#it’s awful sometimes but it’s wonderful the rest of the time

[pearlescentparade]

BROKER X READER HEADCANNONS PLEASEE I CRAVEEE IT CAN BE NSFW OR GENERAL HEADCANNONS OR BOTHHH

this and other requests r what pushed me to accept npc requests LOL

⛓️‍💥broker x reader general + nsfw headcanons💝❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥💞

once you've caught his eye, you'd best give up on pursuing a relationship with anybody else. if broker sees any other inphernal attempting to court you (and he will, he has eyes everywhere), he'll approach them later and "make a deal". it's nothing fatal or sinister, he's only bribing them to never interact with you again. hey, if they could be paid off to leave you, they didn't deserve you in the first place! what he's doing is a good(?) thing for you! and once he finds you at your lowest after being lead on for the hundredth time, that's when he strikes

"aw, why's a pretty demon like you moping out here all alone?"

"...just some bad luck with love, you wouldn't wanna know."

"oh, but i'm sure i do! say, how's about i make a little offer to you? it's simple, if you smile for me, i'll be your boyfriend! now i don't mean to toot my own horn but i-"

"-ah! look at that darling grin! so you accept my terms? wonderful, then i'll be seeing you around, sweetheart~"

broker is considered a highly dangerous individual, manipulating and cheating to get his way. but with you? nothing but innocent smiles and giggles. he's all over you with honeyed words and affectionate gestures (hugs, kisses, and the like)

the pet names are endless. just when you think he can't get cornier, he can. honey boo-boo bear, schmookums, his cutesy wootsy pie, they're awful. your reactions to his latest terrible nickname for you only encourage him!

makes a habit of always touching you in some way, whether it be capturing you in a hug, holding your hand, or resting a hand on your shoulder. it makes you feel like he's constantly clinging onto you.. like he's an inseparable part of you... and he's more than aware of this.

sometimes he'll randomly show up at your house. even if you're not home, he can wait until you are! he especially likes to pop up in your bed after you've fallen asleep and greet you when you wake up. it's a fun surprise! though, you don't recall giving him your spare keys...

you learned about his detachable properties through a prank. he hugged you from behind while you were making breakfast, then pulled away to go to your dining area and wait for the food to be ready. it took a few seconds, but you eventually started to wonder.. if broker was in a different room, then who's hand was still wrapped around your waist? your scream of pure terror sounded so adorable, it makes the angry lecture he received afterwards worth it!

obviously, you're curious about what your boyfriend does for work. he's always showering you with expensive gifts and lavish dates, but where exactly does he get the bux for it...? yet when you ask, he states he's but a simple "merchant" and that "it'd do you better to not worry your pretty little head about it, sweet pea!" broker isn't ashamed of keeping you in the dark about his business

his colleagues hear all about you, all the time. every chance he gets, he'll gush about his amazingly cute partner. they're his 'family' after all! and soon, you'll make a delightful addition. scythe supports him wholeheartedly and find it adorable that he's found a lover, while medkit feels sorry for you

broker constantly insists on you meeting his 'family'. the thought made you nervous, what if they didn't approve of you? he seems well-off considering his occupation and wealth, what if his family looks down on you for not being as affluent? but broker only laughs when you express these concerns. they know all about you already, and they're dying to meet you! though, when you acquiesce and go to meet his family, you don't expect to be dragged to a church..

your boyfriend never struck you as the pious type, so to hear him passionately rave about this church was a surprise. turns out, this community is the 'family' he was referring to, rather than a blood family you assumed you'd be meeting. it alleviates a significant amount of pressure, but you still hope for their blessing. you've nothing to fear though. as stated before, they've heard lots about you (more than you'd want them to know).

you will be indoctrinated into the cult. it's inevitable. you find yourself unable to refuse when broker takes up your hands in his, gets down on one knee, and asks you so kindly to 'join his family'. all he's missing is a ring for it to seem like a marriage proposal, but he can make arrangements for that. he's done so much for you.. you could do this for him, couldn't you? there's just.. one tiinnnyy condition that needs to be met.

broker hums as he rubs circles on your back, soothing your violent distress after the operation to remove one of your eyes. this is but the first sacrifice you will make for the sake of the family, he says. but doesn't he know you could care less about the stupid cult? doesn't he know you're only in this for him?

you constantly get the feeling that you're being watched when you're out. from a distance, broker grins as he watches you meekly glance up at the windows of buildings, frantically check behind you every few seconds, and run into stores to shake off the feeling. but even in the safety of a building, you aren't safe from his prying gaze. sometimes he'll come out and reveal himself to you, but other times? it's more entertaining to watch you squirm

being broker's partner means picking up calls from unfamiliar numbers. while he loved calling with you, he's always changing his contact. sometimes, to toy with you, he'll pretend that he's somebody else or that he's got the wrong number. it's beyond lovely to hear your disappointment quickly shift to excitement upon realizing that it's actually him

the first time he went missing, you were devastated. he's never liked to stay away from you too long, but he hadn't called or swung by... where could your lover possibly be? naturally, you set out snooping. you asked around to anyone willing to give you the time of day if they've recently seen a demon in a teal suit and an x scar above his left eye. many paled simply at the description, stammering out that 'they don't know who you're talking about' and immediately finding an excuse to leave the conversation. despite the questionable behaviors of the majority of demons you asked, you discovered from some accounts that he was last seen being arrested by the warden.

when you find him caged in the banlands, his reaction is.. different than what you expect.

"ah, you two finally came- what.. what are you doing HERE?!"

"i'm.. here to save my boyfriend? duh."

"no- NO, you're not- UGH! ..listen, you need to hurry on home. it's really not safe here, and if that warden catches you... gosh i don't even wanna think about what he'll do."

"but what about y-"

"toodaloo! sayonara!! ciao!! shoo, shoo!! ..i'll make it up to you once my coworkers bust me out, just- SCRAM!"

you'll never know how much it scared him to see you. did you think you were some foolish hero? if the warden happened to come around, there's no doubt in his mind that the tyrant would use you as blackmail against him. if torture and execution doesn't work on the broker, it sure would on his innocent partner. from then on, he's more careful about evading banhammer

thinks it would be incredibly romantic if he could replace all of his limbs with yours. permanently uniting the both of you into one body, it's the ultimate gesture of affection! he would never ever change out his parts again! alas, you would die in the process, and broker's life would be impossibly dull without his darling. oh well, he can't have his cake and eat it too

❤️‍🔥nsfw❤️‍🔥

broker's a switch, sometimes he likes to let you take the reigns and other times he'd prefer having you ruined under him

absolutely loves to edge you. what better way to remind you of his power than bringing you impossibly close to your climax only to still completely, dangling your sweet release right above you?

bothers medkit to switch out his lower regions for one with a bigger dick or a tighter vagina. you never know what you'll get, but rest assure that whatever it is will please you

regrettably, due to his condition regarding his nerves, broker can't feel pleasure (and thus, has no libido or any need to masturbate). but that doesn't mean he can't derive his own sense of pleasure from seeing you come undone

fortunately, due to his condition regarding nerves, broker has unlimited stamina, and can go for as long as he likes! which is until you physically cannot respond to him anymore

big on dumbification, he loves reducing you to nothing but a mindless whore who can only babble incomprehensively with the exception of 'yes' and 'more'

likes to switch his pace randomly to either make you beg for more or sob for him to slow down

100% a sadist, he'll purposefully strain your muscles as he spreads you or puts you in uncomfortable positions

he commissions the dollmaker to craft a voodoo doll of you complete with synced nerves, so that you can feel everything that he does to your mini version. while observing from a distance, he'll rob the crotch of your plush and watch you double over and cry out in a mix of arousal and shock. it's adorable to study you as you do your utmost to stifle your reaction and pretend like you're not getting fucked good by a phantom force. it's even better when you're with friends, and you scramble to improvise an excuse for your strange behavior

a total voyeurist. he'll watch you masturbate from your windows or even your closet, noting how you tense upon his gaze. even through your lust, you can recognize that familiar feeling of being stalked. whatever, if that peeping tom wants to watch you jack off, you'll give them a show. you wear your lacy lingerie, get extra vocal, and buck your hips vigorously into the bright teal vibrator that broker gifted you

he'll ring you up, ask you about your day, yada yada. and while you're talking, you can hear the erotic noises of faint slapping and heavy breathing coming from broker's side. as mentioned previously, broker can't feel pleasure. he's only doing this to arouse you, and swords, does it work

likes to detach one of his hands and place it anywhere on your body during sex. it can help to keep your legs spread open, grope your chest, pinch your clit, choke your neck, have its fingers being sucked in your mouth, he can be creative with it

his over-the-top sweet pet names transform into nasty nicknames when you're fucking. not only that, he'll do babytalk and call you things like his 'dirty little slut' in a high-pitched and condescending tone

any demons who still try to hit on you will receive a phone call later that night, and all they'll hear on the line is you and broker unmistakably fucking as your voice clearly cries out his name before it abruptly hangs up. it's about sending a message

the morning after, he's already gone (likely to go earn money for the church). but at the very least, he always leaves a few snacks and a glass of water with a note saying something alone the lines of 'i had fun last night C;' (parade postscript: this request kept deleting itself so it took way longer to put out my apolocheese)

[awkward-fink]

HC with a taller SO

Price - had never thought he would have a partner that would be taller than him

always was one of those that looked for a smaller one, better for the family pictures, he is the man of the house, the protector

took him a while to get away from that world view that the significant other needs to be smaller, that shapes and sizes don’t really matter when your heart is set on someone

now he can be the meanest ass with manners around the bar, make recruits shiver and tremble before his accomplishments, and he can lean against his SO if the world seems to much to bear

loves being able to just lean back into them, his eyes closed and his nose brushing along their neck without him having to lean down

saves him a lot of back pain

will reach up to cup your neck and yank your head down gently, kissing you with abandon away from prying eyes

no one's business who he is with, don’t you think?

keeps his SO private as long as he can

has you sitting in his lap, regardless that you are taller than him

Ghost

never quite cared about taller or smaller partner

sure, his need to protect always had him on the lookout for someone small to just tug underneath his arm or someone to curl into his side when they needed it

but he soon found out he could do all that and more with an SO that is actually taller than him

now he is the one leaning into the others side, breathing them in, letting their arm settle around his shoulders to lead him away from dump people who wanted to interrupt his date or his time for himself

would not let you kneel on the floor to get things or groceries from the bottom shelves, no Luvie, let him, its easier for him to reach down

he does still protect his SO, will posture in front of them, have them stand behind him to ream the fucking idiot calling you names a new one

he would kill for you, just give him the word and a direction

doesn’t make a fuss out of you, but will proudly linger at your side, glaring at everyone else

full body contact cuddling

Gaz

loves it

you are taller than him? Oh no problem, let him just be in awe of you 

loves that he will never loose you in a mall or anywhere else

loves to go shopping with you, but sharing your frustration when all the nice things happen to be too short on you or fall like a sack

let him hook you up with his sister and his aunt, yes? they can work wonders with fabrics and styles

finds all the online shops for you

actually tries to match your height once with highheels and loves the feeling of it

now he knows why women sometimes wear shoes like that, his legs look amazing!

Gaz also loves to just lay on you and be able to have his touch to the very top part of his head touch you

still wants to be big spoon

will sometimes make jokes about your height, but only lovingly

will ask you to lean down to kiss him in public

will unashamedly sit in your lap on occasion and love on you

Soap

loves this

loves you

cant keep his hands off of you, head tilted back to talk and grin and smile at you

proud to have you as his SO

“Did you see my partner? Yes, you can’t not have, they are absolutely best.”

if you are tall and strong enough to manhandle that man, he is going to ask you to marry him on the spot

loves comparing your palms and then lacing your fingers

has found out that you are ticklish and will abuse that fact to get what he wants

will call you for every item on the top shelves

but will also kneel for you and fetch you everything from the bottom rows, looking up at you with mischief in his eyes

will joke about getting a stepping stool so he can kiss you without one of you having to crane your neck

is the little wild spoon all over you and the bed and in general

feels best after a nightmare to be cocooned in your arms and your legs tangled with his while his head rests over your heart

makes all the dumb jokes “How is the weather up there?” and be proud on any of them

[fictionalcharactersownmyheart]

Light of the Flame

Touya x f!reader

‘We can’t know each other anymore, Touya. I’m a pro-hero now.’

Those words hit him like a punch to the gut. A pro-hero. Of course you were. Because you were perfect and good and everything he’d never be.

After waking up for the first time since that night at Sekoto Peak, Touya thought he would spend the rest of his years in solitude. He had no idea how wrong his prediction would be.

contains: strangers to friends to enemies to lovers, yes wild I know, slow burn, canon-typical violence, will follow the canon for the most part, hawks shows up in later chapters, fluff and angst

note: This fic begins with Touya and the reader at 16, though it'll soon get to them when they're older. I’ve always wondered how Touya lived during those years when he was on his own, before joining the League, which inspired this. I’ve written more chapters on AO3 already, but I’ve decided to put the first chapter here. Not sure if I’ll continue posting this one to tumblr, so if you’re interested pls do keep reading there! Link is at the bottom.

Chapter 1 - A Convenient Arrangement

When Touya was thirteen, he thought he’d died.

He woke up three years later to blinding lights and the sickeningly colorful walls of a nursery in a body he couldn’t recognize. Older, taller, and scarred.

The strange people he woke up to told him to stay, but Touya doesn’t do what people want. The only person whose words carry any weight is his father. He’d go back home, his father will welcome him back, and he’d be trained by him as before. And… Touya would make things right. He’d go to his family, apologize, and everything would be good again.

That fantasy shatters when he discovers the same cold, oppressive house. Unchanged. Through a crack in a doorway, Touya sees his replacement: a boy in familiar poses, fists clenched, face set in a look of raw determination. He sees his father, eyes angry and proud, training his new project without hesitation. There was no pause for the son he had lost. Did his death mean so little to them? That’s how fast they forget?

Replaced and forgotten, Touya clenches his fists and leaves the house with a rage simmering like embers reigniting into flame. With nothing to his name, he’d nicked a few items from a convenience store and made an abandoned building not far from the city his home. It would have to do.

He steals a laptop to entertain the mind. He finds a mattress in the abandoned building, dirty and decaying, but it was no worse than returning to the house he grew up in.

He spends hours - days, weeks - watching videos of Endeavor, learning his techniques. In that way, he was still being trained by him. Videos of people praising Endeavor fills his heart with endless rage, and it’s enough to drive him to wake up the next morning.

Touya quickly accepts that this would be his life for the years to come. It'd be a life of solitude, but his chance at a normal life died three years ago at Sekoto. He would be better alone. He’d train, and swore to eventually expose his father. Touya would often envision the confrontation - his father’s face twisting in disbelief as he laid bare the truth. He envisions a face of regret, of pain, and sometimes he envisions his father in awe of how far his quirk had come. Though he never envisions the latter without pure, unbridled hurt accompanying his father’s expression.

As he sits in the corner of the room lost in these thoughts, a month into his solitary routine, a sound breaks through the silence.

Footsteps echo through the building.

Touya tenses. The sound ignites panic in his chest, but he quickly shakes it off. Whatever. He’d burn his way through, as usual. He stays silent, listening attentively. There's only one person, it seems. The footsteps become louder. He prepares to see some criminal - who else would enter an abandoned building? But that's nothing he can't handle-

A girl his age walks in, adorning sportswear. You.

He observes you quietly, his body relaxing all at once but his mind still on guard. You don’t notice him and put your bag down, sighing. The stress of school has been catching up to you, so you regrettably haven't been able to return to this building in a while.

As you turn you see a white haired boy - wearing a black jacket, loose jeans and slouched in the corner of the room - and let out a startled yelp, jumping slightly.

"Oh my god! Holy shit- sorry, I’ve never seen somebody else here before-"

"Who the fuck are you?" Touya snaps, his defenses rising again. He was curious at first, but now all he registers you as is a nuisance.

Touya doesn’t know how to deal with you. This building doesn’t belong to him. Also, the most he’s ever done was burn down that nursery and steal. Can he really threaten some girl away? Or worse?

You freeze for a moment, taken aback by his tone. You give him your name. "I’m… I’m usually here to train. I haven’t seen you before." You take note of the light pink burn marks on his face.

"Well, I haven’t seen you, and I’ve been here for a month." He shoots back.

You huff. "That’s because it was exam season. Couldn’t come for a bit. Didn’t you have that too?"

He pauses. There’s no need to reveal information about himself. But also, he hasn’t had a real human conversation in three years. He decides he can let himself entertain this. "I don’t go to school."

"Oh, shit" That’s when you notice the mattress, the resources at the back - right. You really screwed that one up, well done. "Oh, well, I’m sorry." You pause. Clearly he needs this space more than you. You consider leaving, finding another building, but this is the closest one to your house. "...D’you mind if I continue training here?"

"Yes”

"Okay great-"

"I said yes. I do mind."

"Oh."

He sees you stuck in place, clearly hesitant to leave. He feels the need to tell you to fuck off, to leave him alone, but a month alone with nothing but Endeavor's face on a screen had become a little unbearable. "…you said you were training?"

You grin, an eager spark igniting in your eyes. "I wanna be a pro-hero-" Touya immediately groans, "-I know it sounds like some stupid dream everyone has when they’re, like, twelve. My quirk isn’t much right now, but in theory, it could be super useful."

He eyes you up and down. For an aspiring pro-hero, your frame is a little weak. You don’t hold yourself with confidence- and, shit. Now memories of training with his dad come rushing back to him. He quickly pushes them aside. "What’s your quirk?"

Oh, so now you look excited, he notices. You eagerly extend a hand out slightly, pointing a finger. The light from the setting sun pouring into the window becomes a little dimmer, and you create a projection of a small, glowing bird flying through the air. Light manipulation? It lands on Touya’s shoulder. He can feel a slight weight. No. That, and light materialization.

He looks at you unimpressed. "That’s it?"

You panic. "Wait- don’t you see? If I manage to create bigger things- I could make any weapon I’d like. I could also materialize light under my feet as I step, and then I’d be able to travel through air- look, I’ve been trying-"

He observes as you lift a foot. Sure enough, he sees a slight glowing platform form underneath.

"But it’s not strong enough yet to carry my weight" you continue, "It’s a work in progress."

Your determination feels oddly nostalgic, Touya thinks.

"What about you?" you chirp up, "What’s your quirk?"

He hesitates. He creates a blue flame in his hand, and you gasp in awe.

"Pretty flame… and powerful. God, you’d make a great pro. You’d easily get into UA."

He ignores the pro-hero comment. That’s a dream he can’t entertain again. "UA? You trynna go there?"

You nod. "Mhm. Their entrance exam is in a few months. Otherwise… My parents really want me to go to a normal highschool. But they’re willing to hear out my stupid dream for a little, I guess",

"Stupid dream, alright" Touya mutters, mulling over something. He figures he can turn this situation in his favor. After all, what good is training if he can’t practice against someone? You seem pliant. He’s sure asking some villain to fight with him would be more trouble than he needs at this stage. And if he does tell you to get out, he’ll have to find somewhere else to stay incase you tell somebody, which he sure as hell doesn’t want to do after spending ages finding a suitable building. He could also… get rid of you, or threaten you, but given that he’s currently working with nothing, maybe you can be of use. After a pause, he looks at you directly and decides to speak. "You can keep training here. As long as you train with me."

You look at him dumbfounded, eyes widening. What? "You would? You’re not messing with me?”

"Yes." He doesn’t know if he should find your reaction irritating or amusing. You seem naive and harmless enough that you wouldn’t go talking. Plus, you’ve been training in this dump. Doesn’t take him long to figure out you’ve been keeping your little training sessions private. "I need a sparring partner."

You have no idea who this dude is - hasn’t even given you his name - but you mull over his suggestion anyways. He seems confident in his abilities. Anyone else you’ve asked to train with you has brushed you off. So…

"Okay. Yes."

He stands. "Alright, we start today." He walks to stand directly in front of you, but retains a good distance. "Can you defend yourself?"

You sheepishly respond. "If you throw a ball at me, I can materialize a light shield and deflect. Figured that one out during dodgeball…"

He hums. "What about a flame?"

Your eyes widen a little, "I think that’s too much of a jump-"

"Gotta try."

With that, he ignites a small flame, its blue glow brightening the room. You brace yourself, anticipating his next move. He launches fire toward you, and you instinctively create a barrier of light, absorbing the impact whilst flinching away. The heat washes over you, and you can feel the strain of maintaining the projection.

"You need to be faster."

"That-" you look at him incredulously "you almost killed me!"

He rolls his eyes, scoffing. "That would’ve given your arm a burn at most. Do you want training, or not? You’ll face worse at UA.”

You huff, crossing your arms. "Give me a moment to prepare next time. And make your fire weaker-"

He laughs, slightly taunting but genuinely amused. His attitude irks you. Fine. You send a materialized boomerang at his face. He dodges easily.

"Easy there. Predictable, try harder." Touya’s smirk widens. Holy shit, he muses. He forgot what having fun was like.

He sends flames at you again - weaker this time, you note - and with much effort and frustration you create barriers. He continues until he notices that they’re becoming weaker.

"You need to counter-attack."

"I’m trying-"

"Then try harder.”

He continues his attack. You try your best, using one hand to shield, the other to send materialized darts at Touya. It’s the best you can do, for now.

"These darts are weak-"

"I can’t make anything stronger whilst I shield-", you shoot back in frustration.

After an hour of training, you suddenly let up, exhausted. You didn’t land a single hit. Touya stops his fire, barely tired, running on an adrenaline high. You try to catch your breath.

"Maybe-" you try to calm your breathing, panting, "Maybe they’re right- maybe I’m not suited for this- my quirk just isn’t made for it-"

Something about your resignation hits Touya harder than it should. A surge of heat rises through him, though he’s not angry - at least not at you. Another memory flashes in his mind.

"That’s not true." The words slip out before he can stop himself, coming out harsher than he expected like you’d just insulted him. He then stays silent, closing his mouth, unsure of how to follow that up.

"No, but it is-"

"You’ll train." He speaks against his own will again, with more conviction than intended. "You’ll train, and you’ll get better. You’re spouting bullshit."

"But you see, I suck-"

"Yeah you do. But that’s temporary." He wants to deck himself. Since when was he the type to comfort? But maybe, he knows exactly what you need to hear right now. And he can’t stop himself.

You look at him a little shocked, his encouraging words contrasting his harsh attitude from earlier. Your surprised reaction annoys him, and he’s about to throw an insult to make up for his words until you respond. "Okay…. Yeah, you’re right. I think I’m done for today, though…"

He watches you carefully as you pick up your bag, seemingly lost in thought.

"Are you always here?"

His immediate reflex is to say no. Because a normal person wouldn’t stay in an abandoned building all day. Because a normal person would have a family, or friends, or a hobby - but he doesn’t have any of that, not anymore. He only goes out to steal, and to use the public showers at a sports center.

"…yes" He hesitantly responds. "Yes, I am."

"Okay. I’ll be back then, weekly around this time. Or- well, I didn’t consider when you’d want me here."

"Anytime. Don’t care."

You stand there, pausing for a moment. He still hasn’t told you his name, you point out to him. He considers his options, then concludes you’re harmless enough. You won’t know any better.

"Touya."

You smile. "Okay. Well, nice to meet you, Touya. I hope I can be a good training partner… eventually."

He hums. He watches you wave at him and walk out of the building and the sun goes down. He sits back down on the rusty mattress, and for the first time he becomes acutely aware of how quiet the building is. There’s no hum from the air conditioning, no sound of Fuyumi and Natsuo playing in the courtyard, no sound of his mother running a bath for Shoto - no sound of the world moving on without him. He doesn’t know if he likes it or not.

His mind wanders back to you. He wonders whether he’d made a mistake agreeing to let you stay. I’m just using her, he thinks. It’s a convenient arrangement. I can actually spar with someone. Don’t have time for silly shit. She’s just using me, too.

But as he sinks into the worn mattress, a nagging thought lingers. A small, stupidly hopeful thought that creeps into the back of his mind - that maybe, for the first time in his life, he would worth something to someone. Touya hates to admit it, but he craves more of the admiration you expressed when he showed you his quirk.

He pushes down that thought as quickly as it comes, replaced by the satisfying image of his father looking up at him in anguish again. Right.

[givetomurasomechapstick]

MHA Pro Heroes, Big 3, and LoV x Artist!Reader part 1

Enjoy these silly headcanons I thought up... Also, there are not enough X Artist Readers out there and it's a shame.

Twice/Jin Bubaigawara (hopefully spelled correctly)

One word, don't ask him for advice; especially if you don't want negative feedback.

"Wow! That looks really good (N/N)!" But then less than 30 seconds later: "Ew! That sucks (Y/N)!"

Happens constantly if you ask him for advice, but if you learn how to deal with it, it can be easier.

Draw a drawing or paint a painting of him? He loves it; definitely more than his words can say.

"Wow (N/N) this looks great! You know you didn't really have to-" "I knew you knew you HAD to do this! But it looks terrible!"

Never take that to offense, his second personality seriously kills him emotionally when he says stuff like that to you; at least try to understand him a little bit, it'll make him feel better.

All Might/Toshinori Yagi

Showed it to him when he was All Might? He literally looked like that gif once you showed your art to him.

"Ms/Mr/Young (L/N), you really drew/painted that?"

Wondering who your mentor is 24/7, but if your self taught-

"Wait, your telling me YOU taught YOURSELF all this?!"

Literally in awe 48/14 for the rest of his life.

Yet again, don't show your art to him when he's All Might; he'll immediately become Small Might.

Hawks/Keigo Takami

"So, when are you gonna draw/paint me (again)?"

Yeah, ever since you showed him a drawing/painting you made (him or not) he's waiting for either you to draw him again or to get a painted portrait of himself.

Secretly extremely judgemental, would never show it tho.

Hawks now 24/7: (You holds up your notebook to write down random notes) Hawks: "Of your sketching me, make sure to get my good side."

But Hawks also at the same time: "Can you teach ME to draw/paint like that?"

Somehow persuaded you to teach him; don't ask me how 🫡

Nejire-chan/Nejire Hado

You showed her your art? She is now extremely interested.

Looking over your shoulder 24/7 now.

Wanted you to teach her how to draw/paint so you can be art buddies ^^

Just took out your canvas/sketchpad? "Hey! Hey! Are you done yet? Wow, that looks really good!" You literally just started and haven't even finished the head.

Will nonchalantly complement your art every chance she gets.

But she's also once for unfiltered feedback.

"The eyes look a little too big. Maybe next time move them to here! And those ears look too small. Make them larger!"

Make her your personal assistant. She will literally help make your art ten times better and she hasn't even started being an artist yet.

Tomura Shigaraki/Tenko Shimura

Don't. Please don't show him your art he has the ultimate level of criticism.

"Why does it look so stupid like that?"

Random headcanon: he likes to make art too. More preferably sketching.

If you DID make something S tier, he'll probably just mutter "Looks nice."

Likes your art... Sometimes... But it's a secret he'll take to his grave and beyond.

You tried to draw/paint him, he is literally starstruck. But also, he's still critiquing it.

"Is that really how you think of me?"

Secretly loves it. If you gave it to him, he considered putting it in a frame on his wall. Naw. He needs to make sure it doesn't get ruined. It's locked up in a cabinet now, you'll never know where it is.

Only wished he had the courage to sketch you.

Suneater/Tamaki Amajiki

No. You just broke him. Oh great.

He thought he didn't deserve you before, but now...

"Y-you drew that...? And it's for me...?"

That is IF you decided to give him a random good piece of art you had.

Flustered mess. Feels half dead out of embarrassment and emotions. Questioning life... Again...

If you attempted to teach him, he continued to practice and tried to draw/paint you. Although the drawing/painting came out extremely good, self-consciousness took over and he decided to bail the entire decision to give it to you.

However, he hanged it up on his dorms, PRAYING no one will notice and get the wrong idea.

Mirio: (See's the painting hanged up) "Oh! Amajiki, what's this?" (Tamaki.exe has stopped working)

Even more quiet around you, making everyone suspicious.

However, he's just embarrassed he attempted to even think about making you into a piece of art when you already are one.

Mirio and Nejire got some ideas tho 😏😏😏

[wildsaltair]

this might be too personal of a question so please disregard if it is!! but i’ve been recently thinking of making a career change and going back to teaching (it was something i always wanted to do, but i got sidetracked towards another job in the meantime) and i saw in one of your tags that you’re an english teacher! and seeing as how i would look to go into that field / subject (and the fact that i also enjoy analyzing russell crowe’s films and microexpressions☺️) i wanted to see if you would share your opinions about it? do you enjoy it / would you recommend to others? and do you still feel fulfilled and able to enjoy your interests in tandem with it (given this blog i sure hope so!). anyways, just really happy i came acroos your blog and when i saw that tag too, i figured why not ask!

Oh my goodness hi, friend!! Thank you so much for sending this — I’m so glad you reached out 😊 I’ll be glad to answer anything you want to know! I actually talk about my job very rarely on here (I also obsess over analyzing all Russell’s microexpressions; it’s like a madness with me), so thank you for asking :)

(gonna add a page break here because I wrote WAY more than I thought I was going to)

Yes, I love a lot of aspects of teaching!! I’ve only been doing it for a few years, but I absolutely love working with students and meeting them where they are. Getting to know their interests, inspiring them to try new things, and helping them feel confident about hard skills (like writing paragraphs) is so fulfilling. I also love the organizational / planning aspect of teaching, as well as the content I get to teach. Reading and writing are my big hobbies :)

I also love getting to be in a leadership position because that’s very natural for me, and I enjoy getting to be the one who makes decisions about curriculum, pacing, and activities. I’ve gotten my curriculum down pretty well these days, so I’m able to enjoy teaching familiar activities instead of being worried about what I’m going to teach tomorrow haha :D

Finally, I love that every day in the classroom is a new challenge. No two days are alike. Yes, you have all kinds of problems to solve (and there are some absolutely insane things that happen in high school, I’m telling you), but you will certainly never be bored :D Every student is unique, and every day is a chance to start over fresh with new ideas. It’s probably the most dynamic, challenging, fast-paced jobs in the world.

I have to admit though, there are a lot of things that make teaching really difficult and discouraging. Classroom management (especially in a public high school) can be so challenging, especially when you have a lot of students with behavior issues or attitude problems. There are a lot of days where I just don’t want to go back to work because I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything and that I’m wasting my time trying to teach things that don’t matter. But what I’ve learned in that is that teaching English is fairly marginal: it’s the relationships that make teaching worth it.

Also, balancing the difficulties of the state / county’s expectations is A LOT. Professional development, teaching standards, licensure requirements, etc. the list just goes on and on. I always have clear plans for what I want to do with my classes, but I have to plan around what my administrators and county curricula require of me :/

Also, seeing students’ awful home lives is heartbreaking for me and adds a lot of stress. Seeing students struggle with addiction, abuse, suicide, violence, anxiety, bullying, depression, etc. etc. is the hardest thing to cope with. You get so attached to your students because you’re with them every day trying to help them think through their work, and when you get glimpses into the terrible things they have to deal with outside of school, it’s really hard. It’s doubly hard because there’s only so much you can do — you can encourage them and be their mentor and friend, but you can’t fix their problems for them.

So to actually answer your questions 😄 teaching is very fulfilling in a lot of areas, but you have to be ready for all the difficulties. I’d recommend teaching to anyone who is willing to be patient, kind, and engaging with their students, because teachers are in a unique position to impact so many lives, and a lot of them make students’ lives miserable because they’re uncaring, harsh, or needlessly cruel. (But I know you wouldn’t be thinking about going into teaching unless you were already willing to do that!!)

I think teaching is a true calling, and if you feel called to it, you should look into it! Depending on what state you live in, you could always try a TA or substitute position to get a feel for the classroom experience, then make your decision from there. There’s genuinely no formal education that can prepare you for teaching — it’s a trial by fire every single day, and you just have to experience it to know if it’s for you.

Finally, yes, I find time to balance my personal life with my teaching job! I read several books a month, take care of my dog, keep my cactus alive, visit friends on the weekends, and obsess over Russell Crowe / his characters every day (as everyone knows hehehe). Granted, I’ve never been in a romantic relationship during my teaching career (which I think could be a challenge), but I have lots of teacher friends who manage that. I think you’ll find time for whatever you’re willing to make time for.

I hope this answers your questions!! Sorry for the long post, but I love talking about my job haha. I don’t know if it’s going to be a lifelong career for me (I like to try new things constantly, so I may switch to a new career eventually), but right now I do love teaching, even with all its challenges and frustrations. If you ever have any more questions or want to chat about teaching, I’d love to!! I would also love to chat about Russell Crowe’s microexpressions anytime you’re in the mood for that haha. Thank you for dropping in, and I wish you the best with whatever you choose!!!

[napping-sapphic]

Honestly so good that I’m too shy to talk to people because I’m like 80% sure my impulsive ass would just ask strangers if they wanted to try to fall in love just to see if we could

[0tul1ss]

.

[sugurizz]

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬 ✧ Feat. JJK MEN

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ── Jjk Men in their -real- Daddy era. (Am I secretly having a baby fever LMAOO)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ── fluffy stuff, pure wholesomeness and affectionate dads.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

It's safe to say that sometimes you're raising two babies - only one of them is a big buff pouty one.

Daddy Toji sneaks to the kitchen in the middle of the night, leaving you both sleeping in your shared bedroom and then slowly closes the door. He promised himself he'd only take one *unnoticeable* spoon of your newborn's baby formula but ends up stuffing his face with the forbidden powder in the heat of the moment. He tries his best to hide his tracks by shoving the tin somewhere far in the cupboard.

He *oddly* always makes sure to be the one preparing his baby's bottle the next day - 'Oh darling, don'tcha move a muscle...I'll be right back with our baby's breakfast!'

You smile and raise a brow, already suspecting something. Daddy Toji is not much of a morning person. much less when it comes to baby chores...

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Gojo is always there whenever you change your baby's diaper. He keeps laughing and giggling like a 6 year old, curiously learning from his baby momma how to take care of his little child. His sky blue eyes are staring at your skilled hands, handling your precious little one with infinte care. He keeps smiling in awe, chuckling every time your baby farts and making the funniest faces just to make them giggle.

He takes a million pictures of his baby every day; we're talking his whole camera roll is just his baby's face, cutesy hands, tiny feet, smiling, eating, sleeping on daddy's chest, drooling on his shoulder...the list never ends.

His baby looks so smol when he holds it in his huge hands. He has to bend all the way down just so he could pick them up cause obviously my dude is the tallest man ever.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢

He'd take full care of your newborn just to see you rest and relax. He told you to teach him everything he needs to know so that he'd be perfectly fit for his new -and best ever- occupation; your baby father. He's got however only one pet peeve; getting his little one to burp after feeding them.

The reason? He was doing it once, holding the baby while gently patting its back...until he suddenly felt a warm liquid slithering down his shirt - the expensive one you dearly gifted him on your wedding anniversary- and to his surprise it was none other than his little one's vomit dripping down his shoulder...

Now he makes sure you hold a napkin behind him whenever he does it.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨

He's by far the chillest Daddy EVER. Carries his little one whenever he goes. Gets super jealous when your baby starts calling for you, or wants you to hold them instead of him. He's determined to make them say 'daddy' first, but deep down knows it'd melt his heart when he sees the little version of him utter mommy's name for the first time.

Staying awake at night putting his baby to sleep just so you can get your full nightly rest is something he'd never miss out on. He hates seeing you tired or sleepy and puts both of your needs before anything else.

Daddy Geto is always calm and smiley, no matter how much mess his baby makes or how long it'd take for him to clean it up - sometimes makes you seriously wonder how he manages to be so damn chill all the time.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

For a husband twice your size with four arms and eyes he sure should take most care of your little offspring - He does tbf - His baby is always laying somewhere on his body or at least near him; sleeping against his chest, nibbling on his thumb, drooling on the side of his shoulder or sitting on his huge lap.

He's got a 6th sense whenever it comes to his baby being hungry, thirsty, sleepy or needing anything at all. Instantly knows the reason why his little one is crying and most of the time is very quick to make them happy again.

Absolutely hates poopie smell and calls them a brat whenever he senses their diaper getting heavier. 'Aggh you little runt!' You can't help laughing at him getting overwhelmed with such a tiny thing and start teasing him over it.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐘𝐮𝐮𝐭𝐚

There's nothing that Yuuta loves more than children. He has always wanted to have kids and couldn't wait to create his very first and own one with you. He's in LOVE with seeing you taking care of them; almost admiring every move and every word you say. He smiles like an idiot whenever he sees you holding your baby, breastfeeding them, playing with them or even laying next to them.

His favorite game is to hide somewhere in the house and let his little one look for him. He does it so suddenly and quickly, leaving them puzzled with big round eyes - comes out of his hideaway when they start sobbing and laughs at their little red nose and pouty cheeks.

'Aww why is my little cupcake cryiiing?...Daddy's right here!'

[luveline]

hey lovely!! can we maybe get some more pregnant bombshell and spencer??

“What I’ve decided,” you say, reclining back against Spencer’s lap with all the air of a resting empress, “is that I don’t actually like being pregnant.” 

Spencer startles, as does Hotch. JJ doesn’t flinch. “It’s awful,” she says. 

You’re too pregnant to terminate the pregnancy, now. Thirty weeks, your stomach a bump you pretend doesn’t exist when you aren’t holding a hand to it. “I love my baby,” you say, letting Spencer relax again underneath you, “but this is inhumane.” 

“It’s one of the most human experiences you could ever live through,” Spencer says. People have been having babies since the beginning of time. 

“I wonder if you’d feel that way if you were the pregnant one.” You slip further down into his lap, shuffling across the jet’s couch to let your head rest on his thigh. Your chin tips up, your lips curling into a painted smile. He could kiss every bit of lipstick off of your mouth if you didn’t have an audience. 

“I just mean, it’s intrinsically human to reproduce. Not that your feelings aren’t real. Sorry.” 

“Ooh, sorry,” you mumble, giving him a playful, almost daring smirk. “Doghouse for you, handsome. You know you’re supposed to agree to everything I say.” 

“I know.” 

“Is it hard?” Hotch asks. Not unaware that it is, in fact, very hard, but probing you to open up further should you want to. Spencer probably should’ve asked you first, he thinks. He holds your face in apology. 

“Hotch, it’s like… It’s hard because it doesn’t stop. Sometimes I don’t notice, I don’t feel any different, but when I’m nauseous or when it’s barely five and my back aches like I’ve been carrying a dumbbell all day… I don’t know.” 

“It’s alright to not enjoy it,” Spencer says. “You don’t have to think it’s fun. You can hate every second of it, if you want.” 

“I don’t. Really, I don’t. Just tired.” 

“You could be in the field less,” Hotch suggests. 

You cover your eyes with your hand. “Don’t suggest big things to me.” 

“It’s up to you when you want to stop. But don’t think you can’t take a break. Even if next week you want to come back.” Hotch smiles. “After all, you’re the brains of the operation. You can consult through video, like Penelope.” 

You laugh at being called the brains, stretching your legs out, stockings shining down the lengths of you like they’ve suffered a sudden rain. “It’s not about being tired. I’m exhausted, but it’s just strange sometimes, that’s all. I don’t always feel like me.” 

Spencer lets his hand fall to your chest, rubbing a short line under your collar he hopes is soothing.

“It’s the emotional aspect too,” JJ says. “All the hormones.” 

“Yeah, it is,” you say. 

Spencer hears the unhappiness threaded in your tone, but he’s not sure what to do. Hotch and JJ realise you’re done talking for now and return to their own devices, a new quiet descending over the jet, the only sound the rush and hum of air. Spencer keeps on rubbing that same spot over your chest. Your eyes close. He knows you too well to think you’re sleeping. 

“Are you really unhappy?” he asks quietly. 

“No, Spence. Didn’t mean it like that.” 

“I know. It’s alright if you aren’t happy.” 

“I’m mostly happy.” 

“I want you to be a hundred percent happy.”

“I don’t think I can be right now.” 

He lets his pinky dip under the neckline of your shirt. Your skin is soft. “Okay. Don’t be happy if you can’t be. I’m here no matter what.” 

You sigh softly and twist on your side, your nose pressing into his stomach, the heat of your breath slowly transferring through his shirt to his skin. Spencer brings his hand around with you, holding the back of your neck as you make yourself comfortable. 

“I love you, I swear,” you whisper. “And her.” 

“I know it’s not about love. Pregnancy can be an evil, heavy, horrible thing to go through. Don’t feel like you have to pretend it’s not. There’s gestational diabetes, morning sickness, high blood pressure, night sweats, depression…” Spencer ducks down to press his cheek briefly to your temple. “If you liked all that, there’d be something wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with how you feel, okay?” 

“Okay.” You kiss his shirt. 

“Massage?” he offers. 

“Yes!” You wriggle closer to him and shiver happily as his hand finds the knot between your shoulders. “That’s a pro for this whole ordeal. You could open a massage parlour with hands like that. They’d call it Reid’s Reflexology.” 

“Yeah? Is that a hint for a foot massage?” 

You giggle like you’ve been tickled. JJ groans in her seat with reluctant fondness, while Hotch murmurs, “Let’s keep it PG-13, please.” 

[kisakunt]

ODE TO THE V CARD!

description... losing virginity! taking the v card! getting laid!

warnings… honestly not many. just sex pretty vanilla

word from the writer… the gets killed is mid idk it’s not my best work but i tried ok guys

KILLERS

“aw, look at you,” his hands knead at your breasts, head dipping down to press a coy kiss to the side of your lips. “so sensitive.” you shudder at the contact, whine passing from your lips when he rocks his hips against you. “gonna make you feel good, yeah baby?” he loves you like this, so confused and needy under him, pure and vulnerable and so okay with him ruining you. his thumb hooks along the curve of your waist, tracing the outline of your bare skin under him before resting on your clit, grin widening at the garble that leaves you.

“no one’s ever touched you here, yeah?” you think, by default, this makes you his. as if that would ever be a question to begin with. “no one’s ever made you feel like this?” his finger moves— not in the small circles you’ve heard about, but up and down, pressing just hard enough without alleviating the pressure. it’s dizzying, the way his callouses shift over your bud, his breath shallow but composed.

“you want more, doll?” you nod— scared, helpless, desperate. it’s a mess— hands reaching over for lube to make the experience easier for you (though you think, honestly, you might be wet enough as is), an anxious laugh bubbling at your lips while you pull your legs back in an almost birthing position. it’s real, intimate and deep between the two of you, authentic and honest and nothing like the porn you’d watch late at night thinking about him.

and when he finally does it— when he slowly inches himself in between your folds, rubbing your clit with the tip of his dick, teasing you, right before slowly breaking at your walls, it hurts.

he doesn’t bottom out immediately. even when he’s cruel, he’s nicer than that. he takes his time filling you up, before he develops a slow rhythm that makes you squirm.

“that okay?” it’s not as sweet as you’d intend it to be, selfishness laced inside the question. you nod pathetically, hair laid out under you and eyes hazy.

“good.” then, without a second thought, he’s really fucking you. and you can’t do anything but lay there, legs loosely around his waist, and take it.

MEGUMI, GOJO, TOJI, CHOSO

GETS FUCKING KILLED

he didn’t know what to expect. maybe some flare of passion; ripping clothes off, declaring love, crying even.

he didn’t think it’d be you; down on your knees, one hand at the base of his cock, your lips suctioned on the rest with your tongue swirling over the tip. he didn’t think he’d be breathy, moaning, desperate before even trying pussy.

you don’t let him cum. you do a good enough job, pulling back with a pop, and then you give him a little lopsided grin. you trace your fingers over him, swirling up the last of the precum.

“so,” you’re standing up now, leaning over him and licking your fingers. you make a show out of it, he can’t help but wonder how insanely experienced you are compared to him. “you wanna fuck me or what?”

he won’t be too eager. he knows he’s already about to make a big fool of himself, so he can’t make an ass of him too. he nods, diligently, thoughtfully, and wonders how you’ll take him.

he expects maybe for you to ride him, but you lay on your back and rest your hands under your thighs, ready to pull them up whenever.

“you gotta learn sometime. get to it!” he’s nervous. his hands rest right next to your hips, one of them raised trying to figure out exactly how to get inside. you laugh and he feels his world crumbling.

“here,” you grab his cock, lining the tip up with your hole, hand massaging it gently as you do. “there you go, baby. you got it.”

when he starts, it’s too sloppy. his hips stutter, they can’t find a proper rhythm, but then you tell him how. you boss him, telling him how fast to go, where to angle, how to hit. it’s more of a tutoring session than sex maybe, but then he does something that makes you gasp and he’s obsessed.

“yeah, yeah, harder. no— don’t speed up, i said harder.” he listens to your every word, and the sound of your wet, and the sound of his breaths, and he can tell he’s going to cum all to quick.

“fuck, sorry. fuck! sorry!” it couldn’t have been more than five minutes, honestly. but you bring your hand to his face and pull him down to you after he cums, kissing him soft and sweet.

“lot of potential there, mister.” you swipe your thumb under his eye and he squints. oh. he guesses there was crying involved.

SUKUNA, GETO, NANAMI, YUJI

[solxamber]

⋆˚✿˖ Twisted Wonderland Masterlist I˖✿˚⋆

Masterlist II

Heartslabyul

Trash Novel Chronicles: System vs World - Riddle x reader

You have a guilty pleasure: trashy villainess stories. So when you die a frankly, humiliating death, and end up in one of the worst ones you've had the pleasure of reading, you're in denial. Then the villain system shows up. Well, there goes your second chance at life So what do you do now? Do villainous things and cause as much chaos as you can, of course. And maybe, just maybe, bag the male lead, Riddle Rosehearts while you're at it.

This is Love - Riddle x Reader

3 times he notices your acts of love and realizes it doesn't have to be grand and overdramatic like the movies, it could just be like this– sweet and considerate.

Dragon's Favorite Sacrifice - Trey x Reader

Trey finds himself volunteering to be the human sacrifice to you, an ancient dragon, in place of his siblings. What he didn't expect was to become your housekeeper instead of being eaten.

Cocoa Conspiracy - Trey x reader {Request}

He knew you as his partner, the love of his life, but he didn't realize your real identity: a spy vying for pastry destruction.

Donuts and Dark Arts - Trey x reader

All Trey wanted to do was deliver the bread he was supposed to and be on his merry way. Instead, he stumbles on you... in the middle of a ritual?

Birthday Party - Trey x reader {Request}

Trey is more worried than suspicious when you keep disappearing and acting suspicious. He gets more worried when the rest of heartslabyul join in. (Spoiler alert: he doesn't need to be)

Crisis Averted - Cater x reader

After a royal screw up, Cater is left scrambling trying to fix his mistake before you find out. Best part? You've known what he did from the start and you think it's hilarious.

Moments in Bloom - Cater x reader

Cater’s life is a perfect illusion, curated with smiles and snapshots. But beneath the surface, he wonders—what would it be like to be truly seen? To finally stop pretending and let himself bloom?

Forgiveness - Deuce Spade x reader

When Deuce accidentally breaks an item that you treasured, he's worries that he's broken your trust as well. But there's nothing that can't be fixed with a hug and an apology.

Savanaclaw

Knights and Oaths - Leona x reader

You come from a long line of knights that have served the rulers of the Savannah. But sometimes traditions are meant to change and the second prince is looking like someone worth changing them for.

Trash Novel Chronicles: Love Triangles and Royal Rumbles - Leona x reader

When you get isekai'd as the male lead in the novel where your favorite character, Leona Kingscholar is the second male lead, all that's left to do is rewrite the romance!

Burn Wild - Leona x reader

Always so close, yet so far away. Leona pushes it down—he keeps pushing and pushing, until one day, he lets it break.

Royal Scandal - Ruggie x reader (personal favorite)

You're being forced to marry someone to take the throne you've fought your entire life for. Okay, if that's how it is, you'll make sure to choose the one person here that your dearest parents will disapprove of the most.

Octavinelle

Shark Tanks and Shady Deals - Azul x reader

After narrowly dodging a one-way trip to the sharks, you've hit rock bottom, career-wise. Enter Azul: your friendly (totally-not-shady) talent manager. In a moment of desperation, you sign with him. Wait, he's actually really good at this. Like, too good at this. Maybe the near-shark experience was just the universe’s weird way of setting you up?

Trash Novel Chronicles: Not Another Royal Mess - Azul x Reader

As a proofreader who gets isekai’d into a cringeworthy novel, you decide to take revenge on the heroine and male lead for their awful story. With Azul—who just wanted to sell you a magic rock—pulled into your chaos.

Love Bites - Floyd x reader

You like him quite a bit, you really do but you're really questioning your decisions after some time spent with him ends up sending you to the ER.

Match Made in Madness - Floyd x reader

Soulmates get updates of each other's lives through an overly enthusiastic dream narrator. What's worse is that your soulmate seems to be completely unhinged.

Witch, Please - Floyd x reader

You're the best witch to go to for getting the job done. Your potions? Absolutely foolproof. At least, that's what you thought until a certain Floyd Leech waltzed into your store.

Cakes and Crime - Jade x reader

After a long week of assignments and sleep deprivation, all you wanted to do was satisfy your craving for a specific pastry at your local shady café. What you didn't mean to do was accidentally order a hit on yourself.

Love in Contempt - Jade x reader

When you take your ex, Jade to court over a ceramic octopus, the reason he wants it so badly might be sweeter than you thought.

Scarabia

Recipe for Love - Kalim x reader

You know you can't cook, your cat knows you can't cook, everyone who has seen your lunch box knows you can't cook. So why is Kalim so insistent on eating the monstrosities you conjure?

Rest Assured - Jamil x reader

4 times you see Jamil nearing his breaking point and the 1 time you intervene.

Pomefiore

Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live - Vil x reader (personal favourite)

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think?

Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

Fairytales and Fever Dreams - Vil x Reader

When you decide to beg a fairy for help at your lowest point, you didn't expect that he'd decide to help you— at the cost of you making skincare for him.

Of Seashells and Sweet Nothings - Vil x Reader

You're cursed to love everyone except Vil, and he's cursed to love only you. And yet somewhere along the way, it seems the cursed gene has skipped you.

aka Merman! Vil x reader

Roommate Rumble - Vil x Reader

You and Vil end up as roommates due to administrative error. Unstoppable force (Vil's perfectionism) meets immovable object (your chaos). It ends up working out perfectly.

Date(?) Night - Rook x reader

Rook is convinced that you have feelings for him after your "date". You have no idea what he's talking about, considering that you've never been on a date with him.

Ruler of My Heart - Rook x Reader (personal favorite)

He has always pursued beauty, and he sees everything. But has he ever been seen?

Ignihyde

Coughing up Love - Idia x reader

You don't think much of it when Idia starts acting weird because let's be real, that seems to be his default around you. Wait are those flowers he's coughing up?

Reaper's Guide to Romance- Idia x reader

When reaper Idia Shroud is assigned to collect your soul, he can't help but come up with increasingly ridiculous excuses to spare you.

Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want to Retire - Idia x reader

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it. Now, as the villainess you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

Hook, Line and Shy Guy - Idia x reader

Idia loves your shark tail. You think it's adorable.

Diasomnia

Kidnapped(?) - Malleus x reader

You were sick of the taxes imposed by the aristocrats in your already poverty stricken village. Your idea of a solution? Kidnap their young master , and make them reduce taxes as the ransom, of course. Only problem is that you went into the wrong manor and kidnapped the wrong young master.

How Not to Court Your Crush: A Disaster in Six Acts - Malleus Draconia x reader

You're trying to court Malleus so why is he acting so weird? Malleus is trying to court you, so why are you acting so weird?

aka you try fae courtship and malleus tries human courtship, you both fail spectacularly.

Trash Novel Chronicles: Accidentally Falling For a Fae Prince - Malleus x reader

When you get dragged into a novel which ends with the heroine in a polycule with the most annoying men in literature, you decide that you're gonna skip town. ...Only to trip over the fae prince, Malleus Draconia.

How to Tame Your Dragon - Malleus x reader (personal favorite)

Since you and Malleus have gotten into a relationship, you've become a bona-fide dragon soother. But whenever you fumble, the entirety of NRC faces the consequences.

aka the 7 times you cause ecological disasters and the 1 time it works out for you.

Trash Novel Chronicles: I'd Rather Date the Male Lead's Dad - Lilia x reader

When you end up in your best friend's favourite but absurd novel about breaking a fae prince's curse, you didn't expect to get attached to his little family too. Even more unexpected? You fell for the male lead's dad, but hey, it looks like he likes you too.

Others

Frights and Fancies - Skully J. Graves x reader

Doing Halloween prep with Skully! (This is Grim's Night before before Halloween) {written before the full event is out so might end up ooc}

Chasing Fairytales - Neige LeBlanche x Reader

Neige is convinced that you're either allergic to him specifically or he's done something to offend you with the way you're avoiding him. You're just trying not to get blinded by his smile.

Project Love - Rollo Flamme x reader

When your eccentric professor pairs you and Rollo up for a study on attachment types, you didn't realise how much it would change your lives.

Romance Roulette- Rollo Flamme x reader

You, Rollo's self-proclaimed bestfriend, have been trying to set him up with someone for the past few weeks. If all your plans fail, maybe you should do it yourself?

Homecoming - Rollo Flamme x reader

You come home after a long work trip. Rollo is happy to have you back.

Sweet Encounter - Rollo Flamme x reader

You really want the parfait that's exclusive to couples. So you you do what anyone would do, pretend a random stranger in the café is your partner of course.

Escape Route - Rollo Flamme x reader

You're stuck at a party that you frankly don't give a damn about. And Rollo Flamme looks like he would rather do anything else than be here, so you grab him and bounce.

Yours to Keep - Rollo Flamme x reader

Rollo is calm, collected and confident. Jealous? Rollo Flamme? No way! ...unless?

Stolen Kisses - Rollo Flamme x reader

5 times you kiss him and the 1 time he kisses you

Multi Characters

Hanahaki with Overblot Gang

Making Up After an Argument with Overblot Gang + Rollo

Period Simulator with Adeuce + Overblot Gang + Rollo

Requests

Rook Hunt x reader (Shape-shifter! reader)

Malleus Draconia x Reader (24 Plum Blossom User! Reader)

All NRC + Staff + Rollo, Neige, Chen'ya (Wild cat beastman reader)

Dorm Leaders + Jamil (Colorblind reader)

Idia Shroud x reader (Sentient Otome Game NPC! reader) // Part 2

Azul Ashengrotto x reader (Insecure Mer-form Azul x reader, hurt/comfort)

All NRC + Staff + Rollo, Neige (White Rabbit! reader)

White Rabbit! Reader overblots

Aftermath of White Rabbit! Reader's Overblot

Epel, Vil x reader (Teaching Epel Capoeira)

Vil, (platonic) Crewel x reader (Fashion disaster reader)

Rest of the characters react to fashion disaster reader

Malleus Draconia x reader(Insecure reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending)

Lilia Vanrouge x reader (NPC! Reader)

Pomefiore x reader (Artist!Admirer! reader)

Heartslabyul, Octavinelle, Pomefiore + Che'nya (Absolem! reader)

Savanaclaw, Scarabia, Ignihyde, Diasomnia + NRC Staff + Neige (Absolem! reader)

Malleus, Vil, Jade with Angel!Reader

Jamil, Rook, Vil, Lilia with cherub! reader

Tweels with a strong reader

Idia x reader (Reader gets turned into a cat)

Jamil, Azul with a super talented reader

Lilia with a reader who behaves like General Lilia

Leona with an unhinged reader

Vil, Malleus with an unhinged reader

All NRC + Staff + Rollo (Reader shapeshifts according to emotion)

7th Overblot Aftermath - All NRC + Staff (Hurt/Comfort)

Rollo Flamme x reader / Part 2 / Part 3

Savanaclaw, Scarabia with a silly but mature reader

Ace, Deuce, Silver with artistic reader

Grim vs Cat (Idia x reader)

Deuce, Riddle, Ace, Epel with Pomefiore! reader

Jade, Jamil, Azul with 'The Cat'! Reader

Vil, Rook Idia with 'The Cat'! Reader

Delinquent Deuce x Delinquent reader

Pomefiore + Jamil with a Maternal! reader

All NRC(-Ortho), Rollo, Neige, Che'nya with M! Incubus! Reader

Trey, Jamil, Platonic Adeuce with Rich! reader

All NRC + Staff + Rollo, Neige, Najma Viper with Slime! reader

Skully J. Graves with a Huohuo! reader

Overblot gang + Ruggie with a Princess! Reader

Idia, Cater, Rollo comforting recovering reader (Warning: Mentions of SH)

Octavinelle with Shark! Reader

Sam x reader(platonic)

Skully J. Graves x reader (Double Halloween!)

Octavinelle, Diasomnia x Freshwater Stingray! Reader

Main Masterlist

[illyrianbitch]

In Every Universe

Pairing: Reader x Azriel, Minor Elain x Lucien

Summary: Elain catches you asking Azriel if you're destined to be together in every universe.

Warnings: mostly fluff, pining, soulmatism, brief mentions of violence/blood/death, elain as your no.1 shipper, elucien being sweet

Word Count: 3.9k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The wood of the doorframe was rough beneath Elain’s fingers as she lingered in the opening.

Elain loved the Day Court—the sun-kissed glow of her skin, the endless warmth that felt like home. But every now and then, it was healing to return to her family, to see them, to know they were okay. Visits to the Night Court with Lucien at her side were rare since they’d started their family, but they always felt meaningful. There was a peace in these nights, a quiet place to rest and breathe. And sometimes, it gave her this: a glimpse of the people she loved, caught in the small, unspoken ways they cared for one another.

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the celestial device. Feyre had told her about it, but Elain’s mind had forgotten to store away the proper name. She blamed it on her pregnancy brain at the time of the conversation. The device glowed as it slowly spun, scattering faint patterns of light over you and Azriel as you stood together, watching in awe. 

It was slightly ironic to Elain that she was able to sneak up and observe such an intimate moment without Azriel, the most-feared Spymaster, noticing. But, in all truth, she wasn’t entirely surprised. You and Azriel had your own world, held moments that seemed like they existed only for you two—even Azriel’s shadows became something else entirely, something distracted and completely enamored with you. 

“It’s… beautiful,” you said, the words reverent. “Gods, what a wonder we live in.”

Azriel hummed a sound that sounded a lot like agreement— like complete contentment. Elain recognized it slightly, almost felt compelled to compare it to the cat that Vassa and Jurian had dubbed the true ruler of the mortal lands. She stifled a laugh at the thought. 

You pointed at something—a star, perhaps—and said something Elain couldn’t hear, your voice too soft. Azriel tilted his head toward you and his shadows swirled around you both, gentle and calm tendrils wrapping themselves through the edges of your hair strands. Azriel murmured something back, and though Elain couldn’t catch the words, she saw the way they made you smile.

There was no hesitation in his movements as he reached out, scarred fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was light, practiced, and it made him look entirely at home. Of course it did. He’d done it a hundred times before. You didn’t flinch or startle—didn’t even pause. Instead, you tilted into him slightly, the curve of your smile deepening.

Elain’s heart blossomed. She wondered, for a brief, fleeting moment, if anyone had seen such moments with her and Lucien– wondered if her eyes glowed just like yours. 

Azriel shifted his gaze to you, and Elain could have sworn she watched his eyes dilate even from feet away. His thumb grazed your temple as he asked, “What are you thinking about?”

You leaned into the brush of his fingers. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Azriel repeated, amused. His thumb drew a lazy circle across your skin. “I can practically see the gears turning in there.”

A laugh. You shrugged, and a glimmer of amusement sparkled in your eyes. “It just makes me wonder.”

“About?”

Elain found herself leaning forward slightly, awaiting your answer as if she had been talking to you herself. You casted a glance back at the device before you. 

 “What else is out there, you know?” You tilted your head in contemplation, and Azriel pulled you into a soft embrace as you continued, “And that Bryce girl. I mean, if there are other worlds like hers, do you think…”

Azriel wrapped his arms around your center, placing an affectionate kiss to your clothed shoulder. Then, he placed his head into the crook of your neck. “Do I think what, my love?’

You turned your head to meet his eyes. “Do you think we’re together in each of them?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his silence thoughtful rather than hesitant. 

And then the room began to shift. Or maybe it was just Elain. She stood up straighter and took a deep breath as the device before you both blurred, its golden light fracturing into something softer, quieter— a divine invitation. 

Elain let herself be pulled through.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The cannon fire echoed like thunder. 

One, then another, and another still. 

Azriel’s head tilted. “Two,” he murmured. “Close.”

You couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. Your mind raced through the possibilities—faces you’d seen only hours ago. A girl in the meadow. That boy with the scar. Maybe someone who’d deserved it. Maybe someone who hadn’t.

“So that makes it five.” You gripped the hilt of your blade tighter, sweat slipping down your palm. “Besides us, there's only five left.”

Azriel was quiet. 

“Come on,” he said, already turning. “You need to head east, away from the canons. I’ll lead them away from you.”

You caught his wrist. It was instinct, almost violent, and your nails dug into his skin. “No.”

He stopped. Turned back slowly, and furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I’m not leaving you behind. We finish this together. You can’t keep putting yourself—”

“I can,” he cut in, voice cold. “And I will.”

“I won’t let you.”

Something cracked in his expression then. His lips parting like he wanted to argue, like he was ready to fight.

“Let me?” he repeated, his voice low. Dangerous. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“And you don’t get to decide for me.”

There was a silence that filled the space between you. Your hand, still wrapped around his wrist, softened into something almost reminiscent of a lover's hold. 

“Don’t make me watch you die,” you said finally. “Don’t do that to me, Azriel.”

His eyes softened just enough to hurt.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive.”

“Why?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. “You can win this. You know you can. Why throw away your chances for me?”

His mouth opened, then closed. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like the words were too heavy to say. But when his gaze met yours, there was no hesitation.

“You know why.”

You shook your head. “No—”

“It’s the same reason you killed that girl from six.” His voice was quiet. “For me.”

You didn’t deny it. You couldn’t. His hand, warm and calloused, brushed the back of your fingers.

“So don’t ask me to stop,” he said. “The capitol has taken so much from me. They’ve destroyed everything I cared about.  I won’t let them take you.  Not while I’m still breathing.”

A loud crack sounded in the distance. The world shifted again, a soft breeze carrying with it a sky speckled with stars.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Cicada songs threaded through the air like an ancient hymn. You sat near the embers of a dying fire, the orange glow licking against the edges of the stone walls surrounding you. 

Azriel sat a few paces away, his back resting against one of the columns. His tunic was simple, sandals dusty from the day’s travel, but there was something about the way he held himself that made him seem as much a part of the night as the stars overhead.

“Do you think they truly listen?” you asked him.

Azriel’s gaze flicked to you. “The gods?” 

You nodded, not sparing him a glance. Your eyes were glued to the heavens above, to the glistening stars that seemed to be leaning closer, listening.

“They hear everything,” he responded. “The question is whether they care.”

You turned to him then, the corner of your lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “You don’t honor them?”

Azriel’s eyes scanned your face before he responded simply, “I’ve been given no reason to.”

“And you aren’t afraid of angering them?”

“I’m afraid of man more than I am of the gods.”

A flicker passed through your face, something thoughtful, contemplative. “What would you pray for, if you thought they did listen?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His scarred hands rested on his knees, the firelight painting shadows across them. There was a weight in his silence, a deliberation that pressed against the edges of the night. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than before, almost a confession.

“I’d ask them to leave us be. To let us live without their meddling.”

You studied him. The sincerity of his words seemed to tug at something in your chest. “You think they’d grant a prayer like that?”

Azriel’s lips curved into a small, wry smile. “No,” he said simply. “But I’d still ask.”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “Stubborn,” you murmured, though your tone was warm.

When he fell silent again, you observed him once more. “What else is on your mind?”

Azriel didn’t answer right away. His gaze turned back to the fire, as if searching for something in its depths. “You could be one.”

You blinked at him, thrown. “One what?”

“A god,” he said, his eyes shifting to meet yours. “A proper one. A kind one.”

Your chest tightened, nerves prickling at the edges of your mind. “Azriel,” you said, your voice low, almost a warning. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” he asked. “If I can see it, do you think they can’t?”

You glanced up at the stars, as if expecting them to strike him down then and there. “Because it’s not for us to claim,” you whispered. “And because it’s not true.”

Azriel leaned in slightly. “It is true,” he said, as though daring you to contradict him. “You stand apart. You always have.”

“Azriel—” 

“I mean it,” he said, his voice softening. “If they did listen, if they cared, they’d envy what I see in you.”

You didn’t know how to answer. Azriel reached out then, his scarred hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. You swallowed hard.

“And what of you?” You asked. “If I’m to be a god, would you be one, too?”

He shook his head and a sweet smile made its way onto his face. His brows furrowed softly. Your fingers twitched as if you ached to smooth the crease between them.

“I think I was born to follow you.”

The fire light around you flickered, and the music of the cicadas began to reverberate, stretching and pulling like a ribbon in the wind. Soon, sounds began to fill the air—smooth instruments, slow and electric. 

Warping, stretching, bleeding into something else.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You were perched on a velvet stool at the edge of the bar, watching the crush of dancers sway in time to the music. There was a faint scent of cigarette smoke that clung to the air, a smell that somehow mingled perfectly with the sharp tang of liquor and the sweetness of spilled champagne.

Azriel appeared beside you without a word. He wasn’t dressed to stand out— black suit, white shirt, no tie— but somehow, in the haze of golden light and shadow, he drew every glance. You adjusted the strap of your dress, the sequins catching what little light there was, throwing sparks of silver onto the walls. 

“You’ve been hiding,” he said. 

You turned your head to meet his gaze. There was something steady in it, like he’d been waiting for you to notice him. “I didn’t know I was being looked for.”

Azriel’s lips curved. “You always are.”

Your breath hitched, just enough to be noticeable, but you masked it with a sip of your drink— one with fading bubbles. “And here I thought I was just another face in the crowd.”

“Not to me,” Azriel said simply, as if it were the plainest fact on Earth. His gaze didn’t leave yours. “Never to me.”

The band transitioned into a slower tune, the saxophone drawing out a melody that made your face soften. You looked down to hide your growing smile, cheeks now rosy from Az’s attention.

“You’re not dancing,” he noted, eyes flicking briefly to the crowded floor. 

“I don’t know if it's the right night for that.”

“Maybe you just need the right partner.”

The suggestion hung in the air, and when he held out his hand— scarred, steady— you didn’t hesitate to take it. He led you to the dance floor with a gentle hold, drawing you into his arms. 

“You didn’t have to come find me,” you murmured, your gaze tracing the lines of his face.

Azriel’s eyes softened, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a soft smile. “I’ll always find you.”

The music slowed, and the world softened with it.

And then, the light dimmed, fading into the deep, quiet shadows of something colder, untouched, an air heavy with the scent of pine and earth.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Two wolves emerged from the shadows, moving together, their coats brushing in fleeting touches. It was a quiet language— small movements of instinct and closeness. One was a shadow itself, dark fur absorbing the moonlight. The other was lighter, sleek and graceful, its movements quieter but no less assured.

The darker wolf paused, tilting its head toward its companion, a huff of warm breath visible in the chilled air. The lighter one hesitated, then stepped closer, nuzzling its muzzle against the dark wolf’s neck, a gesture of comfort—or reassurance. The dark wolf stilled at the touch, its golden-hazel eyes half-closing as if the simple act of connection mattered more than the world around them.

And then it turned, moving quietly into the heavy, shrouded forest. The lighter wolf turned to follow the dark one, glancing back only once before disappearing into the trees.

A sharp shift—the silence of the forest soon replaced by the soft crunch beneath leather winter boots.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You and Azriel approached the house ahead, its exterior draped in a plethora of colorful Christmas lights. The world was still, save for the muffled laughter drifting from inside, and you pulled your coat tighter against the cold.

“We’re late,” you murmured, quickening your step.

Azriel let out a quiet laugh. “I doubt they mind.”

You shot him a pointed look, but Azriel only chuckled again. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.When you reached the door, your hand had barely touched the handle before Azriel stopped you, his hand brushing yours. You glanced up at him, frowning, only to catch the cheeky grin tugging at his lips as he tilted his chin toward the frame.

There, hanging above the doorway, was a sprig of mistletoe.

“Mistletoe,” you said with a sweet hum. You met Azriel’s eyes.

“Cassian or Nesta?” He asked.

“Definitely Nesta,” you said. “She loves her romance.”

He nodded in agreement. “It is a romantic tradition.”

Azriel stepped closer, lifting a hand to cradle your face as he kissed you—soft and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, your cheeks warmed under his gaze, his forehead brushing yours as he whispered, “I love you.”

The words were soft, meant just for you.

“I love you, t—”

The door sprang open and a shrieking voice filled the air with an excited, “Momma!”

You barely had time to turn before your son barreled into your arms, his eyes bright and his arms outstretched. You caught him easily, lifting him with a grin.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hey, buddy,” Azriel said, leaning over to ruffle his messy curls. His mini-me only giggled and nuzzled deeper into the crook of your neck. A true momma’s boy. From inside, more laughter echoed, and Cassian appeared around the corner, grinning wide as he carried your daughter—upside down—by her ankles. Her delighted shrieks filled the house.

“Cassian!” you called, trying to suppress a laugh.

“What? She loves it!” Cassian shot back, clearly pleased with himself.

“Put her down,” you said, stepping inside as Azriel snorted behind you.

Cassian finally relented, lowering her to the ground. She didn’t hesitate, darting forward to wrap her arms around Azriel. She barely reached his hip, and he crouched slightly, holding her close like it was second nature.

“Sorry we’re late,” you said, closing the door. You wiped your shoes on the matt below you. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Nesta’s voice said, drifting into the room before she rounded the corner from the kitchen. Her hair was in a loose bun, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. She stopped at Cassian’s side, offering her husband a small nudge. “Our date nights always run late too.”

Her daughter trailed behind her, blue eyes already half-rolling. "Yeah. We need to talk about punctuality in this family."

She breezed past you and Azriel, offering you both quick hello’s before darting up the stairs.

Nesta rolled her eyes, but the action was affectionate. Comfortable. “Teenagers,” she muttered. Cassian slung an arm around her shoulders, grinning. “She’s going through a phase.”

“Heard that!” came a sharp voice from upstairs.

You stifled a laugh, glancing at Azriel. His eyes widened slightly, and the corner of his mouth tugged into a crooked, almost reluctant smile—amused, exasperated, and entirely Azriel.

Nesta gestured toward your son, now half-asleep against your shoulder, and your daughter, who was eagerly tugging Azriel toward the living room to show off the fort her and Cassian had made. “Enjoy this,” Nesta said with a smirk. “While it lasts.”

A dreamy smile spread across your face as you watched them. “Oh, Nes,” you said softly. “I plan to enjoy it all.”

The room seemed to shimmer, the sounds of laughter melting into something darker, quieter. 

And then, without warning, the world changed.

Cold. Hollow. Dark.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“God, you look beautiful.”

You turned to Azriel, breathless, a wicked grin pulling at your lips. His golden-hazel eyes burned as they swept over you, lingering on the streaks of blood splattered across your cheek. 

“You really think so?” you hummed, stepping closer, boots crunching against the broken glass scattered across the floor. The room reeked of iron and fear, the man slumped against the wall choking on his last breaths.

Azriel tilted his head, his shadows twisting and curling at his feet like they were alive, waiting for a command. “I’d argue you’ve never looked more stunning.”

Your grin grew, something divinely sinful, and you pulled the gun from the back of your waistband. The barrel gleamed in the dim light. “Would you like the honors, my love?”

Azriel’s hand brushed yours as he took the gun— perfectly smooth skin speckled in streaks of red. “Of course.”

The man whimpered as Azriel crouched before him, his shadows licking at the edges of the room, swallowing the light. You didn’t flinch, didn’t look away as Azriel tilted the man’s chin with the barrel, his voice low and almost tender. You seemed proud, even. Powerful.

“You should’ve known better.”

With a single, swift pull of the trigger, it was over. Azriel stood, wiping the gun against his pants before turning back to you.

“The others are all yours,” he murmured, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face, smearing blood across your temple.

“And they said romance was dead,” you said, leaning into his touch.

Azriel grinned, and for a moment, the bloodlust that had overtaken the room seemed to fade. He pulled you close, lips crashing onto yours in a brutal, animalistic kiss. When you finally pulled away, breathless and wild, Azriel’s gaze was sharp—hungry. His eyes gleamed with something darker now.

“You’re the only one who ever understands,” he whispered.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“Elain?”

Elain gasped and snapped back to the present, her body slightly recoiling like a thread once strung tight. She blinked and turned her head, watching the beautiful face of her mate come into focus. His eyes were fixed on her, that familiar gleam in them.

“Hmm?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Where did you just disappear to?” 

Lucien’s hand gently swept her curly hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck, and allowed his palm to settle there— fingers brushing lightly against her skin, thumb grazing the underside of her jaw. Elain melted into the touch. 

The remnants of her vision— of that twisted, vicious kiss between you and Azriel– still lingered at the edges of her mind, making her uneasy. But it was already fading, like a bad dream melting away in the morning light, as she looked at Lucien. The warmth of his touch steadied her, grounding her back into the reality of this life— something far less terrifying, far more full of light. Elain let her mind wander to the other thing she’d seen, to the cicada songs and the mistletoe. 

“Let me tell you later.”

Lucien’s smile softened in that kind way that made Elain’s heart feel full, like it might spill over.  “Alright,” he said.

“Oh, Elain, Lucien!”

Your voice broke the quiet, pulling their attention toward you as you approached, Azriel in tow. His shadows moved faster than he did, twisting around you in fluid motions, draping themselves over your limbs like they were part of you instead of the shadowsinger himself.

“Have you been here for long?” You asked as you met them at the doorway. “I’m so sorry we didn’t notice. We were in our own world.”

Azriel greeted her and Lucien with a small smile. But, as usual, his eyes drifted to you immediately, brightening in their glow as he watched you.

“No, no,” Lucien answered, noticing Elain hadn’t responded yet. “We were just making our rounds.”

You beamed. “Well, you should take some time in here. It’s beautiful.”

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt,” Elain said softly.

You shook your head, glancing at Azriel for a moment before you leaned into him, placing a hand on his chest and giving it a light tap. “We’re actually about to leave. We’ve got reservations for our anniversary.”

“What does today mark?” Lucien asked.

Azriel’s voice was light as he wrapped an arm around you. “430 years.” 

“Can you believe he’s put up with me that long?” you said, a teasing smile on your lips.

Lucien laughed. “I’d say its the other way around.”

Azriel laughed, then, too, rolling his eyes in a way that seemed so brotherly that Elain’s smile almost split her cheeks in two.

“You’re meant for one another,” Elain found herself saying. “Happy anniversary.”

Azriel nodded in thanks as you smiled and moved to leave. He patted Lucien’s shoulder as he brushed past, and Elain let her gaze linger on your retreating forms for a moment, catching another small moment as Az cheekily smacked your ass, causing you to let out a small amused shriek and push him away.

For a moment, Elain was almost tempted to ask Lucien the same question you’d asked Azriel: Do you think we’re together in each life? But it was silly– fruitless, really. Because Elain knew, with certainty, that she’d find her loyal, flame-branded mate in every universe. In every form.

She’d seen it herself. 

So instead, Elain grabbed his hand, interlaced their fingers, and said, “Let’s admire our world.”

And as always, Lucien followed her without protest. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note:

I had a vision (tehehe) of this one shot and i dont think i did it justice but alas, here she is. also are you truly soulmates if you arent evil sociopathic villains in at least one universe? me thinks no

also fun fact, 5/6 of these au’s are scrapped ideas i��ve had🫣

thank you for reading <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻 (this so desperately needs to be updated, i fear): 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound-blog

@melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @paradisebabey

azriel tag list🫶🏻:

@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty @acourtofsteelandthunder  @mortqlprojections @ushijima-stits 

[giuliettagaltieri]

His Girl

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Featherless birds fall with a splat

Warning: Angst, cursing

Word Count: 4532

Part 1 • Part 2

You aren’t exactly certain how you’d feel with Rafe walking out on you like that. 

Partly, you were glad that you somehow managed to face him without breaking but the way his eyes bore on you, it was just awful, like you were physically causing him pain.

And perhaps you were. 

JJ saw how your mood has switched after you got your drinks.  Your eyes were all blank and you were spacing out.  He made the decision for you both to head back and meet with your other friends. 

You are sitting with your girlfriends, and JJ decided to join you for the rest of the night.  He was entertaining everybody with his overly exaggerated wild stories, trying to get you to focus on him, but your eyes are wandering on a certain someone.

Rafe was gulping down beer, cup after cup.  It was too much, even for him.

You understand he’s got an extremely high alcohol tolerance but this is just sad to look at.  His face was all red and his shirt was clinging to his back, soaked with sweat.

“You know, I really thought I could finally catch your attention with Cameron all gone.”  JJ suddenly leans on the sofa next to you.  You sigh, giving a quick smile without looking at him.  “But I guess it was stupid of me to swoop in when you are literally in love with him.”

Pursing your lips together, you look away from Rafe to glance at the man beside you.  JJ was looking sullen but a trace of smirk is still on his lips, never really looking utterly hopeless.  Sometimes you wonder how he was able to master such a carefree façade. 

“I really had fun hanging out with you.”  You say sadly.  “You’re a good friend.”

He scrunches his face.  “Good friend.  Yeah.”

“JJ, come on.”  You laugh at his blatant display of dislike at being called a “friend” but he breaks into a smile.  “I really enjoyed being with you.  It’s just I don’t…It’s too soon and Rafe-”

“I know.”  He cuts you off, his eyes wandering to the man.  “He looks like shit.”  He mutters and you look over to see just in time Rafe doubling over, looking like he is seconds away from ruining the carpet.

Your back immediately leaves the sofa and you sit up straighter, ready to move whenever Rafe needs you.

“Y/N, he’s not a baby.  Let him take care of himself.”  JJ chuckles, making you bite your lip, still anxiously watching. 

Rafe looks like he’s about to collapse, he was clutching his head and grimacing in pain.  Soon enough, he was shoving people away and heading to the bathroom.

“I don’t know, J.  I haven’t seen him that drunk since…”  You squint at Rafe’ direction in the dark, trying to find a memory to match.  “I haven’t seen him that drunk.”

JJ’s brows slowly rise.  “Really?  Not even when his father found out he did drugs?”

You shake your head.  “No, not even then.”  You slowly rise from the couch and JJ lets you go. 

“Well, I suppose he can’t be left alone, can he?”  JJ smiles somberly and you return it apologetically, still thankful that he’s supporting you right now.

Your girlfriends however were not so keen on the idea.

“Y/N, where do you think you’re going?” 

“Ladies.”  JJ starts, throwing you a wink.  “Have I ever told you about that time we fought actual gators?”

You take your time, heading to the bathroom.  Your usual caregiver spirit when Rafe is in need has been dampened and you’re not sure she’s making a recovery soon.

The music gets muffled the deeper you go into the dark hallway.  The entire house is still buzzing from the music of course but you no longer feel like the speaker’s up your eardrums.  And with every step you take, the more you hear.  You are careful where you step, making sure your feet don’t step on any creaky floorboards.

You stand there, face to face with the bathroom door, hearing Rafe being absolutely wasted.  And is he crying?  You bite on your knuckle, brows meeting just a little as you try to listen.

Quietly, you twist the knob open.  He was retching, big arms hugging the tiny toilet, his head almost all the way in.  You stand there, watching his shoulders shake.  His sobs sounded almost hysterical, ripping from his throat.

What has happened to you, Rafe?

“Rafe?”  You gently call his name and he turns to you.  His hand absentmindedly tried to flush the contents of the toilet, missing it multiple times.  You watch him sag, his entire body sitting on his ankles as he looks up to you helplessly.

“Hey.”  He drawls.  “Wha... wha' are you doin' here?”  He asks casually in a coarse voice he got after barfing his guts out.  His heavy-lidded eyes look up at you, watching you hesitantly walk towards him.  “Shouldn’t be here.”  He shakes his head, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Rafe.”  You say his name so gently, he closes his eyes.  He’d pay just to hear you say his name again and again.  “Are you alright?”  You ask and he looks up at you dumbly, mouth slightly parted before nodding slowly.

“Yes.”

You fish out your own handkerchief and run the tap over it, just enough to dampen the fabric.  “You don’t look like you’re alright.”  You smile, a hint of teasing on your voice and he scoffs.

“Why ask when you don’…don’t believe me anyway?”  He gestured stupidly with his hand and he stills when you grab the said hand.  He looks up at you as you wipe the sick off his arm.

“You drank too much.”  You mumble as you start to step closer to him, your hand cupping his cheek to wipe at the corner of his lips.

“No, shit.”  He wanted to say but the words are stuck on his throat as he just stared at you, taking care of him, touching him, just looking at him again.  He drops his hands and his limp fingers rest on the cold bathroom floor.  He is feeling too much, how your ankles brush on his thighs, the warmth of your fingers, and the soft dampness of the fabric gliding on his chin.

Have you always been like this to him?

Rafe wonders if he just sat still while you tended to him before, would he have this sight of you all those times.  Was he so stupid he missed all opportunities to look at you like this?

“Come back.”

You pause.  “What?”

He shakes his head before looking at the pinstriped polo you are wearing.  His brows creased, teeth clenching in annoyance as he pinched the fabric.  “This…this is mine.  You’re wearin’ MY clothes while you’re kissin’ other guys!”  He fumes, hands clumsily tugging at your clothes that your knees almost buckle, your hand finding purchase on his shoulder so as to not fall.  “That’s fucking un…unacceptable!  You like ME!  You can’t go ‘round kissin’ other guys when y’ like me!”  He suddenly yells and your eye twitches.

Your finger jabs at his chest.  “Fuck you!”

Rafe’s glassy eyes widen as his breath gets caught in his throat.  Did you just…did you just curse at him?

“Fuck you, Rafe!”  You repeat in annoyance.  Blood boiling within seconds as you angrily run a hand on your hair, scoffing at the sheer audacity of this man to say those things to you. 

You glare at him again and he actually flinches.  “Don’t tell me what to do.  You have no right to decide for me.”  You angrily strip off the pinstriped polo, his head following your wild motion before you crumple it in a ball.  “This is your polo?”  You raise it and he nods hesitantly, still in shock at your outburst.  “Here!”  You throw it at his face and you watch it cover his head, his hands are sluggish as he slowly pulls it off. 

You’re heaving in frustration both hands on your hips as you look at his crestfallen face, bunching the fabric in his large hands.

“Then I can go kiss other guys now, huh?”  You say out of anger and you watch his shoulders sag as he brings his hands to the floor again, fingers twisting the fabric.

He looked absolutely wrecked and your heart starts to feel heavy again.  You cross your arms, leaning on the wall as you watch him stare at the floor.

“Why shouldn’t I be allowed to kiss other guys?  You made it clear that you don’t like me.”  His head shoots up when you say that.  “I’m not waiting for you forever.”

Rafe presses the heel of his palms against his eyes before he looks at you in agony, face all red, his bottom lip jutting out just the slightest.

“Y/N, please.”  He moves to you, still on his knees as he loosely wraps an arm around your thighs.  You looked up at the ceiling when he stared up to you desperately.  “’m sorry, please.  Don’t leave me ‘gain, please.”

You attempt to push him off but he hugs your thighs tighter, his head pressing on your stomach.  “Rafe, let go!”

“No!”  He sobbed, his shoulders shaking.  “You’re mine!  You like me! Not sharing you with that…that fucking pogue-”

“Rafe!”

He flinches again but he doesn’t respond, only hugging you impossibly tight.

“You have to let me go.”  You say more calmly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He shakes his head against your stomach.  You lean further against the wall, trusting it to hold you up as you surrender, sighing out your frustration as you rub his back, letting him cry on your stomach.

Perhaps JJ was wrong, about Rafe not being a baby.  You truly feel like you are calming down an overgrown toddler.  A toddler that fed on steroids instead of milk.  His arms are tightly wrapped around you, just allowing you to breathe and aside from that, you can’t do anything else.  Your free hand that didn’t get caught in his trapping hold, tried to soothe him, trying to tell him that you’re there, with him.

You run your fingers through his buzzed hair, feeling the heat and sweat cling on your fingers.

“You’re a mess.”  You mumble, a small smile playing on your lips when his shoulders eventually start to stop shaking.  “You got snot all over my belly, ugh.”

Rafe loosens his arms around you and wipes his nose, his eyes glaring at you for a moment.  You smile at him smugly as he gathers himself.  He clears his throat as he stands in front of you, eyes kept on the polo that he crumpled on his hand like a ball.

“Wanna wash your face?”  You giggle.

He glares at you again but actually does what you told him to and takes the mouthwash you casually hands him.  You nudge him with your shoulder to get him to scoot over so you can wash your handkerchief.  Rafe watches your hands get under the faucet, just calmly watching the water glide over your skin, delicate fingers wringing the fabric that you so gently wiped on his face a while ago.

“’m sorry.”  He slurred as he watched you tidying up.  “Was so stupid.  Sayin’ things that I don’t mean.”  He continues, eyes starting to get desperate as you just rifle through your bag, not even looking at him.  “Sorry for causing you trouble all the time.”  He follows you like a puppy when you move past him to head to the door.  “Please, don’t leave me again.”

You grip the doorknob tightly before it loosens in defeat.  Rafe’s eyes brighten up when you turn to look at him.

“Why do you boys suddenly become the most honest people when you’re drunk?”  You ask exasperatedly, also remembering JJ’s confession on the porch.  “But then again, you could just be spouting nonsense.”  You open the door this time but he puts a hand against it to close it again.

“I’m not.  Please!”  Rafe almost begs, his entire frame caging you against the door, his respect for personal space long forgotten as there’s nothing else in his head but to try and get you to understand, to believe.  His tongue is heavy and his head is murky due to intoxication, which made him all the more frustrated.

You press your lips together, startled eyes boring into him.  You have known that Rafe has an extreme and overwhelming side to him, his entire presence just smothering you in the best ways you can imagine.  But with you trying to hold on to the fragile thread of anger and stability, you decide to push him by his chest.  “Why don’t we uh…grab coffee?  Let you sober up?”

He runs a hand on his face, it’s becoming a habit of his when he’s around you.  “Fine.  But don’t disregard everything I said just because I’m ‘drunk’.  Please.”  He said the last word with emphasis, his eyes offering no bargaining, prompting you to nod.

“Alright.”

Rafe looks into your eyes for a couple more seconds, making you understand that he is not willing to accept a half-assed response and you need to take him seriously.  He slowly backs up, hands shoving into his pockets while you tongue your cheek, hesitantly opening the door for the both of you.

The blasting music thrums in your ear the deeper you get into the party, maneuvering your way in the sea of hormonal teens.  A hand wraps on your wrist and you stop to look who it was.

It was JJ, heaving.  He probably ran the moment he saw you.  “Hold on, you’re leaving?” 

Rafe was quick to pull your hand away from JJ’s hold, immediately squaring up.  His chin was titled in a challenge as he eyed the flowers and bows decorating the band-aid on JJ’s chin.

“Rafe, please.”  You beg, arms circling on his bicep to stop him from doing anything to JJ, who didn’t look the least bit afraid.  In fact, he was looking at Rafe in pure entertainment.  “JJ, I’m sorry.  I’ll just talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“No, you won’t!”  Rafe seethes but you only roll your eyes at him. 

Kissing his teeth, JJ nods.  “Yeah, sure.  Let me know if you need anything.”  He eyes Rafe one more time and smiles at you in his usual relaxed manner.  “I’ll tell your friends you left early.”

When you finally made it out of the crammed up beach house, you closed your eyes at the nipping sea breeze.  You can’t believe you’re leaving the party with the person you have been trying to avoid for weeks.

“Keys.”  You mutter and Rafe hastily digs through his pocket, his hooded eyes blinking as he tries to locate his keys.

Your deadpanned eyes watch him for a few more seconds before he finally passes it to you, along with the pinstriped polo, which you hesitantly take.

He felt weird, having to take the passenger seat, especially when it’s you with him.  Rafe gets in the car, his eyes on you the entire time you drive.  You’re not exactly acknowledging his presence in the car with you, despite his entire body twisted to face you, his head that is leaning back on the chair never turned to any direction but yours.  He didn’t even know you arrived until you were taking off your seatbelt.

Rafe follows you quickly, nearly tripping on his way out.  But he plays it cool, pulling his shirt down when it rode up.  He meets your eyes briefly in embarrassment.  This entire experience is ruining alcohol for him.

Even thinking about the mess he made in the bathroom, with you witnessing, made him want to smash every bottle that will ever grace his eyes again.  That shit’s evil.  Rafe blinks at the brightly lit convenience store, not yet able to process the colors of the different flavors of ramen and chips.  He closes his eyes tightly, nearly driven to overstimulation and seeks out a chair, collapsing on it as he attempts to massage away the bounding pulse on his temple.

He feels you place a hand on his shoulder and the scent of coffee fills his lungs.  Rafe looks at you briefly and the swirling liquid placed in front of him.  You sat yourself on the chair opposite his and your glossed lips wrap on a straw, sipping on your tall cup of slushie.

After muttering a quick thanks, Rafe picks up the coffee, tentatively blowing on it and watching the steam blow off in your direction before taking a sip.

Your cheeks heat up at the groan he lets out when he takes more sips.  His shoulders are slightly hunched and you quietly admire his physique as you continuously slurp, watching his intoxication being masked by caffeine with every gulp he takes. 

Realizing that you’re staring, your eyes slowly shift outside the glass, cheeks all warmed up.  Rafe sets down his coffee and just takes his time to look at you.  He does not know if it’s still the lingering effects of alcohol in his blood or the overly bright lighting in this rundown convenience store, but you look like you’re glowing.

“Y/N.”  He attempts to speak but you shake your head.

“Give it time, please. Coffee doesn’t magically cure intoxication, you know.”  You smile softly to reassure him.

Rafe smiles back before taking another sip.  He watches you turn to the road outside again.  There you were, in front of him again after weeks of not seeing each other, just sipping on sugar and ice as you swung your feet that were clad in babydoll heels, with pretty straps that he always found cute and alluring.  Despite the cozy choice of clothing, you never go without a statement piece.  

He steals another glance at your clothes, along with the pinstriped polo you decided to wear again.  He takes another sip of coffee.  “It looks better on you.”

You look down on your clothes, lips pressing together before giving him a curt smile.  “…Thanks.”

“Sure.”  He nods.  Both of you look at each other for a while, not quite certain what to do with the still tense atmosphere before simultaneously looking away, like a couple for teenager going on a first date, it’s fucking ridiculous.

Time passed with not a single word being uttered between you.  Rafe watches how the coffee stained a line on the cup every time he takes a sip, the liquid now cooled, and your slushie cup was starting to sweat and leave trails of water everytime you move it.  His eyes were starting to focus again and once he was confident in being able to speak without slurring, he cleared his throat to garner your attention.

“Listen.”  He begins but the words lodge themselves in his throat the moment your curious eyes flit to him, perhaps this was a bad idea.  He never knew what to say.  Rafe doesn’t know if he can last one conversation without offending you somehow.  “I know I hurt you.  And I know it wasn’t just that time at the party.”  He presses a knuckle on his lips to gather his thoughts.  “I always take you for granted, when all you ever did was take care of me.”

You cross your arms in an attempt to make yourself feel protected as you lean back, eyes avoiding him.

“Your kindness and efforts.  Your…feelings.  They were so easy to overlook when you gave them to me every single day without fail.”  He tries to reach out to you but stops midway and drops his hands on the table.  “I never knew what I had until you decided to take everything away.”

Your eyes sharpen and he winces at his careless mistake.

“I mean, until I finally succeeded in pushing you away.”  He reworded his sentence, making sure to pin the blame on himself instead of you.  He hated how hurt he made you feel.  He felt like shit.  He never cared when people called him an asshole or a psycho, but after what he did to you, he felt like every label given to him was all real, and this time, it hurt.

He had girls before, and all the wanting he can associate with them is the feeling of fleeting euphoria when they’re under him, that is all.  Rafe never missed anyone, or anything about anyone.  Until you came along.

Rafe found himself in the middle of the night, missing you calling him by his name.  He missed your smile and scent.  His cheeks suddenly go wild red when he remembers the mess he made out of himself when he got your shirt, one you accidentally left in his room, up his nose during those nights when the longing just beats him up.

“I regret everything I said and done.”  He says, trying to get back on track to apologizing.  “And if you want to be my…friend again…”  He takes a deep sigh.  “I’ll do better.”

You chew on your bottom lip, eyes shyly meeting his, and you uncross your arms slowly.

“You promise?”

Rafe nods quickly, a small smile appearing on his lips as his hand darts out to hold yours.  “Yes, I promise!  Just don’t shut me out again.”

Gently, you shift your hand to wrap around his and he gladly holds yours back securely.

“I’ll try to be less…controlling too.”  You look away.  “I won’t bother you as much and I won’t cling to you in parties or wherever-”

“I thought we’re okay already?”  Rafe was dumbfounded.

“We are.”  You say, equal confusion in your eyes.

“Then why are you still staying away from me after this?”  He asks in frustration.

Your lips part, trying to form words but his statement just muddles everything up.

“I…I just didn’t want you to get fed up again.”  You say quietly and he grabs both your hands this time, pulling them to his chest.

“Baby, I don’t care, just come back to me, alright?”  He says quickly, you don’t think he realized what he called you just now.  “I don’t care if you call me six times a day to argue that raisins do not belong in bread or if you hold my hand in every party we go to.”

The heat in your cheeks slowly travels to your neck.  “Rafe.”

“You can have me drive you around the island when you get hungry at three in the morning.”  He beams in a surge of confidence and affection.  “I’ll let you fix my clothes as it pleases you so much, slap as many hello kitty bandaids on my face as you want.”  He laughs, making you smile too.  “I-I don’t even know what I’m saying right now, just please let’s go back to how we were before, yeah?”  He presses a kiss on your knuckles.  “I don’t want to hear any of this plan you have.  I just want you with me again.”

At this point, there really is nothing you can say and you can only nod.  You are glad that Rafe is satisfied with that response.

After a few more minutes of you catching your breath in silence, you decide to call it a night.  Rafe, now sobered up, decided to drive, and let you enjoy the passenger seat like you always do.

Despite the conversation you had in the convenience store, both of you can’t shake off the feeling that you’re forgetting something.  Like there is something you are purposefully holding back from each other, and it visibly makes you antsy, Rafe more than you.

He taps his finger on the wheel, tugging at the seatbelt every now and then as you continuously shift your eyes from the road and back to the car interior.

When he finally pulls over in front of your gate, neither of you want to move, still waiting for that something to happen.  But as another moment passes, you realize that perhaps it’s time to leave it here for now, to take things slowly, see where it takes you.  But he isn’t sure if he wants that, to see you slip away again, like the finest sand between his fingers.

“Uhm…thanks for the ride.”  You make a move to open the door but Rafe was quick to lock it, making your brows meet in a soft frown.  “Rafe-”

He cuts you off by clumsily pulling his seatbelt off, cupping both your cheeks to smash his lips on yours.  It wasn’t careful nor romantic, just pure unadulterated need and impulse.  You can feel the tremble in each other’s lips, the fear that one of you might pull away, the fear of what comes next, the fear of not having the other’s love returned in the same intensity.

But as your breath mixes, your tears soaking each other’s cheeks, your body slowly melts into each other’s arms.  He was desperate, biting and sucking your lips, everything in his kiss wanted to possess you, making your chest tighten in having everything you ever desired at this moment.

Rafe pulls away abruptly, a thin line of spit still connecting your lips when he looks deep into your eyes.  “Tell me you still love me.”  He begs while he cradles your face.

“Rafe.”  You push him away gently but he presses his forehead against yours, his shoulders shaking. 

“Tell me, please.”  He squeezed his eyes, not knowing what response he would be receiving.  He knows he’d die if you reject him, with his soul open and bared to you in its most vulnerable form.

His eyes slowly open when he feels a soft caress on his arm and you’re smiling at him with your tears cascading down your face.

“I love you.”

It felt like Rafe had winter melting in the palm of his hand, giving birth to spring.  Whatever doubt and fear is replaced with nothing else but sweet sweet warmth.  He is being shrouded with undeniable assurance that made him feel invulnerable yet ironically, impossibly vulnerable.  He had nothing moments ago, and suddenly he got a taste of everything, all at once.  He has you.  Just as you have him.

He laughs and kisses you breathlessly.  “God, Y/N, I love you.  I love you, I love you.”  He litters your face with wet kisses, making you laugh, before he kisses your lips once more, his teeth nibbling on your kiss-swollen lip.  “Mmmh, did you get a new lip balm?”

You gently pry his hands from your face as you continue to laugh.  He meets your eyes with sheer adoration, head still trying to wrap around the fact that you are his girl.  His girl.  His girl.

God, he’d gladly die if you told him to, just to prove his dedication. 

“I love you.”  He whispers gently, intimately, vulnerably.

And with equal passion, you reply, “I love you too.”

Rafe has never felt this kind of happiness in his life, not once.  You are his natural high, the ecstasy he’s been chasing.  And now that he has you in his arms, he’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you there with him.

Not Your Girl • Not Her Man

[gutsby]

Love Tap

Pairing: Dad!Joel x Reader

Summary: Old habits die hard with your husband—touching you at inappropriate times is one of them.

Warnings: 18+. Joel Miller is a MUNCH Oral (f!receiving). Unprotected p-in-v (quickie). Slice of life, domestic-style and Joel calls you ‘Mama’ a whole lot. One playful bite.

Word count: 2.4k

Note: ‘You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up’ is a line from 2Pac’s song, ‘Hit ‘Em Up.’

Joel Miller was a wonderful father.

Occasionally, he forgot how to act like one.

He had a tendency to get a little careless. Sloppy.

Letting the dignified, ever-respectful façade slip every now and again and smacking your ass when you walked past. Copping a feel when you had to squeeze by him in the kitchen. Best of all, pinching your cheek through your skirt while you were cradling the baby—his baby—and leaving you no choice but to shoot him a quick back-the-fuck-up-before-you-get-smacked-the-fuck-up look and a covert middle finger to remind him that he wasn’t supposed to be slapping your butt in front of the kids.

It was just bad practice to engage in those dumb, flirty antics, particularly when your four-year-old son had made it his mission in life to imitate everything dad did.

But again, Joel would sometimes forget that.

On a morning when he’d woken up a little too early with an erection that was a tad too stubborn to ignore, he got especially forgetful. He found himself plastered to your backside at the edge of the bathroom counter with a grin, knowing damn well you only had twenty-five minutes to get the family dressed, fed, and on the road.

“Joel, you are so—”

“Quick. I’ll be quick.”

His eyes suddenly pleading with yours in the mirror. You just might’ve had the willpower to turn his honeyed gaze away were it not for the lips that followed it. Tracing the shell of your ear and behind it, down your neck, leaving trails of soft kisses down the skin until he reached the collarbone, your sweet spot, and licked it—the bastard.

“Five. Minutes.” Your words were equal parts invitation and warning as you shimmied your PJs over your butt.

“You know I’ll have ya finished in two, sweet pea,” Joel teased—but deep down, you knew he wasn’t kidding.

Both of you had cum and were done in a record-breaking four and a half minutes, swapping pyjamas for normal clothes in less than half the time and stepping back out of the bathroom with your hair only marginally tousled.

By now you had the ‘Pre-K starts in thirty’ types of quickies down pat. You were proud. You glanced over your shoulder to see a similar glint in Joel’s eye, and as you started out the bedroom door, you felt a tap on your ass—or, with the sheer breadth of your husband’s hand, more like a WHACK, followed by the sound of a stifled laugh.

“Can Daddy get some more’a that later?” he quipped.

“More’a what?”

Aw, hell.

Your sweet, forever nosy mini-Joel was standing directly in front of you with two pinched brows and a mostly eaten dino nugget clenched tight in his tiny fist.

You opened your mouth to conjure up some half-assed excuse for the spank your son just saw, but then your husband was scooping the kid up in his arms and toting him straight down the hallway, and you heard, faintly:

“Whatcha gettin’ from Mama later?”

“None of your beeswax, bubs.”

Joel got his second helping around lunchtime.

He’d been in between calls with what felt like an endless stream of subcontractors, suppliers, architects, and project managers when he swung by the house. You were in the midst of baking cardamom buns when he blew through the kitchen like an EF5 tornado and decided he’d be feasting on something else entirely.

“Joel, my buns,” you whined as soon as he’d carried you up the stairs and tossed you onto the bed, eager as ever.

“Fuck your buns.”

“You already fucked ‘em this morning—can you relax?”

Your husband already had your pants tugged halfway down your legs. You let him, then helped him kick the fabric the rest of the way off when it got to your ankles.

“You’re a fuckin’ maniac, Miller, y’know that?”

Something in the way he smirked as he sank his face between your bare thighs told you he already knew that. You would’ve liked to try and scold him again—give him a little more grief for the baked treats that would surely be burnt to a crisp by the time he was done—but then you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your slit, and you refrained.

Even if you’d wanted to, you scarcely would’ve been able to form a single word apart from, ‘Fu-cking hell, Joel’ and ‘Right there, right thereohfuuuuuuckfuckfuck.’

That was just fine by your husband.

In fact, he seemed perfectly content to lap at your slick, glistening folds while you moaned and cursed his name; it made him proud. Appreciative. Maybe even a tad too smug for his own good, if he were being honest, because the way you fisted his hair and rutted your hips against his face made you act a little more like him. A touch more reckless, sloppy, and desperate than your daily obligations as parents would seem to allow. A bit less proper and refined and a lot more slutty—all for him.

Joel teased your clit with a few soft touches from the tip of his tongue, and you almost tore the sheets in two.

“That feel good, Mama?” he hummed.

“F-Fingers, fuck, Joel— fingers,” you begged.

Still using his tongue, Joel drew the shape of a lemniscate extra slow just to spite you. You whined and bucked your hips in protest, but the man was undeterred—he knew exactly what he was doing. The only way he could be tempted to use his fingers now would be to spread your lips apart and lick you more, which he did.

Joel licked and sucked and drove you up the fucking wall with those figure eights until you nearly couldn’t take it. In one hasty, desperate move, you tilted your hips and tried to slip a finger past Joel’s mouth, into your cunt.

He bit that finger. You yelped.

“JOEL!”

It wasn’t that the bite actually hurt—his teeth barely grazed skin—but rather the way he refused to speed up. Gauging your wants and your needs with expert precision, he massaged the hood of your clit with his tongue and took care to plant suckling kisses as he did. You moaned and squeezed the bedspread, relishing the vulgar sounds of his mouth and the need he was building inside you. You turned your head to the side and whined into the pillow, knowing from the depths of your soul you needed release, but Joel just wouldn’t oblige you…yet.

When he grinned against your wet, warm, and slippery folds, his mouth might as well have joined in and said, ‘Keep going—you’ll cum on my tongue when I say so.’

Instead, Joel opted to say ‘Mama’ again, softly.

Mama.

He always called you that when he took you extra slow. Sometimes when he took you quick, too. Like a reminder to you both that you were, in fact, the mother of his children, and if the man had had it his way he’d have given you fifty more by now, daycare bills be damned.

He was generous like that. Always giving, giving, giving.

Just not when it came to doling out orgasms sometimes.

“I have a divorce lawyer on speed dial, just so you know,” you hissed through gritted teeth, head falling back when Joel’s tongue sank forward—inside you, then, “FUCK!”

“Mhmmm,” he hummed before retracting once more. Licking the soft, fleshy rim and nearly eliciting a scream.

Joel traced a circle with his tongue. He savored the taste. While you were whining and grinding your hips against the wet spot underneath you—a puddle that would only grow larger the longer he went on—your husband was devouring you, kissing your thighs every now and then.

“Well, if we split, my tongue goes too,” Joel said. Smug.

“Texas is a community property state,” you murmured, “I taught you how to eat pussy so your mouth is a marital asset.”

Silently, Joel wondered how that argument might hold up in court, grinned, then continued licking your cunt. You squeezed his head with your thighs, dug the balls of your feet in the sheets, and let out a lewd, pornographic scream that could’ve woken half the street. Luckily, your neighbors were probably all at work, your bedroom walls insulated just well enough to mask the noise, and Joel’s resolve crumbling slowly as he kissed between your legs.

One wanton, shameless, ‘I’m gonna cum, Joel, please’ was like music to his ears. He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten with a wife and mother as sweet as you, so upright and polite in your day-to-day life and then a hot, trembling mess beneath his tongue when he needed you like this the most. Surely he couldn’t treat you so mean.

Joel wedged two thick fingers in your slick, dripping heat and beckoned you to him as kindly as he possibly could. Rubbing the pads of both digits, callused as they were, against the spongy insides of your core and flicking them forward—‘C’mere, Mama, Daddy’s right here, go on’— so of course, you had no other logical choice but to cum.

It was all habit by now. A dazzling, sumptuous routine.

And Joel Miller was certain he’d never tire of seeing it.

Your spine arched off the mattress an inch or two, toes curling at the feeling, and while the sensation spanned over your body, your husband was the first to see it, sense it on his lips and tongue and fingers just as well. He squeezed your hip, told you how fucking pretty you looked when you came for him, then patiently waited out the spasms and cries and fingers lacing through his soft, dark locks like he was your last remaining tether to earth.

Then he kissed the inside of your thighs and smiled.

“All better, honey?” he hummed.

“Yeah,” you breathed back.

“Still want a divorce?”

A smirk and a response of ‘Not until you knock me up at least one more time’ was hovering somewhere over your tongue when you felt the bed shake. Buzzing. Vibrating?

Joel sat up between your legs and yanked something out from under his ass. He peered down at the thing—staring into a screen—and cocked a brow as he looked back up.

“Someone’s been naughty,” he said simply. Grinning.

He lobbed the phone your way, and you just barely managed to catch it between two trembling hands.

Incoming Call: Francisco C. Morales Elementary

You shot Joel a look and answered it instantly.

Disoriented, disheveled, and slightly foggy from climax, you half-expected to find one of your son’s disgruntled teachers on the other end of the line, reminding you that today was a noon dismissal and everyone was supposed to pick their kids up an hour ago. Your husband was the one who would always keep up with school schedules, so your gaze narrowed at him, butt scooting up the bed while he tried to dive right back between your legs.

“He-llo?”

You smacked a hand away from the front of your blouse.

“Is this Mrs. Miller?” a voice trilled through the phone.

Yes, unfortunately, it was.

You almost had to backhand Joel across the face when he tried to bite the button off your brand new top, teeth ruthless in their pursuit of getting you fully naked now.

“This is she,” you squeaked.

Someone cleared their throat on the other end of the line—as though they knew you had a broad, hulking husband with a cock as hard as sheet metal trying to tear your clothes off while you talked. You stifled a shriek and a giggle when you felt your relentless man move down.

Joel was busy working your blouse from the bottom with that feral mouth of his when the voice sounded again:

“We’d really appreciate it if you and your husband could come see us this afternoon to have a little chat about—”

Your eyes widened. You clutched your phone even tighter and this time, more seriously, shoved Joel away. When he frowned and started to pout, you raised a finger.

“A-About what? Has my— has he done something bad?” Your voice all of a sudden tight, words wavering just enough to snag your husband’s attention too.

“We can explain more when you get here, he’s just…”

‘What the fuck?’ Joel mouthed silently, leaning in.

“What? What’s he done?” You couldn’t help it.

You heard a long sigh across the line, and you knew that wasn’t good. It sounded a lot like the kind of sighs you made whenever your baby made a colossal mess all over the kitchen floor, or your husband slammed a door too loud and woke the kids from their nap, or your son just—

“—keeps slapping his classmates on the butt.”

“Wait, what?”

You blinked. Joel coughed. Together, half-naked on the bed, you sat up a little straighter and leaned even closer into the phone, hearts starting to thud in your chests.

“Your son was just…spanking other kids and asking if he could ‘get some more’a that later,’ and when his teacher asked him where he’d learned to do a thing like that—”

You turned. Joel paled. Your gaze could’ve seared a hole through the front of his skull if you stared any harder, and just as your son’s principal continued talking, Joel raised his hands in surrender, already trying to apologize.

“Honey—”

“—and he told her he saw your husband do it at home—”

You didn’t need to hear another word. You were already fishing for your pants, yanking them back up your legs and brushing aside your husband’s soft, red-faced attempts at consolation, and when you were dressed, you started straight for the door. Already babbling some half-coherent apology to the woman on the phone, dodging Joel’s impossibly large hands and arms and hugs as he tried to pull you back into his chest and tell you he was sorry. You just might’ve let him, and maybe even believed him to be sincere, if you didn’t see the tiniest smirk on his lips as he fought to wrangle you in.

You’d made it to the door and were just about to pivot to give Joel the finger, tell him this was not funny at all, and he was coming with you right now, when both of you halted at the threshold and were obliged to turn again.

You sniffed the air, and your husband made a face.

Was it—

Before you could think, a plume of smoke drifted out through the kitchen door. Your eyes widened, and right as the fire alarm let out its piercing scream, you wailed,

“My buns!”

[thewulf]

When the Laughter Stops || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - I was wondering if you could do one with Jake Seresin where him and the reader are co workers (but they liked each other a lot and are idiots) and she flirts with him a lot, like constantly and he mostly just laughs it off but flirt back sometimes, but she suddenly stops one day and is very quiet and he's worried... Read Rest Here

A/N: Gosh I just love Jake. I really hope they make another TG movie with our boy in it <3 Thank you for the request @stuffingbuttsandshit

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.3k+

T/W : Violation (Not Jake), Talk of Weapons, Talk of break in

Mornings at North Island always started the same way.

Your headset was already on, comms running smooth as you relayed flight data to Mav and the rest of the squadron. You had everything under control because that’s what you did. You were the best at what you did. And you knew it. You didn’t spend years at the Academy and across the country to be mediocre at your job. You were good and you knew it.

Jake Seresin knew it too.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” came the familiar, honey-dipped drawl over your shoulder before he even stepped into the control room. You grinned into your headset. He was right on schedule as always.

You didn’t turn around immediately instead letting the anticipation hang for a second longer before glancing over your shoulder. He was leaning against your desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that insufferably handsome smirk that was as much a part of him as his damn callsign.

“Hangman,” you greeted, flashing him an easy smile. “Looking as sharp as ever. It must really be exhausting carrying around that much charm all the time.”

His smirk deepened as he took you in. “It is, actually darlin’. But I manage.”

You made a show of giving him a once-over. That green flight suit zipped halfway, dog tags resting against the fabric of his undershirt and that confidence oozing from every pore. Annoyingly attractive, you noted. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. But damn, the man was hot as hell.

“Good thing I’m here to keep you humble,” you teased while tapping your earpiece as the radio crackled.

Jake leaned in slightly, just enough that you caught the faint scent of his aftershave. The scent curled through the air: rich sandalwood, and cedar laced with smoky vetiver and that deep warmth of amber and musk. Dark, refined, and impossible to forget. Just like man who wore it. And who was currently staring a hole in the side of your head.

 “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t wanna do that. What would you flirt with if I wasn’t around?” He gave you a devious smirk as his eyes traced your face.

You arched a brow, lips curling. “Oh, I’d manage.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like you were something impossible. “Damn shame sweetheart.” This was the rhythm. The effortless push and pull. The game neither of you called by name but both played with unmatched skill.

“Seresin, you done harassing my officer?” Maverick’s voice cut in from across the room with nothing but amusement lacing in his tone.

Jake straightened slightly but didn’t look away from you. “Just making sure my sweetheart starts her day right, Mav.”

You shot Mav an eyeroll before turning back to Jake. “Aw, how sweet of you Jake.” You cooed at him.

Jake hummed, tilting his head. “Sweet’s not usually what they call me, darlin’.”

The way he said it, low and teasing, sent a thrill up your spine. But you didn’t let it show. Instead, you reached for the mission brief on your desk, casually brushing your fingers against his arm as you passed it to him.

“Guess I’m just special then,” you said with an easy grin.

His eyes flickered with something. Something unreadable. Something dangerous. But the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

“Guess you are,” he murmured. His voice softer this time.

And just like that, he was gone, heading out to brief with the others, leaving behind the faintest trace of his presence. You exhaled, shaking your head to yourself. Yeah. This was the rhythm. At least, it had been. Until everything changed.

Until last night.

Until you woke up to the sound of your front door creaking open.

Until you reached for the bedside drawer, heart pounding, breath shallow, fingers closing around the cold metal of the weapon you kept there. The weapon you dreaded ever having to use.

Until you saw him. A dark figure standing at the foot of your bed, a knife glinting faintly in the sliver of moonlight filtering through your curtains.

Your body had moved on instinct, years of training kicking in before fear could fully take hold. The moment you pointed your weapon at him, he hesitated just long enough for you to move. You sprang from the bed, voice sharp and unyielding, ordering him to back off. And then just as quickly as he had come he was gone. Like a wraith in the night.

The cops arrived minutes later but it didn’t matter. He was already long gone, leaving behind nothing but an overturned chair, a shattered sense of security, and the lingering imprint of fear in your bones.

You barely slept after that, sitting with your back to the wall, weapon still gripped tightly in your hands until the sun started to rise.

And now you were here, at work, trying to pretend like nothing had changed. But Jake knew you too well. So, when he walked into the control room, expecting your usual teasing grin, expecting the flirtation that had become second nature between you. He immediately noticed the difference. You were at your desk, headset on, posture stiff, eyes trained on the monitors like they held the secrets of the universe. No smirk, no playful roll of your eyes when he approached. No wink. No greeting.

And that was the first sign that something was very, very wrong.

Jake frowned, slowing his stride. He leaned against your desk, arms crossing over his chest in the same lazy way he always did, waiting for you to acknowledge him. Nothing.

He tilted his head. “Morning, sweetheart,” he drawled, watching for a reaction.

Your fingers stilled on the keyboard, just for a second, but then you resumed typing like you hadn’t heard him. His frown deepened. Okay. Maybe you were just busy. Maybe Mav had you swamped with flight schedules or logistics nightmares. Maybe.

But then he really looked at you.

Your usual fire, the effortless confidence that made your job look easy was gone. In its place was something tight, something controlled. He followed the subtle tension in your shoulders. The way your jaw stayed clenched even as you kept working. Something wasoff.

“You sick or somethin’?” Jake asked, lowering his voice, trying to meet your gaze.

You finally looked at him but the second your eyes met his you blinked quickly and dropped them again. “I’m fine,” you said too flatly. Too rehearsed. With no emotion in the usual boisterous voice of yours.

Jake’s stomach twisted. Bullshit. You weren’t fine. He knew fine, and this wasn’t it. But what he didn’t know was why. For the first time since meeting you, Jake felt the shift. The invisible wall you’d put up overnight, cutting him out without warning. And he hatedit. Where there should’ve been fire, there was only silence.

Jake tried to ignore it at first. Maybe you were just having an off day. Maybe you were tired. Maybe whatever had drained the light from your eyes would pass on its own.

But as the day dragged on, he knew that wasn’t the case. You barely spoke, sticking to clipped, professional responses when you had to interact with him or anyone else. You kept your head down, shoulders drawn in. It was so unlike you. It made his skin itch.

Then, when someone brushed past you in the hallway. Just a casual, harmless pass. You flinched. It was small, barely noticeable, but Jake saw it. And that was all it took. His blood ran cold. He knew that reaction. Had seen it before. And it sent every instinct he had into overdrive.

The rest of the day, he didn’t leave you alone. Not in a way that would spook you, but he made sure he was always nearby, always watching. You barely acknowledged him and that was the final crack in his patience. By the time your shift ended, he was donewaiting.

You had just stepped outside the hangar when he caught up to you. He moved fast enough that you had no choice but to stop. "Sweetheart," he said. And this time his voice wasn’t teasing, wasn’t lazy or smug. It was quiet. Steady. Serious.

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “Jake, I—”

“Something’s wrong,” he cut in. His green eyes searching your face. “And I need you to tell me what it is.”

Your breath faltered. You didn’t answer right away but the way your gaze darted away. The way your lips pressed together like you were afraid to speak made his stomach twist. He softened, stepping closer, his voice dropping even lower. “Hey. It’s me, alright? Just me. You can tell me.”

You swallowed hard. And then finally your walls started to crack. “I—” You exhaled shakily, like forcing the words out might break you. “Someone broke into my house last night.”

Jake went still.

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you continued. “I woke up and he was just there. He had a knife… I think he would have tried to grab me. But I fought back, I scared him off but…” You sucked in a breath. Shaking your head unbelieving that this had even happened to you. “He ran before the cops got there. They haven’t found him. They won’t find him most likely.”

Jake’s fists clenched. His entire body went rigid. His jaw locking so hard it ached. Jesus Christ. The thought of you alone, terrified, fighting off some bastard in the middle of the night made his vision go red. He wanted to break something. No, he wanted to findthe bastard who did this. But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, you mattered.

Carefully he reached for you. His fingers grazing your wrist before he slid his hand fully over yours. His grip was firm, grounding. Warm.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he murmured. His voice tight, lethal with restrained fury but when he looked at you again all he let you see was the concern. The unwavering steadiness. “You’re safe now, okay? I promise you, you’re safe.” And for the first time all day, your body eased just a little. Just enough.

You weren’t sure who moved first. One second, you were standing there, raw and exposed with your confession hanging in the air between you. The next, Jake’s arms were around you, solid and steady, pulling you against his chest. And you let him. The moment his warmth surrounded you, the breath you had been holding all day broke free in a shaky exhale. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his flight suit, gripping tight, grounding yourself in him. Breathing in the woody scent that always seemed to coat him.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just held you. And God, you hadn’t realized how much you needed it until now. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. His voice a low, steady rumble against your ear. “You’re safe. No one’s scaring you again, I swear it.” You knew his words weren’t empty promises, weren’t meaningless reassurances. They were a vow.

Jake pulled back just enough to look at you, one hand lifting to cup the side of your face. His thumb brushing lightly along your cheek. “You’re not staying at your place alone tonight.” He said with such conviction.

You blinked up at him. “Jake—”

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” The smirk was there, but softer, missing its usual cocky edge. He tilted his head. “You really think I’m gonna walk away after what you just told me? Not a chance darlin’.” Your resolve wavered. You should tell him you’ll be fine. That you don’t need him hovering. But the idea of being alone in that house, of walking through those doors and feeling that fear claw at you again…

You swallowed hard and nodded. “I have a guest room,” you murmured. “You can take the guest room.”

Jake’s smirk deepened. “Whatever you say, darlin’. I’ll sleep on the porch if you want.” You smiled softly. Jake had a way of doing that for you. Charming bastard he was.

Jake didn’t waste a second when he got to your home. The second you stepped inside he was already moving. He checked the locks, testing the windows, making sure every single point of entry was secure. You stood off to the side watching as he knelt by your front door, brows furrowed in concentration as he worked to reinforce the deadbolt.

“You know,” you said while crossing your arms, “I could’ve called a locksmith for that.”

He glanced up, flashing you that signature Jake Seresin smirk. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to prove to you that I’m useful outside the cockpit.” You rolled your eyes but for the first time all day there was the tiniest tug of amusement behind it. And Jake saw it. Reveled in it.

After he was satisfied that your place was Fort Knox-level secure, he finally let you settle. The tension still lingered, though thin, stretched tight under your skin. He noticed it in the way your shoulders stayed rigid. In the way your fingers curled slightly like you were bracing yourself for something.

So, he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He made you laugh.

You weren’t sure when the tension finally started to ease but at some point you found yourself curled up on the couch half-listening as Jake recounted some absurd training exercise where Phoenix had absolutely wrecked him in a dogfight.

“—I swear to God, I had her, I had her, and then at the last second, she pulls this insane move out of nowhere. Next thing I know, she’s behind me, cackling like a damn supervillain and I’m dead in the water.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I bet she lovedthat.”

“Oh, she hasn’t shut up about it since,” Jake admitted, shaking his head in exasperation. “I’ll never live it down. Worst part is, Mav saw the whole thing. Didn’t even bother hiding the smug look.”

You let out a small laugh and Jake stilled. It was quiet, barely there, but it was real. His smirk softened, something shifting behind his eyes. For the first time ever, he really looked at you. Not just as the woman who sparred with him, who kept up with his banter, who never let him get the last word. But as you. The woman who had been terrified last night. The woman who had been shakentoday. The woman he never wanted to see rattled like that again.

You felt the shift too because your smile faded slightly. Your gaze flickering over his face like you were searching for something. Your voice was quiet when you spoke. “Thanks, Jake.”

His throat bobbed. The muscles in his jaw flexing like he was holding something back. He should’ve said something. Should’ve teased. Should’ve smirked and drawn out the moment. Should’ve eased you back into the comfort of your usual game. But he didn’t. Because this wasn’t the game anymore.

His hand lifted before he could stop himself. His fingers brushing along the side of your face. His thumb grazing your cheek so lightly, so gently, like he was afraid you might disappear if he wasn’t careful.

Your breath caught but you didn’t move away. Didn’t say a word. Couldn’t say a word. And then your eyes flicked down to his mouth just for a second, but long enough. Long enough for him to see it. To feelit.

His pulse kicked hard against his ribs, a slow, building pressure coiling in his chest, in his gut. Jesus. You wanted this. You wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you.

Something cracked wide open between you in that moment. Something unspoken but undeniable. Something that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long it was a wonder it hadn’t boiled over sooner.

Jake’s breath was warm against your skin as he leaned in, his nose barely brushing yours. Giving you the chance to back away if you wanted. He could feel the way you inhaled sharply. The way your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your hoodie like you were holding yourself back.

His thumb traced the edge of your jaw. His voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. “Don’t thank me, darlin’.”

And without thinking, without second-guessing, without giving either of you a chance to step back. He kissed you. It was slow, like he had all the time in the world to memorize the way your lips felt against his. It was lingering, like he wasn’t sure if this was the first or the last time he’d get to do this. It wasn’t playful. Wasn’t teasing. It was real.

When he pulled back, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, wasn’t tense. It was heavy with something unspoken. With something waiting to be acknowledged. But instead of speaking Jake just gave you one last lingering look before pressing a softer barely-there kiss to your forehead. A silent promise. A quiet reassurance.

“Get some sleep sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The scent of fresh coffee pulled you from sleep. For a moment, you lay there, disoriented, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through your curtains. Your brain slowly caught up. You hadn’t made coffee. And there was only one other person in your house who would.

Jake.

You pushed back the covers and padded toward the kitchen. The wood floor cool against your bare feet. And there he was.

Jake Seresin stood at your stove pouring coffee into two mugs like he’d done it a hundred times before. His flight suit jacket was still draped over a chair, but he’d changed into the sweatpants you’d tossed at him last night. The fabric hanging low on his hips in a way that was far too distracting this early in the morning. His hair was still messy, slightly sleep-ruffled, and for some reason that made your stomach do something ridiculous.

He looked comfortable here. In your space. Like he belonged. And you liked it. Liked the way it looked. Liked the way he looked. God help you.

At the sound of your footsteps he turned, flashing you a grin. “Mornin’, sweetheart.” He held out a mug. “Figured you might need this.”

You crossed your arms but took it anyway, inhaling deeply before your first sip. Perfect. Of course, he makes perfect coffee, too. “Didn’t take you for a domestic type, Seresin,” you muttered, lifting an eyebrow. Trying your best to look annoyed but you were anything but that.

Jake smirked while leaning a hip against the counter. “You saying you expected me to sneak out before sunrise?”

You hummed, taking another sip. “Wouldn’t have been the first time a Navy pilot bailed on me.”

His smirk faltered just slightly. Just enough to make your lips twitch. “Not my style, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head. Then after a beat he nudged your elbow. “You slept okay?”

The teasing had softened and the warmth in his voice caught you off guard. You hesitated, fingers curling around your mug, but the truth easily came this time.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I did. I slept more than okay.” Because knowing he was just a room over made it easy to relax. Jake studied you for a second. His green eyes sharp, thoughtful, like he was making sure you meant it.

Satisfied, he clinked his mug against yours, smirk returning full force. “Good. ‘Cause I make a damn good bodyguard. But I make an even better breakfast. What’s it gonna be, sweetheart? Eggs or pancakes?”

You blinked. “You’re making breakfast too?”

Jake gave you a slow, lazy grin. “Oh, darlin’, you think I’m lettin’ you start your day without a full meal andmy charming company? Hate to break it to you, but you’re really bad at getting rid of me.”

You scoffed while shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“Charming,” he corrected, winking.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to fight, “Pancakes. I like my breakfasts sweet.”

He gave you that devilish grin, “Noted darlin’.”

And just like that. That something between you and Jake Seresin shifted. For good.

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[six-eyed-samurai]

SUMMARY: The three times Giyuu really wishes he was loud about his opinions because god damn if he wasn’t fed up with all the people hitting on you. A/N: You can read this as a part II to this fic, or simply standalone. WARNINGS: Reader is female and has already started a family with Giyuu. TAGLIST: @flogflower MASTERLIST/PREVIOUS FICS

Tomioka Giyuu was known for being a very silent wallflower, a mysterious man whom no one knew much about, not even the rest of the Hashira, as shown by how they never knew he had a wife until very recently. Usually that worked in his favour, as he hadn’t liked to be hounded by busybodies for his marriage to you or the birth of your first child Koji, but sometimes there really were moments where he wished he was as loud as Rengoku or open about his opinions as Shinazugawa because god damn if he wasn’t fed up with all the people hitting on you.

THE FIRST TIME:

He finally found the time to secretly surprise you by taking you and Koji to that restaurant you were always raving about. You’d always wanted to have a meal with him there and to this day he was still very sorry he never had the time to go. It would be the first time you all would be out as a family and understandably you were very excited (underneath Giyuu’s mask of stone he was as giggly as baby Koji at 3 a.m. in the morning). Understandably Giyuu spent a lot of time planning and perfecting this outing from reserving a table to predicting exactly how much he’d have to spend on dessert (your pregnancy no longer excused your crazy cravings, but Giyuu was long used to it…perhaps not his wallet though).

Understandably Giyuu was rehashing the 101 ways to get rid of the patron flirting next to you. It looked like the first way, aka staring at him intensely in the most uncomfortable way, was not working as well as he hoped.

The audacity! Giyuu couldn’t even savor his salmon daikon now, not when he was fuming so quietly as he was forced to watch the brunet drop hint after hint of his interest in you. When he. Was. Right. There.

The sheer audacity!

…he wasn’t sitting that far from you, was he? Maybe the man assumed you both were strangers? Giyuu slouched in his seat, as unaware of how obviously he was sulking as the man shamelessly hitting on you of your marital status. Koji turned his head up in surprise at his father’s sudden stop at tilting the milk bottle into his mouth, babbling sadly.

Did he not see the ring or something? Giyuu wondered if he should’ve bought something flashier like Uzui had said some time ago. You were barely offering the man a fraction of your attention but even Total Concentration Breathing couldn’t accelerate his heart as much as it did now.

Go away, Giyuu chanted in his head, go away.

“Mamamammamamamamamamamaamam!” Koji suddenly squealed, squirming around in Giyuu’s hold, reaching out for his mother. You turn immediately, cooing at your precious boy. At other times Giyuu would be put out by how his son was choosing you over him, but today he couldn’t stop his mouth from twitching into a smirk when he watched the man’s priceless expression as he handed over Koji to you.

“Pass me the bottle, Yuu.” You cuddle your baby closer, oblivious to the staring match Giyuu was winning between the man and him over your bent head. “Aw, don’t fuss, don’t fuss, Daddy sucks at feeding you, doesn’t he?”

“Hey!” Giyuu’s eyes widened, speechless. You giggle and press a quick kiss to his crumb-stained cheek (Giyuu was rarely one to gloat but he couldn’t resist when he flashed a triumphant smile to the man uncomfortably making some excuse to get up and leave.

“Here, hold him, I need to clean up your face.” Giyuu happily took back Koji and let you wipe at his face, reveling in the tenderness of your gaze. “I swear, Giyuu, even Koji doesn’t make such a mess - it’s like I’ve got two babies to take care of.”

“I thought you liked taking care of me!”

“I do!” You roll your eyes at his indignant expression.

“Mmmm!” Koji cooed and the corner of Giyuu’s lip twitched as he looked down. Saved by his baby to protect his other baby - oh well, better than the plan of extreme torture Giyuu had been dreaming of when that tiny spark of jealousy ignited.

THE SECOND TIME:

He thought that jealous, angry spark was smothered and put out after a week or so went by with nothing else like that happening, but hell was he wrong and like the flames of hell the spark was bursting into.

How the hell did so many people not realize you’re married to him, for goodness’ sake? He wondered. For that matter why did this always happen the moment you handed Koji to him for even just a moment?

Giyuu trailed around you like a lost puppy, pathetically trying to remind you of his existence while you walked around town with your recently reunited childhood friend. After the initial introductions and usual hyped excitement at seeing a cute baby you and Aya had fallen to catching up on what the both of you had been doing for the past years and recounting silly memories. You were so delighted at meeting her again Giyuu had offered to take Koji from you and leave for privacy.

He was content with the bonding time he had spent with Koji, of course, but it was rather spoiled when he returned after the tuckered out child finally curled against him to take a quick nap to find the topic of conversation had turned to one of romance and relationships.

“Your fiance sounds like an amazing man! I’m so happy for you - you better keep your promise of making me your maid of honor!” Out of habit you slipped your hand into Giyuu’s when he sat down on the bench next to you.

Aya giggled, as lovestruck as Giyuu at the moment. “Of course I will! But eh, (y/n)-chan, haven’t you gotten married yet?”

You didn’t notice the slow turning of Giyuu’s head in her direction with a disbelieving face, only to beam and reply. “I am! He’s -”

“If you want I know someone, he matches your personality very well! He’s a close friend of my fiance actually. I mention you a lot to him, to be honest, and he said you sound like a lovely person. If you’re okay with it I can help set you both up!”

“Are you stupid?” Giyuu suddenly blurted out, unable to control himself anymore. “I’m her husband…”

***

“Can you tell Mama I’m sorry for me, baby?” Giyuu sighed, gently nudging Koji away from the edge of the futon. He cocked his chubby head to one side, blinking, then flopped over to wriggle his way closer to Giyuu. “She’s not talking to me but she won’t ignore you.”

Giyuu was dying (from the lack of cuddles). Ever since his childish outburst (a justified defense of himself) that had severely taken Aya aback and caused you to give him the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. He had been banished (sent off to go sleep in the living room) and starved (denied your delicious cooking and made to go find cold soba from a nearby food stall). At least he had one ally left (Koji had no idea what was going on; Giyuu had simply kidnapped him from his cot for company).

“Bwa.”

“Mmm. I’ve already apologized about ten times though. I still can’t believe Aya somehow thought I was just a friend following her though.” It was nice to pretend Koji could actually understand him, though he’d never admit it. “Hey, hey, don’t drool there.”

“Mmph! Bweeeh!”

“Maybe I’ll go buy her flowers?”

“Sssss!”

“Are you talking to the baby, Tomioka?”

Giyuu sat up straight and whipped around fast enough to crack his neck. You stood by the hallway with your arms crossed and lips pursed. Koji giggled.

“…no.” Giyuu frowned. “Don’t call me Tomioka.”

“It’s your name isn’t it?”

“Not for you.” He looked on the verge of tears. This man really knew how to tug on your heartstrings; you averted your gaze. “It’s Giyuu. Or Yuu. Anything but that. Are you that mad at me?”

“You didn’t have to be so rude, you know.” You crossed the room and sat down in front of him, helping Koji roll over to you. “I didn’t know she didn’t know we were married and that’s is kinda silly of Aya not to notice, but that’s not really a reason to be so insulting.”

“I’m sorry.” Giyuu lowered his head. “…am I not good enough to be your husband?”

“What?!” Your jaw fell open. “Why would you say such a thing? You’re the best thing this world’s ever given me! I love you so much I’d actually choke on air if you’re not there! I’d kill myself if you left me! How can you even say such a thing?”

“Not like that! I’m just -” Giyuu shrugged miserably. “Why doesn’t anybody see that? Is it because I don’t show affection to you a lot? You could do a lot better, everyone seems to think.”

“Giyuu. You’re going to look at me and have what I said drilled into your head.” Well, at least you weren’t calling him by his surname anymore. “When we started going out I already knew what I was getting with you. So what if you don’t feel comfortable kissing and hugging and holding hands out in public? I don’t know any other guy who’d buy me bouquets for no reason, try to cook me my favorite meal when I’m sick, make sure I don’t overwork myself during training. Whether people think I could do a lot better or not is their problem. I’m already doing the best there is, so don’t ever say that to me, Yuu.”

Giyuu definitely was not crying.

“I’m serious, Giyuu. If you do you’ll be sleeping out here for a week.”

“Bwa!”

“And this time I won’t be letting you bundle off our baby for yourself either.” The closeness of how much you were leaning into him and the way you were smiling though said otherwise. Giyuu chuckled, pushing away your hair from your face and pulling Koji onto his lap.

“Can I go back to the bedroom then?”

THE THIRD TIME:

Giyuu was reasonably confident if someone were to repeat this mistake he’d be able to handle like a mature, grown man and not throw another childish remark around.

The universe didn’t seem to think so.

Shinobu had advised you to not go on any missions for the time being, reasons being you should be recovering after Koji’s birth. Giyuu and you were more than happy about that, both having agreed at the start that you didn’t want any babysitters. So for now you were saddled with minor jobs like scouting out an area or mostly, giving extra training to the lower-ranked slayers.

Giyuu was fortunately free that day, so he had decided to go stick around and if nothing else enjoy watching you relentlessly push the slayers into doing better. Somewhere along the way, however, Koji had somehow dropped his beloved stuffed rabbit and to prevent the inevitable temper tantrum and crying fit Giyuu wasted an hour looking everywhere for it.

Finally successful in finding the worn toy and putting Koji to sleep, Giyuu headed off to go find your training grounds.

“(y/n)-sensei is so pretty, isn’t she?”

“She doesn’t look married too.”

“Bet she’ll say yes if I ask her out!”

“You wish! Someone like you, stand a chance with her? Dream on! I’m far better than you, she’d say yes to me for sure!”

“Hah, wanna bet? You sure have an ego the size of Japan to think that.”

Giyuu stopped in his tracks with a scandalized expression on his usually stoic face.

The slayers you had been training were clearly on break. The two he had accidentally eavesdropped on were older than the rest, perhaps around the same age as him and clearly a whole lot cockier. You were too distracted answering some questions from others and calling out encouragement to a group of sparring slayers to hear them…but he did.

He walked in and everyone fell silent.

“Isn’t that the Water Pillar? He looks so scary!”

“What’s he doing here? I’m not going to be able to do well with a Hashira breathing down my neck!”

“Woah, whose baby is that? It looks so much like (y/n)-sensei!”

“Koji missed you,” Giyuu said abruptly, stopping in front of you and ignoring the circulating whispers, handing over your child. You quietly laugh - since Koji was born Giyuu started using him to express his feelings.

“Are you sure it was him or you - mmmph!”

Giyuu took a particular relish in seeing the looks of shock, embarrassment and horror on the two slayers as he yanked you into a heart-stopping kiss and flashed the hand with his ring on it at them.

“You’re done training for the day. All of you are dismissed.” He grabbed your hand, gestured listlessly at the others, and dragged you away firmly.

“Giyuu!!!”

***

He made a special point to invite the two slayers to the Water Estate a couple of months later. They were very pleased indeed to be trained by the Water Hashira himself per personal request! Honorary Tsugoku!

“Why are you both so weak? You move so slowly any demon would eat you before you even draw your sword. Have you not been listening to my wife’s training? If you aren’t, don’t ever waste her time ever again. Even my son could do better than you both.”

There really was something very humiliating about being compared to the cooing, drooling baby pushing around his toys in the corner. Tomioka must really hate them to be speaking so much…

“Well? Get on with it!”