#isaac rhoades x reader

[peppymintdreams]

isaac with a listener who had a toxic mother growing up?? hurt/comfort please, i've had a rough week :(

Ofcourse my child let mama peppy comfort you may I bless you with a better week

Shadows of the Past

Isaac Rhoades x Pickle

The rain fell steadily against the windows, a soft melody that filled the stillness of the room. You sat curled on the couch, lost in thought, your gaze unfocused on the faint glow of the television. Though Isaac had been in the room with you, you barely noticed when he disappeared into the kitchen. He returned moments later, a warm mug of tea in his hands.

Quietly, he set it down on the table before settling beside you, his movements deliberate and calming. His gaze, piercing yet tender, lingered on you for a moment before he spoke.

“You’re carrying something heavy,” he said softly. “I can see it in the way your shoulders curl, the way your hands tremble. What is it, my love?”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. Isaac always had a way of unearthing the thoughts you tried to bury, of coaxing them out into the light with his quiet persistence. But this... this was a pain so deeply ingrained, you weren’t sure how to put it into words.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured, the crack in your voice betraying you.

He moved closer, his hand resting gently on your knee. The touch grounded you, soft yet firm, like a tether keeping you from being swept away. “Don’t do that,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Don’t diminish what you’re feeling. You can tell me. Always.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you looked away, ashamed of your vulnerability. “I was thinking about my mom,” you finally admitted, your voice barely audible.

Isaac didn’t react immediately, but his hand stayed where it was, offering silent support. “Go on,” he urged, his tone a gentle nudge.

You drew a shaky breath, the words spilling out before you could second-guess them. “She wasn’t like most mothers. She was... controlling, cruel. She tore me down every chance she got, made me feel small, like nothing I did was ever good enough. And then, somehow, she’d twist it so I felt like I needed her approval just to exist.”

Isaac’s jaw tightened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes, though his grip on your knee remained steady.

“She criticized everything,” you continued, the pain of each memory sharpening your voice. “My looks, my choices, my dreams. She’d compare me to other people, like I was a disappointment she had to endure. And if I ever tried to stand up for myself... she’d guilt me until I felt like the worst person alive.”

Isaac’s hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing away a tear. When you met his gaze, you saw something that made your breath catch—a depth of emotion so profound, it was almost overwhelming.

“My love,” he began, his voice low and sonorous, each word chosen with precision, “it is an unspeakable cruelty to wound a soul as pure as yours. The torment she inflicted is not your burden to carry—it is a testament to her own inadequacies, her own failure to recognize the radiance you possess.”

The weight of his words settled over you, a soothing balm to the ache in your chest.

“She stole pieces of you, didn’t she?” he asked, his tone a mixture of sorrow and fury. “She took your confidence, your joy, and replaced them with doubt and pain. But hear me now, my love: you are whole. Even with the scars she left behind, you are whole, and you are extraordinary.”

You blinked rapidly, your tears flowing freely now, and Isaac cupped your face with both hands, as if shielding you from the shadows of the past.

“She sought to diminish you because your light outshone her fractured soul,” he continued, his voice soft yet commanding. “But you are brilliance personified. Every scar you bear is a testament to your strength. Every step you take away from her is a victory, a defiance of the narrative she tried to write for you.”

Your voice trembled as you whispered, “Sometimes I still hear her... telling me I’m not enough.”

Isaac’s jaw clenched, and he leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against yours. “Then let my voice rise above hers,” he said, his words a tender vow. “Let me drown out her echoes with truths that are irrefutable: you are enough. More than enough. You are a symphony of grace and resilience, a masterpiece of heart and spirit.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you, filling the voids left by years of doubt and pain.

“You are the very dynamics of beauty and strength,” Isaac continued, his tone reverent. “And I, who have seen the depths of you, find myself in awe every single day. To me, you are not broken. You are radiant, my love. And no voice, not hers nor anyone else’s, can take that from you.”

You sobbed openly now, your face buried in his chest as his arms wrapped around you, holding you with the unwavering steadiness you so desperately needed.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words fragile yet fervent.

“And I you,” Isaac murmured against your hair, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “With a depth that words cannot fully capture, but I will try, again and again, for as long as you’ll allow me. You are safe here, my heart. Always.”

In his embrace, you felt the chains of your past loosen, the weight of your mother’s voice fading beneath the steady, unrelenting strength of Isaac’s love.

[wildflowerblurbs]

A Painful Step Towards Healing | Isaac Rhoades

Isaac Rhoades x GN! Reader

CW: mentions of past abuse/unhealthy relationships, trauma caused by abuse/unhealthy relationships, yelling, arguments, hurt/comfort

-

Trauma isn’t a simple thing, no matter how much you wished it was.

You’re in a committed relationship with the man who gave you a second chance at life. You wake up in his arms without the fear of having your belongings thrown out by the landlord before kicking you out for not paying rent on time. You eat your meals with him without uncertainty of when your next meal will be or needing to ration out your food to last weeks at a time. You live your life knowing that you have a future with him. You not only have a family with him, but a family that loves you.

You’ve escaped the hell that you were living, so why? 

Why are you currently hyperventilating on your shared bathroom floor? 

Why can’t you stop the tears that are blurring your vision and staining the carpet below you?

Why couldn’t you keep your composure when the man that you love so much lost his temper and raised his voice at you?

Isaac is not my father. He’d never hurt me. Isaac is not my father. He’d never hurt me. 

You replayed these phrases in your head like a mantra, scolding yourself for even needing to make that clarification to yourself. Isaac had been having a stressful day. People snap sometimes and it’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok. 

It was your fault anyway. You’d insisted on having dinner with him when he’d told you that he’d skip dinner to continue working on a particularly hard case he’d gotten recently. You kept pushing when you shouldn’t have. It was your selfishness that got you into this situation. It was your fault. 

Perhaps that’s why you retreated into the bathroom after promptly apologizing for everything yet nothing at all. You weren’t even sure of what you’d said to him. As soon as you felt the panic spike through your body, you’d excused yourself as quickly as you possibly could. 

It took everything within you to stay quiet as the fears and feelings you often experienced as a child rushed back to you. Issac knew that your childhood wasn’t the happiest but you rarely discussed the details. You didn’t want him to feel like he needed to be careful around you. He always looked so fond when he talked about his mother’s traditions or his father’s teachings and you didn’t want to take that away from him. Truthfully, you weren’t even triggered by his experiences. His parent’s love for him had nothing to do with the unhealthy love your parents had given you. There was no reason why it’d bother you. There’s no reason why anything Isaac did would incite these feelings within you. Or at least you thought. 

This wasn’t even the first time he’d raised his voice at you. He’d been pretty agitated when you insisted on pursuing a relationship with him despite the dangers. He’d been harsh to you before when talking about his past was still considered to be none of your business. There was no reason as to why his anger was affecting you so much now and you hated yourself for reacting this way. 

Here you were, spiraling with thoughts of self-hatred and fear. 

Will he leave me if I’m too annoying? 

I should’ve left him alone, now he hates me.

He hates me. He hates me. He hates—

A sudden urgent succession of knocks on the door interrupts your thoughts. The door opens before you’re able to compose yourself or tell him to give you a moment. Telling by the worried look of his face and the speed at which the door opens, you figure that he’d been knocking for longer than you had realized. 

Time seemed to stop the moment your tear-filled eyes locked with his. You wanted to crawl into a hole from how mortified and embarrassed you felt at being caught for overreacting to such a small thing. 

You quickly get up from the floor, wiping the tears from your eyes with shaky hands. 

“I apologize for barging in. You weren’t responding and I… I was worried something had happened to you. It seemed like you were struggling to breathe; I didn’t know what to do.”

Before he has the chance to take your shaky hands into his and inspect your current state, you move away.

“Y-you don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry for causing such a—“ 

“No, I am the one who needs to apologize. I shouldn’t have taken out my frustration on you when you were only trying to care for me. I should’ve thought about how my words would affect you. Please don’t ignore your own feelings. You more than have the right to feel upset right now. It’s only natural that you would be.” 

Shock was the only explanation for your sudden collapse. The shock of hearing the words you’d always wanted to hear from those that had hurt you from the one person who had only given you love destroyed the last bit of composure you had. 

Isaac joins you on the floor, bringing you close to his chest and holding you in the warmest embrace you’ve ever experienced. His hand rests in your hair, stroking it gently as you cry in his arms. His case didn’t matter right now, nor did anything else that could possibly require him to leave your side in this moment. He’d needed you so many times in the past. It was his turn to return the favor. 

“I- I was so scared,” you managed to speak in between sobs. Your hands found themselves holding onto his shirt, finding security in the firmness of your grip of him. 

Your actions only made Isaac pull you closer, “It’s ok, everything is going to be ok.” He lifts your chin, his eyes meeting yours, “I will do everything in my power to make sure of it.” 

This wasn’t the first time you’ve heard such words and promises from someone, but for the first time in your life, they don’t ring hollow. He wasn’t just trying to placate you. He meant every single word. 

You hold his gaze for a moment, deciding that you’ve hidden yourself away for far too long. He was Isaac Rhoades, the man you decided to spend the rest of your life with. The man who you trust with your life, who gave you a second chance at life. If there was anyone in the world who you could trust to handle your own demons, it was certainly him.

“…Isaac…have you ever wondered why I left home?” 

[literary-motif]

I hope this isn’t too much, but could you do picke telling Isaac about an abusive ex they had, and Isaac comforting them? (Btw I love your work!!)

Remnants Of The Past

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

Warnings: talk of abusive relationships

“This smells delicious, dear,” Isaac said, looking over your shoulder as you ground the basil leaves into a paste. He had lingered behind you since you had cut the stems, humming in contentment as the smell of fresh basil hit him and he tilted his head to place a kiss against your nape. 

You shivered, feeling the warmth in your chest at the gesture of affection. “I hope it tastes delicious, too,” you said, a smile spreading across your face as he wrapped his arms around your waist, giving you enough room to work comfortably as he held you close.

“I’m sure it will,” he said, resting his forehead against your shoulder and inhaling your scent. 

Isaac was so soft. You could see his unveiled affection for you in the littlest things — from the way he brought you water throughout the day to make sure you drank enough, to the way his lips moved delicately against yours when you kissed, savoring every moment as his hands held you securely, tight enough to make you feel wanted but never enough to make you feel trapped. 

“I love you,” he murmured behind you, placing another kiss on your neck before leaning over your shoulder and pressing another against your cheek. 

He was so gentle, so affectionate, so loving — it made tears gather in your eyes that this was the relationship you had always dreamed of having, being with someone with whom you felt safe and looked after and loved.

Abandoning the basil, you reached up a hand to tangle it in his hair, hoping he had missed the hitch in your breath and the wetness accumulating in your eyes. “I love you, too,” you said hoarsely. 

Isaac tensed. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, turning you around gently to cup your cheeks and brush your tears away with his thumb. “Talk to me. What are you thinking about? How can I help?”

His concern only made you cry harder, the distraught look in his eyes as he saw you cry filling your heart with guilt. “I—” you began, wondering how you could express the whirlwind of emotion in your chest coherently. “I love you so much. You’re— you’re the perfect partner, Isaac. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more, and— and I’m just so thankful to have you. Having ended up with you makes me feel like every other bad experience was worth it.”

The soft look in his eyes vanished as you finished your confession. “Bad experience?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern. “What kind of bad experience?”

You looked at him for a moment, eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. You had not meant to tell him.

Your previous relationship had been a burning trainwreck that you escaped much, much too late, the misfortune of your circumstances urging you to give him chance after chance. Walking away from his constant screaming, stinging accusations, and looming presence that seemed to suck the air out of the room you were in had been one of the best decisions you had made in your life. 

“Hey,” Isaac said gently, wiping the tears away that escaped you unconsciously at the reminder of your past — the reminder of him. “You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to. I— We can talk whenever you’re ready. Do you want to change the subject?”

You began crying in earnest, shoulders shaking as sobs wracked your body and you buried your face in Isaac’s shoulder, gripping handfuls of his shirt as you released all the sorrow, disappointment, and anger that had simmered for a long time. 

He wrapped his arms around you, cradling you against him while slowly rocking back and forth, trying to soothe you. 

“I— I had a bad ex,” you choked out, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. “Very bad. He was an asshole, but— but I couldn’t leave.”

Isaac stayed silent, listening intently while rubbing circles into your lower back to ground you to the present. 

“It was stupid. I was so fucking stupid to— to start something with him, but he seemed like such a nice guy at first. We went on walks around the park, and he took me out to dinner, but one day he just changed and— I mean the signs were there, but I was so happy to have finally found someone to spend time with, who seemed to like me back, so I just ignored them. 

“I don’t know what I did. Suddenly everything was wrong, suddenly I was annoying and he was too good for me. Suddenly I was this— this broke, deserted little charity case he took on and he wanted me to be grateful for it. 

“I— I stayed with him longer than I should have. The passive aggression turned to screaming insults at me, threats.” You shook your head, swallowing down the bitterness at the reminder. “I knew starting something with my past landlord’s son was a mistake, I just didn’t think it would turn out that bad.”

Isaac’s ears perked up, filing that crucial detail of information away for later. “I’m sorry,” he said sympathetically, squeezing you tighter. “I’m so sorry this happened to you — I’m sorry he took advantage of your misfortune like that. I’m sorry I—”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, raising your head to meet his compassionate gaze. “And before you ask, you’re nothing like him. You make my heart melt, and I feel” — you hesitated, every word on your tongue falling short of expressing how Isaac made you feel — “I feel good with you.”

He smiled at that. “Good?” he teased, making you chuckle. He understood. 

You did not need to explain yourself; Isaac had a gift of seeing into your eyes and your heart. 

Once you slipped into dreamland that night, Isaac found himself characteristically lying awake, unable to fall asleep yet. He sat up, leaning over to place a lingering kiss against your forehead before getting out of bed and disappearing into the study. 

If your ex made front-page headlines getting arrested for embezzlement, you were not surprised, glancing up from the paper to look at Isaac, sipping his black coffee with his hair still in disarray.

He gave you a warm smile and blew you a kiss. 

[beccixxiluv]

they could never make me hate you earis 🥰

[lil-binuu]

𝑫𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

~ 𝐼𝓈𝒶𝒶𝒸 𝒻𝒾𝒸

Isaac saves you from a creepy client

requested by: @mitsukitsume and @someonelol1872

560 words

sorry for the long wait mls! i hope you enjoy! <3

“Just go through to that room and I’ll bring the documents.”

You could hear Isaac in the hall say to the new client who had come through the door. You were in the kitchen and preparing Isaac his usual whiskey when he came in.

Since he was a new client, Isaac wanted to handle meetings himself for your own safety. While you would help with cases, Isaac felt a lot more comfortable if clients didn’t know about you. This way, you wouldn’t be targeted if anyone wanted to get to Isaac and he was always wary around new people.

“Ah, good afternoon. You must be Isaac’s housekeeper?” He asked.

You nodded, “What can I make you to drink?”

“I see Isaac likes his whiskey, I’ll have the same.”

You turned around to pour the same drink into another glass, but stopped when you realised it was chipped. Can’t serve a client that…you thought.

“You must’ve been working here a while, right? If so, you must be looking for somewhere else to take your services.”

You ignored the man’s attempt at conversation, choosing to focus on the drink instead.

"Isaac is lucky. You seem well trained, I could do with someone of your expertise."

You kept your back to him, hoping that he'll stop his comments if he doesn't get a response. You opened the overhead cupboard where the glasses were. You reached up to take a glass and felt another arm behind you.

“Please, allow me.”

You turned around to see the man taking the glass for you.

Surprised, you tried to step away only to stumble over your own feet.

“Woah, careful.” The man laughed, taking your arm to stabilise you. It would have been a nice gesture if this stranger wasn’t so close to you, practically breathing in the scent of your hair.

You smiled awkwardly, uncomfortable and wanting to get out of the corner he had pushed you into. Taking the glass he picked up and trying to move out of his grip, he stopped you abruptly, placing his arm as a barrier in front of you.

“Don’t be in such a rush.” He teased. “I want to get to know you.”

A sudden wave of sickness washed over you. The heavy feeling in your gut making you want to throw up. Your heart hammering with dread as he leaned down closer to your eye level, disappointed to see your eyes fixed on the floor.

“Didn’t anybody tell you it’s rude to break eye contact when someone is talking to you?”

He lifted a hand to correct your gaze, only to be stopped. Isaac’s iron grip and his eyes that flared so furiously, making the man freeze.

Isaac placed himself in front of you, pushing the man backwards to shield you while maintaining his tightening grip.

“Didn’t anybody tell you it’s rude to touch somebody else’s things?” Isaac growled back at him.

It’s safe to say Isaac dropped the client immediately, only, of course, after sending him to hospital with a black eye. You pretend you don’t know that Isaac digs up shit about him, and puts so carefully in his blackmail file to use whenever he pleases as a quiet act of karma. (I think it’s become his new hobby) I mean, keeping you safe is his priority, so what do you expect?

sorry it was so short!! originally i made this but was gonna make some changes to make it much more angsty but i struggled to write that stuff into the scene as it went too off the plot so i just decided to stick with this! i hope you enjoyed reading, please feel free to request me anything (but just know i only really write for elias x) and don’t worry i’m going to be working on my next fic soon!

[someonelol1872]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆''𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐚𝐜, 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞?'' ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔪𝔢 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔰𝔱, 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔠 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔞𝔰𝔱, 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔦𝔰 𝔏𝔞 𝔙𝔦𝔢 𝔈𝔫 ℜ𝔬𝔰𝔢… -Édith Piaf, La Vie En Rose

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Isaac had always effortlessly embraced new concepts across a spectrum of subjects. However, when it came to French, an unexpected challenge loomed before him.

Seated together at the kitchen table, textbooks and notes sprawled like a patchwork quilt, Isaac's expression was one of unwavering concentration, his brow knit with determination. Despite his best efforts, his tongue would stumble over even the simplest of phrases. 

"Je m’appelle Isaac," you enunciated patiently, 

Isaac's frown deepened as he endeavored to replicate your pronunciation. "Je m… appelle… Is-sack."

A soft giggle escaped your lips, eyes alight with gentle amusement. "Non, non. In French, ‘Isaac’ is pronounced more like ‘Ee-zahk’. Let's try again."

"Je m’appelle Ee-zahk," he repeated, his delivery still awkward yet showing glimmers of improvement.

Your smile widened with encouragement. "Much better! Now, let’s tackle ‘Comment ça va?’"

"Commo sa va?" Isaac attempted, his accent betraying his efforts.

"Almost there," you reassured, placing a tender hand atop his. "It’s ‘coh-mah sa vah’. You’re making progress."

With a sigh, Isaac rubbed his temple, frustration palpable. "I’m dreadful at this. How do you make it seem so effortless?"

"Because French has been woven into the fabric of my life since childhood," you replied warmly. "And you're not dreadful. Learning a new language is akin to unraveling a tapestry, each thread revealing its own intricate pattern."

Drawing nearer, your gaze met his, with nothing but warmth and love in the depths of your eyes. "Besides, I find your efforts endearing."

His frustration momentarily assuaged by your words, Isaac met your gaze, finding refuge in your encouragement and affection. "You truly believe that?"

You nodded earnestly, a tender smile gracing your lips. "Absolutely. Moreover, teaching you brings me joy. It feels like we're nurturing something special together."

A gentle breeze of ease swept over Isaac as he returned your smile. "Okay, let’s give it another shot. ‘Comment ça va?’"

"Coh-mah sa vah," you reiterated,

"Coh-mah sa vah," he echoed, his pronunciation notably improved.

"Bravo!" you exclaimed, applause ringing like bells through the room. "See? You're already blossoming."

Isaac chuckled, relief and pride dancing in his eyes. "Thank you... Pickle, for... being so patient with me."

"Always," you affirmed softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss upon his cheek. "We'll have you speaking French fluently before you know it. And until then, I'll cherish every charming mispronunciation."

_____________________ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆_____________________

[chol1na]

˖⁺‧₊ kitty? kitty.

author's note: i'm kinda nervous to post stuff but you only live once, right? a big thank you to @yoosungs-cheeks and @jannine00742 (my name twin hehe~) for proof reading! feedback is appreciated !!

“You done in there, Pickle?”. It was one time you were craving pickles at 3 am and couldn't open the jar, one time. And yet here you were, being reminded of the incident every few minutes.

“Pthu! Yep, I’m done. And stop calling me that!”, you spit out the tooth paste, wiping your mouth with your designated towel. It had been a while since you had decided to stay with Isaac. Soon after, his bathroom became your bathroom. His sink, once only occupied with his shaving equipment and toothbrush, soon became more cramped with your skin care and toothbrush holder. His bedroom became your bedroom. His bleak grey bedding now littered comfortable pillows and his nightstand stacked with the library's newest additions.

Leaving the bathroom, you spot your lover nestled into one of the two surprisingly comfortable leather chairs. You wrap your arms around him gently from behind, pecking his cheek. “Whatcha reading?”.

You glance over as he flips the book over so you can read the title. “Lord of the Flies? Bleh”, you grimace before continuing, “Though, I can’t say I’m surprised, Golding is almost as cynical as you”. “Someone’s in the mood to play”, Isaac chuckles, pulling you onto his lap. He kisses your shoulder before turning back to keep reading.

“Mind if I have a sip?”, I ask, nodding to his tea. Isaac hums, but soon pulls it away before you could steal a sip from him. “On second thought, no”. You pout, nudging him gently, “Huh? Why?! Don’t be stingy~ You know I like earl grey”.

He chuckles at your whining. “Because, you just brushed your teeth. I do not mind sharing with you, but I don’t think the taste of toothpaste and tea go together, Pickle”. You huff quietly, but don’t argue back. With a quiet yawn, you lean your head against his, occasionally playing with the sleeve of his free hand or a stray lock.

Your eyes twinkle as you watch him read. It’s difficult not to kiss him with the way his brows furrowed slightly in concentration. Part of you wants to straighten out the crease, poke his cheek, or maybe nibble on his neck, just to see his reaction. Almost as if he’d read your mind, Isaac leans over to give you a soft kiss, his free hand reaching for your lower back, the other still holding the book.

“Someone’s needy”, he smirks, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, “Are you bored?”. You yawn again, shaking your head, “No, just want to bother you a bit. Pay attention to me~”.

“Tired?”, he cups your cheek, closing the book as he sees through your playful facade. Truth be told, you were exhausted - but going to sleep now would mean going to sleep alone. If you asked Isaac to come with you, he’d drop everything in his hands and do just that, but, knowing just how little free time he gave himself, you wanted to tough it out. “No. Unless you’re read to sleep”, you mumble, nuzzling into him slightly.

“I'm ready for bed anytime you are, Kitten,” Isaac grins, seeing through you instantly.

“…Kitten?”, you blink in surprise. “Huh. I can’t tell if that’s an upgrade or downgrade from ‘Pickle’”.

"Hm… do you prefer something else? It came to me naturally. You’re clingy and yet independent. Needy and playful when you know I’m busy, and while I can count on you for important matters, I can also count on the fact that you’re a brat and a tease. So, Kitten was a natural next step”.

You tilt your head in thought, before shaking it softly, “You’re so… weird sometimes, Isaac”.

Isaac chuckles and lets go of you but only to take you by the hand and lead you to your bedroom. He motions for you to lay down and climbs in behind you, his body wrapped against yours. There’s a comfortable silence.

“Isaac?”, you mumble after a while. Isaac pecks the side of your neck, humming quietly, "Hmm?”.

“…Can we actually get a cat?”. You had asked him a few times - albeit playfully.

"You were serious about that? If getting a pet is a necessity for you…".

You nod slowly, turning to face him. “I think it’d be a nice addition to the family. It’s too early to think about having kids, but getting a fur baby would be nice, no? Besides, you said you always wanted a pet as a kid”.

He hums again, leaning his head on your shoulder while stroking your arm in thought, “You have no idea how tempting the idea of a family with you is… It is too early, though, yes”. He nods, “My mom was good with animals. I always wanted a pet that I could play with, like a dog or maybe a cat, but my grandfather was allergic to them”.

You glance down at him, softly patting his head. “Would you prefer a dog, then? Puppies are cute too”.

He shakes his head, his reply coming in swift and shrap, “No”. “A dog needs to be walked daily. I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of you leaving the house periodically, anything could happen. No”. Your hand pauses, before you sigh quietly. As much as he tried to hide it, his paranoia was still clear as day. Baby steps.

“A cat doesn’t need to go outside”, you mumble, kissing his forehead. His breathing slowed down as he laid against you in silence, “A cat it is…”.

You sit up straight, mouth hanging open, “No way- seriously?!”. Isaac laughs at your sudden enthusiasm, “Calm down, Kitten. We'll go to the shelter in the morning, we'll pick out a nice cat, I'm sure. But for now just focus on your sleep, you won't be able to if you're this excited."

You snuggle back into the pillows, gigging happily, “Ah~ I’m so happy right now! What breed should we get? Oh- and are we getting a boy or a girl? Ah- we should probably buy a bed too right? And proper food? And those cute scratching posts! Are we adopting a kitten or an older cat? Or maybe- mmpf”.

Isaac cuts you short as you babble, silencing you with a gentle kiss, “Slow down, Kitten. You realize it is 3 in the morning, right? Can you at least wait for the sun to come up before you start planning our feline's every move?”.

You rub your neck sheepishly, “Sorry… I’m just excited!”. He can’t help but smile at you, cupping your face between his hands carefully, “I know, Pickle. Let’s sleep first and discuss the details tomorrow, hmm?”.

“Mmh. Good night, Isaac”, you peck his cheek. He returns the favor before closing his eyes.

“Isaac?… You didn’t brush your teeth…”.

© chol1na

[c-t-r-l14]

YA’LL I PROMISE I’M WORKING ON NEW FANFICS

TO THE PEOPLE WHO SENT ME REQUESTS I SEE YOU‼️

THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT WITH ME, COLLEGE AND LIFE ARE BEATING MY ASS, AND THEY HAVE HANDS!!

DONTIS ANS ISAAC ARE UP NEXT, YA’LL‼️

I GOT YA’LL I SWEAR!

ILY❤️❤️❤️

[peppymintdreams]

I gotchu girlie

Soft interruptions

Isaac Rhoades x Pickle

Isaac is absorbed in his work until Pickle, concerned for his well-being, persuades him to take a break by sitting in his lap, softening his usual stoic demeanor

Isaac’s office was cloaked in quiet, the kind of silence that only settled late into the evening when the city had wound down. His desk was a controlled chaos—papers neatly stacked but seemingly endless. He hunched over, scanning reports with a furrowed brow and the occasional jot of his pen. The dim light of the desk lamp illuminated his sharp features, casting shadows that accentuated the serious set of his mouth.

It had been hours since he started working on this case, a tangled web of missing persons and back-alley deals. His focus was unrelenting, eyes trained on every detail, his mind circling the case like a predator closing in on prey.

The soft sound of footsteps approaching didn’t pull him from his work at first. It wasn’t until the door to his office cracked open that Isaac allowed his eyes to shift from the pages in front of him.

Pickle stepped in, holding a tray. The faint smell of gyoza and tamagoyaki drifted through the room, cutting through the sterile scent of paperwork and ink. “I made dinner,” they said softly, their tone warm but careful, like they were testing the waters of his mood.

Isaac’s eyes flicked back to the report in his hand, his posture rigid. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice low and composed, though his eyes remained on the documents. “I’ll have some later.”

Pickle walked closer, placing the tray on a small side table near him, the smell of freshly made food now undeniable. “You said that last time, and you haven’t moved from this spot in hours.”

Isaac’s brow furrowed slightly at that, the only outward sign of his inner struggle to keep working. He paused, fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the paper, but his focus was still split.

Pickle stepped closer, concern softening their voice. “Isaac, you need to eat. Just a few minutes. Then you can come back to your case.”

Isaac sighed quietly, the sound almost inaudible, but he didn’t look up. “This case won’t solve itself,” he replied, his tone cool, though not unkind. “There’s too much at stake for me to—”

He didn’t get to finish the thought before Pickle gently settled into his lap, making themselves comfortable against him without a word. Isaac tensed for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion as he instinctively leaned back in his chair to accommodate them. It was a rare moment of contact, and despite his initial surprise, he allowed it.

“Pickle…” Isaac’s voice was calm but carried a quiet reprimand, though not as firm as it could have been. His hands remained by his sides, unsure of where to place them.

Pickle didn’t say anything for a few seconds, simply resting against his chest, their presence a grounding force against the intensity of his work. Eventually, they spoke, their voice gentle. “You’re no good to anyone if you burn yourself out.”

Isaac’s eyes finally left the papers, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his expression as he gazed down at them. His stoicism remained, but there was a flicker of softness in his gaze, something unspoken that only Pickle seemed to draw out of him.

“I know the case is important,” they continued, looking up at him. “But so is taking care of yourself. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this.”

Isaac’s jaw tightened slightly, the weight of responsibility still pressing heavily on him. He let out a slow breath, his gaze lowering to the papers once more as if considering his next move. For a moment, it seemed like he might brush off their words, push them away with that same distant logic he used to navigate the chaos of his cases.

But instead, after a long silence, he slowly raised one hand, resting it gently on their back. The gesture was subtle, a compromise between his need to stay in control and his recognition of their concern.

“I’ll take a break,” Isaac said, voice still quiet but carrying a note of finality. “For a few minutes.”

Pickle’s lips curved into a small smile, their victory quiet but satisfying. “Thank you,” they whispered, their head resting back against his shoulder.

Isaac didn’t respond with words, but his hand remained on them, a silent acknowledgment of their presence. He leaned forward just enough to close the file on his desk, setting it aside with deliberate slowness, as if reluctant to fully let go of the case just yet.

“Gyoza and tamagoyaki, hm?” he asked softly, his stoic tone almost teasing, though the softness was barely detectable unless you were close enough to notice.

Pickle chuckled softly, nodding. “Your favorite.”

Isaac’s lips twitched, just the barest hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, though his expression remained mostly impassive. “You know me too well,” he murmured.

They sat in silence for a moment, Isaac’s hand resting on Pickle’s back, their warmth melting some of the tension that had been knotted in his shoulders. The case would still be there when he returned to it, but for now, in this quiet moment, he allowed himself to let go just enough to be with them.

He tightened his grip on them slightly, almost absentmindedly. It was his way of holding onto the small softness he rarely let himself show, but that Pickle always seemed to bring out in him.

“Let’s eat,” Isaac said finally, his voice still firm, but now tinged with something softer, more human.

And for once, the case could wait.

Sitting on Isaac's lap would heal something in me.

[peppymintdreams]

I read your fanfic with Isaac as a girl dad could we get more with pickle and Isaac and him being a girl dad? 🥹.

Steps to the Heart

Isaac Rhoades x Pickle

The late afternoon sun bathed the living room in golden light, casting a warm glow over the cozy space. Isaac sat cross-legged on the floor, his sleeves rolled up, as he gently steadied his daughter, Hanako—Hana for short—on her tiny, wobbly legs. Her curls, dark and unruly like his own, framed a face so achingly familiar it tugged at Isaac's chest every time he looked at her. Those eyes—Pickle’s eyes—sparkled with determination, and her tiny lips pursed in concentration.

Pickle lounged on the couch, camera phone in hand, unable to suppress their grin. "This is going in her future wedding slideshow," they teased, snapping another picture as Isaac chuckled under his breath.

Hana clutched Isaac’s fingers tightly, her chubby hands trembling as she tried to take a step forward. "That's it, Hana," Isaac cooed, his voice soft but steady. "One foot in front of the other. You’ve got this, my little explorer."

Pickle couldn’t help but record the moment, their heart swelling with love as Isaac’s typically composed demeanor melted into utter adoration. There was something magical about seeing the serious man so patient and tender, his world entirely focused on their little girl.

Hana tottered forward, her movements unsteady but resolute. Her first few steps were shaky, and she stumbled, but Isaac was there to catch her every time. "There you go! Look at you!" he encouraged, his smile wide and proud. "You're doing it, Hana!"

"You're such a natural at this, Isaac," Pickle said, their voice warm with admiration.

He glanced up briefly, his sharp features softened by an uncharacteristic vulnerability. "I can’t believe how much she looks like you," he murmured, brushing Hana’s curls away from her face before she tried again. "And my mum. It’s... surreal."

Pickle’s breath hitched at the emotion in his voice. He rarely spoke about his mother, and hearing him connect Hana to her legacy made their heart ache in the best way.

Hana finally managed three steps in a row before falling into Isaac’s arms, giggling wildly. "You did it, my girl! You’re a natural!" he exclaimed, lifting her up into the air and spinning her around. Her laughter filled the room like music, and Isaac’s deep chuckle followed.

Pickle snapped more pictures and captured the moment on video, not wanting to forget a single detail. The way Isaac held Hana close, murmuring sweet words of encouragement, or how she clapped her tiny hands in triumph.

As the evening sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the room, Isaac finally sat back on the floor, Hana nestled against his chest. She was yawning now, her small frame resting easily in his arms.

Pickle set the phone aside, crossing the room to sit beside them. "You’re amazing," they said softly, leaning against Isaac’s shoulder.

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of their head. "We’re amazing," he corrected. "Look at her. Look at what we made."

Pickle reached over to smooth a hand over Hana’s curls. "I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you," they murmured.

Isaac shook his head gently, his voice almost a whisper. "No. I’m the lucky one."

And as Hana drifted off to sleep in his arms, and Pickle snuggled close, Isaac felt, for once, that everything in his world was exactly as it should be.

[wildflowerblurbs]

A Light for the Knight of Shadows | Isaac Rhoades

Isaac Rhoades x GN! Mythic! Reader

CW: mentions of past trauma/mistreatment, reader feeling anxious, minor injuries

A/N: wrote this ages ago and recently found it in my drafts; please disregard any mistakes.

-

“I’ve been lying to you.”

Isaac freezes in his chair before quickly relaxing and placing the documents he’d been reading on the desk. He slowly turns towards you, motioning for you to come closer. 

“You certainly know how to get my attention,” Isaac replies nervously. You could tell he was wary despite his playful words. “What have you been lying about, exactly?”

You fidget in front of him, not quite able to look at him while you contemplate just how you’d broach the subject of who you were—or rather what you were.

Thanks to the stupid rules of your kind, you couldn’t outright tell him what you were. Something about “ignorance being bliss” or however that human saying goes. It was a safety issue. Hunters can’t hunt what they don’t know.

Truthfully, if someone had told you that you’d be in this position six months ago—telling a human of your true identity—you would’ve laughed in their face and reported them to the elders for even suggesting a thing. Well, to be fair, you would’ve done anything to get in the elder’s good graces six months ago, but that’s not the point. Details don’t really matter. What matters is the forbiddenness of what you’re doing. 

It’s a bad idea, really. Humans are fickle creatures and there’s no guarantee Isaac’s love will last. You’d waited until he finally opened up enough to begin a relationship with you, but—disregarding the fact that your kind isn’t even supposed to fall in love with humans—that doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. He’s human. Or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

The guilt of keeping this from him was easier when he held you at arm’s length, when the possibility of him throwing you out was high. But things changed. He opened up, slowly but surely, and even revealed his biggest secret. A secret that killed his family and destroyed his innocence. A secret that wasn’t a secret to you.

When he showed you the video of the werewolf, you’d tried to respond in a way that didn’t alert him to your own extended knowledge on the topic, of a life that most humans don’t know about. You’d questioned the validity of the video, both because you weren’t sure if it was created by some human to create chaos and because, if it truly was real, you wanted to gauge his opinion on the matter. You wanted to know if he believed it was real. 

Despite his suspicious nature, he did end up believing the validity of the video. Was it perhaps because he wanted to believe the thing that killed his parents wasn’t some sort of practical joke? Maybe, but that doesn’t really matter either. 

He knew creatures like you were out there, which makes it easier to approach telling him the truth of your existence but also a lot harder at the same time. The shock won’t be from your existence, but rather that you kept it from him. 

Moreover, when it comes to the logistics of your exact conversation, there are a few major issues. 

There is no name for what you are. Names and identifying information are forbidden. Any utterance of information on your kind is immediately quelled before it leaves your mouth. Your throat closes up and you’re left a sputtering mess. Writing anything down is out of the question as well, your hands only producing incoherent scratches and marks if you tried. It’s a curse, you suppose—and an inconvenient one at that—but also an effective way to hide. And an effective way to lose the man you love if you don’t hurry up and say something already. 

You must’ve been quiet for too long because Isaac had long since abandoned his chair and walked over to you when you heard his voice again.

“You… don’t need to force yourself to tell me if it’s difficult. I’m well aware that some secrets are best kept hidden. It’s my job to pry, but you’re not a case to be opened. You more than have the agency to tell me what you wish.” 

At his words, you finally look up at him. His face is a mixture of concern and the same wariness as before. 

“It doesn’t feel fair. You’ve told me things you’ve tried to keep hidden for years and yet here I am struggling to tell you something so important.”

At this, you feel Isaac’s hand gently lift your chin. 

“Have you been spying on me this entire time?”

The shock must’ve been evident on you face at his question.

“No, of course not!”

“Were you sent by an enemy organization?”

“Isaac, you know that’s not the case.”

“You’re right. I do know that’s not the case.”

“Then why are you—?”

“I’ve long since accepted you for who you are, for everything you are. You don’t need to hide from me. Whatever it is you’ve been lying about, I know it was never to hurt me.” You could feel Isaac move closer, closing the gap between you two. “And even if you did try to hurt me, my heart is yours to hurt. Call it unhealthy, but I wasn’t lying when I said that you were now my motivation to live. Do whatever you need to soothe your aching heart. I’ll be here to bear it all.” 

You weren’t sure which one of you moved first, but before you knew it his lips were on yours. It wasn’t like one of the kisses you’d share to greet each other or show affection, this kiss was full of something else. It conveyed the love he professed to you moments before, but it was also vulnerable. Isaac’s heartbeat was more honest about his feelings than he was. You could feel his heart pounding. He was anxious despite his comforting words. 

After you pull away, you decide you’d let the suspense go on for far too long. His words had finally let you find your resolve. 

“Follow me,” you ordered as you pulled Isaac outside of his office. While he normally would’ve teased you for sudden boldness, Isaac knew to keep quiet and let you lead, something you quite appreciated. 

He didn’t question you as you lead him into your shared bedroom. Originally quite bare and minimalist, you’d added your own charm to the bookshelves and wooden furniture that furnished the room. Isaac welcomed your changes, even if he still pauses upon seeing your stuffed animals or displayed collection of fairy tale figurines. It’s not a bad pause by any means, but rather one of disbelief. His room had never been this lively before you. It now had evidence of your shared existence. 

“Ok, I need you to bear with me. This isn’t something I can outright tell you,” you warn as you finally let go of his hand and shut the door. 

He simply nods and waits for whatever you’re planning to do. It’s not until you start to take off your cardigan and shirt that he shows any kind of reaction besides his existing nervousness. 

“What are you—?” Isaac starts but is immediately cut off by a large flash a light and sudden blast of wind that would’ve knocked him down if not for the door behind him. 

Suddenly, the fact that you are shirtless in front of him is the last thing on his mind. He has bigger issues to discuss, namely the wings that were now sprouting out of your back. 

He is speechless as he takes in your new form. Your wings are birdlike—white like a dove’s but don’t look nearly as soft. Rather, the feathers look sharp enough to cut him if he were to touch them, a risk he’s debating taking as he continues to look at you, enthralled by what he’s seeing. 

You stand in silence for a few moments, waiting for him to finally say something. You look for any signs of fear or anger, but only see pure amusement. 

“…An angel…,” he manages to breathe out. 

You don’t even try to speak. Confirming or denying his claim is just as forbidden as outright telling him what you are yourself. Instead, you walk over to him, taking note of how he steps back—an impulse even he can’t shake—and immediately freezing in your spot. 

You lower your wings, not wanting to intimidate him. They weren’t as big as the others of your kind—a reason why you were cast out—but they’d seem big to anyone who’d never seen them before. Hell, the wings themselves are intimidating. 

At seeing your attempt to make yourself smaller, Isaac walks towards you. 

It wasn’t just the wings that were different about you. Your skin was glowing, radiating a soft light that was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Your eyes were sharper, not quite glowing but still brilliant enough to notice. It was like your entire being was made up of light. It was all so inhuman. 

Despite this—or maybe because of it—Isaac doesn’t hesitate in gently placing his hands on your both sides of your face, caressing the soft skin. 

“I’m not who I said I was, Isaac,” you say finally, almost too quiet to hear. 

“Strange, I don’t ever recall you ever claiming to be human,” was his response. 

You look up at him in disbelief. His tone was playful, but his eyes showed something different. You’d figured he was delirious from the shock, but he was quite serious. 

“I don’t understand. You’re…ok with this? That I kept this from you?”

Isaac pauses for a second to think before be responds. 

“After my grandfather showed me the video, I spent months trying to find as much information on the supernatural as possible. I didn’t follow any threads that would put on their radar, but not knowing anything about these creatures that I was suddenly now aware of was difficult. I needed to do something to ease the uncertainty I was facing.” 

He had moved his hands from your face, opting to hold yours instead, squeezing them in comfort. 

“The research I did was quite extensive and I managed to find quite a lot of information once I weeded out the websites and blogs that were obviously written by humans who had no idea what they were talking about. There were hundreds of entries, both by creatures writing about themselves and by those who hunt them.”

His face hardens. 

“The hunting records were endless. Reports of entire clans being massacred, the best ways to torture every kind of creature you could think of, their strengths and weaknesses, the trafficking of supernatural creatures for purposes of protection or… other unsavory reasons. All of these records claiming that the supernatural are dangerous, yet only showing the cruelty towards them at the same time. I thought that the video of the werewolf being tortured was bad, but it was nothing compared to what I found afterwards.”

His expression becomes intense as he brings you close to him, minding the wings as best as he can.

“You know my stance when it comes to human nature. We are weak compared to the supernatural, but we aren’t innocent by any means. Humans are cruel and seek out any and all kinds of power for the sake of their own advancement... You were protecting yourself. I can’t blame you for that.” 

You weren’t sure when it started, but his final words made you realize that you’d started crying. Once coming to this realization, you bury yourself further into his chest, feeling his arms hold you tighter to him as well, now letting your wings cut him as much as they want.

“You’re you. It doesn’t matter if you’re not human. Everything you’ve shown me in the time we’ve known each other has only proven that you’re better than any other human could be—even without having so-called ‘humanity.’ I love you. That hasn’t changed, nor would it have changed over something like this to begin with.” 

You pull back slightly and he wipes the tears from your eyes as you finally speak up again.

“You really mean it? This doesn’t bother you?”

At this, Isaac looks offended that you’d even ask those questions.

“My feelings for you aren’t so fickle that they’d disappear over something like this,” he asserts with a tinge of a tease in his voice, hoping to lighten the mood. “It doesn’t matter what you are, you are mine—” 

He pauses and lifts your chin once again.

“—and I am yours,” he finally finishes. 

When he leans over to kiss you, you let him take over, trusting his words fully as he shows you his determination. Your mind is a blur of all kinds of emotions as you melt into his soft yet somehow still firm hold. When you finally pull away, you’re breathless from the sheer intensity of it all. 

It’s also once you pull away that you realize you’ve been shirtless for the entirety of this conversation. Suddenly embarrassed, you shift back into your wingless form—much to Isaac’s disappointment—and rush to pick up the shirt you were wearing to put it back on. 

As you quickly—and shyly—put on your shirt, you take notice of Isaac’s own appearance, or rather the cuts covering his arms where he’d made contact with your wings. Your eyes widen as you rush over, apologetic over having hurt him unintentionally. 

Before you can say anything or apologize, Isaac cuts you off: “Don’t. I did this to myself. Besides, they’re more like scratches than anything. It’s nothing to worry about.” 

He sighs as he sees your guilty expression. An expression he reasons is due to his injuries, but is rather something much deeper.

“…The first aid-kit is in the bathroom. You can patch me up if you’d like.” 

You perk up at his offer, quickly rushing to the bathroom to grab the first-aid kit as he’d requested. It’s not hard to find by any means—meant to be easily accessible for emergencies—but you’re delayed by your own thoughts. 

You should’ve been defeated by the fact that you couldn’t heal him in the same way others of your kind easily could’ve in your position. You should’ve wished to be as strong as them, to be worthy of calling yourself [redacted], but for once in your life you weren’t. 

Here you were, living a life with a man who loves and accepts you for who you are. Even if it’s just the two of you, you finally have a home and family. You have a purpose, whether it be being Isaac’s life partner or a private investigator. You were actually glad to have been cast out, to have been abandoned and left to fend for yourself. All of the pain and suffering—

“Having trouble finding it? I’ll try looking for it downstairs. I may have left it down there.”

You smiled to yourself. Right, you had a job to do. This reflection can come later. 

“Nope, it’s right here! I’ll be there in a bit!”

The day would come when you’d finally grow strong enough to protect the two of you, to tell Isaac of your upbringing and the reason why you were cast out—or at least as much as you were allowed to—but that would come in due time. Right now, you’d help in the way you knew how, and that was more than enough. 

[literary-motif]

I'm Not Open To New Ideas

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

You find Isaac drowning his sorrows in alcohol.

Warnings: drinking

The hesitant knock on the closed door of the study tore him out of his thoughts. Isaac scowled. Had he not told you to leave him alone? Had he not given you the evening off to bury your nose in one of the books of the library and leave him alone?

He clicked his tongue, swirling the whiskey in his tumbler. “What?” he snapped. 

You creaked open the door, poking your head inside the dimly lit study. Your gaze immediately fell to the desk where Isaac had toiled away for the better part of the day and — in true insomnia fashion — most of the night. The massive dark wood struck an imposing image that suited the subtle feeling of grandeur of the room. It was filled with papers, the large shelf behind it containing countless binders and occasionally a loose beige folder of what you supposed were files of particular cases. 

The large black leather chair behind it was empty. You frowned, gaze sweeping over the cabinets full of more papers and bottles of golden liquor you knew to be whiskey — Hibiki Suntory Japanese Whiskey, to be exact — before settling on him.

Isaac sat on the couch at the other end of the room, a half-empty bottle of blended whiskey on the coffee table in front of him. His suit jacket lay discarded on the arm of the couch, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and tie loosened. He looked disheveled, black strands of hair falling into his eyes and projecting such a striking contrast to the put-together man you had viewed previously. 

His appearance made you freeze, second-guessing your intentions. Perhaps it was best to leave him be. Your acquaintance was new, and pushing him in this state seemed like a highway back onto the streets. 

His gaze was dark as he looked at you. “What do you want?” he asked. 

You swallowed, lingering in the doorway as you suddenly felt very out of place. “I—uh—” you stuttered, his eyes boring into you making you lose your train of thought. This had been a horrible idea. You should have listened to him when he said to take the evening for yourself and not bother him. 

His eyes narrowed in annoyance, the displeasure on his face making your heartbeat quicken. The light of the shielded lamp next to him caught on the glass in his hand, giving the whiskey an almost ethereal glow as he emptied his glass for the umpteenth time that evening.

“I wanted— I made dinner,” you said, stumbling over your words. “I found a cookbook in the library and tried the Curry Rice. Would you—?”

“No,” he said. His voice was cold, chilling you to the core. Isaac leaned forward, snatching the bottle from the table to pour himself a healthy amount again. 

You swallowed the disappointment at his harsh dismissal, eyeing his actions wearily. It would be best not to push, you reasoned. Isaac was in a precarious state. Something told you he was half-drunk, trying to bury whatever turned his gaze so vacant when he looked outside and made him bury himself in work until three in the morning. 

Some things weighed heavily on the mind, you knew. Some things were too heavy for a heart to handle. Some things drove a usually composed man to seek refuge at the bottom of a bottle. 

“I made it for you,” you admitted quietly, shifting your weight awkwardly and gathering the courage to face him again. “I saw a note on the page where—”

“Don’t.”

“I can prepare you a plate,” you offered, a hint of desperation creeping into your tone. You knew you shouldn’t care so much, but it was more than you could take watching the man who saved your life drowning in his sorrows. You were his housekeeper — part of you liked to believe you were his friend as well. “We don’t need to eat dinner together, I can bring it here instead. I just want you to—”

Isaac held up a hand to silence you. His expression reminded you of a black sky before a hazardous thunderstorm. You could feel the tension in the air. Any minute, a clap of thunder would ring through the atmosphere, paralyzing the world around you in sudden shock. He picked up his drink. “Get out.” 

“Isaac,” you tried, disregarding the warning look he shot your way. You were pushing too far, but you did not care. It felt wrong to leave him alone with his vice now that you could offer him an alternative. 

Perhaps you had not won his complete trust yet — still in the dark about the demons that plagued him — but you did not need to know his life’s story to care about him. 

“I’m trying to show you that there are other ways. You aren’t alone any—”

“Listen,” he snapped, cutting you off immediately. “I don’t need your company. I don’t need your pity. I have all I want” — he raised his glass, making the whiskey swirl dangerously close to the edge — “right here. So kindly: Get. Out.”

You stepped back, the bitterness in his voice catching you off guard. 

His gaze was trained on you as he took another generous gulp of whiskey. 

Your disappointment hung heavy in the air, but you kept your mouth shut. Taking the handle, you paused in the doorway. “I’ll leave it in the oven if you change your mind,” you muttered, not bothering to turn around and face the expression of searing apathy you knew you would find on his face. “Goodnight, Isaac.”

Whatever things he was washing away with his whiskey must have been stronger than he anticipated. In the morning you got up early as usual, finding him passed out on the couch in the living room, the cookbook you had leafed through the evening prior cradled against his chest, open on the page of the Curry Rice. 

As you looked closer, you found little wet spots on the note you had followed in your recipe. ‘Add extra honey, little Isaac’s favorite’ it read, the neat cursive now smeared from the droplets of tears that had been shed on it. 

In the kitchen, a serving of Curry Rice was missing.

[chol1na]

this was so cute~ i die for soft fluffy content (especially in this community hehe). super well written i loved the format!!!!!

could you maybe write something on xanthus, kayson, or isaac comforting their partner? i feel like they’d have interesting methods hehe~

(ʏᴏᴜ) ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴀʀᴍ - ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ☆

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: xᴀɴᴛʜᴜꜱ ᴄʟᴀɪʙᴏʀɴᴇ, ᴋᴀʏꜱᴏɴ ᴍᴀʏᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪꜱᴀᴀᴄ ʀʜᴏᴀᴅᴇꜱ.

i did this in headcanon form if that’s alright lovely <3 i couldn’t decide on who to write for so i did them all :)) !

gender neutral reader as always :)

tw/cw: none!

xᴀɴᴛʜᴜꜱ ᴄʟᴀɪʙᴏʀɴᴇ ･ ｡ﾟ☆ -

• would detect straight away if your feeling upset or a little down (from the bond of course, and he’s a vampire :33 )

• would definitely be the type to quietly ask “are you alright love?” or “what’s the matter?”

• would listen to EVERY word, and i mean EVERYTHING.

• if it was about your feelings, he’d hold your hand while listening and then slowly pull you into a hug, wrapping one arm around your back and the other on your head, rubbing up and down to soothe you.

• if it was about your body / or dysmorphia, he would be the type to kiss gently across the parts where your feeling insecure, and then seal it off with a kiss, to make sure you know he’s being truthful (would probably give you a hug again lol)

• if you were to cry, i feel like a part of him would be upset too. he can’t bear to see you cry.

• would hold your face and wipe away your tears while shushing you, looking gently into your eyes and smiling softly.

• if you needed to cry onto his shoulder, he’d gladly let you, letting you take all the time you need. he knows humans are fragile and need to let out their emotions every once in a while.

• would NOT CARE if you got his shirt soggy, as long as you are feeling better that’s all that matters.

• if you didn’t want to talk or just wasn’t in the mood, BUT still wanted comfort, he’d beckon you to lie down with him on his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you, and draw soothing circles onto your palms slowly.

• wouldn’t mind at all about the silence if that’s what you wanted, he’d probably end up listening to your breathing or heartbeat the whole time anyway <33

˗ˋˏ°• ᴋᴀʏꜱᴏɴ ᴍᴀʏᴇʀ -

• now we’ve already seen him comfort listener a few times in his audios, but i’m gonna list headcanons anyway 🙏

• he’d probably detect it straight away, but not say anything until he’s aware you know that HE knows that your off.

• he’d probably drop hints throughout the day, like silently rubbing circles into your knuckles while holding your hand, or asking “are you alright?”

• would wait until you get home to ask you what’s wrong, as he doesn’t want to panic you in a public space.

• if you were venting and suddenly burst into tears while speaking, he’d pull you in and let you sit on his lap, stroking your hair and gently rocking you back and fourth to calm you down.

• would sit there ALL day listening to you, he just wants you to be happy :((

• if the issue was something he could do about it, he’d get involved and help you sort it out (if that makes sense 🗣️)

• if not, he’d hold your hands and tell you that things will get better, and that it will all work out in the end ❤️‍🩹

• again, would be the type to not care how long you cry, it’s better out than in. he’d wait forever for you, as long as your okay in the end :))

ɪꜱᴀᴀᴄ ʀʜᴏᴀᴅᴇꜱ + *.☽ .* -

• he’d be SO concerned, he’d probably think something huge has happened.

• he’d probably be the dense type that wouldn’t really know what to do.

• if he caught you crying, he’d probably sort of ask questions quickly like “what happened? are you alright? did something happen?”

• poor man is traumatised ☹️

• he’d listen intently, understanding you straight away. he’d probably say things like “i get it.” or “i understand what your feeling.” to try and comfort you more.

• if you wanted a hug, would probably wrap his arms around you, guide your head to his shoulder, and sort of pat you gently on the back ? (he’s trying his best)

• if you were crying onto him, he’d probably whisper things like “it’s okay.” and “it will be fine.”

• would probably ask again if anything has happened, just to make sure.

• if you wanted to stay with him, i don’t think he’d mind sort of cuddling on the couch with you nuzzled into him, just enjoying his presence.

• during this he’d probably put his hand on your head and very slowly stroke your hair.

• would probably make you a drink like a cup of tea or some juice after to hydrate you, and to make you feel better :))

• he’s trying his best okay <33

hi hi i hope this was okay :-)) ive never done headcanons before so this was sort of new for me so im sorry if this is a bit ‘rough’. also this isn’t proof read so please tell me if there are any mistakes <33

requests are open! thank you for reading <33

- jude 🌱

[beccixxiluv]

SOMEONE DO A JAMES X READER PLEASEEEEE

[someonelol1872]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐚𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 "𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞''⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝕱𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖞 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖌, 𝕷𝖊𝖙 𝖒𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊, 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝕴 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖔𝖗. 𝕬𝖑𝖑 𝕴 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖊. 𝕴𝖓 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘, 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖇𝖊 𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖊, 𝕴𝖓 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘, 𝕴 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 -Frank Sinatra, Fly Me To The Moon ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Isaac wandered into the living room, drawn by the intoxicating scent of fresh paint mingling with the soft, familiar notes of your favorite music playing in the background. He paused in the doorway, his breath catching at the sight of you. There you were, lost in your artistic world, clad in an old, oversized shirt splattered with a rainbow of colors. Your hair was a wild, beautiful mess.

You didn't notice him at first, your attention wholly absorbed by the canvas before you. The brush in your hand moved with fluid, graceful precision. Isaac felt a surge of affection, mingled with an intense desire to hold you close, to become part of this beautiful moment.

He stepped closer, his footsteps nearly silent on the polished wooden floor. It wasn't until he was almost right behind you that you sensed his presence. Turning, a radiant smile lit up your face when you saw him. "Hey..." you said softly, "What do you think?"

Isaac's eyes flickered to the painting for a brief moment, but they quickly returned to you, drinking you in. "It's beautiful," he said in his calm, measured tone, his gaze on you unwavering.

A soft blush spread across your cheeks as you turned back to your work. "You're not even looking at it properly," you teased gently, dipping your brush into a fresh, vibrant color.

Isaac moved closer, his presence a warm, comforting cocoon around you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. "I am looking at something beautiful," he murmured, his voice a tender whisper against your ear.

You tried to turn your head to scold him, but he had a firm grip on you, gentle yet unyielding. "Isaac, you're going to make me mess up," you protested lightly, though your tone held no real annoyance, only affection.

He tightened his hold just a bit, "I can't help it," he said quietly, his voice filled with nothing but adoration. "You're simply too adorable."

You laughed softly, your body shaking slightly in his arms, "You're crazy," you said, though your tone was filled with tender affection and amusement.

Isaac turned you around gently, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. "Crazy about you," he admitted, his expression serious, his eyes soft.

You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with the same emotion. Leaning in, you kissed him softly, your lips warm and tender against his. Isaac felt his heart swell with overwhelming emotion, and he deepened the kiss, pulling you even closer, wanting to meld with you in this perfect moment.

When you finally broke apart, you rested your forehead against his chest, a contented sigh escaping your lips. "I love you," you murmured, the words a simple yet profound truth.

Isaac's lips curved into a rare, faint smile. "I love you more, Pickle," he whispered, his voice a gentle promise. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

[chol1na]

if you decide not to do anything because you're scared, then things will stay this way forever.

wip:

✮ pickle vs nihongo. (isaac)

✮ sakuverse character’s handwriting.

✮ my little leech (xanthus/lawrence)

✮ relativity (elias)

© chol1na