the table so he can deftly open the wine. The silence as you both watch him work elates him.

The first glass is placed in front of his seat and swiftly filled. You watch the action with admiration for his fluid and confident motions. The pest watches with growing envy.

The second glass is filled while still sat in the corner, keeping its owner ambiguous.

The bottle leaves one hand and that glass enters the other, coming with Mihawk as he moves to stand behind your chair.

His full height set strongly in sharp shoulders and straight spine cuts a devilish figure behind you. Your ex's first impression was that he is haunting you, but there's some little whisper in their mind that, no, Mihawk is protecting you.

That whisper gets stronger as Mihawk leans forward over you, getting much too close to be polite while he places the wine glass down directly in front of you. His eyes hold the pest's with an air of warning the whole time.

Mihawk settles back upright, placing a hand on both carved corners decorating the back of your chair. The act seems clearly possessive. But surely Mihawk couldn't have found some special fondness for you?

You are none the wiser to Mihawk's antics behind you, too enraptured by the closeness of his reaching arm then too distracted checking out the color and aroma of your gifted wine.

Having at least enough pieces of a functional brain to pick up on that cue, the pest begins rushing out some excuses and makes to leave.

Kind as you are, you tell them they don't have to rush off, but they're adamant. You're a bit sad to see this chance meeting end so quickly, but your mind quickly settles on thinking it's for the best. Your memories of them are distant enough to be cherry picked and seeing them scamper off so easily reminds you that there are reasons you parted.

Mihawk chases escorts them out and returns to you looking much less belligerent and much more at ease. You figure it best to not risk ruining the positive turn by questioning it, yet you can't help but ask one thing.

"I usually have to pour my own wine from the kitchen's rack. What's the occasion?"

Mihawk takes a sip and the comfort of one of his favored wines coming over his senses coerces him into loosening his tongue.

"You've been good." Another sip and he thoughtfully adds, "I could give you more rewards."

Sir Crocodile

The assertive and analytical type

Despite Croc being a plotter, I see him as being quite direct in this situation

Ok yeah maybe he insists it’s because you can do better and you’re definitely above crawling back to an ex (“you broke up for a reason didn’t you?”)

But maybe he also takes this as his opportune moment to get you into his clutches.

Who could blame him when he feels the threat of such an unworthy little nobody working so hard to catch your eye.

Croc always keeps an eye on you, no matter what else demands his attention. Sure, there's an obsessive edge to it, but he just needs to know what you're up to - has to know you're safe near for when he needs you. You are the best assistant he's ever seen after all, and he's been through an army's worth. He's sure his new organization would've crumbled if you weren't there to balance out the clown and his circus monkeys constantly shooting themselves in the foot (sometimes literally).

Many of those circus monkeys were even stupid enough to try and approach you themselves. Luckily for him, you seem about as enthused on the idea of you having a partner as he is.

Which brings us back to his irritation that you haven't swatted that bug away from you. No, instead you seem to be rather tolerant of their buzzing. Maybe even fond.

That just won't do.

The crowds at this schmooze-fest, thrown to entice more pirates and criminals alike, part easily for his beeline to you.

It only irritates him even more that you don't notice him until you're swallowed by his shadow. You even have the audacity to look surprised when you turn to him.

And you truly are surprised - as far as you know there's no reason for Croc's usual grimace to turn into something so stormy, especially directed at you. It quickly jumps to your ex however and focuses that torrent there.

"I don't know you," Croc states gruffly.

"I'm-"

"Your name doesn't matter," Croc interrupts. "What do you do? Why are you here?"

And thus begins the interrogation. You can only watch perplexed as Sir Croc tugs every bit of information he could want out of your ex, making sure to cut off anything he didn't care to hear. That frustrated look and tone become more bored by the second. Every tone tells your ex that they're barely worth the breath to speak, causing them to shrink even faster than Sir Croc's anger did.

You catch their eye and send them a sympathetic smile, and then Croc moves on to you.

"And you," he starts roughly. He lets you sit in suspense while he drags those hooded purple eyes from the crown of your head to the toes of your shoes and back. "Why are you here?"

You're taken absolutely aback by the question, mouth flapping from a mix of shock and offense. You have quite a list of things you keep your eye on at these parties; did he want you to go down the whole thing? After a deep breath, you try, "To gather informationof and from possible allies and help build relationships?"

"Wrong."

Well, at least he let you finish your sentence. Time to try again.

"To make sure the night runs smoothly," you say much more surely. It's an apt description of your overall job.

"Wrong again." Yep, that grimace is now definitely a smirk. One that only widens when you purse your lips and stare him down. You notice the genuine amusement shining in Croc's eyes and relax a touch, content to let him guide this to whatever destination he has planned.

"Then please, Sir, tell me," you relent. "Why am I here?"

He takes a deep puff of his cigar before pulling it from his lips and watching the smoke swirl out with his exhale. You watch it too - admire how handsome he looks reappearing through the haze. Enjoying how small you feel as he leans over you through its last remnants.

He rarely touches you with his golden hook, always using his hand (you've yet to realize it's because he prefers to feel you on his skin). Now, though, he raises it towards you. You're surprised yet again when the curve touches beneath your chin to tilt your face just a little higher; the metal isn't cold like you thought it would be. It must be warmed from resting on his thigh. You shake away the thought of warming it further.

He takes his time assessing you, giving you your own time to look over his breathtakingly chiseled face, admire his striking scar, forget everything else but his eyes on you.

Without intention, you gravitate towards him, leaning forward enough into him and that golden hook drawing you that you have to catch yourself with a stumbling step. The fond chuckle he gives in response resonates deep and rich and feels like a reward flowing over you.

"You, my dear," Sir Crocodile says with unfamiliar mirth, "are here to keep me happy."

"And how would you like me to do that, Sir?" you whisper back.

At first, that just earns you a smile. Then he's drawing his hook along your jaw, tickling the tip around your ear, drawing it gently across your cheek. It ends its journey on your lips, ever so gently pulling your bottom lip down before letting it flick back up when he draws his arm away. You watch the glimmering gold retreat. He's greedy for more of the longing he sees in your eyes. He leans slightly lower and gives you back that hook, this time in the form of an offered arm.

"With your company, of course," He finally answers. The warmth you hear in the drawl of his voice is beautiful.

You slip your hand into the crook of his arm, happy you can feel his body heat through the soft fabric of his shirt.

Halfway back to his previous spot, you realize that you'd become so distracted that you hadn't even said goodbye to your ex. You had wanted to exchange numbers, maybe truly get back in touch and feel out if things would be better this time. Noting how deep your draw to Croc is, you already feel that that would be a dead end. Well, maybe some time rekindling things would help your daydreaming and wishing for Sir Croc finally start ebbing away.

"Did you see where they went?"

Croc has to hold in his smile at your question. "They scurried off on you. It's for the best though; they were exceedingly unimpressive."

You couldn't help but snort at his assessment.

After guiding you to your chair and pushing it in, Croc settles down himself. When he reaches for his awaiting drink, he notices Daz Bonez come back into the room, wiping his hands off on his pants. Their eyes meet and Daz Bones gives a firm nod before heading back to his other duties for the night.

Sir Croc smirks and takes a heavy sip of scotch.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

There you are sweet anon, I hope you enjoyed and that it properly scratched the itch❣️ Thank you for the ask 🤍 Sending much love!!!

Part of a little celebration

[parkerslatte]

Uncertain Bonds

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: none

Summary: While posing as a couple at a high end event on a small kingdom the Night Court is supposed to make an alliance with, Y/N and Azriel uncover some shady business and need to act quickly to avoid getting caught.

Prompt(s): 4.Pretending to be in a relationship for a mission/ event. 31. "They're looking. Kiss me now." 16. Character A pushes B against a wall to kiss them. 29. “Do you think they bought the act?" "While I kissed you down your throat? They definitely did, honey."

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Azriel took a glass of wine from the serving table and brought it to his lips. He never took a sip as he surveyed the room. Everyone was dressed in extravagant gowns and danced around the room happily. So far, nothing seemed to be amiss. 

“You do realise that standing in a dark corner staring at people intensely may be a cause for concern, right?” Y/N said, sauntering up to Azriel. 

As he turned to look at her, Azriel felt himself become weak at the knees as he took her in. The dress she wore was one he has seen a couple of times before. She mainly wore it to Starfall or some other event. Though Azriel remembered her wearing it the day she bought it. That was the day the mating bond snapped for him. And it was the day he began to avoid Y/N. 

At first his avoidance wasn’t intentional. The first time he excused himself from her was just after the bond snapped and he was dealing with the shock of finding his mate. Someone he never thought he would find; he had never expected to find his mate within his best friend, the one he had loved for centuries. Everything overwhelmed him and the more he felt the bond, the more he unintentionally avoided Y/N. 

Up until he was asked to join her on her mission. 

“You know this isn’t the usual work I do,” Azriel said, taking a sip of his wine. Normally he would never drink while doing a job, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed it to help him relax in Y/N’s presence. 

“I know that, my love, but you need to relax tonight,” Y/N said, stepping closer to him, gently taking the glass of wine from his grasp. “Loosen up a little.”

Y/N took a sip before placing the glass down on the nearby table. She leaned up to whisper in Azriel’s ear. “If you don’t relax, people will begin to suspect.”

Y/N’s scent sent Azriel’s senses into overdrive as her perfume seemed to surround him. There was a small voice in the back of his mind telling him to wrap her up and take her right there in front of everyone, claim her as his own. Azriel knew that it was just the bond talking— the desire talking— but the image did cross his mind. 

Before Azriel even had the chance to say anything, Y/N pulled away and took Azriel’s hand in hers. “Now come and dance with your wife.” 

Oh, how Azriel wished that were true. 

Y/N led him onto the dance floor and positioned their arms herself. Azriel remained rigid as people surrounding them stared for a moment too long. Of course they did. After all, Azriel was the only one in the whole building who had a pair of wings sprouting from his back. 

Y/N giggled at Azriel’s rigid position. “You can relax a little more than that, Az.”

“I can’t,” Azriel replied. “We aren’t here to dance. We are here to do a job.”

A small frown appeared on Y/N’s face for a brief moment but it was gone and quickly replaced by an easy smile. “This is my job, Azriel.” Y/N began to slowly lead the dance. Azriel followed in step, though not as graceful as Y/N. “I don’t keep to the shadows and watch. I get involved and listen.”

“That is not how I do things,” Azriel replied

“No it’s not,” Y/N said. “But this is my mission, not yours. I am in charge.”

Azriel sighed. “I know. I don’t like feeling so exposed.”

Instead of the forced smile, Azriel saw that it was replaced by a small genuine smile. He felt his heart skip a beat. “I know,” she replied. “But you know that if anything were to go wrong, I will have your back and I know that you will have mine. That is the way it has always been.”

“And it always will be,” Azriel finished. 

Y/N’s eyes lit up and her grip tightened on him as they spun around the ballroom. “What happened to us, Az?”

Azriel frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

For a split second, Y/N looked down at the floor between them and stumbled over her feet. Azriel quickly stopped and steadied her. 

“Perhaps your little girlfriend there should lay off of the wine,” a woman near the sneered as Y/N gently knocked into her. 

Azriel growled in her direction. The woman backed away quickly. 

“Az,” Y/N said, gaining his attention again. “Let us go to the side of the ballroom, perhaps it will be better for us.”

Azriel wrapped an arm around her waist and walked with her to the side of the ballroom, standing near another couple talking quietly to one another. As they neared them, the couple looked at the two as if studying both Y/N and Azriel. 

Azriel simply ignored them. 

“What I meant by my words, Az, was why haven’t we been as close over the past year? You have barely even looked in my direction and when we are alone you always find an excuse to cut out conversation short. You were meant to be my best friend, you seem to not want that anymore.”

No. Azriel didn’t want to be best friends anymore. He wanted so much more than that. He wanted to love Y/N freely. He wanted to kiss her. To hug her. To be with her every waking moment of the day. He was made to be with her. He wanted to be her mate. He wanted to be her husband. The ring on his finger used to keep up appearance felt so foreign but felt so right. The pair to it on Y/N’s finger. Azriel only wished it was real. 

All he wanted was her, but he couldn’t express that to her. 

“I do want that,” Azriel said. “I will always want that.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” Y/N questioned. “You even asked if Cassian could come on this mission instead.”

Azriel sighed and looked around the room. “Look, Y/N I will tell you—“

Azriel cut himself off as he noticed the couple they had stood next to secretly slip out of the room and through the servants passage. “That couple is gone.”

“You think there’s a possibility that they are who we’re after?” Y/N asked, suddenly switching to her professional mindset. 

“We were told that they were young,” Azriel said. “So far they seem like the ones who fit the description the most.” 

“Let me slip out first,” Y/N said. “Follow me after.”

As Y/N went to walk away, Azriel gently took her hand in his. “Be careful,” he said. 

Y/N offered him a small smile. “I always am.”

Y/N slipped away and Azriel watched her, sending a shadow to wrap around her arm to keep an eye on her. Even though he was going to catch up to her quite soon, he wanted a piece of him with her to make sure she would be okay. 

Y/N slipped out and Azrie remained by the wall for a few moments longer. No one else in the entire room seemed to pay any attention. Azriel slowly made his way out into the servants passage. Still there was no one looking his way. Azriel slipped into the passage. 

It was dimmer in the passage but the moment Azriel’s eyes found Y/N, his heart yearned for her. In the dim lighting, she seemed to shine as the light hit her jewellery and dress. She was the most beautiful being he had ever seen. She looked ethereal. 

“Az,” Y/N whispered. “They didn’t go too far. Come on.”

Azriel and Y/N walk a little further down the passage until they turn a corner. The passage opened up to the main hall just off from the ballroom. 

“They went through the door there,” Y/N whispered. 

The two stood just outside of the door, just about hearing what the two were discussing inside. 

“The funds are paid in full,” the female said. “There shouldn’t be a problem sending them though now.”

The male seemed to sigh. “Do you know how long I have waited for those funds? Do you know how long I have been lying to my father because you didn’t do your job properly and allowed someone to get away with the entire kingdom’s fortune.”

“These things take time!” The female exclaimed. “I had a hard time trying to track down the one who stole from you father.”

“Eight months,” the male replied. “It took you eight months. My father needed those funds. That court in Prythian has been questioning where all of their trade deals are. Do you know how much my father had lied because of what you did? He’s afraid it will cause a war and you know that we do not have the army to back us up. We barely have the funds because of you.”

“I’m sorry!” The female cried. 

“I take it we found the reason why all of the trade has stopped suddenly,” Y/N whispered. 

“But can we get back to where we were before all of this happened?” The female begged. “I love you!”

The male didn’t reply. “I don’t think that is a possibility. You have betrayed my father therefore you have betrayed me. You are lucky I am not banishing you for what you did.”

“Please!” The female cried. 

“No,” the male replied. “Anything that was between us is over. I will tell my father the truth of what happened and that he can now send his trade deals again. Be lucky that the court in Prythian decided not to send anyone here. You know their reputation.”

Footsteps approached the door and Azriel and Y/N began to panic. There was nowhere to hide. Azriel frantically looked around the hall and there was a small alcove. He wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist and pulled her into it. Her back pressed tightly against his front. 

Azriel could feel all of her pressing against him. Her soft skin against his. The scent of her shampoo wafting up to his nose. The slope of her neck enticing Azriel to press his lips against it. 

The door opened and two footsteps came out onto the stone floor. Y/N held her breath and pressed her body further into Azriel’s. As she did so, her hand accidentally brushed the sensitive skin of his wing. Azriel jerked. 

A small vase to the side of Azriel fell from the ornate stone podium it sat on, cracking on the floor.

Everything stilled. 

“Who's there?” The male asked. 

Y/N turned around to look at Azriel, her eyes wide in panic. 

“I know your there,” the male said and Azriel realised that he had caught sight of the edge of his wings. 

Y/N, seemingly realising the same thing as Azriel whispered; “They’re looking. Kiss me now.”

“What?” Azriel whispered. He knew exactly what Y/N and said but he needed that second confirmation. 

“Kiss me,” Y/N said. 

Not wasting a moment longer, Azriel surged forward and pressed his lips against Y/N’s. They were just as he imagined. Soft, slightly sticky from her lip gloss, but Azriel didn’t care. He needed more. 

He spun the two around and pressed her against the wall kissing her even harder. Pressing his body against hers. His hand pressed between the wall and her head to not harm her. 

Y/N’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling at the strands. Azriel couldn’t help but moan deeply. Y/N only smiled against his lips. 

Azriel couldn’t get enough of her feel. He wished he could stay like this for eternity. He pulled away slightly. “Jump.”

Y/N did as he commanded and jumped up to wrap her legs around his hips. The slit in her dress made it easy. His hand found her thigh and squeezed it tightly before moving to her ass and it remained there. 

Azriel pressed his lips against hers, feeling himself harden in his trousers. The need to have her had taken over. 

His lips left Y/N’s lips and trailed down her neck, slightly nibbling the sensitive skin. 

“Az…” Y/N whined. 

Her hips seemed to move as she gained more friction. 

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Azriel panted against her skin, placing open mouthed kisses against the base of her throat. 

Azriel gripped her hair and pulled her head back, allowing him more access. Y/N only pulled on him in return. Azriel smirked against her neck. 

In their lust filled haze, Azriel and Y/N forgot about the two figures standing just behind them. The male cleared his throat. 

“Excuse me?” The male spoke up. 

Azriel felt as if he were doused in cold water as he pulled away from Y/N’s neck to look over his shoulder. 

“What?” Azrie growled, annoyed that he was interrupted. 

The female’s face was bright red as she looked between Y/N and Azriel. 

“I will return to the ballroom,” the female said, clearly flustered. She left rather quickly. 

The male remained, his eyes narrowed. 

Y/N smirked. “You can join us if you want? Sometimes it takes more than one male to satisfy me.”

Azriel’s hand squeezed Y/N’s ass possessively as the male simply scoffs and walks away. Neither Azriel nor Y/N moved until they were sure they were alone. 

“Do you think they bought the act?” Y/N asked. 

“When I kissed you down your throat? They definitely did, honey,” Azriel replied. 

Y/N laughed. “Back with the pet names? Perhaps I have my best friend back after all.”

Azriel smiled before it fell away. Best friend. What they just did was not what best friends do. But like Y/N said— it was just an act. 

 “Would you mind letting me down?” Y/N asked. 

“Oh,” Azriel said. “Of course.”

Y/N’s legs unwrapped from Azriel’s hips and he helped her to the floor. Her hands lingered for a brief moment but Azriel thought they imagined it. 

“Well we have our information now,” Y/N said. “Looks like there was nothing nefarious going on. Just someone not doing their job properly.”

“I don’t understand why the king didn’t write to Rhys,” Azriel said. “He would and helped.”

“Yes but a king admitting his fortune was stolen can cause a dent in his ego,” Y/N replied. “Looks like we are not needed here anymore.”

“Seems like it,” Azriel replied, a sense of disappointment washing over him at the fact that the fake rings on their fingers would be taken off the moment they returned home. 

“We paid for the room in the city for another two nights,” Y/N said. “It would be a shame if the money would go to waste. We could perhaps stay a little longer. Make a small holiday out of it.”

“But we need to report this to Rhys,” Azriel said. 

The disappointment was apparent on Y/N’s face. “You’re right. We should just pack and get back home.”

As she turned to walk down the hall, Azriel took her arm. “Or maybe we can stay for the extra two nights. We haven’t had a chance to look around yet.”

Y/N’s face lit up. “Are you being serious?”

Azriel smiled. He couldn’t help it, her joy was infectious. “Deadly.”

***

It was late at night and Azriel laid in his bed looking at the ceiling. Y/N was sitting by the fireplace reading a book. The room they had book was the last one available at the inn. And with only one bed it was even more of a predicament. 

For the two nights they had been here already, Y/N had slept in the armchair by the fire. Azriel had offered but he simply couldn’t get comfortable with his wings. Guiltily, he had taken the bed. And even then, the bed was simply too small. 

Azriel sat up and looked at Y/N. Her hair was simply tied back and hung down her back and her face was devoid of the gold makeup she had worn earlier in the day. She was wearing simple sleepwear and slippers on her feet. Even if she was beautiful back at the ballroom, she was even more beautiful now. 

Since they had returned to the inn, Azriel couldn’t stop thinking about their kiss in the hall. If they hadn’t been interrupted, what would have happened? Would he have told Y/N that he was her mate? Would he have confessed his love for her? Azriel wasn’t sure but he was sure that Y/N had enjoyed what had happened. 

He didn’t mention it to her but he could smell her arousal the whole time when they retired to the inn. The scent had gotten fainter as the night progressed but it still lingered in the air. 

Y/N turned the page as Azriel stood up from the bed. “I’m taking a walk.”

“Avoiding me again,” Y/N said. 

“What?” Azriel asked. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Y/N said. “I was only joking.”

The comment might have been a joke to Y/N but to Azriel it wasn’t. He was avoiding her. And he was avoiding his own feelings. Perhaps he should come clean. But there was that possibility that she would reject him. Azriel wasn’t sure he would be able to survive that. 

“Az, you were going for a—“

“I love you,” Azriel confessed and felt a large weight lift from his shoulders. 

Y/N laughed a little. “You don’t need to pretend right now. No one is here to see.”

“I’m not pretending, Y/N,” Azriel said. “I love you. I am in love with you.”

Y/N frowned and Azriel dreaded her response. This was the moment she rejected him. 

“Are you being serious, Az?” Y/N asked

“I am,” Azriel said. “I have been in love with you since the moment I met you, Y/N. That kiss earlier. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Feeling you pressed so close to me. Feeling your lips against mine. Hearing you moan my name. It is the only thing that has been on my mind since we left the palace. I don’t think I can keep my feelings a secret anymore.”

“Az,” Y/N began and Azrie prepared himself for the worst. 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it either,” Y/N admitted. “I’ve been sitting here reading for over an hour and I have managed about three pages. I cannot concentrate on anything that isn’t you.”

Azriel held onto that small bit of hope within him. “Why do you keep thinking about it?”

Y/N sighed, though it sounded happy. “I can’t stop thinking about it because I have been hoping to kiss you for many years now.”

“What?”

Y/N giggled and it was music to Azriel’s ears. “Your feelings are not one sided, Azriel.”

“Please say what you mean, Y/N. I need to hear it,” Azriel said, his voice breathless. 

“I love you, Az,” Y/N admitted. “I just never thought you returned those feelings because I believed you to be in love with Mor.”

Azriel let out a sigh of relief. “I stopped loving Mor centuries ago. In fact ever since you walked into my life I haven’t even thought about Mor at all. You are constantly on my mind, Y/N. You have a home in my mind and I can never rid myself of you even if I wanted to.”

“Why did you never tell me?” Y/N asked, standing from the settee and walking over to Azriel. “Why have you been avoiding me this past year?” Y/N gently caressed his cheek. 

“I never thought you were in love with me, I didn’t want to force my feelings upon you if you didn’t feel the same. I would rather be friends than lose you completely,” Azriel said. 

“But that doesn’t explain why you avoided me.” 

Azriel leaned into Y/N’s touch. Placing his hand over the one that resided on his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. “Feel it, Y/N. Allow yourself to feel it. Open yourself up to it.”

Y/N closed her eyes and it wasn’t long before Azriel felt a warmth flood his body. Y/N’s eyes snapped open, shock resided within them. 

“You’re my mate?” Y/N said. 

“Yes I am,” Azriel said. “The reason why I avoided you was because the bond snapped for me a year ago. I never thought I had a mate. I’ve been alive for centuries and I’d given up hope. But when it snapped for you, I was overwhelmed by it. At first I was happy but I didn’t think you returned my feelings so that is why I began to avoid you. I was always overwhelmed by you. Your scent. Your laugh. Your touch. I would have never been able to control myself. I never wanted to force my feelings upon you if you didn’t return them and I didn’t want you to only develop them because of the bond. If your ever loved me, I only wanted you to fall for me naturally.”

Y/N’s eyes softened. “And I did.” 

Azriel smiled. “And I am glad you did.”

“Az,” Y/N said. “Please just kiss me. I need to feel you again.”

Azriel took no time and pressed his lips against hers. It started out gentle but soon the hunger and the pull of the bond changed it into something different. Something feral. 

Y/N backed Azriel up to the bed and as he sat, she straddled his hips, pressing her core against him. Azriel groaned into her mouth. 

“Perhaps,” Y/N said, panting, “we should invite that male to join us.”

Azriel growled and flipped their positions. Y/N now spread out on the bed below him, her hair fanned out on the pillow. 

“You’re mine,” Azriel said, kissing across her jaw. 

“Good, I don’t want to be anyone else’s.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

I wanna kiss HSR men on the forehead and tell them I’m proud of them. May I request some HCs of their reaction?

Aventurine practically melts the moment your hands held his face with a warm tenderness as your thumbs softly caressed his cheeks, causing him to close his eyes and eagerly lean into your touch.

He could feel every ounce of love you had towards him in such a simple touch that he wondered how that could even be possible.

How easy you made it seem to be able to convey all your thoughts and feelings in something small like a touch of a hand, a brush of shoulders, or even a nudging of a foot; something that shouldn’t convey as much heavy emotions but did whenever you were the one performing those small gestures.

Not to mention that most of those small but impactful gestures were directed towards him made Aventurine wonder whatever could he -out of everyone else- have possibly done to even remotely deserving of any of it.

‘I’m proud of you Kakavasha.’ You said as you lifted a hand to push away his bangs and press a loving kiss to his forehead, making him whimper and press further against your lips, silently begging you for more. ‘I’m so proud of you.’ You add as you pressed another kiss to his forehead.

Such simple words and a peck to his forehead shouldn’t have so much effect over Aventurine but it did as his eyes shot open the moment he felt you pull away, looking at you with his pretty eyes with something you’ve never seen before as he muttered under his breath.

‘What was that?’ You then asked as Aventurine sighs, leaning back against the bed. ‘I said I wanted more…please can I have more.’

‘You can have as many as your heart desires.’ You tell him, pressing a third and a fourth kiss to his forehead as he allows himself to properly relax under your seemingly magical touch, letting kiss away his thoughts until only you remained.

Argenti would smile sweetly as he watched you push his bangs back to reveal his forehead, feeling your warm breath fan across his skin as your lips closed the distance between you as you pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.

‘I’m so proud of you Aregenti.’ You whispered but the cherry haired knight hear you clear as day.

‘Whatever for my beloved rose.’ He’d replied as he kept you close, wishing for nothing more than to commit this tender moment to his memory ever more.

You shrug. ‘Am I not allowed to say that I’m proud of you in general rather than say it after you’ve done something spectacular? Don’t that seem a little redundant?’ You asked as Argenti chuckled, bringing his face close and nudging his nose gently against your own.

‘It does indeed.’ He agrees before posing a question of his own. ‘But wouldn’t the words loose their meaning after a while if we were to say how proud we are of each other after everything?’

‘No.’ You answered without hesitation as you looked into his pretty eyes that you loved to see first thing in the mornings you’ve shared together thus far. ‘Not if they come from your lips they don’t. I don’t think I could ever grow tired if you were to tell me how proud of me you were.’ You admit and Argenti made a face.

‘Do I not do that enough already?’ He asks genuinely curious as you smile, kissing his cheek.

‘You do but at least let me return the favour now and then. I want to praise my beautiful knight more often than not.’ You murmured against his skin.

Argenti hums as he kisses your forehead. ‘You already do so just by smiling lovingly at me. I don’t need words of praise to fall from your lips when your actions speak far louder but if that’s what you wish, then it shall be granted my beloved rose.’

Sunday

His wings would flutter when you kiss his forehead after a long day of preventing The Family from collapsing in on itself.

‘I’m so proud of you.’ You uttered into his ear, making him gasp as his wings would instinctively twitch at the sound of your voice due to their hyper sensitivity.

Then he would regain composure and smile graciously at you. ‘Thank you my beloved. It is truly a relief knowing that I’m doing right by you to earn your love and your praise, I shall not waste them.’

Sunday lives and breaths on your praises as though they were the only things giving him life. So whenever you do give him praise for anything, Sunday feels more and more validated into continuing whatever he was doing in hopes of earning more in the future.

You had a powerful, powerful man who had an innate need to prove himself to you in order to gain your trust, love and respect and won’t stop until he had it in droves.

All this was within him and locked behind a calm, cool and levelheaded facade.

He may not look like he was heavily affected by your actions and sweet words on the outside but internally his need to keep you happy and proud of him outweighed everything else as the happier you were, the less likely you were to attempt to leave him later on.

Boothill

He impatiently waits for the days where you bless his face with kisses and whatnot.

It’s his ultimate weakness and you knew that face very well whenever you watched as his cheeks went all flushed, making this shark teethed man looked about as harmless as a puppy dog, when in actuality he was anything but harmless.

‘I’m so proud of you.’

You had this man weak in the knees from that alone, but the fact that you went out of your way to press a kiss to his forehead oh so sweetly had him practically kneeling before you in worship.

‘Whatever for darling?’ He’d ask.

‘Just for being genuine yourself.’ You would response, kissing his forehead a second time and pulling back to watch as he smiled dopily.

‘If me just being myself is enough to earn me some forehead kisses and sweet praises from someone as sweet as you, then count me in sweetheart.’ He would then say as he practically melted he felt your hands as they held his face still as you kissed his forehead for a third time.

Boothill thrived off of your affection.

It was his personal drug that he could never get enough of.

[sillygoose067]

I Know Love

"I know love when it hits, when it hits, when it hits Yeah, I know love, yeah" - I Know Love by Tate Mcrae

Synopsis: When Dick catches you admiring his latest magazine cover, he’s all teasing grins and smug charm, but you’re not jealous—you know exactly what it’s like to fall for him. Playful banter turns into tangled limbs and lingering kisses, a reminder that no matter how irresistible he looks on glossy pages, it’s you he comes home to.

The apartment was quiet, the golden glow of the kitchen light casting a warm hue over the countertops as the faint scent of something savory filled the air. You stirred the simmering pot on the stove absentmindedly, the rhythmic clatter of the spoon against the sides filling the space. Every so often, your gaze flickered toward the magazine resting on the counter—the one you had definitely not meant to linger on this long.

And yet, there he was.

Dick Grayson, Gotham’s golden boy, striking a pose that could make anyone stop and stare. The fully unbuttoned white shirt highlighted every muscle, the perfect shadows cast just right to make him look both dangerous and irresistible. His smirk was captured mid-twist, exuding a confidence that sent shivers down your spine, even though you’d seen this look a million times before. He always looks good, you thought, biting your lip as you traced the edge of the page with your fingertips. But something about seeing him like this—glossy, untouchable, and gracing the pages of a magazine meant for the whole world to admire—made your stomach flutter.

Not because you were jealous. No, not at all. You were proud—so proud. Gotham might have its "Billionaire Playboy Wayne Heir", but you were the one who got to experience him up close, the softness behind the bravado, the boyish laughter, the way he melted into you when no one else was watching.

Just as you exhaled a dreamy sigh, the front door clicked open.

You panicked.

With a squeak, you snatched the magazine off the counter and spun around, shoving it into the nearest drawer. The sound of boots being toed off and a heavy sigh of exhaustion echoed from the doorway.

“You home?”

His voice was warm, familiar, and filled with that casual ease that made your heart flutter every time. You turned, trying to act nonchalant as he stepped into the kitchen, his presence instantly filling the space. He looked tired but good—his sweat-soaked hair clinging slightly to his forehead, his jacket slung lazily over one shoulder.

You smiled, stirring the pot as if you hadn’t just been caught red-handed. “Mm-hm. Just finishing up dinner.”

Dick’s sharp blue eyes flicked to the drawer you had so suspiciously lunged for a moment ago. A slow, knowing grin crept onto his lips as he stepped closer. “What was that?”

“What was what?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“That thing you just very obviously hid.” His grin widened as he leaned in, resting a hand on the counter beside you, effortlessly caging you in.

Your heart did a little flip. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow, his fingers already reaching toward the drawer.

You gasped, trying to block him, but he was faster. With a smooth motion, he plucked the magazine from its hiding spot and flipped it open, his own face staring back at him. His smirk was immediate. “Ohhh, this is what you were up to?”

Your face burned. “Dick—”

“You were admiring me, huh?” He grinned, teasingly flipping through the pages. “Damn. I do look good.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You always look good, but this is different!”

“Oh? Different how?” He leaned in again, his nose brushing against your temple, his voice dipping just enough to make your stomach twist. “Go on, tell me.”

You turned your head slightly, your breath hitching as you met his gaze—so close, so playful. “Just… you look really confident here.” Your fingers nervously toyed with the hem of your shirt. “And everyone’s talking about you.”

His smirk softened into something more genuine. “But you’re the only one I care about.” His knuckles brushed along your jaw before he leaned down and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering. “You do know that, right?”

“I know,” you whispered, smiling as you tilted your head up, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “I’m just proud of you.”

His expression melted into something tender before he sniffed the air and grinned. “Something smells good.”

You perked up. “It’s almost ready! Go freshen up, and we can eat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a playful salute before stealing another kiss—this time on your cheek—before heading toward the bathroom.

By the time he emerged, fresh and relaxed in a soft tee and sweatpants, you had already set the table. He practically moaned when he took his first bite, making you laugh. “God, I love you.”

You giggled. “That good?”

“The best,” he said, flashing you a grin before shoveling another bite into his mouth. “You spoil me.”

You shrugged playfully, nudging his foot under the table. “I hope Alfred never hears this conversation-- And you deserve it.”

The meal stretched on with easy conversation, the two of you falling into that comfortable rhythm that made your apartment feel like home. Afterward, he insisted on doing the dishes while you wiped down the counters, occasionally splashing water at you like a child.

When the chores were finally done, you stretched with a yawn. “Bed?”

Dick grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Thought you’d never ask.”

You barely had time to settle into the pillows before WHUMP—Dick flopped onto you dramatically, pinning you beneath him.

“Dick!” you wheezed.

He grinned, resting his full weight on you like a lazy cat. “Mmm. Comfy.”

“You’re crushing me.”

“Shh,” he mumbled into your shoulder, pressing a kiss there. “Just let it happen.”

You huffed, trying (and failing) to push him off. But then he started peppering kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your nose—little presses of warmth that sent soft shivers down your spine.

Your protest melted into a quiet giggle. “You big dork.”

“Your big dork,” he corrected, nudging his nose against yours before pressing a longer, slower kiss to your lips.

The weight of him pressed down over you, solid and there, like he belonged against you and nowhere else. His arms were snug around your waist, his legs tangled with yours under the blankets, completely unconcerned about the fact that he was definitely squishing you.

You huffed, shifting slightly. “Dick, I need to breathe.”

A muffled grumble was his only response, his face buried against the curve of your neck. “Breathing’s overrated.”

“I don’t think so.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, finally loosening his grip just enough for you to adjust. But instead of rolling off you, he stayed close, nosing along your jaw like he was committing the feel of you to memory. “Mmm. Better?”

It was so unfair how effortlessly he could send heat curling through you with something as simple as that. His lips brushed your skin—soft, teasing, there just long enough to make your stomach flutter. The way he moved, lazy and affectionate, was completely intoxicating.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Better.”

But he didn’t stop.

His fingertips traced slow, featherlight circles along your waist, dragging his touch up your spine in a way that made your breath catch.

“Dick—”

“Shhh,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your shoulder now. “Too sleepy for anything, just… lemme be close.”

Your heart squeezed at that, your frustration melting away instantly.

Because that was him—as much as he could tease, as much as he could turn up the heat and make you flustered beyond belief, he was just as easily this: your drowsy, touch-starved, ridiculously affectionate boyfriend who wanted nothing more than to exist in your space.

So you let him.

You ran your fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp in the way you knew he loved. Sure enough, he let out a soft hum of appreciation, nuzzling deeper into your touch.

“Love that,” he murmured.

“I know,” you teased gently, continuing to card your fingers through the silky strands.

His breathing slowed slightly, growing heavier, and for a moment, you thought he might actually drift off.

Then, he shifted, just enough to press another lazy, lingering kiss to your collarbone. “Love you.”

Something warm and unbearably fond unfurled in your chest.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

He let out a soft, content sigh, his arms tightening around you. “Good.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. His skin was warm, his body completely relaxed against yours, and his breathing had evened out into that slow, steady rhythm that meant he was on the verge of sleep.

But just as you were about to close your own eyes, he stirred again.

“…Love you,” he mumbled, softer this time, like he just needed to say it again before he let sleep take him.

Your chest ached in the best way.

You turned your head, brushing a kiss to his forehead, his nose, his cheek, taking your time like he had all the time in the world.

“Love you too,” you murmured against his skin.

Finally, he stilled completely, letting out one last sleepy breath before slipping under.

And as you lay there, wrapped in him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, you realized something—this moment, this feeling, was what love was supposed to be. Warm, easy, and safe.

And with that thought, you let yourself drift off too, perfectly content in the arms of the man who was yours.

[iidilio]

Genin Sasuke, Neji, Gaara, Naruto, Rock Lee, have a crush on the reader and the reader pretends to be a boy like I am they react when they discover that the reader is a girl?

[ 🌸 ] This really got me excited so… thanks anon <3

characters: sasuke uchiha; neji hyuga ; gaara of the sand ; naruto uzumaki; ; +itachi uchiha ;

genre: fluff ;;

warnings: none;;

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..

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sasuke uchiha

Sasuke, usually distant and distrustful of other people's emotions, would have a somewhat neutral reaction on the surface, but with a slight hint of internal confusion. As someone who keeps his feelings under control, the fact that the person he likes is a girl would not radically change his feelings. However, he would probably feel a mix of surprise and frustration for not having realized it sooner. At first, he might think he was tricked or that, somehow, something about their relationship had been a lie, but those thoughts would fade quickly.

"It doesn't matter if you're a boy or a girl... Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?" he asked, his expression serious but curious.

neji hyuga

Neji has a serious personality, but he is also very aware of the importance of fate and the destiny of the people in his life. Upon learning that the person he likes is a girl, he might feel a little taken aback at first, as the deceptive nature of the situation challenges his sense of control and rigid perspective on the rules. However, once he reflects on it, he would feel ashamed that he hadn’t noticed it before. This wouldn’t change how he feels about her, but the initial shock could be significant.

“I never imagined that someone could hide something like that…” he said with a serious look. 'But that doesn’t change how I feel', he thought to himself.

His emotions doesn’t change.

gaara of the sand

Gaara, who has a somewhat gloomy worldview and is extremely introspective, would likely be the most surprised, as he has never had a deep connection with others. The idea that the person he likes has been pretending to be a boy might make him feel even more isolated or confused, but he wouldn't take it personally. After all, the emotions of others have always been a mystery to him. However, upon discovering the truth, he would probably feel a sense of relief and happiness, because, in his heart, his affection for that person wouldn't change, and he would also learn something more about her.

"Why lie? But... it doesn't matter. It's you, in the end." He said with a soft and slightly more relaxed expression—something he doesn't often show.

naruto uzumaki

Naruto, always a bit clumsy and emotionally honest!, would likely have a reaction ranging from total surprise to shock. Although he might initially feel a bit offended by the lie (feeling deceived), his love and affection for that person would not change. He might make embarrassing comments or joke about it to ease the tension, but deep down, the important thing is that what he feels for her is genuine. In the end, he would probably be happier to know the truth and would continue to have feelings for her.

"Eh?! Wait, really?! That means that...! I like you because you're pretty, not because you're... uh, a boy?" he exclaimed. When he realized what he had said, he smiled with some embarrassment and scratched his head.

rock lee

Rock Lee, a pure-hearted guy, would be greatly surprised, but he would likely feel even more excited to realize that his feelings are reciprocated. He might be a little confused at first, as the idea of his crush posing as a boy would challenge his view of sincerity and honor. However, after the initial shock, Lee would probably embrace the situation with positivity and determination. Being an incurable optimist, the revelation would make him see things in an even grander light.

"The true essence of love is not seen with the eyes, but with the heart! No matter if you're a girl or a boy, I love you just the way you are!" he exclaimed with a bright smile and raised fists in excitement.

(+) itachi uchiha

Itachi, who has lived with so many secrets and regrets, would have a more controlled and observant reaction. His analytical mind would likely lead him to believe there were reasons for keeping the real you hidden, and the first thing he would do is try to understand why that person felt the need to hide their identity. His reaction would be calm and thoughtful, not showing much surprise. Given his calmer and more mature nature, he would not be upset by the revelation at all. Instead, he would likely see this moment as an opportunity to deepen his understanding of the person he cares (and that he loves) for.

"I understand. There are many reasons why someone would hides their identity. It doesn't bother me", he said with a deep calm, his gaze still as penetrating as always.

He literally said: 'gtfo, my feelings for you remain the same.'

literally, nobody the reader: