#quit using firecrackers

[scaryscarecrows]

"You know how your ancestors are supposed to tell you how much spice to put?" Frank says mildly, watching Riley stir the chili oil into the ramen broth. Riley nods. "Your ancestors are either not here or total bastards."

Riley laughs.

Pick one.

"Knowing you, total bastards."

The responding cackle is not reassuring.

[anmaries]

I think another reason why I prefer rogue’s hair to be huge and untamed is because I think it fits her a lot more personality wise. rogue might be southern, but she’s never fit into that southern belle type of box. she was born into a cult, and then she was raised by terrorists, and that made a major impact on the way she deals with her feelings and surroundings. rogue can be incredibly violent and aggressive. whether it be threatening remarks or just actual violence she struggles a lot with having a proper response to certain situations. she has very extreme reactions, like her commitment to being self sacrificial to those who show her kindness, or the fact that a small disagreement can lead to her beating the shit out of someone

[moonchild9350]

Once Upon a Time My World Was Filled with You

summary: a boy and girl worlds collide and their lives are never the same.

pairing: hyunjin x fab!reader

genre: soulmates au, they are spies, fluff, suggestive-18+MDNI

wc: 4.8k

warnings: implied sex, pregnancy

notes: i love this photoshoot and that letter hyunjin wrote took my breath away and so this fic was born. i hope you enjoy it and if so let me know!

please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2025)

general masterlist divider by @viviansturns

Your heart is full, the edges overflowing with love as your eyes roam the little ones scurrying around the room. Their laughter is shrill and loud and the sound of it makes you smile. You watch as the youngest drops her bunny and you hold your breath, waiting to see what she’ll do.

It’s suddenly quiet, so quiet you can hear ragged breathing, the little girl’s breath coming in short pants after running around. Your ears pick up the clang of glass from the kitchen, followed by the splash of water. Your eyes follow the youngest as she walks over to her bunny and bends down to pick it up, just to cradle it tightly to her chest.

You let out the breath you were holding and smile while clapping your hands.

“Alright darlings, time for bed!” Your demand is met with a chorus of whines and you chuckle as you watch the two girls slide into bed begrudgingly.

You tuck them in tight, sliding the blanket around their little bodies, making sure their stuffies are tucked in as well. Your daughters stare up at you with doe eyes and you chuckle knowing what’s next.

Your heart overflows with affection as you stare at your babies; well, they’re not quite babies anymore. Mila, the oldest at the age of seven, is full of energy and rambunctious. However, despite her firecracker ways, she has a soft heart just like your husband. Esme, the youngest is five going on fifteen, a complete opposite of her sister. She is sweet but sassy and is the leader of the pack despite her small frame.

Leaning over their little bodies, you press kisses to their foreheads as more giggles erupt from their mouths. “Goodnight darlings! Sleep tight...“ but your sentence is cut off by Mila.

“Mommy, can you tell us a story before bedtime? Please?” She juts out her bottom lip and flutters her eyelashes, a trick she’s definitely learned from her father.

“A story? Sure but just one tonight. What story would you like to hear?”

Mila and Esme share a look, one that confuses you but you’re sure they understand, their sibling brains in sync with each other.

“Tell us the story of how you met daddy,” Esme asks.

The story of when you met their dad? What a story that is. Images flicker through your brain at high speed and you smile at the memories, filled with two people in love. You gaze down at your daughters and push back their chocolate brown, curly hair. They are most definitely old enough to hear the story and it’s about time you tell them.

“Okay darlings, I’ll tell you the story of how daddy and I met. Get comfortable okay?”

They nod their heads and snuggle closer together, intent on listening to the story you’re about to tell.

“This is a story filled with secret spies and lots of action but also how a girl met a boy and how their worlds changed forever. This is the story of how I met your father, Hyunjin.”

You are exhausted and even that is an understatement. Your boss has been running you ragged and it’s made you irritated, so much so he doesn’t even look you in the eye anymore whenever he speaks to you. Smart man. Sighing, your fingers begin to fly across the keyboard, as you type up your report from your assignment today. You’re almost done and the thought of finally going home spurs you on.

You are a spy, one of gold rank at that. You’ve been in this profession for a little over five years now and at the age of twenty-five you’ve worked your way up the ranks quickly which is something you’re definitely proud of. Your job is a secret to your friends and family as you can’t really go around saying ‘hey guess what I’m a spy, isn’t that cool’ as you would most likely end up in an insane asylum.

After all, spies only exist in movies and books right? Wrong, just dead wrong. Spies do exist and they are your ordinary person on the street, someone you’d never expect. It’s thrilling blending in with society, yet trailing the most dangerous criminals, watching their every move to put together a timeline so you could take them out.

You love your job, but that thought leaves your mind as your boss walks into the office looking suspiciously chipper. You flinch as he claps loudly, attempting to get the attention of your colleagues.

“Everybody listen up! We have a new person added to the team.” He gestures behind him to the said person, beckoning them to make themselves known in this room full of people.

A man walks in, decked out in black jeans and a slim black shirt that hugs his frame perfectly. His arms are toned and you swear you can see his veins pop as he waves hello shyly. Well this is interesting you can’t help but think, a shy person in this field? Despite his demeanor you notice he’s drop dead gorgeous with large, chocolate brown eyes and soft, pink lips and a baby face outfitted with a dimple as he smiles to his audience.

Your boss nods in satisfaction and murmurs something to the new guy as the chatter resumes in the room as others get back to work. You let out a sigh and continue typing away, focused on getting home to your warm bed. You’re on your last section when a loud thud disturbs you causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Sorry, sorry!” The man next to you says with a panicked look.

“No worries,” you murmur as you realize it’s the new guy aka the handsome one. You take a whiff and all but moan at the smell rafting from the man. He smells of something woody but sweet and you want to smoother your face in his chest so you can sniff him to your heart's content. Flustered, you turn back to your laptop and continue typing.

“I’m uh, I’m Hyunjin. Looks like we’re on the same team.”

Pausing, you turn to look at Hyunjin. “Hi, I’m Y/n and yes it appears so.”

There’s an awkward silence as you both stare at each other, neither one of you wanting to look away first. Hyunjin seems to be checking you out as his eyes slowly drift down your body, taking in your appearance. He shoves his hands in his pockets for a moment and then decides against it, just to slide into his seat instead. Awkwardly, he scooches closer to you much to your chagrin and props his face on his hand.

“So, you’re absolutely gorgeous and I’d love to take you out one day, what do you say?”

You stare at Hyunjin incredulously. Where was the shy, awkward guy that said hello earlier? Smirking, you turned your body so you could see him better. “Oh wow, flirting already huh? On the first day of the job at that.”

Hyunjin chuckles and merely shrugs as he’s amused. “I usually get what I want and well…I want to take you out on a date. Just say yes.”

He stares you down with a look you can’t quite place, but it has your heart racing nonetheless. Hyunjin is bold and nonchalant, not even close to shy and reserved, and that thought makes your belly flutter. However, you are not easy and you definitely don’t go out with men you just met at work so you decide to have a little fun.

“No,” you reply simply, keeping his gaze as he narrows his eyes.

“No?”

“No.”

You all but smile as you stare at Hyunjin’s frustrated look. However, that feeling starts to fade as the man in front of you begins to pout, his bottom lip jutting out and his eyes downcast. You begin to feel nervous and you twiddle your thumbs as Hyunjin turns to face his empty desk.

Shit, you’ve hurt his feelings that much is obvious and you begin to feel bad. You are about to apologize when Jian from across the way beckons Hyunjin over, needing to speak with him about settling in with the company. Hyunjin nods and doesn’t give you another glance, but instead stands up and trudges over to your colleague.

You’ll have to apologize later, but until that time comes, you need to continue this report so you can get home. Focusing on your task, you type away and an hour later you press submit and shut your laptop with a satisfied sigh. Gathering your notebook and laptop, you shove it in your bag and get up to stretch. You let out a yawn before making your way out of the office. Your eyes are on your phone, set on ordering Thai food when you bump into something sturdy.

“Y/n! Are you okay?”

Large hands steady you as you look up into the eyes of none other than Hyunjin. He looks at you with concern and you can’t help but think how cute he looks, so much so your cheeks start to burn. You’re sure your face is red and the thought makes you feel embarrassed. Quickly, you readjust your bag and shake off Hyunjin’s hands.

“I’m okay…I should have been paying attention instead of making sure they don’t include peanuts in my dinner.”

Hyunjin laughs and the sound pleases your ears just right and you can’t help but join in. You clutch your phone tighter and shift your bag.

“Well, hopefully they won’t do so. I’d like to get to know you better after all.”

Oh he’s sly you think, smirking at his statement. “I’m gonna…” your words trail off as you motion towards the door.

“Yes, yes, sorry! Have a good night Y/n.” Hyunjin says as he steps out of your way.

You quickly hurry out of the office and make your way to the elevator. You feel eyes on you and you’re sure Hyunjin is watching you, however, you don’t look back to make sure. Instead you step into the receptacle and press the ground floor button, the thought of your couch and a warm bowl of food in the forefront of your mind.

“Hey Y/n, catch! Boss says we are needed on site today.”

Hyunjin’s deep voice rang in your ear and you closed your eyes at the disturbance. You let whatever he threw at you hit the floor, looking startled when a bunch of paper scattered across the floor.

“Shit!” Hyunjin shouted and raced over, quickly gathering the papers in his arms.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know they were papers.” You said, crouching down to help him. “But wait, paper doesn’t fly…so I’m actually not at fault.”

“Well I know that. But I remembered that after I threw them.”

You stared at the man in front of you, confused at his thought process. Nonetheless, you couldn’t stay confused for long and instead burst out laughing. “You’re crazy.”

Hyunjin merely shrugged and stood up, placing the unkempt pile of papers on your desk. “We have an assignment to go on…so um…let’s go.”

An assignment? You haven’t gone one with Hyunjin yet, even though he’s been at the agency for half a year now. He usually goes with one of your other colleagues on more simple assignments.

“Oh really? Well let me grab my bag,” you reply as you get ready to follow Hyunjin out the door. You scoop the papers up at the last second, thinking it had the details of the case listed.

Hyunjin led you to the parking garage and to a small sports car in which he slid into the drivers seat. He reached over to open your door and you slid in gratefully as your hands were full. Before you could even settle fully into the seat, the car took off and Hyunjin merged into traffic, somehow able to navigate the crowded streets with ease. You found yourself gripping the seat and pressing your foot down on an imaginary peddle as the car sped up. You were going to hurl so you decided to look at the documents Hyunjin gave you earlier and pray you get to the destination soon.

“The case is detailed in there, everything you need to know. We need to scope this guy out and then get out of there unseen.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, eyeing the profile of your target. It seems like you would be tailing a successful business man who specialized in money laundering and you shook your head in disgust. He didn’t seem very kind and instead seemed to be one that walks over those less fortunate than him, a trait you despised greatly. Oh he was not going to get away with his crimes, not if you had anything to say about it.

“This guy is a total pig,” you scoffed, slamming the papers down onto your thighs.

“He is, but we’re going to help put him away, rest assured.”

At that moment, Hyunjin pulled over and smoothly backed into a parking spot on the side of the road. He killed the engine and then turned to face you, “Let’s do this eh partner?”

He flashed you a smile, his eyes scrunching up and dimples showing, and you couldn’t help but smile back at his cuteness.

“Let’s do this.”

It was a scorcher of a day and you felt sweat bead your brow not even a minute into stepping onto the sidewalk. Wiping your forehead, you joined Hyunjin on the sidewalk, both of you exchanging silent glances before going your separate ways. Hyunjin was to stake out the man’s office building while you tailed his every movement. It didn’t take long until your target appeared, carrying an iced coffee in one hand and yelling away on his cellphone.

Bingo you thought and sprang into action, following behind him but at a safe distance. With sunglasses perched on your face, blocking the sun, you listened to the click clack of his shoes on the pavement as he made his way to his destination, which should have been to the Leon building for a meeting with the most notorious mobster of the city. More proof that this was a horrible man, someone who needs to be behind bars for all eternity.

Finally, he approached the building and you allowed him to go in and you take up station across the street in eyesight of the front door. Settling in, you pulled out your phone to see if you received any updates from Hyunjin. He sent you one message, stating everything was all clear on his end and you responded with a thumbs up. With a heavy sigh, you sat back, appreciating the bit of shade that blanketed your body, allowing the cool breeze to flow and cool you off.

Hours passed and your target still hadn’t surfaced from the building and you began to feel uneasy. What if he found out you were tailing him and he went out a different way? But that couldn’t be the case because Hyunjin is watching the entrances, ensuring that he doesn’t stray from his normal path. Just when you were about to shoot a message to Hyunjin, the man walked outside, pausing briefly as he considered where to go next.

You watched as he shifted a bag on his shoulder and then made a left. Wait, why is he going left? He’s supposed to go the other way in order to meet up with his wife for lunch. Something seemed amiss and you quickly pondered what to do. Deciding to follow him, you pushed away from the wall you were sitting on and followed your target.

With each step, you felt your stomach clench as a feeling of unease settled in. Your gut was telling you to stop, turn back and go to Hyunjin, but you couldn’t lose the target. The man continued to walk straight on at an odd pace, one that was not too fast but not too slow until he came to a dead end and stopped. You abruptly halted in place and quickly hid behind a pillar, you breath fanning across the wall nice and hot.

“Come out and everything will be alright,” the man said in an alarmingly calm voice, one that made your swallow and close your eyes, praying that he was talking to someone else and not you.

You stood in place, not daring to move or even breathe for that matter. Seconds passed and then minutes, neither you nor the man saying anything. You couldn’t even reach in your pocket for your phone and you hoped Hyunjin would notice something was amiss when you didn’t check in at the assigned time.

“I won’t ask again, come out and show yourself!”

Inhaling through your nose and out through your mouth, you steeled yourself before deciding to reveal your hiding spot, that is until you heard a voice coming from the other direction in which you came.

“Clara? Clara, where are you love?”

That sounded like Hyunjin, but why was he calling that name? That definitely wasn’t your name.

“Clara? Love?”

And then it clicked. You let a smile grace your face before letting it drop and stepping onto the sidewalk. “Darling? Oh! It is you! I got lost,” you said as you ran into Hyunjin’s arms, resting in his warm embrace and your cheek pressed against his chest.

“Oh my love, I’m so glad I found you. Let’s go home yeah?”

You nuzzled your head further into his chest and breathed in his scent as a rush of calm enveloped your body. You oddly felt safe in Hyunjin’s arms, protected against the man who stood behind you, staring and watching the scene unfold. Your fingers clutched his shirt tighter and your breath caught as he squeezed you tighter and then dropped his arms, opting to grab your hand instead.

Hyunjin dragged you away, back in the direction you came. “We will go home now, okay? You must be tired my love.”

You merely nodded and grasped his hand tighter, matching his long strides with ease. He didn’t say anything more until you arrived at the car and was safely inside, buckled, and on the road back to headquarters. The ride was silent and you found your hands shaking after your close encounter with your target.

Sensing your discomfort, Hyunjin gently placed a hand on your knee and rubbed soft circles on your skin all while continuing to focus on the road. He didn’t say anything but you didn’t mind, the feel of his hand on your skin grounding you after the scary ordeal.

You could feel the atmosphere change as an unspoken vow was made, that he would be there for you no matter what, no matter where, and that was a thought that made you smile. Hyunjin sealed the deal with a squeeze of your knee and the car sped up, taking you both back to the safety of headquarters.

“Y/n, look alive ten o’clock.”

You took a sip of your drink and eyed the area by the door, taking notice of a beautiful woman dressed in ballroom garb waltz into the room with a pompous air. Ah, the woman of the night.

“Don’t worry, you’re more beautiful than her. Did I tell you that dress looks stunning on you?”

It took everything in you not to react to Hyunjin’s words, his husky voice echoing in your ear as the music played. Instead, your eyes roam the ballroom and they land on your partner who’s leaning nonchalantly against the wall, a champagne flute in his hand. If you focus, you can just make out a smirk before he raises the glass to his lips to take a sip.

“Smooth Hyun,” you reply before moving towards your target. Your dress rustles as you maneuver around the guests and your eyes lock in on your target. You know Hyunjin is watching, taking in your every move and the thought makes you blush.

“So beautiful Y/n,” he murmurs into your earpiece, soft and sultry like he does it when you both have a moment alone at work or in passing. It’s been a few months since he rescued you and ever since he’s been by your side, leaving you sneaky presents and sweet words that go straight to your head and heart. The issue is your job, you both can’t be seen together especially as a couple as that would jeopardize your positions.

The thought makes you sad but you make sure not to focus on it, instead to excel at your job in every way. All that to say, you do welcome the added flirty comments or two, loving how Hyunjin’s eyes sparkle as he talks to you, brushes a finger against your cheek when no one is looking.

One, Two, Three, Four you count in your head until you are right on the lady, so close you can smell her perfume, a mixture of peonies and musk. Just like boss told me to do.

Your hand reaches out to the lady’s dress and you accidentally bump into her, brushing the palm of your hand against her waist in an attempt to steady yourself. She turns to look at you with fury and you’re quick to raise your hands in surrender.

“I’m so sorry, clumsy me,” you say with a chuckle and walk away through the wide French doors and into the crisp night air. Without a glance back, you walk with purpose towards the front drive, your heels click clacking against the concrete until you arrive next to a long stretch black limousine.

“Finite” you murmur, knowing Hyunjin would have heard you easily. You slide into the car and let out a breath as you relax into the seat.

“Where to miss?” The driver asks and you reply with a simple “Revealer Hotel please.”

Without another word, the car pulls out of its space and merges seamlessly into the road. It isn’t long until you arrive at the place you’ll be staying and you’re ushered out by the driver. Silently, you make your way into the building and down the hall until you arrive at an ornate elevator. It takes you to a few floors higher and you exit, the thought of your bed on the forefront of your mind.

Your room is there in front of you and you wave your keycard over the sensor, smiling at the little chime it gives off at being successfully unlocked. Stepping into your room, you gently close the door and slip off your heels, just to feel a set of warm hands drift down your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Good job my love,” the voice behind you cooes and you turn around the face Hyunjin who is still decked out in his party clothes.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” you murmur as you push him further into the room.

Hyunjin chuckles and allows his jacket to slip off his broad shoulders and it falls to the ground softly and is quickly forgotten as you slip out of your dress. You watch as his eyes lock in on your figure and he licks his lips in anticipation as to what’s to come.

You love these moments with Hyunjin, where it’s just the two of you. Two souls destined to explore each other, to pry into each other’s lives just to merge into one. Your heart beats for him just like his heart beats for you.

The sounds of nightlife tickle your ears the same time as soft gasps and sighs float through the room. Your fingers draw designs, carefully, delicately, marking Hyunjin as yours just as his lips brush against your skin creating patterns that only he can do. Your eyes close as you listen to the litany of ‘I love you’ from your partner, the man who’s entered your life and stood by your side unexpectedly for the last year.

Your soulmate.

It’s a beautiful symphony, the orchestra has come together both man and woman. The music rises to a crescendo until it ends with a triumphant bang and at that moment, tears fall down your face as your hands reach for Hyunjin, landing softly against his cheeks that are flushed a beautiful shade of pink.

You breathe slowly, deeply, as he kisses your tears away, his breath mingling with yours as you settle deeper into the pillows, letting all of your fears wash away within Hyunjin’s arms. The earth continues to spin and the world moves on uninterrupted, but in this little sanctuary the two of you have created, time has stood still.

”You are my heart, my love, my life.

A simple phrase that has stopped your beating heart and restarted it anew. It’s a vow of new beginnings, new experiences and that is something you welcome with open arms and mind as long as it’s by Hyunjin’s side.

“Aww we are so sad to see you go Y/n!”

You smile politely and embrace your coworker as she helps you pack your desk. You are leaving your job as life has changed drastically and your duties may be a little difficult to complete in your current state.

“I’m sad to go to Serena but life has other plans,” you chuckle as your hand gently rubs the small bump of your belly.

You are expecting, just entering your second trimester and you couldn’t be more happy. You place a picture frame of you and the team in the box just as Hyunjin stops by, a wide smile on his face. Serena looks at Hyunjin with a smirk and teases him by gently shoving him in the shoulder.

“It’s your fault you know.”

Both you and Hyunjin chuckle not denying the claim. Instead, Hyunjin wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to your side.

“Well, what can I say, we just go together like pork belly and rice!”

You and Serena just stare at Hyunjin with an incredulous look. “Really? You dork,” you tease with a shake of your head.

“What?” Hyunjin asks, but then laughs as he helps the two of you pack up your desk.

Shortly after, you place the lid over the box and sigh. That’s it you think and you take a moment to scan the office, the place you’ve called home for years. Hyunjin makes his way over and gently places a hand on your shoulder, “Ready?”

You take another moment to soak it all in and your hand absentmindedly drifts to your belly. You are definitely ready, ready to begin this life of motherhood but also with Hyunjin. You are thankful for this job, after all, it’s how you met him so you can’t really complain.

But as one door opens, another closes and a new adventure begins. You pick up your box and make your way to the front door, walking through it with purpose.

Here’s to the future, here’s to your new life with Hyunjin.

“And that’s it! That’s how I met your father girls.”

Mila and Esme are silent for a moment, pondering the story you just told them, their little faces scrunched up in deep thought.

“So the baby was in your belly was me?” Mila asks, staring at you with doe eyes, her gaze so much like Hyunjin’s.

“Mmhmm, that was you,” you reply with a smile.

“What about me mommy? Where was I?” Esme asks with a frown as she rubs the ear of her bunny.

“Well you weren’t born yet lovie. Remember? Mila was born first and then a few years later we welcomed you.”

Esme deems this a satisfactory response and snuggles deeper into the blankets.

You brush the hair off of their faces and press a kiss on their foreheads, both girls erupting in a fit of giggles.

“Goodnight my lovies, I love you.” You walk to the door and are met by Hyunjin who peeks his head into the room.

“I love you too girls!” He says as he grabs your hand in his.

“Love you mommy and daddy!”

You smile at their sweet voices and turn out the light before closing the door with a soft click.

“They wanted to hear our story?” Hyunjin inquires as he grasps your hand tighter in his and brings it to his lips for a kiss.

“Mmhmm, I figured it was time they knew.”

Hyunjin hums and pulls you toward your bedroom. “What a story it is.”

You chuckle and enter the spacious room, “That it is love, that it is.”

taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @armystay89 @palindrome969 @amarecerasus @ivydoesit23 @slut4hee @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @katsukis1wife @my-neurodivergent-world @hanniebaeee @hwanghyunjinismybae @channiesrightasscheek @skzdreamer13 @lezleeferguson-120 @hwangjoanna @hyunjincanraptoo

[pawstriez]

. ༉‧₊ 𝐀 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄

✧ synopsis : after almost a decade of a healthy marriage, four kids, and a stressful bakery opening, you and toji have learned to take your alone time very seriously.

✧ tags : firefighter! toji + baker! reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, blk fem reader ofc, mentions of alcohol, public sex ?? in the car, mentions of vaginal penetration, cowgirl, pet names like bby, love, pretty, mama bc yall already know etc, excuse any errors. i wrote this in a few different povs at first so — 𝟓.𝟖𝐊 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 smiles as he pulls into his driveway, the familiar cacophony of squeals and thuds greeting him before he’d even opened the door - the kiddos must’ve been riding the after dinner sugar high. cheerfully shaking his head, he braced himself for the chaos and noise that awaited inside your now shared, cozy little place the two of you have grown to call home.

it’d been nearly six years since that fateful summer when you’d quite literally swept into his life like a swirl of sunshine and baked goods. six years of dizzying ups and downs, laughter and tears, the most intense love he’d ever known to face. sometimes it still didn’t feel real, even now - this life you’d built from the spark of simple flirting over sweets n’ crème brulee.

so much had happened in that span of adventures : you, graduating at the top of your culinary class, your desserts and pastries that you’d stressed so hard about being the toast of the competition circuit. toji retiring as lieutenant of the fire department after over a decade of service, not daring to miss out on any more milestones as the two of you started your family. not to mention the whirlwind of wedding plans, and then the magical day itself where you vowed forever to each other in front of family and friends.

then the true blessings had come along, one right after the other - megumi, who was still adjusting to the new family dynamic of it all, but was yet so proud of his father. little rascally rose, a firecracker just like her mama with the same bright eyes and full curls. goofy, tender-hearted kenji who practically worshipped his big brother and sister, wanting nothing more than to mimic their every move and be just like his papa. and finally malachai, the happy surprise baby who seemed to have inherited the best of both his parents’ feisty personalities.

toji wouldn’t trade this beautiful chaos for anything in the world. but he’d be lying if he said the constant juggling act of family life wasn’t difficult - for the both of you. it was rare for you guys to get a real moment alone together, just the two of you. your intimacy had cooled down amidst all the lovely distractions, as had the simple art of conversation beyond trading information about grocery lists and pediatrician appointments.

date nights had become a long forgotten luxury, almost seemingly impossible to coordinate when your trusted babysitters were your siblings with families of their own. but tonight, uncle satoru had stepped up and volunteered his services, giving toji and you a well overdue opportunity to reconnect.

toji unbuckles his seatbelt and exited the truck, tamping down a flutter of nerves. what if the easy rhythm and sizzling chemistry you’d once shared was gone for good? a victim of sleep deprivation and chicken nugget overdoses? what if it was too late to rekindle that spark?

pushing open the front door, he was immediately swamped by a tiny army of squirming, chattering bodies. “papa, papa, papa!” rose seized his hand and tugged insistently. “you gotta’ see the cool fort we built! kenji made it super big this time!”

“we’ll show ya, dad!” kenji crowed, already streaking towards the living room, malachai hot on his heels with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“hold up there, you lil’ tornados,” toji called in vain, being unceremoniously dragged by his giggling daughter into the chaos. every available pillow, cushion, and blanket had been appropriated to create an elaborate tent city surrounded by toys and stuffed animals . . and gojo sat smack in the middle of it all, long legs splayed out as he played some kind of intricate make believe game with the two boys.

“baby, you’re home!” you swept in from the kitchen, wisps of hair escaping your messy bun and face flushed from exertion. you were wearing a cute pink sundress that struck a nostalgic chord in toji’s memory - you’ve had it for years, one of his favorite things to slowly peel off of your shoulders after a night out to be exact. “thank goodness. i was startin’ to think i’d have to call backup.”

you stand on your tippy toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, and just like that, his weariness evaporated as if by magic. your familiar floral scent, your soft warmth, the kids’ laughter surrounding him - this moment of serenipity in the midst of routinely chaos bringing a lump to his throat.

“not a chance,” he rumbled, sliding an arm around your waist. “i wouldn’t miss this for the world.” downy goosebumps erupted down your arms at his words, flustering deeply. awe, his voice still got you going after all this time. good to know. very good to know. “y’all holdin’ down the fort?”

“y’know how it is,” you reply with a gentle squeeze of his hand, watching in fond exasperation as rose ordered poor gojo to lie down so kenji could perform his ‘very important surgery.’ “satoru took his role a lil’ too seriously this time and got lost in their games.”

you stood together watching for a few moments, the kids pausing just long enough to acknowledge toji’s presence again before diving back into their shenanigans. it was all so beautifully vibrant and alive, the little people you created and who brought such joy, such richness and meaning to your lives. but still . . . toji felt the undeniable tug of wanting you all to himself. just for a few hours at least. he wanted to bask in your undivided attention. to remember what it felt like to not share you with anyone else.

you must have picked up on his restlessness, your eyelids drifting shut as he stroked the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. “soon as we get back, m’ cravin’ some peace n’ quiet. maybe a hot soak in the tub after all this madness.” your tone was light and casual, but the smoldering undertone was unmistakable.

toji found himself swallowing reflexively as his skin prickled with awakening interest. “is that a promise, mama?” he murmured gruffly, not even trying to hide the roughness in his voice.

you peeked up at him through long lashes, a smile curving on your lips. “mm . . . you should know this by now. m’ a girl who keeps her promises.” burying any further suggestive replies, you cleared your throat and turned to gojo, who’d been buried under a pile of stuffed teddy bears. “alright babies, mama n’ daddy gotta’ go for a bit. gumi’s at a friend’s place, and there’s dinner in the fridge if you guys get hungry — so pretty please be good for your uncle gojo, y’hear?”

a chorus of whines follow after your words, but the kids were quickly distracted again by the siren song of more roughhousing. rose blew toji an exaggerated kiss while kenji and malachai paid both of you absolutely no mind whatsoever, already wrestling in a tangle of small limbs. gojo simply shot you a weary thumbs up from beneath his plush prison, glasses askew and hair wild as toji fought the urge to chuckle, “have fun you two. keep me posted, and please for the love of god - quit knockin’ her up, toji. i’m being attacked by three little rascals and it’s just absolutely absurd,” he jokes.

“i don’t make promises i can’t keep, satoru.”

you fished your purse and sweater from the hall closet while toji hovered close, drinking in every detail of you. suddenly he was struck by the profound urge to pull you in close and just breathe nothing but you, to lose himself in the familiar softness and strength of your embrace. but he restrained himself with an effort. all too soon they’d be able to indulge that craving for closeness, he reminded himself as you linked your fingers through his.

with a final wave to the kids and fond shake of his head at gojo’s predicament, toji guided you to the car. the simple act of opening your door and helping you in was enough to set his pulse racing, anticipation crackling in the air as your fingers tangled briefly together. electric from even the most innocent of contact.

by the time he’d slid behind the wheel, he felt ten years younger, energized by the promise of this evening alone with the woman he loved. as toji pulled out of the driveway, you were already reaching for the radio to cue up one of your old playlists, humming along contentedly as warm twilight spilled through the windows. toji cuts you an affectionate glance and reaches over to squeeze your knee - a brief, cherished moment before the magic began.

he couldn’t wait to see where it all would lead.

“so where we headed, hot stuff?” you asked, eyes sparkling with mischief as she toyed with the ends of her hair. “hopefully somewhere without a soft play area and a kids meal if y’know what i mean.”

toji snorted, distracted for a second by the way the skirt of her sundress rode up her thighs as she shifted in the passenger seat. “nah, no funzones tonight. but i can think of a few things i’d like to play with though.”

his suggestive drawl was rewarded with a scandalized laugh and playful swat to his shoulder. “you’re so gross, babe.” your eyes twinkle with amusement before flickering to the darkening sky outside. “seriously though . . . surprise me? i wanna’ be wooed. s’ been too long since you’ve had the chance to take me out. we used to do it all the time.”

kissing away the pout on your lips and squeezing your knee again, toji grinned crookedly. “i know, baby. tonight will be one to remember - i swear.”

true to his word, he bypassed all the usual dining spots they frequented as a family, instead guiding you to a cozy trattoria tucked away on a quiet cobblestone street you didn’t even know existed. he pulled up in front and turned to gauge your reaction, smile widening at the look of surprise and delight on your lovely face.

“bambolino’s?” you exclaimed, craning your neck to peer through the warmly lit windows. “toji, this place is famous! i swear geto raves about their stuffed shells every time he comes over . . like they’re life changing or something!”

“nothin’s better than your cookin’ so we’ll see. m’ a tough crowd to please.” chuckling, he cut the engine and climbed out to open your door, and you hopped out with a charming little shimmy of your hips, curls bouncing around your shoulders now. toji quite literally had to bite back a groan as images of sweeping you up onto the hood and hiking that dress up around your waist flooded his mind unbidden.

jesus, dude. maybe he felt a little too hot n’ bothered. this was a night to reconnect emotionally, not just physically. ‘keep it together, man,’ he mumbles to himself.

threading your arm through his, you allowed him to lead you to the heavy oak door. “well well, aren’t you just the sweetest.”

toji leaned over to murmur in her ear, voice low and intimate. “like i said . . . a night to remember. and m’ just gettin’ started, lovely.” he felt you shiver and had to quickly resist the urge to press an open mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot behind you ear — the spot he knew drove you crazy. but he reined himself in, offering you his arm instead. you slanted him an arch look from beneath your lashes as you took his elbow, well aware of the charged energy in the room. “you’re such smooth talker,” you teased. “but m’ callin’ you out - you gotta’ keep deliverin’ now.”

the inside of the restaurant was every bit as quaint and charming as the exterior, all warm golden lighting and rustic decor like something plucked from a cozy little italian village. your table of choice nestled in a babylon themed area, made for discreet intimacy. along with linen napkins and sparkling wine already waiting along with a single garden rose in a low vase.

as toji held out your chair for you, you leaned up to brush a soft kiss to his cheek. “this lovely, t,” you murmured, fingers trailing over the pristine white tablecloth. “really, baby . . . jus’ lovely.”

he hummed, momentarily distracted by the alluring fragrance of your signature perfume mixed with the lingering scent of baked goodies in your hair from a hectic day’s work at the bakery. “you deserve it,” he rumbled once he’d found his voice again. “. . . i know how crazy swamped you been with the kids and workin’ on side projects for the shop. tonight is strictly about you, mama. no responsibilities, no worries. just you n’ me enjoyin’ each other. like we used to do.”

your smile softened at the corners as you regarded him with open adoration. “when did all your charm come back?” you teased gently, though . . that tone was genuine. “feels like we haven’t had a moment alone in ages. hard to remember the last time you wooed me like this.”

“tonight’s special. couldn’t let another moment go by without remindin’ you exactly why you chose to put up with me.”

your expression turned impish once more. “coulda’ fooled me - i seem to recall it was you who was pushin’ lil’ ol’ me away, no?”

he formed his features into his best look of faux offense, tone full of lofty dignity. “can a man not get nervous anymore? you were stunning i was terrified — as megumi would say, your aura was just . . .” beneath the table, you could start to feel him sliding his foot forward to glide his ankle over yours, naughtiness giving him away even before your muffled squeak of surprise. toji just grinned that stupid grin at you innocently, as though not at all aware of the toe he was trailing up the delicate skin of your inner calf, “out of this world, sweetheart.”

you had to clear your throat before replying, voice husky with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “oh shut up. jus’ admit you loved me before you even knew it yet.” but despite the humor, you lashes had lowered invitingly as you let your calves part further, granting him unrestricted access.

his gaze snagged on the glimpse of your skin revealed as his foot inched higher and higher to skim the sensitive crease behind your knee. already, his blood was pounding with renewed interest, awakened by the heady combination of your pheromones and just being within your space. hmph. it was like suddenly the intimate, flickering candles and red wine he'd scoffed at earlier as a cheesy cliche seemed perfectly fitting, matching the frisson of sexual heat enkindling within him.

you spent the first part of dinner treading familiar ground - teasing n’ flirting, punctuated by conversations and easy silences that felt almost novel in your peacefulness these days. there was an ease to it, a bond between you both that couldn’t be so easily broken by the stress of soccer practices, ballet recitals or piles of laundry.

an intimacy beyond the aspects of physical that toji clung to . . . even as his vixen urges stirred elsewhere.

once appetizers had been polished off and the main courses brought out, toji leaned back in his chair and leveled you with a heavy lidded stare. slowly, he scooped up his cloth napkin and tossed it onto the table as though throwing down a gauntlet. your eyebrows rose in polite question even as a smirk tugged at the corners of your lips.

“y’know . .” toji began, voice pitched low and rough like buttered rum. “you look absolutely stunning tonight, yn. i couldn’t be more proud of the woman you are n’ i jus’ uh . .” he pauses for a moment. wow, even after six years you still found a way to steal the words right out of his mouth, “i jus’ love you — you’re the mother of my children, my heart, my everyth - ”

your breath caught audibly, lashes fluttering as you struggled not to squirm under the potent weight of his stare. still, you rallied with a sassy arch of one brow. “if we weren’t already married, i’d say you were attempting at proposing to me right now, toji.”

“aye, m’ tryin’ t’be sentimental here, lady,” toji chuckled, the sound impossibly intimate amidst the hushed ambiance of the cozy trattoria. reaching across the table, he traced a feather-light path along your forearm with the very tips of his fingers, feeling the fine hairs there rise in gooseflesh, “y’know i’d marry you a thousand times over.”

the sleek black car purred through the dim streets, a monotonous swish of the windshield wipers being the only sound breaking the heavy silence within. in the passenger seat, you gazed out the rain streaked window, city lights smearing across your face in streaks of red and gold and neon blue. the night had been magical - champagne and oysters at bambolino’s, after that there was slow dancing cheek to cheek to smoky jazz at the club down the street, and last but not least — chocolate lava cake shared and savored at the tiny candle lit dessert boutique. all the romance and luxury toji knew his beautiful wife deserved.

but now, cocooned together in the warm confines of the car, the mood had shifted into something . . . more carnal. not sure how it couldn’t have become carnal with toji’s eyes constantly flicking away from the road to steal glimpses of you. in the dim glow of the dash, he drank in the way your clingy pink dress embraced every mouthwatering curve you had, the deep v neckline offering a tantalizing view of your collarbones. and oh, the silky chestnut curls tumbled over your bare shoulders, toji’s fingers itched to suken into them, to pull her close and breathe in the familiar sweet vanilla of her shampoo as he cruised.

he inhaled subtly, your delicate floral perfume underlaid with the warm, sleep-rumpled scent of your skin filling his head with sense memories. lazy sunlit mornings tangled in egyptian cotton sheets, your hair spilled across the pillow. sweaty afternoons grappling on the living room rug like lovestruck college kids. languid twilight baths with your slippery curves pressed back against his chest. he shifted in his seat as his blood began to simmer.

as if she could read his increasingly lurid thoughts, yn turned to meet his gaze. in the shadows, her eyes glittered like black diamonds, dark and fathomless, brimming with wicked promises. slowly, deliberately, she dragged her pink tongue across her bottom lip, leaving the glossed flesh glistening temptingly. toji swallowed hard.

suddenly, the air of the car felt suffocating, the rain misted air unbearably thick and hot. toji cranked the ac, but it did little to cool his overheated skin. he stared deadahead at the surging blades, trying to ignore the rising pressure in his groin.

without a word, you lifted a hand from your lap and slid it across the center console. toji sucked in a sharp breath as your palm skated up his thigh to rest just south of dangerous territory. even through the crisp fabric of his tailored slacks, her touch burned like a brand. as your nimble fingers began to trace idle whorls and spirals, you notice toji’s hands flex around the steering wheel.

“you better get us home safe, mr. we have kids to feed,” you purred, your dulcet voice flooding the charged air between them. “wouldn’t wanna’ have an accident now, would we?” your tone was pure filthy innuendo.

toji risked a glance sideways and instantly regretted it. you looked like a temptation, the old school femme fatale, all dangerous curves and scarlet lips and come-hither eyes. he could practically hear the harps and horns of the kill bill sirens blaring in his brain as he dragged his gaze forward again, locking it on the taillights winking mockingly through the rain smeared glass.

it would be so easy to pull the car over, to say fuck it to propriety and yank you into his lap. to ruck that sinful dress up around your waist and lose himself in your pussy until the windows were disgustingly fogged. so easy to let the inferno building in his veins consume you both right there in the goddamn car.

but toji prided himself on his discipline, his ironclad restraint. you couldn’t be a firefighter without grit, without the ability to stay focused and clear headed no matter what temptations beckoned. he knew that all too well. so he kept his ass planted firmly in the leather seat, even as his body screamed for more of his wife’s wicked touch.

even if his cock throbbed persistently against his fly, inflamed and aching.

you, however, seemed to have no such compunctions about maintaining composure. heedless of toji’s grip on the wheel, you unbuckled your seatbelt and twisted in your seat to face him. in a move that nearly short circuited his brain, you drew one endless leg up onto the seat, making the hem of your dress ride up to reveal the lacy edge of a sheer white thigh high.

toji’s mouth went dust dry. “what’re you doin’?”

“gettin’ comfortable,” you replied airly, but the devilish quirk of your painted lips gave away the game. slowly, you trailed a fingertip along the inside of your thigh, the back of your hand just barely grazing the tent in toji’s slacks as you did so — making him hiss out a breath between his teeth.

“quit playin’ wit’ me, yeah?”

you hummed, unconcerned, and continued her leisurely exploration, tracing idle patterns on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. “i’d rather you play with somethin’ else — i mean, you said it yourself.”

toji’s foot pressed down on the accelerator as if by it’s own volition, the car surging forward through the fuzzy soft darkness. toji's heart beat in time, a primal drum urging him to get the fuck home, where he could strip his vixen of a wife bare and remind you where teasin’ got you.

remind you how good he could make you burn.

your throaty chuckle broke him from his reverie. he glanced over to see you still caressing your own thighs, a wry twist to your lips. “you’re thinkin’ about fuckin’ me, aren’t you?” you mused casually, as if remarking on the weather. “how bad you wanna’ pull this car over, bend me over the hood n’ fuck me like i know you want to.”

liquid heat rolled down toji’s spine to pool in his groin, his cock jerking ravenously in the confines of his straining zipper. “goddammit,” he bit out, knuckles gone bloodless on the steering wheel.

you bit your lip on a smirk, shaky satisfaction in your exhale. “c’mon, daddy,” you coaxed, voice husky and sex-soaked. “i can feel you thinkin’ about it . . . those big hands spreading me open jus’ f’you?”

toji couldn't choke back his groan, pressure building to a rolling boil in his veins. his whole world narrowed down to the flex of his thighs, the strain of keeping the car on the road, and the siren song of your body, your scent, your dirty fuckin’ mouth.

“i’ve been so wet all night, t . .” you continued blithely, as if remarking on the weather. “since the second you walked in from work.” you reached over to smooth a proprietary hand along his thigh, thumb still skating dangerously close to his crotch. “i jus’ wanted to drop to my knees and worship you with my mouth right then n’ there.”

toji nearly swallowed his tongue, vivid images of your plush lips stretching around his cock flooding his brain. “c’mon, baby . .”

“ — but i was such a good girl,” you singsonged. “i was patient. i kept my hands to myself through dinner, even though all i could think about was how good you’d feel inside me.” your fingers creep higher to graze his zipper, “how deep i could take this big dick in my pretty little cunt.”

“don’t make me stop this car n’ —“

“pull over,” you murmured, voice molten and dark with promise. “anywhere. i don’t give a fuck - jus’ fuck me, toji. please . . s’ been too fuckin’ long.”

your words shot through him like an electric charge, heat searing down his spine to pool gravid and pulsing in his groin. “shit’,” he bit out, dizzy, nearly delirious with the force of his want. “ well, i know better than to argue with you. go ahead n’ tell me where, baby.”

“over there,” you pointed through the smeared windshield at an empty parking lot on the right, a black gulf set back from the glistening street. “that lot. pull in.” nearly shaking with the effort of holding himself in check, toji wrenched the wheel to the right, tires juddering over wet asphalt as he whipped into the vacant lot. the moment he threw the car into park, you were scrambling into his lap, sinuous as a snake, that tight dress rucking up around your hips completely now.

toji groaned gutturally as the heat of you settled over him, the damp crotch of your panties grinding right against his aching cock. you were like a furnace through the thin satin, searing him, branding him. he bucked helplessly under the pressure, too far gone for finesse.

“shit,” panted against the shell of his ear, nipping at the sensitive skin. your little hands scrabbling at his belt, desperate, graceless. “wan’ you s’bad. been drippin’ — it hurts, daddy . .”

toji made a wounded sound as you finally freed his straining erection, wrapping slim fingers around the thick root and pumping once, slowly. you let out a broken moan at the heavy heat of him pulsing in your grip, the way he jerked and kicked against the palm, already leaking from the flushed tip.

“look at you,” you purred, running a thumb through the slippery bead of precum. you brought the digit to your mouth, sucking it clean with a low hum that vibrated straight through him. “mm, so fuckin’ hard f’me.” toji’s hands flew to your hips, gripping bruisingly tight, a drowning man clutching a lifeline. the flimsy lace of your panties was no barrier - he ripped them aside, baring the slick folds of your cunt to the humid air. need pounded behind his eyes, turned his blood to quicksilver, his bones to molten steel.

“i missed you, mama,” he rasped, throat tight, voice scraped raw. “missed you so much.” his calloused hands roam your tummy, waist, and then chest — stopping when his palms grope the full plumpness of your titties, “awe baby . . they’re so heavy. have they gotten bigger?” the casual rubbing is soon interrupted when he pulls them out from their comfortable position in your sundress, your breasts flopping out in the prettiest way.

nipples hard n’ ready to just be absolutely tended to.

“i think so,” you reply, running your hands up and down his chest, “ever since i had rose . . they’ve gotten more n’ more swollen.” it was true. that girl had been your most painful birth ever — and keep in mind, this was coming from a mother of four. your back ached, you felt uncomfortable everywhere, and your tits well . . . let’s just say it felt like carrying around bags of sand attached to your sore chest.

but you’d do it again. anything for your sweet baby girl.

“do they hurt?”

“a little bit,” and on your word, toji leans forward, taking one of your exposed nipples into his mouth as he teased the other with his fingers. you could only moan as he sucked softly, almost as if he were trying to pry somethin’ out of em’, “aah — mmph! s’ sensitive, daddy . . so sensitive.”

with a needy cry, you wasted to time to pull your panties to the side and tap the tip of him against your slit, “put it in, t . . please,” you don’t even wait for his approval to notch the broad head of his cock against your opening as he worked. he didn’t mind - not one bit. if anything, he was more eager than you. you then wrap around him, gently sinking down, sheathing him in tight, and clinging on. his head cracked back against the headrest after letting go of your nipple with a pop! - fireworks exploding behind his eyes as your silky walls enveloped him, gripped him, fluttered sweetly around his aching length like you’d been waiting for his return.

“oh my god,” you whimpered, lip caught harshly between your teeth. you looked nearly pained, brow pinched, lashes fluttering as you fought to adjust to the invasion. after all, it’s been a while. “i missed you stretchin’ me out, daddy . . missed y’re dick s-so much.”

toji panted shallowly through his nose, every tendon in his body pulled bowstring tight as he fought the feral urge to surge up into you, to seize and take and claim. his fingers flexed convulsively on your hips, blunt nails biting into the plump flesh of your ass.

“i know, i know. i feel you mama. m’ so sorry, daddy’s been neglectin’ this pussy, huh? keep makin’ yourself f-feel good,” he encouraged gutturally, thumbs sweeping over the delicate skin of her inner thighs, smearing her arousal into the creases. “mm, tryin’ to take it all i see . . always so eager to make me proud, ain’t ya’?”

with a keening mewl as a reply, you began to move, rocking shallowly, finding a rhythm. your hands braced on his broad shoulders, using the leverage to grind down, to swivel your hips in maddening figure eights. pleasure sparkled up toji’s spine, gathered in his heavy balls, pulling them up tight and throbbing against his body.

“s-shit, yeah,” he hissed, head swimming, drowning in sensation. “that pussy’s fuckin’ good, yn — always so fuckin’ good. ride that dick jus’ like that.”

you made a desperate sound, head lolling on your neck, lush mouth falling open. each drag of your warm walls had his nerve endings sparking, a livewire of ecstasy. he could feel every clench, every ripple of your ass around him, could feel you growing wetter, slicker, easing the way for faster, harder thrusts.

soon enough you were bouncing feverishly in his lap, shameless, transported. your nails bit into his shoulders through his shirt as you slammed yourself down, the wet smack of sticky flesh and her breathless cries fogging the windows. each downstroke punched the breath from his lungs, until he was dizzy with it, drunk on the feel of you, the sweat and sex musk and some dark energy radiating off of you.

“c’mon,” he growled, palming your ass, spreading you open lewdly so he could watch himself disappear into your gleaming folds, over n’ over, creamy n’ noisy. “gonna’ nut on this dick, hm? gonna’ soak daddy with this greedy lil’ cunt? my greedy fuckin’ cunt — all mine, isn’t it? say that shit.”

“y-yess, s’ all yours, d-daddy,” you panted, back arching sharply as his pelvis pressed just right against your swollen clit. that and the feeling of his hardened head nuzzling against your gummy cervix was just enough to — “m’ close . . m’ so close, baby!” he could feel you starting to tighten, starting to talk and pulse around his hammering cock. with a choked off curse, he gripped the globes of your ass and slammed you down, grinding his hips in deep, filthy circles that had your voice breaking on a sob.

“cum on that dick,” he commanded, holding her steady even as she thrashed and writhed, impaled to the root on his steel-hard length. “give it to daddy — m-make a mess on me, nasty fuckin’ slut.”

he punctuated the words with one brutal thrust, and you had no choice but to cum with a ragged wail, clenching down on him so tight he lost his vision. your cunt rippled and gushed, rhythmic waves gracefully and sloppily milking his pulsing cock as ecstasy whited out behind your eyes.

“fuck, fuck, baby, i can’t — m’ bout to cum, m’ cummin’ - aw fuck!” he choked out, and then his own orgasm was crashing through him, a tidal wave of rapture searing through his veins. he spurted long and hard, painting your trembling walls with scorching ropes of cum that had you shuddering through the aftershocks.

for long moments they stayed locked together, panting into the thick air, pulses gradually slowing. finally you shifted with a shuddery exhale, and toji groaned low in his chest as he slipped free of you in a hot gush. she collapsed bonelessly against his chest, sweat cooling on your skin, looking thoroughly debauched.

toji caught your face between his palms, tipped it up to meet her blissed-out gaze. “holy fuck i love you,” he rasped, thumbs sweeping over your tear stained cheeks, “so fuckin’ much, man - fuck.”

“me too . . l-love you too, babe.” you finished, voice a satisfied husk. a slow grin spread over your face, catlike and smug. “i can’t believe you fucked me in a parking lot.”

“you didn’t give me much choice,” he growled playfully, nipping at your jaw once, twice, three times. “my lil’ cum bunny jus’ couldn’t wait till’ we got home.”

you shivered, squirming against the twitch of renewed interest between his legs. “guess we better head back then,” you murmured. “round two in our nice comfy bed sounds pretty perfect right about now.”

toji made a low sound of agreement, already envisioning peeling her out of that sinful dress and worshipping every inch of her properly. “i can make a thirty minute drive a fifteen — that work for you?”

“y’know you didn’t have to ask that.” you clambered off his lap and they hastily rearranged your clothing, giggling like you were being caught by some mall cop patrolling the area. and then, toji reversed, pulled back onto the glistening streets, one hand resting possessively high on your thigh as the lights of the city streaked by.

soon you were pulling into your familiar driveway. toji killed the engine and dashed around to open your door, ever the gentleman as usual even after tiring you and himself out so thoroughly. hand in hand, giddy and eager, you made you way up the front walk, your heels clicking on the wet concrete.

the door swung open on a scene of perfect domestic tranquility. there on the oversized couch lay satoru, sprawled out and snoring softly, the little ones curled up safe and sound on his chest. the sight filling toji’s heart with indescribable warmth.

gingerly, you both crept closer, not wanting to wake your peaceful babies. toji gazed down at their somber faces, so innocent in sleep, and felt his throat tighten with emotion. you then settled against his side and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“we made some damn cute kids,” you whispered with a contented sigh.

“absolutely we did,” toji agreed gruffly. he turned and pressed a kiss to your hair, soft and sweet. “i love our little family so much. and you . . i say it all the time, but god, i love you more than anything, yn. i wouldn’t have them without you.”

you tilted your face up to his, eyes liquid and luminous in the low light. “take me to bed n’ show me just how much you love me, lieutenant,” you murmured against his lips.

grinning, toji swept her into a bridal carry, careful not to jostle satoru and the kids. “roger that,” he whispered back playfully. “let’s go complete operation ‘welcome home.’”

and with that, he carried his gorgeous, giggling wife down the hall to their bedroom, ready to spend the rest of the night making good on the promise that had been building between them all evening long — a promise of passion, devotion, and a love that could set the whole world on fire.

[eternallyordinary]

"He Belongs to You" - Part 1

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series masterlist<3

Summary: Your first day at Vought Tower doesn’t go unnoticed—especially by Homelander. What starts as intrigue quickly turns into something deeper, something more intense. He’s never felt this before, and now that he has, he won’t let it go.

Warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, power imbalance, mild violence, harassment, implied dark themes, mild smut

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With a deep breath, you step inside Vought Tower, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling your ears. The moment you cross the threshold, all eyes are on you. A plush red carpet stretches across the gleaming floor, leading you straight into the heart of the crowded gala.

You brace yourself, forcing a smile as camera flashes go off like a relentless storm. Each burst of light is blinding, each snap of a shutter a reminder that you’re no longer just another face in the crowd.

At the end of the carpet, a formidable lineup awaits—Homelander, Black Noir, Firecracker, Sage, The Deep, and A-Train. The Seven.

“There she is. Our newest member. I've been waiting to meet you!” Homelander grins down at you, his smile sharp and predatory.

His eyes flicker over your form, and something unexpected happens. He was ready to treat you like everyone else—as nothing. But instead, his heart thumps. Hard. Is this what they call love at first sight?

Homelander’s gaze drifts across your face, your body, the way your lips curve into a nervous smile, the way your eyes shine with curiosity. He’s had his fair share of women, but none have caught his attention quite like this. There’s something about the way you move, as if you’re unaware of just how captivating you truly are.

For the first time in a long time, he finds himself at a loss for words.

There’s an innocence radiating off you, a stark contrast to the kind of people he’s used to dealing with. The idea of someone so pure, so untouched by the corruption of the world, excites him. You could be his—his little princess, his perfect possession. He finds himself picturing it: you by his side, always within reach, his to protect, his to control.

He’s never thought about anyone like this before. You spark something in him he doesn’t quite understand.

Homelander suddenly realizes he’s been staring for far too long. He shakes himself from his thoughts, masking his momentary lapse with a smirk.

“Ah, sorry about that.” He chuckles softly, his voice smoother now, more in control.

His eyes sweep over you once more, lingering. The way you stand there, so unsure, so unaware of the effect you have on him—it’s almost too much. He feels something he doesn’t quite recognize. The strange urge to protect. To keep you all to himself.

“It’s okay,” you say sweetly. “It’s nice to meet you. Sorry, I’m a little nervous. This is a lot.”

Homelander’s smirk falters—just for a second—as your voice reaches him. If anyone understands the weight of expectation, the crushing pressure of the spotlight, it’s him. A part of him wants to scoop you up and fly you far away from all of it—away from the flashing cameras, the mindless chatter, the idiots barking their inane questions.

But he reins it in, masking the impulse with practiced ease. Instead, he simply says, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you too, darling."

You apologize again for being nervous, and he can’t help but find it… cute. The way you fidget, the way your cheeks flush ever so slightly. He commits the image to memory.

You smile at him, a hint of blush dusting your cheeks. You make eye contact, and for a moment, it feels like time has stopped—not in a weird way, but in a way that feels completely natural.

However, the moment shatters when The Deep steps in.

“Hey… newest member, right?” His voice is casual, too casual. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “I’d love to show you around, ya know… Not just the tower, but my room. I’m pretty blunt. You know how it is, most girls who join The Seven have to—” He makes a crude motion with his fist in his mouth, then hesitates. “But wait, you’re over 18, right? Right. Just making sure. Don't want to get another suspension, you know? Anyway, let’s fuck. You look so fucking hot. And-and, so do you, Homelander, sir. No homo though.”

Homelander’s expression darkens instantly. His jaw clenches. His hands curl into fists at his sides. The irritation rolling off him is palpable.

He’s used to sharing women, but something about this—about you—sets him off in a way he doesn’t quite understand. He doesn’t want to share. Not you.

Yet, he forces a tight smile, masking his anger as The Deep runs his mouth.

You tilt your head slightly, giving The Deep an innocent, almost amused smile. Then, in the blink of an eye, his body jerks, his eyes go wide, and he groans in pain, blood seeping from them.

You step toward him slowly, voice calm, unwavering.

“Don’t ever talk to me like that again. I’m your equal. I wasn’t chosen to be a fuck toy. Got it?”

“You fucking bitch—”

“Got it?” you repeat, your voice like steel. “Yes or no?”

“Yes! Yes, I—I’m sorry!” he sputters.

You let go of your hold, watching as he stumbles back. Silence falls over the room. The rest of The Seven stare in awe. Sage, standing off to the side, gives you a slight nod, almost as if to say Good job. He deserved it.

Homelander is floored. His jaw literally drops.

He was prepared to see you as an innocent thing, someone to be protected. But this? This was something else entirely.

You weren’t just another pretty face. You had power. Real power.

The Deep whimpers, turning to Homelander like a child begging their father for help. “Bro? I mean… Homelander? Sir? She’s not allowed to do that, right?”

Homelander’s eyes flick to The Deep, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his lips curl into something dark.

“She can do whatever she goddamn pleases.”

You smirk, twirling a strand of hair between your fingers, then turn on your heel and walk away. Homelander watches, stunned. You left without a word. No begging for his approval. No waiting for his reaction.

He doesn’t like that.

But in instant, he’s following you anyway.

—

He catches up to you in the hallway, composing himself just before stepping in front of you.

“Hey…” His voice is softer now, less composed. “Where are you going?”

You blink up at him. “I was going to grab a coffee. Want to join me?”

You smile. It’s casual. Friendly. Normal. Not flirtatious. Not forced.

Homelander is thrown off. He expected you to be fawning over him by now. But instead, you’re just… talking to him. Treating him like a person, not a god.

It’s confusing. It’s intriguing.

He smirks, trying to hide how taken aback he is. “Sure, darling. I could use a cup of coffee.”

As you walk together, he shows you around the tower. You listen, genuinely interested. He finds himself glancing at you every few seconds, trying to figure you out.

Then, you stop in front of a wall—his wall. A collection of photographs from birth to now. Mementos. Honors.

Normally, he’d love to brag about it. But for some reason, right now, he feels… embarrassed?

You smile, eyes landing on a baby picture.

“Awww, this one’s so cute!”

Homelander blinks. No one has ever called a picture of him cute before.

He clears his throat. “Yeah, I guess I was kinda adorable back then.”

You smirk playfully. “Yeah, what happened?”

Homelander’s eyes widen slightly. Did you just—

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ll have you know, I’m still cute.”

You giggle, the sound light and effortless. Homelander decides, in that moment, that he wants to hear that sound again. And again.

And again.

—

You finally reach the break room, grateful for a moment of normalcy. The overwhelming chaos of the gala, the constant attention—it’s exhausting. You just need a cup of coffee to ground yourself.

You move toward the machine, rolling up your sleeves, ready to make it yourself. But as soon as you touch the coffee pot, the room falls dead silent.

Vought assistants and PAs stare at you like you just committed a federal crime.

Homelander, standing beside you, looks around, then back at you. His expression shifts—mild confusion turning into pure indignation.

“She shouldn’t be doing this herself,” he scoffs, voice laced with authority.

You freeze, flushing slightly as the entire room remains frozen, waiting for your response. The way everyone bows to him, hanging on his every word, it’s unsettling.

You clear your throat, offering an easy smile. “Oh, Homelander, it’s okay. Seriously. I’d rather make it myself. Thanks, though, guys.”

He doesn’t look convinced. In fact, he looks even more annoyed, like this offends him on some deep, personal level.

You ignore it, focusing on making your drink, acting like it’s no big deal.

A second later, you glance at him. “Want one?”

Homelander blinks. “…Sure, darling.” His voice is smoother now, intrigued. “I’d appreciate that.”

You suppress a laugh, pausing. “Wait. Do you even need caffeine?”

Homelander chuckles at your question, finding your innocence endearing. “Not really. It’s more for the taste.” He leans in slightly, smirking. “But don’t worry, darling. I can still get a buzz off coffee.”

He watches intently as you prepare his drink, captivated by the effortless way you move—by the simplicity of it all. Then, a single drop of coffee escapes, trailing down your hand. Without thinking, you lift it to your lips, tongue flicking out to catch it.

His breath hitches.

You must be messing with him now, right? You have to be.

When you hand him the cup, your fingers brush.

It’s brief, barely a second, but Homelander feels it everywhere. A sharp, electric jolt races through him, rattling something inside his chest. His fingers linger—just a second too long.

His eyes lock onto yours.

The air between you shifts. Something unspoken settles between you both, thick and heavy.

Then you pull away, back to normal. Casual. Unbothered.

Homelander feels the opposite.

Just as you and Homelander settle into an easy rhythm, the break room door swings open. Firecracker strides in, her gaze locking onto him immediately.

She’s used to having his full attention—being the loudest, the most brash. Serving his every need. But right now, he isn’t even looking at her. He’s looking at you.

Her lips curl into a smirk as she saunters over, sizing you up. “Hi. I don’t think we’ve met.”

You offer a polite smile. “Oh, I know who you are.”

Firecracker chuckles, voice dripping with mock sweetness. “And I know who you are. The new recruit everyone’s buzzin' about.”

“Hopefully good things?” you say, trying to keep things light.

She scoffs. “Oh, definitely. You’re just the cutest thing, aren’t you? So innocent. So… naïve.”

Your smile doesn’t waver. “I wouldn’t say naïve, but I’ll take the compliment. Thanks.” You raise your coffee cup in a mock toast before taking a sip.

Firecracker’s smirk tightens. She was expecting intimidation, maybe even submission. But instead, you’re comfortable, unfazed. That drives her crazy.

She leans in, voice lowering. “Naïve, innocent, clueless.” She tilts her head, watching for a reaction. “I guess that’s how they like their new Seven members now.”

You twirl a strand of hair between your fingers, meeting her gaze without hesitation. “You forgot to add jealous—oh wait, that one’s just for you.”

Homelander is watching closely now. He sees the fire in your eyes—the same fire that took The Deep down without a second thought. It excites him.

Firecracker’s jaw tightens. “Jealous? Of you?” She scoffs, but there’s something forced about it. “Please. You’re just a pretty face they hired for ratings.”

“They hired you for ratings too,” you reply, still calm. “Notice I didn’t say pretty face.”

Her eyes flash. The room is silent.

Then you add, voice even but firm, “The misinformation you spread on your show is disgusting. I tried to be nice, but you lie about people of color, immigrants, the LGBT community. You cause people pain. And I’ll make sure the public knows exactly what I think of you.”

For the first time, Firecracker hesitates. A flicker of uncertainty flashes across her face before she quickly masks it with a smug grin. “Oh, sweetie,” she purrs, “you’re just a newbie. You don’t know how this business works. I’ve been playin' the game for years. People eat up what I say.”

“Yeah?” a new voice cuts in. Homelander.

He’s been silent this whole time, observing. But now? His tone is lethal.

“She’s right,” he says smoothly, tilting his head at Firecracker. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about this for a while.” His smile is slow, predatory. “I want you out.”

Firecracker stiffens. “Wait, what?”

“I’ll make sure Ashley gets you a nice severance package,” he continues, voice light, almost bored.

Firecracker blanches. “Homelander… please. I—”

He takes a step forward, voice dropping to something cold, final. “You’ve caused too many problems. You’re done.”

You watch as Firecracker’s confidence crumbles. Her eyes flick from you to him, back to you, before rage floods her features.

With a sharp glare, she storms out, knocking everything off the counters in her path. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife.

You exhale, turning back to Homelander. He’s already looking at you.

“You really wanted to fire her?” you ask, suspicious.

Homelander shrugs. “She was a liability. A nuisance. Wasn’t worth keeping around.”

You nod. “Agreed. Sorry, I’ve gone off on two members today. Not making the best first impressions, huh?”

What a ridiculous thing to say. Not making good first impressions? You’ve done more than that—you’ve rewritten his entire existence within hours of meeting. There is no before you, no after you. There is only you.

He can’t say this, though. Not yet. He doesn’t want to scare you.

Instead, he chuckles, shaking his head. “No need to apologize.” His eyes darken slightly, something unreadable lurking beneath the surface. Something possessive.

“You’ve got guts,” he murmurs. “I like that.”

—

After everything—the gala, The Deep’s failed attempt, Firecracker’s tantrum, the coffee incident—you finally feel like you can breathe.

You slide onto the counter, legs swinging slightly as you sip your coffee, completely unaware of the way he’s watching you—devouring you with his eyes.

What he wouldn’t give to just reach out, grab your face, and kiss you. To start slow, to feel the warmth of your lips against his. He can already picture it—your legs wrapped around him, your body molding to his like you were made for him. He’d ease your panties to the side, fingers teasing, circling your clit—drawing soft, sweet sounds from you as he whispers against your skin.

Such a good girl.

He’d tell you how long he’s been waiting for this. How many sleepless nights he’s spent restless, aching for something he didn’t think could exist—you. How many meaningless women he’s been through, searching for something that was never there.

Because no one else matters. No one else will ever matter.

You deserve to be worshipped, and he’s the only one worthy of doing it.

The thought alone makes him hard, his restraint hanging by a thread. He knows he could take you—could have you if he just tried. He could force you to submit.

But you’re different.

And for the first time in his life, he doesn’t just want to take.

This—you—are worth waiting for.

—

The room is still, but even you can feel the energy weighing heavy between you both.

You glance at him with a cute little smirk, breaking the ice. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to be so nice to me on my first day.” You tilt your head. “No offense, but I kinda thought you’d make me run laps around the building or something for initiation.”

Homelander chuckles, the sound low and amused. He steps closer, leaning against the counter beside you.

“No need for that,” he murmurs, voice smoother now. “I’m finding this way more… entertaining.”

You giggle, sipping your coffee, looking at him with soft, doe-like eyes.

And that’s it. That’s the moment.

Homelander realizes, with absolute certainty, that he’s royally fucked.

Because for the first time in his life, something inside him feels human.

And he hates it.

And he loves it.

Because it means something dangerous.

You don’t just belong to him.

He belongs to you.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡

[phoenixrisingastro]

The Dark Side of the Moon 🌑

Every Moon sign has a shadow. It’s the part of yourself you wish wasn’t there, but it always comes out when emotions get the better of you. Let’s explore the toxic trait each Moon sign struggles with but rarely wants to admit.

Aries Moon

You’re the emotional firecracker of the zodiac. When something sets you off, everyone within a 10-mile radius will feel it. Aries Moons can’t help but react in the moment—they’ll yell, slam doors, and walk out before calming down five minutes later. But here’s the problem: while you’re quick to move on, others aren’t. People can feel blindsided by your emotional outbursts, and sometimes, they never quite recover. You mean well, but your “act now, think later” tendencies can leave behind emotional wreckage you didn’t intend to cause.

Taurus Moon

Comfort is everything to you—sometimes to your detriment. You’ll cling to toxic relationships, bad habits, or outdated routines just because they feel familiar. Taurus Moons fear instability, so you stay in situations that no longer serve you, convincing yourself it’s “better than nothing.” But deep down, you know you’re playing it safe. This stubborn loyalty might seem admirable on the surface, but it often holds you back from real growth. Your challenge? Learning to let go when something (or someone) stops nourishing your soul.

Gemini Moon

You process emotions at lightning speed—too fast, sometimes. Gemini Moons are masters of compartmentalization, stuffing feelings into neatly labeled boxes and pretending they don’t exist. You distract yourself with endless conversations, new hobbies, or scrolling through memes, but the truth is, those unprocessed emotions are still there, waiting to ambush you. People think you’re carefree, but you often feel emotionally scattered, unsure of what’s real and what’s just noise. Your gift is your adaptability, but your challenge is learning to sit with your feelings instead of running from them.

Cancer Moon

You’re the emotional nurturer of the zodiac, but your depth comes with claws. When you feel betrayed, your go-to move is the silent treatment or passive-aggressive remarks that cut deep. Cancer Moons don’t forget hurt easily—you replay it, nurse it, and sometimes use it as armor to protect yourself from future pain. But this emotional self-defense can isolate you, leaving others feeling like they can’t reach you. Your strength is your emotional intuition, but your shadow lies in learning to forgive, both yourself and others.

Leo Moon

You thrive on love and recognition—it’s what fuels your soul. But when that attention isn’t there, the shadow side of your pride emerges. Leo Moons can get defensive, dramatic, or overly self-focused when they feel ignored or underappreciated. You’ll never admit how deeply rejection stings, so you cover it up with bravado or an “I don’t care” act that fools no one. Beneath the surface, you just want to feel valued. Your challenge is finding that validation within yourself instead of always seeking it from others.

Virgo Moon

Your inner critic is relentless. Virgo Moons analyze every interaction, dissecting what went wrong and how you could’ve been “better.” This self-imposed pressure creates an emotional loop where nothing feels good enough—not your relationships, your work, or even yourself. People think you’re put together because you rarely show your vulnerability, but inside, you’re constantly questioning your worth. Your superpower is your ability to problem-solve, but your shadow lies in learning to embrace imperfection—both in yourself and others.

Libra Moon

You’ll do anything to keep the peace—even if it means lying to yourself. Libra Moons crave harmony, and you’ll bend over backward to avoid conflict, often ignoring your own needs in the process. But this constant people-pleasing builds resentment, and when you finally reach your limit, you explode in a way no one expects. It’s hard for you to admit when you’re angry because you hate feeling “selfish,” but putting yourself first isn’t selfish—it’s necessary. Your journey is about learning to balance your own needs with others’.

Scorpio Moon

Your emotions run as deep as the ocean, and you feel everything with an intensity most people can’t handle. Scorpio Moons are masters of emotional control, but when that control slips? Chaos ensues. Jealousy, suspicion, and revenge are your go-to defenses when you feel threatened. You hold people to impossibly high standards of loyalty, but sometimes, your walls are the very thing blocking intimacy. Your strength is your resilience, but your shadow is learning to trust—both yourself and the people who truly care for you.

Sagittarius Moon

Freedom is your drug, and anything that feels like emotional “weight” makes you bolt. Sagittarius Moons have a hard time sticking around when things get too heavy or complicated—they’d rather crack a joke and change the subject than deal with the hard stuff. But deep down, this avoidance keeps you from truly connecting with others. People admire your optimism, but sometimes it feels like you’re emotionally unavailable. Your challenge is learning that freedom doesn’t mean running—it’s about facing life head-on and growing from it.

Capricorn Moon

Your emotional walls are skyscraper high. Capricorn Moons hate feeling vulnerable, so you bury your emotions under work, responsibilities, and a “nothing can break me” attitude. People see you as strong, but they don’t realize how heavy it is to carry the world on your shoulders. You fear being judged for showing weakness, but in doing so, you miss out on the support and love you desperately crave. Your strength is your resilience, but your shadow lies in letting people in.

Aquarius Moon

You process emotions intellectually rather than emotionally, which makes you seem detached. Aquarius Moons care deeply about humanity as a whole but often struggle to connect on a personal level. People might feel like you’re “there but not there,” leaving them confused about where they stand with you. Your challenge is learning that vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s the bridge to real connection.

Pisces Moon

You feel everything—your emotions, other people’s emotions, the entire world’s emotions. Pisces Moons are incredibly compassionate but often lack boundaries, letting others drain their energy. When life gets overwhelming, your first instinct is to escape, whether through daydreams, distractions, or avoidance. Your gift is your empathy, but your shadow is learning to protect your energy without shutting yourself off from the world.

What’s your Moon sign, and does this hit home? Drop your thoughts below.

[bakuhve]

in your light, i rest

leona kingscholar x reader! reader

every afternoon, you read beside leona in the botanical garden- your peace, your escape, and maybe something more.

the campus of night raven college was rowdy, as always. during after class club activity time, the rowdiness seemed to double.

laughter and loud voices spilled through the air, sharp whistles cutting through the chatter of students swarming the courtyard. cleats scraped against pavement from the direction of the field, and the clatter of potion bottles echoed from a window flung open in the science wing. a hum of energy buzzed through the edges of your skull, making it impossible for you to think.

you clutched your book to your side and quietly slipped away from the noise.

reading had always been your escape. a soft, quiet world that you could hold in your hands, one page at a time. in a school where magic surged and tempers flared like firecrackers- where you were relied upon to take care of overblots that could swallow weeks of calm in a single breath- there was something sacred about the stillness found between printed worlds. no danger. just stories that waited for you, always there.

your steps carried you to the familiar path that curved toward the botanical garden, already feeling your shoulders loosen at the scent of the sun-warmed earth and the gentle rustle of leaves ahead. you knew who you’d find there, sprawled in a patch of dappled light like he was born to belong in it.

and just like always, where he was, your peace waited.

the glass walls of the botanical garden curved above you like a cathedral of green and gold. sunlight filtered in through the high windows, casting lazy beams over the jungle of vines and flowers and plants. it was warm in the way only enclosed gardens could be- humid and slow, like the world had decided to stop spinning for just a while.

and there, exactly where he always was, laid leona kingscholar.

sprawled across a sunlit patch of grass with his arms behind his head and one leg bent, he looked more like a lion in the savanna than a student. his tail flicked lazily against the ground, his eyes closed but brows relaxed in that rare, unbothered way he only wore here. you didn’t have to say anything as you stepped inside. you didn’t have to.

“took you long enough,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching with the barest hint of a smirk. his eyes stayed shut. “could hear your footsteps halfway down the path. all stomp and no stealth, as usual, herbivore.”

you rolled your eyes fondly and walked past his shaft of sunlight to sit right beside him in the nearby shadow- close, but not quite in the same warmth he claimed. the grass was cool beneath you, the shade a welcome relief on your skin. you always preferred to read in the shadows. the light was too harsh on your pages, too eager to expose what you wanted to disappear into.

“maybe i wouldn’t stomp if the campus wasn’t full of students yelling about spell duels,” you replied, cracking open your book. “some of us are trying to hold onto the last threads of sanity around here.”

leona huffed, amused. “you picked the wrong school for sanity.”

“tell me about it,” you murmured, your voice already falling into that soft, distant cadence you used when reading. “but at least this place still has you.”

his tail flicked again, slower this time.

“damn right it does.”

your conversation tapered off, fading into the hush that always settled over the garden when you were together. the only sounds that remained were the low hum of insects nestled in the leaves, the rustle of branches swaying gently above, and the slow, rhythmic turning of pages as you disappeared into your book.

you always did that- slipping away into other worlds with such ease. your brow would furrow at tense moments, lashes fluttering as if you were blinking back tears, and then your lips would part in a small and amused smile at whatever line the author had crafted. leona watched it all from under half lidded eyes, pupils blown wider than they should have been. the sunlight brushed against his skin like a blanket while the shadows curled softly around you.

his predator-like gaze trailed up the slope of your cheek, the curve of your brow, the way your fingers tightened slightly when something in the story gripped your heart. you were still. but never unmoving. always changing with the story, alive in a quiet, almost sacred way.

if he was the sun in this little routine for you both- stretching out in warmth and demanding the world bend around his comfort- then you were the moon. cool, quiet, steady. you didn’t orbit around him, though. no, he found himself drifting closer to you, again and again.

drawn in by something softer than gravity and twice as stubborn.

you didn’t even notice him staring until his voice cut gently through the air.

“you make the weirdest faces when you read.”

you blinked, lifting your gaze from the page. “excuse me?”

“not bad weird,” he said, tail swishing once behind him. “just… expressive. like you’re living it.”

you smiled, a little embarrassed but not annoyed. “maybe i am.”

“tch.” he let his emerald eyes fall shut again, arms folding behind his head. “figures a herbivore like you would get emotionally invested in a piece of fiction.”

“and yet you never seem to mind watching me do it.”

he didn’t reply right away, but his smirk deepened just a little.

“cause it’s peaceful,” he said low and quiet. “you’re peaceful.”

his voice came out much more soft, much more sweeter than he had intended.

your eyes flicked toward him, cheeks tinting with a quiet warmth you couldn’t hide. no one had really called you that before- not in a world with so much out of your control, not in a school where magic unraveled at the seams and monsters could be classmates in disguise.

you looked at him for a second longer, heart nudging at your ribs, before lowering your gaze and returning back to your pages. that was the thing with leona. he could make your heart skip with the simplest truth- and then let you go on like he hadn’t said a thing.

a few minutes passed, and then without a word, he shifted.

your breath caught slightly as his head slide from the grass to your lap, his ear brushing against your thigh and one hand curling near his chest. he didn’t ask, didn’t need to. he just knew you’d let him. you didn’t say a word, only adjusted yourself slightly, angling your book so the shade still covered your page.

the lion let out a slow exhale, the kind that meant sleep was claiming him fast.

and before long, you were alone in the garden, except for the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, and the feeling of sunlight giving way to dusk.

when leona stirred next, the world was different.

cooler. quieter. the golden haze of the afternoon had slipped into silvery twilight, and above the glass dome shimmered with moonlight. most of the plants had curled into themselves for the night, and a soft blue glow hung in the air like a dream that hadn’t yet faded.

leona blinked slowly, head still heavy in your lap- and then realized you hadn’t moved.

you were asleep too, breath soft and even, lips slightly parted. your book lay beside you, still open to the last page you’d been reading. carefully, leona lifted his head and peered down at it, more out of idle curiosity than anything else.

it was some romance. he could tell by the way the paragraphs dragged on about heartbeats and trembling fingers and stars caught in someone’s eyes. his eyes narrowed slightly as he skimmed a line.

-his mouth found hers, like the moment had been waiting for them to arrive. soft. sure. inevitable.

he stared at the words, then at your sleeping face. the slope of your nose, the softness of your lashes. the way your lips, even in sleep, seemed to beckon.

predator instincts, they always called it. the lion beneath the man. the part of him that hunted without needing to chase.

but this wasn’t hunger.

this was gravity. this was the quiet pull that he had been feeling towards you since you arrived in this cruel and twisted world- the way you always brought a calm he didn’t know he needed until you gave it.

slowly, silently, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

barely there. a brush of warmth. a secret he let the moon keep.

“even in your sleep,” he murmured, pulling back, voice low, “you make it hard not to fall for you.”

his tail swayed once behind him, slow and content. and then he settled beside you again, resting one arm over your legs as if guarding his claim, and let the night carry you both deeper into dreams.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Happy Fourth of July

Lt. Robert ‘BOB’ Floyd x Reader

Words: 3341

Summary: Penny hosts an Independence Day Bash that the whole gang is invited to. The reader finds herself drawn to a certain, quiet WSO. 

Notes: The amount of will power it took to not name this Independence Day… Anyway, this one is just super sweet and fluffy and was a blast to write. I hope you enjoy! 

More Bob and 80s-inspired movies: HERE

-

There was no reason to be nervous. You knew that. Everyone there was friendly- well, friendly-ish. They were pilots. Not that that bothered you. You knew tons of pilots. It came with working at The Hard Deck. They were flirty, arrogant, and sometimes couldn’t pay their tab, but if they were invited by Penny, then they couldn’t be so bad… right?

You straightened your red, western-style vest and looked in the mirror. You felt a bit like a rodeo clown, but Penny insisted it made you look ‘like a sexy firecracker’, whatever that meant. Paired with a white tank top and denim shorts, you looked thoroughly decked out for the holiday. 

“Making a fool out of yourself is one of the best parts of life,” Penny had said when she took you shopping. “You’ll learn that the longer you spend with those yahoos.”

“And by yahoos, you mean your boyfriend?” You snickered. “Also, nobody says yahoo anymore.”

“Yes, Maverick, but also his pilot ducklings that treat him like he’s a god. And believe me, when you meet them,” you’ll understand. Was all the elaboration she gave you. 

Maverick equals plane god. Pilots equal… ducks?

You checked your hair one more time and decided it would just have to be good enough or else you’d fuss over it for another hour. If you didn’t force yourself out that door, there was every chance Penny would sail over and drag you out herself. She said she always liked an excuse to come out to Sky Reef.

It was the reason you moved out to North Island to begin with. Your grandfather owned a small island off the coast with a bungalow and sail boat. He always kept to himself, except when he was getting drinks at the Deck with his old Navy buddies. It was close enough that getting to work was never an issue, but far enough that the noise of the beach didn’t quite reach you. 

As your little boat made its way across the stretch of water, you spotted a huddle of people on the beach. They darted around, their laughter carrying out to you across the waves. A ball flew back and forth but it wasn’t like any game of football you’d ever seen. Behind them, smoke trailed up from a barbecue, and Penny waved.

“Y/N!” She called out. “You came!”

You laughed, waving back. “Here I am!”

Her voice sang over the crowd, like a queen commanding her knights. “Boys, go help her at the dock. I need her for the drinks!”

You’d promised to make your grandfather’s famous boozy iced tea. Penny had begged you for the recipe for years but the old man swore you to secrecy. She jokingly dubbed it North Island Iced Tea, which wasn’t too far off to be honest. 

Three of the players from the beach jogged across the sand to the small dock she let you use whenever you had a shift. Your grandfather’s boat wasn’t too big, so you didn’t have to worry about running aground. It also meant you didn’t really need help tying her off, so you had a sneaking suspicion that Penny had ulterior motives. You had the knots half done by the time they even reached you. 

“Well, fellas, I think our work here is done for us,” one of them said, grin spreading on his face. “Which just leaves room for introductions.” A handshake accompanied a wink. “Jake Seresin.”

You took his hand, unable to hide a smirk of your own. “I believe we’ve met, Lieutenant.” He raised a brow. “Penny made you buy a round for that terrible pick-up line.”

The mustachioed one next ot him howled with laughter, pityingly putting an arm around his shoulder. You crossed your arms, letting the confidence of the moment take over like riding a wave.

“And don’t think I don’t remember having you thrown overboard, Bradshaw,” you scolded. “No amount of pretty piano playing could save you from a declined card.”

Now it was Jake’s turn to snicker, blowing out a low whistle. But it wasn’t the two of them you were paying attention to, no. It was the one kneeling at the edge of the dock, tying off the last line.

“Thank you,” you said, walking over to him. 

The man’s eyes widened behind his glasses as his head snapped up, like he was surprised you’d noticed him at all.

“Oh, um,” he let the extra line fall against the post. “You’re welcome.” For a second, he just stood there, looking at you, but then he held out a hand. “I’m Bob.”

There was something about his small, nervous smile that had heat creeping into your chest. 

“Y/N.”

“Yeah. You work with Penny, right?” His fingers grazed your wrist and sent a shiver up your arm. 

“I work for Penny,” you laughed. “I think I’ve seen you in before.”

“Bob here is our stealth man,” Jake said, patting him roughly against his chest. “But hey, it’s always the quiet ones.” He winked at you again. 

Bob ducked his head to hide his blush. You remembered him a little more, then. He was always polite when he ordered and always carried all the drinks back to the others. And he always wished you a nice day.

“Well, boys,” you said to all three, “those drinks aren’t going to make themselves.” 

Bradley Bradshaw gave you a mock salute. Jake just smiled that cocky, flyboy smile, and Bob double checked the lines. You stayed back with him, the quietness of his demeanor calming amongst the blaring music and chatting crowd. The two of you fell into step together, listening to the calm roll of the waves beneath your feet. 

“So do you like working at the Hard Deck?” He asked, though you could barely what him over the game of not-football. Bradley and Jake had rejoined, playfully tackling each other. 

“Yeah,” you said, still watching the game unfold. “Yeah. Penny has been great and you Navy boys always keep things interesting.” You tried to follow along, but they all ran around each other with no apparent formation or anything. “I’m sorry, but what the hell are they playing?” You stopped so abruptly, his shoulder bumped yours. It’s your turn to blush and his sheepish smile returned with excitement.

“Dogfight football,” he said. “Maverick taught us. It’s offense and defense at the same time.” His gaze followed one of the women playing as she made her way down the beach. She must have scored, because he yelled, “Yeah Phoenix!” Bob turned his attention back to you. “It’s a lot of fun.”

“Looks like it.” You continued along the dock and onto the beach, turning back to him, expecting him to still be watching the game, but he was looking at you. “Don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you want to get back in.”

There was that shy smile again. “Actually, I could use a break.” 

That feeling in your chest swelled. To be looked at the way he looked at you. To be noticed, really noticed, not like guys sometimes did at the bar. Irises the color of the ocean you’d just sailed on stared into yours with interest and attention and you could do nothing but keep walking with him at your side. 

Penny and Pete stood over the grill together. She cooked, he mostly tried to sneak a grilled peach and kept getting swatted at by her spatula. You’d met Captain Mitchell a couple of times. He was exactly how you always imagined your grandfather when he was young- charming, a little over-confident, and only able to love so completely, it showed in everything he did. 

“So she didn’t manage to scare you off, huh Bob?” Pete teased, hooking an arm around you for a side hug. 

Bob glanced at you again. Noticing. “No, sir.”

“I told you,” Pete tsked, tossing a drink umbrella at the younger pilot. “This is a party, Bob. You don’t have to call me sir.” 

Bob just nodded, muttering another ‘yes, sir’ which earned him another umbrella to the cheek. He flinched but didn’t deflect it, making all of you laugh. 

“Will you quiet it?” You scolded, snatching the container of drink accessories away from Pete. “I need those.”

Penny snickered, flipping over a hamburger and shaking her head. “You are just as bad as they are, I swear.” She pointed at the group of people tackling each other on the beach. 

Pete’s grin never faltered for a second. “You’d better help the lady with those drinks, lieutenant." He kissed Penny’s cheek. “I think our captain is getting restless.” He reached over her shoulder and managed to pop a slice of peach in his mouth only to spit it out again. “Shit, that’s hot.”

“I only told you that a dozen times!” 

You smiled at the couple and found yourself reaching for Bob’s hand. “Come on. The stuff’s in here.”

His fingers laced together with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. That alone made your head swim more than any drink you could mix up. The two of you went into the bar, where Penny had left out what she thought were the ingredients you needed. You laughed to yourself and put them all away, grabbing the large pitcher.

“Now,” you said, counting out the correct bottles. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to turn around.” Bob’s head tilted, a little line forming between his brows. You giggled like a kid and only felt a little embarrassed by it because this man was just so cute. “This is a secret recipe. Upon pain of death, lieutenant.” You made a twirling motion with your finger.

“I see. Well, when you put it that way.” He did as he was told, turning so his back was to you. “I wouldn’t want to compromise your mission.”

“Thank you.” You grabbed another pitcher since there was such a big group and began to mix the right liquors to make the iced tea, using very little actual tea. 

“So are you from the area?” Bob asked, rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands were clasped behind him and his eyes scanned everything on his side of the bar. 

“No, actually. I moved out here to take care of my grandpa a couple of years ago.” You’d made the drink so many times, it felt like second nature now, pouring the ingredients together and adding ice. “Penny gave me a job and I’ve loved it here ever since.”

“Is your grandfather coming tonight?” 

You couldn’t help the wince that overtook your features. “No. He, uh, passed away last year.”

Bob glanced briefly over his shoulder, a deep and sympathetic look on his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. He was sick for a long time and-” You inhaled. “Eyes forward, soldier.”

Bob whipped back around. “Right, sorry.” 

You were just about done anyway, only needing to take a few glasses out and pour you each a drink for ‘testing’. “Alright, you can look now.” Holding one out for him, you took a sip of your own to make sure it was right. Sweet, refreshing, and packing a punch.

Bob drank and his eyes widened. “Wow.”

“Right?” You grabbed one of the pitchers while he got the other. “Careful, though, this stuff will sneak up on you.”

“Noted,” he chuckled. “Don’t give it to the firework brigade.” He took another sip and followed you back out to rejoin the party. 

-

Through the whole of dinner, you were catching up on how the team met and the journey of Maverick- rebellious pilot to reluctant teacher to Penny’s grill bandit. Now, the group of Top Gun top pilots met every chance that they could, many of them having formed deep friendships, even the unlikely pairs like Bob and Jake, or as they called him, Hangman. 

“We should make this a tradition,” Penny suggested. “Every fourth, I’ll throw a dinner and you idiots better do your best to get your asses here for it.”

Another group might have said yes halfheartedly, knowing that they would come up with some excuse not to come next year. But when everyone raised their glasses and cheered in agreement, you knew they meant it. The thought made your smile widen even more. 

“And I hear one of us may be around more often.” Pete motioned to the young man next to you. “Rumor has it, Robert Reynolds will be assisting in the WSO course at Top Gun.”

A collective round of hoots and hollers made its way around the table while Bob’s face turned red. Pete patted him on the back with a “I look forward to working with you.”

Penny shot you a knowing look across the table. 

You frowned. 

She shrugged innocently and poured herself another glass of tea. 

“Professor Baby-On-Board.” Jake teased, rustling Bob’s hair. Bob shoved him off, but couldn’t help laughing. 

“So I guess that means we’ll be seeing a lot more of you,” Penny said, giving you another eyebrow-raise. 

“Yeah.” Bob cleared his throat, sneaking a glance at you. “Yeah, I hope so.” 

Penny nodded, a plotting smile spreading across her face. You pretended not to notice. 

“Does anybody want some more chips?” You asked, forcing your attention to the empty bowl instead of the very cute and soon-to-be very local naval pilot beside you. Just because he was sticking around didn’t mean you needed to get your hopes up. So you picked up the bowl and headed back toward the bar for a refill. 

“Bob, could you go help Y/N grab the extra BBQ chips from inside? I think there should be several bags,” Penny asked sweetly, making you roll your eyes and snicker to yourself. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Bob wasted no time and caught up with you in just a few strides. “What’s so funny?”

You just shook your head and took the bowl inside. Once the door was closed, you flashed him an apologetic look. “I”m sorry about her. Ever since my grandpa died, she must be worried I’m going to keel over on the island all alone and-”

“I’m sorry,” Bob held up a hand, “what are you talking about?” He watched with such sweet curiosity it melted your heart. 

“Well, Bob, I think you have become the next victim in Penny’s match-making project.”

“Oh.” He stayed in the doorway, pushing up his glasses. “I did think it was weird she thought you need help carrying chip bags. I mean, you definitely seem like a strong and capable woman who can take any bag of sliced spuds she comes across.” He glanced back up with a sheepish smile. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed dramatically at the whole two bags on the counter. “Seems like a two-man job to me.” 

His uncertainty faded into something warm in his chest. He liked the way you laughed, like there was a joke he was finally in on. You noticed him. He didn’t know how else to explain it. You saw him when so often he was left in the background. And he liked it.

“If you insist,” he teased back, snatching up both bags so you could just take the bowl. Bob let you go ahead, admiring the way the straps of your sundress sat delicately on your shoulders, sun-kissed and freckled in places. 

He couldn’t help but hope that maybe, if he was reading you correctly, Penny might be on to something. 

-

Around sunset, the crew began setting up the firework “show stopper”, as Jake called it. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen that many explosives, if ever. A part of you even wondered if they had to get permission from the Navy for something this big. With Maverick’s reputation, though, you figured it might lean more towards a forgiveness over permission kind of deal. While the others stood around, putting things together, you found yourself beside Bob, both of you staring out at the orange and gold horizon. 

“This is my favorite part,” Bob said. “Before it all starts.” His glasses reflected the sunset and he nervously toyed with the hem of his shirt. 

“Not a fan of fireworks, huh?” 

He rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “Smoke in the air.”

Your stomach sank. Of course. The Fourth was known for being a holiday that could trigger PTSD, and, from what Penny said, these guys had seen a lot. 

Bob gave you a shy smile and tucked his hands in his pockets. “It’s not so bad. I like watching the colors and everything. It’s mostly just the noise. And they all really like doing them, so…” He trailed off. 

An idea sparked in your mind and, once again, your fingers intertwined with his. “Come with me.” 

Bob glanced back at the others, waiting for some catcall or teasing remark, but they were all focused on getting set up. He nodded and you nearly pulled him off his feet, leading him down to a small boat at the dock.

“Where are we going?” He laughed, almost out of breath from how fast you were dragging him. 

“Just trust me.” You started the boat’s small engine and he climbed on board. 

Bob was right. His old squadron were too busy with the fireworks to notice the little vessel cutting across the water. Penny, however, shaded her eyes and watched you go. 

“Y/N leaving already?” Pete asked, his gaze following hers. 

“I think we’ve been ditched for a party of two,” she said, beaming. 

The sun was gone when you reached the island and the first few stars were coming out to watch the show. You docked and Bob tied the lines. He marveled at the quaint waterfront house at the end of the beach. 

“You live here?” He awed. 

You blushed. “My grandpa left it to me. He said I was the only one he wanted to have it.” Finishing up with the boat, you found the perfect spot on the beach to see the other shore. “Wait here, I’ll go get something to sit on.”

You rushed inside to the little storage shed attached to the bungalow. Just next to the door was a large, navy-blue blanket. On the other side were two folded up lawn chairs. After a brief consideration, you bit your lip and grabbed the blanket. 

Bob stood along the tide, letting it wash over his feet. Hearing the door behind him, he turned, the excitement and nerves he got every time he looked at you building up at you. Even in the faint light of the stars, you looked beautiful. 

“I think they’re about to start,” he said.

You laid out the blanket and stretched yourself over it, propping yourself up on your hands. After a second's hesitation, he joined you, half sitting, half lying down like you were. His hand planted right beside yours, the tips of his fingers grazing yours. 

“We’ll still hear them, but it shouldn’t be as loud,” you explained. “And the smoke won’t reach over here-”

“Can I guess you?” Bob blurted, already leaning forward like you were drawing him in with each breath. 

You were taken off guard for a second and your collective shyness settled between the two of you. But, with a shaky breath, you managed to say, “Yes.”

Bob’s eyes fell to your lips. His hand moved on top of yours. Slowly, he closed the space between you. His lips were soft and tasted like the watermelon you’d had with dinner. Your hand came up to his face. His moved to the small of your back to pull you closer. 

You didn’t even notice the first firework go off.

It really was a spectacular show, as promised, and the distance helped to settle Bob’s anxiety. Well, that, and the warmth of your body against his as you spent the night in each other’s arms, watching sparks take over the sky. 

[aventurineswife]

Sampo, Gepard, Phainon and Mr Reca react that reader has a chaotic little sister like Klee from genshin impact

Chaos is a Ladder

Tags: Sampo x Reader, Gepard x Reader, Phainon x Reader, Mr. Reca x Reader, Klee based Little Sister, Chaos, Sibling Dynamics, Mischief, Humor, Fluff, Lighthearted, Action/Adventure, Sibling Care.

Warnings: Minor Destruction/Explosions, Implied Danger, Mild Language/Swearing, Light Violence, Over-the-top Humor.

Sampo leans against a wall, his trademark grin widening as he watches your little sister’s antics. She’s busy blowing things up with her homemade firecrackers, and the resulting chaos is causing a small stampede of frightened people. You look at him helplessly, knowing exactly what’s going through his mind.

“Well, well,” Sampo muses, his tone smooth as ever. “It seems your little sister is quite the bundle of excitement. Reminds me of the old days when my schemes didn’t just get me into trouble… but make me a fortune.”

You groan, dashing forward to stop her before things escalate further. But Sampo, ever the opportunist, flashes a wink. “Don’t worry. You’re not alone. I’ll make sure nobody gets too hurt.”

The moment you turn away to manage the mess she’s caused, Sampo’s already starting to haggle with some of the bystanders who were unlucky enough to witness the explosion, offering "discounts" on goods to ease their 'frustration'.

“Ah, the power of chaos,” he says. “Quite profitable if you know how to work it."

Gepard stands at attention as he watches your little sister, a tiny ball of chaos wreaking havoc in the middle of a perfectly serene courtyard. His eyes narrow, but it’s not with anger. No, it’s a sense of duty.

“Is this how she spends her free time?” he asks, his voice calm but betraying a slight hint of disbelief.

“She’s just—well, she’s energetic," you try to explain, chasing after her as she ducks and dodges your attempts to get her under control. A little fountain of water has erupted from one of her contraptions, and it's now quickly flooding a nearby garden.

Gepard crosses his arms, his gaze remaining composed even as your sister’s antics go from bad to worse. “I understand the need for adventure, but I cannot allow disorder like this. She is… certainly a handful.”

When your little sister playfully tosses a flower at his face, he pauses, blinking at the gesture. His gaze softens slightly. “You know,” he mutters, “perhaps a little chaos can be a good thing. Keeps us vigilant, reminds us to expect the unexpected.”

Despite his stern demeanor, there’s a warmth in his eyes as he observes her mischievous grin. After all, what’s life without a little unpredictability?

Phainon, ever the composed warrior, watches your younger sister with a mix of bewilderment and fascination. She’s jumping around, firing off small bursts of energy from a toy gun and accidentally knocking over a stack of supplies.

His hand moves to the hilt of his weapon instinctively as a loud explosion echoes from her direction, but it’s just a small pop from a confetti bomb she set off.

“Is she always like this?” Phainon asks, trying to keep a straight face, though it’s evident he’s struggling not to laugh.

“I’m afraid so,” you reply sheepishly, stepping forward to try and corral her before things get too chaotic.

Phainon watches your attempt, a small smile tugging at his lips. “She has… much energy.” He pauses. “It is both admirable and terrifying.”

When your sister starts running circles around him, Phainon takes a deep breath, preparing for whatever might come next. But then, to your surprise, he kneels down to her level. “You know,” he says with a soft chuckle, “I think I would enjoy a race. But only if you promise not to set anything on fire.”

Your little sister giggles in response, and suddenly the warrior finds himself caught up in a race he didn’t expect to be a part of. Phainon’s composure remains, but there’s a twinkle of enjoyment in his eyes as your sister leads him around, full of chaotic energy.

Mr. Reca sits back in his chair, watching your little sister with a critical eye. She’s throwing something—he’s not even sure what—into the air, and the resulting explosion leaves a trail of smoke and a few startled citizens behind.

“Another act of meaningless chaos…” he mutters, tapping his fingers on the armrest. “I could’ve filmed that, but it lacks substance. No depth.”

You rush to calm her down, your face a mix of embarrassment and exasperation. “She’s just… being herself.”

Reca glances over, his normally cynical expression softening as he watches the mischief unfold. “I suppose she does have a certain… authenticity to her,” he concedes. “But let’s see if she can manage something with more depth than mere explosions.”

Before you can respond, your sister sets off another round of firecrackers, and this time, Reca rises, walking toward her with a thoughtful look in his eyes. “If you’re going to make a mess, at least make it one that has a story. I don’t want to see just destruction. Show me the meaning behind it.”

As your sister throws another wild concoction into the air, he tilts his head, almost impressed. “Perhaps you do have a spark of potential.”

You can only sigh, knowing that this time, your little sister's chaotic nature might just inspire something worthwhile for Reca—though whether it’s the film he’s hoping for or just another headache remains to be seen.

[girliemattitude]

— - The stomach flu - — Dad! Matt & Mom!reader - —

The house had that heavy, hushed feeling that came in waves of sickness.My three year old Cody was curled up in my lap in our bed, his little body burning with fever, sweat dampening his hairline. He was pale, except for his cheeks which were flushed a deep pink, and his tiny lips were dry from throwing up earlier, twice. He hadn’t said much since this morning, just the occasional soft whimper or whine, and the heartbreaking way he’d whispered “Mommy…” right before falling back asleep on my chest.

I held him tight, one arm around him and the other brushing slowly up and down his back, trying to soothe him even as my own body ached from a complete lack of rest. We’d barely slept the past two nights.

On the floor of our bedroom, Emerie sat cross legged, a blanket beneath her and her favorite collection of dolls, crayons, and tiny animal figurines scattered all around her like a personal kingdom. She was humming softly to herself, one hand busy making a little giraffe talk to a bear about a tea party.

Three days ago, she’d been the one in this bed,feverish, miserable, clinging to me through the worst of the stomach flu. It had started one night out of nowhere. One minute she was fine, the next, she was crying because her tummy hurt and then she threw up all over her bunny pajamas. The flu had knocked her out cold for two full days, and she missed school all week.

She was finally better today. Her color had come back, her appetite returned, and her energy was, quite honestly, suspiciously back to normal. But she liked playing up the drama. She loved staying home, being near us. And she knew if she said she still didn’t feel great, there was a good chance we’d cave and let her skip one more day.

And now… Cody had it.

Matt hadn’t wanted to leave me alone today. I could still hear his voice this morning before he left, low and full of guilt as he buttoned his shirt at the foot of our bed.

“I don’t feel right going,” he’d said, glancing between me and Cody, already sick and sweaty on my chest. “You’re running on fumes, babe. Let me cancel. They’ll understand.”

“You can’t miss this meeting, Matt,” I had told him, gently. “You’ve pushed it twice already. Go, just… come back as soon as you can.”

He’d looked torn. “Promise me you’ll text if you need anything. Anything.”

“I promise.”

He’d kissed my forehead, then leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Cody’s hair. “Feel better, little man.”

Now, hours later, I heard the front door creak open downstairs. I didn’t have the energy to call out, but Emerie didn’t need prompting she heard it and bolted from her spot on the floor like a firecracker.

“Daddy!” she squealed, the thud of her feet racing down the hallway.

I smiled a little despite the exhaustion. Moments later, I heard Matt’s soft grunt as he caught her in his arms, followed by his warm laugh.

“Well, hey! Someone’s feeling better,” he teased as he lifted her.

“I mean…” she sighed dramatically, arms around his neck. “I’m not that okay. I think I probably need one more day at home.”

Matt laughed, his voice still tinged with that weary fondness he always had when she pulled her little tricks. “You’re full of it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “But we’ll see what your mom says.”

When they entered the bedroom, his eyes immediately went to me and to Cody, who was still curled up tightly against my chest, sweaty and pale. Matt’s entire face shifted. The smile faded, and concern took over.

“Hey, baby,” he said softly, coming to my side. “How’s our little guy?”

Cody stirred at the sound of Matt’s voice, eyelids fluttering. He turned just enough to glance up at his dad, his expression small and tired and a little sad but he didn’t move. He just sighed and pressed closer into me.

I kept my hand gently stroking his back. “He’s not doing great,” I said quietly, my voice scratchy from hours of not talking. “Fever’s been holding steady. He hasn’t kept much down. Just wants to be held.”

Matt frowned, moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside me. He reached out and brushed the back of his fingers across Cody’s cheek. “Poor little guy,” he whispered. Then he looked at me, eyes full of concern. “And you? You look dead on your feet. Have you even eaten today?”

I shook my head, gently. “He hasn’t let me put him down for more than a few minutes. I was going to grab something after his nap, but… it’s been a long nap.”

Matt sighed, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “God, I shouldn’t have gone in today. I hated leaving you like that.”

“You had to,” I said softly. “It’s okay. You’re here now.”

Emerie plopped herself back down on the floor and resumed playing like nothing had happened. Matt glanced at her, then leaned in closer to me, his thigh brushing against mine, his voice dropping.

“Let me take him. Just for a little while. You need to eat. Shower. Breathe.”

But as soon as he reached to take Cody from my arms, Cody whimpered a tired, sad little cry and clung tighter to me, pressing his flushed cheek into my shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” Matt murmured, hands up in surrender, eyes soft. “He wants his mama. I get it.”

I gave a small, tired smile. “He’ll let you hold him later, once the meds kicks in again.”

Matt sighed, settling back beside me, close enough that I could lean into his shoulder. His warmth, the weight of him beside me, grounded me in a way nothing else could right now.

“He’s going to be okay,” he said gently, wrapping an arm around my back. “You both are. But I swear, the second he’s asleep, I’m making you food. Real food. Something hot.”

“And what if I just pass out the second he does?”

“Then I’ll feed you in your sleep,” he said with a tired grin. “Don’t test me.”

I leaned into him, Cody snug between us, his soft breaths slowing again as he drifted back to sleep.

Matt’s hand now resting gently on Cody’s back, fingers tracing slow circles. Cody didn’t even stir just nestled closer like he was absorbing the warmth of both of us. His skin was still too hot, but his breathing was even, and for now, he was resting. That’s all I could ask for.

From the floor, we heard a small sigh.

I looked down and saw Emerie sitting still, her toys forgotten, her fingers twisting the hem of her pajama top in her lap. Her bottom lip stuck out just a little, and her eyes were glued to her brother. She looked thoughtful… and guilty. Matt noticed too.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” he asked, voice soft.

She didn’t answer right away. Her mouth opened, then closed again. Finally, in a small voice, so quiet I barely caught it she whispered, “It’s my fault Cody’s sick.”

I sat up a little, surprised. “What?”

“I made him sick,” she said again, louder this time, eyes glassy now. “Because I was sick first. And I didn’t mean to, but I kissed him goodnight when I had the throw-ups and now he has the throw-ups and he looks really sick and it’s my fault.”

She suddenly burst into tears, covering her face with both hands.

Matt was off the bed in a second, kneeling in front of her, his hands gently cupping her little arms.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart,look at me,” he said softly, wiping a tear from her cheek. “It’s not your fault, okay?” “But I-”

“No. Listen.” He looked her right in the eyes, his voice so gentle but firm. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Being sick isn’t anyone’s fault, okay? Germs are sneaky. They hide on everything, doorknobs, cups, toys. You could’ve washed your hands a hundred times and still shared them by accident. It just happens.”

I reached a hand toward her and she crawled up into my lap, careful not to disturb Cody. She buried her face in my side and wrapped her little arms around my waist.

“Baby,” I murmured, stroking her soft curls, “you didn’t hurt him. You love your brother. That’s why you kissed him goodnight, right?” She nodded silently, still sniffling into my shirt.

“That love is a good thing. He knows you didn’t mean to get him sick. You didn’t do anything bad. And when he feels better, he’s gonna want a million more goodnight kisses from you.” Matt smiled softly, brushing her hair back from her face. “And he’s gonna be okay, Em. You got through it, and he will too. He’s just as tough as his big sister.”

Emerie sniffled again, then peeked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“I promise.” She looked at Cody again, his face calm now, his mouth slightly open as he breathed, lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks.

“Can I draw him a picture?” she asked, voice trembling but hopeful.

I smiled. “I think that’s a beautiful idea.”

Matt stood and ruffled her hair gently. “Why don’t you bring your crayons in here, and we’ll make him a whole get-well card.”

She scrambled off the bed with new purpose, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand as she gathered her markers and paper. I could still see the sadness lingering in her, but the guilt was slowly fading now replaced with a little bit of that proud big sister energy she wore so well.

I turned my head just enough to kiss Matt’s jaw, Cody breathing steadily between us, Emerie drawing at the foot of the bed. And even in the haze of fevers and fatigue, of crayons and sickness and soft apologies, I felt a little piece of peace settle in my chest.

[Dividers by the lovely @bernardsbendystraws 💗]

[silasoctakiseron]

@thesaintofpatience made a post about this the other day that I didn't want to straight-up hijack, but necrocav roleswap AU for the Eighth is one of my favorite topics to sit down with a cup full of nails and a bowl full of barbed wire to think about, so I did also want to post about it because it MAKES ME CRAZY. Very long post ahead, as ever.

I'm personally strongly opposed to ageswapping here because I think so much of Silas's attitude and actions toward Colum are shaped by the fact that he's never known a day of his life without him. This leaves us with a Master Templar in his mid-thirties with a sixteen-year-old cavalier half his size constantly dogging his footsteps. How do we get here?

OP (are we on a first-name basis? Hi) mentioned the possibility of Colum having a previous cavalier who was killed in an accident and necessitated a rush-job replacement in the form of Silas, who in many ways makes a poor substitute. I like this, but the thought that initially came to me was rather that Colum had previously never had a cavalier with whom he was sufficiently genetically compatible to be a truly powerful siphoner.

We know that compatibility has something to do with blood type per ch. 28:

“Three brothers with different blood types, because we couldn’t tell what you’d be and which of us you’d need.”

This makes sense given how tied-up bloodletting and spirit work are in TLT, particularly re: speech to the dead and stele travel (shoutout Hannah @katakaluptastrophy for more on this ⁠— I had planned to link a specific post but honestly just search the word "blood" on her blog). However, other than that it's all incredibly vague. I'm thinking about the Master Templar raised with two brothers close to him in age, one of whom should have made a suitable cavalier given their close relation, and it just ⁠— didn't work.

So now you have a Master Templar who spends 16 to 21 years being able to siphon and otherwise perform Eighth necromancy, but it's not good enough. There is no replacement for Colum, though growing one rapidly shot even higher on the House's list of priorities when it became clear neither planned contingency would work. It's a long decade or two of the Eighth subtly turning inward (as is implied in the book by their ceasing participation on the cavalier duelling circuit) to shield the Order from the fact that its master is insufficiently armed while it tries to devise a solution. This leads to experimentation with stepping back up Colum's family tree in the name of cultivating a viable offshoot as soon as possible.

You could go a lot of different ways here ⁠— personally I'm doing some handwaving for the purpose of this post. Maybe early assessment of Silas seemed promising even though he was sickly and small ⁠— maybe he was the only one or one of a few to survive to birth ⁠— &c. as you will. Either way, the first time Colum tries to siphon him ⁠— and it does not feel good to siphon from a child, particularly an undersized child barely ten years old, of whom Colum has grown quite fond ⁠— Colum lights up like a fucking firecracker. Baby, that's the Master fucking Templar.

The Order remains a little hush-hush on this, imo, because it does seem a bit in poor taste, but what matters is that the House is being headed once again by a necromancer at the height of his power rather than one being forced to make do with what's available.

What does all of this mean for Silas?

Colum makes very clear in GTN that his entire life is his cavaliership. There is no separable distinction between Colum Asht, the person, and Colum the Eighth, cavalier primary.

“Oath? Ten years of training, before you were even born. ... Ten years of antigens, antibodies, and waiting—for you. I am the oath.”

That said, Colum remembers what it was to wait. Colum's childhood was shaped by the absence of Silas; Silas's childhood was shaped by the constant presence of Colum.

So what of an Eighth cavalier who, in addition to training his entire life to serve the Master Templar, grew up as a small child who hero-worshipped him? We know from GTN that Silas thinks Colum is both inherently morally good (ch. 28) and physically/spiritually invincible (the latter which of course ultimately causes both their deaths — chs. 18, 34). In canon, these things point not only to the qualities of Colum as a person that Silas respects and admires, but additionally to Colum's effectiveness as a tool for Silas's use. We also know that as a child, Silas "[took] everything [Colum] said as gospel" per ch. 28. In a world where he's Master Templar rather than the cavalier primary, this sentiment is exacerbated dramatically by the fact that everything Colum says is gospel.

In a world where Silas was Colum's cavalier, taught his entire life that serving Colum was the destiny granted him by the Emperor and that he should be grateful for the honor, one can see how this would contribute to Silas's inexorable religious fervor. Silas's effectiveness as a tool for Colum lies in a very different sense of duty, honor, and service: he is not responsible for Colum's care, which is a major driving force in canon for Colum's feelings about Silas, but rather his physical defense and necromantic power. He's not responsible for watching Colum grow up, raising him with a specific sense of morality, or otherwise shaping him in any way; he's a conduit and a weapon, and he's proud to be those things when in many ways Colum would much rather he just be a teenage boy.

So we already have a seething religious zealot at the best of times, who rather than being aggressively sheltered and shut up in contemplation as the Master Templar has been trained to give up his body wholly to his necromancer and wage holy war from an extremely young age. We know that the Eighth raise necrocav pairs with particularly early awareness of their roles, to the degree that Judith, who (for perspective) joined the military at age 6 (ch.32), notes that Silas would have understood his position from young childhood.

Then we have a Master Templar who, rather than being hailed as a child prodigy capable of immensely powerful necromancy, scraped along for nearly two decades doing what he could do, knowing it was inadequate, thoroughly washed in the blood of the Emperor but wondering how and why the Emperor would put him through a trial so directly harmful to the Order and its interests. Colum's faith in the Emperor and adherence to Eighth religious beliefs is effectively unshakable in canon even when it actively harms and oppresses him. But this isn't about Colum as the Master Templar, who would likely still gladly lay down and take his lashes in the name of serving the Emperor. This is about the ways in which Colum has failed the Order for reasons beyond his control, knowing that he's been kept in this role so long only because it's proven nearly impossible to replace him in a timely fashion.

You have a man whose faith was already shot through with doubt he can't acknowledge as the foremost religious leader of the Nine Houses. This man is then put in charge of a small child — likely in a substantially less involved fashion than canon, given that his main responsibilities are to the system rather than serving and caring for a single religious official — whose job is to fight and die for him, a grown man. This child adores him and believes he can do no wrong, and grows into a physically weary teenager in obvious chronic pain who nevertheless fiercely insists that it is the honor of his life and his duty to the Emperor for the Master Templar to exercise the right to wear away at his health and well-being in the name of necromantic power and religious leadership.

These people arrive at Canaan House not only performing a deeply unpopular and offputting form of necromancy to begin with, but additionally effectively executing an act of ritualized religious child abuse every time they do so, which no one was really aware was going on until now. The strange divisions of power between them in canon are obviously different, but still present: a man with no replacement lined up for the position of the highest official bar the Emperor and his Saints of the Nine Houses' theocracy, whose ability to maintain that position and avoid throwing the Houses into a massive power vacuum depends on his ability to scrape away at the soul of a teenage boy he cares deeply for who's absolutely frothing at the mouth about the necessity of his doing so.

What happens next? How does this impact the Eighth's attitude toward Lyctorhood — when the cavalier primary isn't shutting his eyes and silently accepting his death, but demanding that Colum use him as he will to ascend to the station of Saint? To finally be able to wield the full extent of his power independent of an external party after years of failing to do so with inadequate substitutes? When does Colum draw the line between his responsibility to the system, the Order, and the Emperor, and his care for the child to whom the Emperor has bound him in contract, who he loves and has actively been harming for over five years?

[euqsia]

Night Shift (mini-series)

PART ONE (2.1k)

pairing - bobby campbell x fem! reader

summary — you’ve worked at the skyview drive-in theatre every summer for 3 years, next thing you know, you’re training the new kid.

warnings - strong language, sexual themes, angst (if you squint) eventual smut if I’m feeling generous muahaha.

a/n — I freaking love Bobby dude. thought I’d write for him considering the lack of fics out there. Anyways I hope you enjoy this short series and my first (public) fic yay!!

Next chapter… chapter two

The New kid

Your elbow digs into the edge of the concession counter, chin tilted just enough to catch the greasy gleam of the popcorn machine. The kernels burst one by one behind the smudged glass, popping like little firecrackers — the only real excitement in this place.

A speaker hangs from the corner, playing pop hits from over a decade ago. You catch yourself humming along to Get Lucky, which is of course, an absolute classic.

DING DING DING.

You flinch.

Your head snaps toward the bell, eyes narrowing as a kid—maybe eleven—definitely annoying, slaps the silver button like it owes him money.

You drag out a sigh. “May I help you?”

“Gimme Twizzlers,” he huffs, as if stringing the words together physically pained him.

Your Chuck Taylors squeak against the soda-sticky floor as you shuffle over to the candy display. The lights buzz overhead, the kind of fluorescent hum that soaks into your bones if you stand under it too long.

You slide open the plastic door— place isn’t fancy enough for glass—and fish out the Twizzlers, stiff through the packaging. Shit’s probably a decade old you think to yourself.

“Five-fifty.”

The kid’s eyebrows furrow. “Wha—ripoff!” His jaw slack with disbelief.

You shrug, unbothered. “You can thank Reagan for that. Call that trickle-down.”

He blinks. “Well she’s a jerk.”

You don’t even look up. “No, the pres—”

“Hey!”

A voice cuts through the stale air like a buzzsaw. Greg, your dingy manager, is leaning halfway out the projection booth, hollering at you like always.

“The new kid’s here. Need you to show him the ropes.”

You straighten, slow. The words settle over your shoulders like a weight. The new kid.

You shoot the kid a glance. He’s already halfway through the Twizzlers, muttering something about capitalism under his breath. Fair enough.

Behind you, the door swishes— the sound smooth yet sudden. You turn toward it, and there he is.

Tall. Quiet. Hands in his pockets. Not quite in uniform—but hey, he’s new.

His eyes make you pause without knowing why.

The door creaks shut behind him, the following silence masked by the whir of the half working slushie machine. You stand still, one hand still resting against the display case, the other curled around empty air like it might hold onto something important if it tries hard enough.

He doesn’t look around right away, just lets his eyes trace the dusty corners of the lobby like he’s taking mental notes. Not in a hurry, not exactly slow either. Just… deliberate.

He’s standing just inside the door, shifting his weight like the floor might give out underneath him. Hands stuffed into the front pocket of his hoodie, sleeves pulled up to his elbows. His short blonde hair is neatly cut but clearly fussed with, like he’d been running his hands through it nervously on the way here.

His name tag’s clipped on crooked, someone must’ve shoved it into his hand at the door.

Bobby.

You can already tell he’s trying not to make eye contact.

He looks like the kind of guy who was probably a star athlete at some point. Or still is. Football, maybe. But he’s not confident about it — not like the loud ones. He’s… quiet. Restless. Like he’s used to people expecting something from him that he never quite figured out how to give.

You don’t mean to stare, but something about him just—sticks. In a low-flicker kind of way. Like background noise you start to miss when it’s gone.

He clears his throat. “Uh—hi. I’m—uh, Bobby. First day.”

You nod slowly, peeling yourself off the counter like you weren’t just watching him.

“Right. I assume you’ve already met Greg.” You try to keep your tone neutral. Friendly, but not too friendly. “Welcome to Skyview drive-in.” You wave your hands with faux enthusiasm.

That earns a crooked, nervous smile. “Cool.”

He looks around at the dim lobby like he’s unsure where to stand or what to do with his hands. Like he’s a little too big for the room, and a little too aware of it.

Your fingers twitch toward your apron. Right. You’re supposed to show him around. That’s your job. That’s what you do when a stranger walks in with soft eyes and a stare that feels heavier than it should.

“Alright,” you say, pushing off the counter. “Guess you’re stuck with me, then.”

Bobby glances around the empty lobby, the kid long gone, the popcorn still spinning in its fluorescent coffin. His lips twitch — almost a smile. “Could be worse, could’ve been…Greg.”

You toss him a spare apron from under the counter. “Well, come on Bobby. Let’s go teach you how to make popcorn that tastes like sadness.”

He catches it— just barely—and gives a quiet laugh. It’s small, but real.

You lead him behind the counter, the hum of ancient machines and the faint smell of burnt sugar thick in the air.

“Alright,” you say, tossing him a paper hat. “This is the register. This—” you kick the popcorn machine lightly, “—is temperamental. Kind of like Greg. Don’t touch either unless you want a breakdown.”

Bobby gives a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. His arms are too long for this space. Every time he moves, he nearly elbows a stack of napkins or knocks over a cup.

“Cool, cool…” he mutters. “Uh—so, do I, like… scoop it? Or push buttons?”

You squint at him. “Did you think it just popped itself into bags?”

He shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know, man. I just watch the movies.”

You smirk, and for a second, he seems proud of that. Like he made you laugh on purpose.

You show him how to hold the scoop just right, how to get the butter lever to work without drenching the bag, how to smile at customers without looking like you’re begging them to leave.

And he tries. He really does.

But by the third customer, he’s already botched an order — gave someone Milk Duds instead of Junior Mints and then apologized three times in a row, and let’s not get started on the slushie machine malfunction from earlier.

“I swear I’m not usually this bad,” he mutters, handing you a crumpled receipt.

“Relax,” you say, trying not to laugh. “You’re only mildly terrible. It’s charming.”

He looks up at you, startled by the compliment, or maybe just unused to being called anything at all.

Something passes between you then. Just a flicker. A still moment in the blur of fluorescent lights and greasy counters.

You look away first.

Later that night…

The lot’s almost empty. Just a few stragglers parked in the back row, headlights off, movie flickering dim on the screen in the distance. You sit on the curb out behind the building, legs stretched out, uniform apron balled up beside you.

Bobby drops down next to you with a sigh, arms resting on his knees. His shoulder brushes yours for a second, just barely—and he stiffens like he wasn’t expecting the contact.

He doesn’t pull away though.

You glance at him sideways, mouth tilting into a tired smile. “So. First night on the job. How you liking it so far?”

He lets out a breathy laugh, pushing a hand through his short blonde hair — it’s messed up in the same spots he kept running his fingers through all night.

“Honestly?” he says, squinting toward the screen. “I think I broke a record for most awkward employee alive.”

You nudge his knee gently with yours. “You weren’t that bad.”

“You think so?”

You shrug. “Considering it wasn’t your first and last day, I’d say so.”

He smiles — small, crooked, a little embarrassed. “Guess I owe you for not quitting on me halfway through.”

“Guess you do.”

There’s a pause, the kind that feels soft instead of empty. His eyes flick to you instead of the screen this time, like he’s watching something steadier. Something that doesn’t fade in the dark.

Then, without a word, he digs into his hoodie pocket. A quiet rattle of cardboard and foil. He pulls out a small box of candy — the kind you’re supposed to share during the movie but forget about until the credits roll.

He opens it and tilts it toward you in offering.

You glance down, quirking your cheek. “I’m okay thanks. Not a huge fan of peanuts.”

There’s a beat.

He stares at the box.

Then stares a little harder.

“…these have peanuts in them?”

You blink at him. “It says it right there on the box.”

He stares another second, then plants his palm across his face with a groan. “Oh my god, I’m such a dunce! I’m literally allergic.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wait—you didn’t eat any, did you?!”

“No! No—thank god, no. I was just… gonna offer you one first. You know…to be nice.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “You almost gave yourself fucking anaphylaxis to impress me?”

He groans again. “Kill me now.”

You grin, nudging his side gently with your elbow. “No it’s... kinda sweet. In a life-threatening, medically concerning sort of way.”

He looks at you through the fingers still covering his face, then slowly peeks through them, like he’s checking to see if you’re teasing or if you actually mean it.

And when you smile again, it’s softer this time, more real, and he doesn’t look away.

The candy box sits between you now, opened and forgotten. A small, ridiculous symbol of whatever just passed between you.

The sky’s dark enough that the stars have started bleeding through the black. The movie’s credits roll in the distance, white text sliding silently across a sea of blue light. It paints Bobby’s face in soft, fleeting flickers.

He exhales, nudging the gravel beneath his sneakers.

“You know,” he says after a while, voice low like it might spook the quiet, “I didn’t think I’d actually like this job.”

You glance at him. “And now?”

He shrugs, looking anywhere but at you. “Still smells like feet and fake butter, but… not the worst night I’ve ever had.”

A slow smile tugs at your mouth. “High praise.”

He bumps his shoulder into yours again. This time, it’s intentional. Gentle. A little braver than before.

The moment hangs between you, delicate and open. You don’t move away either.

Eventually, the two of you wander back inside, one last sweep before close. The space is hollow now, buzzing quietly like it’s exhaling too. You trail behind him, watching as he struggles to fit the broom back in the supply closet without knocking over every mop in existence.

“Need help?” you call.

“No, no, I got it,” he says — just before the dustpan clatters to the floor.

You stifle a laugh and walk over, crouching down to help him. Your hands reach out at the same time. His fingers brush yours — quick, but warm. And for a split second, neither of you moves.

You look up. He’s already looking at you.

The air shifts. Not loud or dramatic— just noticeable. A flutter beneath your ribs. He blinks, then quickly pulls his hand back, muttering something like “sorry,” though it’s barely audible.

You finish cleaning together in a kind of half-silence, half-smile rhythm. When the lights go out and the doors are locked, you both linger just a second too long outside the lobby.

“Walk you to your car?” he offers, voice soft.

You nod, bitting your cheek.

Outside, the gravel crunches beneath your feet as you walk toward your car. The moon’s up now, silver and quiet. Your breath fogs a little in the air. You’re not sure if it’s the cold or something else that makes you hyper-aware of the space between your arms.

“Hey,” he says when you reach your car. You turn.

He’s rubbing the back of his neck again, eyes on the ground. “I, uh… had a good time. Tonight. Even if I almost… y’know, died.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah me too. Minus the almost death part.”

He meets your eyes for a second — just a second — and then you see it, that flicker again. That quiet, nervous something that might grow if you let it. “Night, Bobby.” you say, pulling your keys out.

“Night,” he echoes. “Hey — don’t forget to live.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

He cringes, his hand finding his neck once more. “That—that sounded cooler in my head.”

You shake your head, laughing as you open your door. He starts walking backwards, stuffing his hands in his pockets again. And just before he disappears around the corner, you hear him mutter,

“…God, I’m such a dork.”

You smile into the steering wheel for longer than you mean to, before setting the shift into drive.

a/n Tell me what you guys think!! let me know any suggestions you may have for future chapters or other fics you’d like to see ;)

[springismss]

ᱬ⛧ my little fire dancer ~ k. bakugou

sum: if he had to choose one thing that he loved seeing you do, it would be this. it’s what made him fall in love with you after all.

pairing: timeskip! katsuki bakugou x girlfriend! reader

content: 18+ - mdni (just in case), suggestive sexual content, swearing, use of fire dancing equipment.

a/n: a random idea i had years ago that I’ve decided to update. as always likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated!

word count: 1.1k

links: bnha/mha masterlist | masterlist

The soft glow of flames flickered from the campfire beside as you watched bright flashes light up the rest of the area you were sitting in, a particular ash-blonde male was responsible as he released some of the pent-up stress and anger he held from the day.

The two of you were busy with your daily lives of hero work, so anytime you spent together was a luxury. Today just happened to be your day off, and your boyfriend had finished his work for the day, so it was just the two of you in a spot that was out of the way of prying eyes.

The usually ever-angry Bakugou seemed to be a whole different person whenever you were around. While others would be in the way of his outbursts if they looked at him the wrong way, you could do anything, and it would be disregarded without hesitation.

Leaning back on your hands with your legs stretched in front of you, you spent hours watching him, especially with that oh-so-rare content smile he held as whatever he felt slowly melted away.

Your mind was yet to grasp the fact that you had managed to be the other half of the wild human grenade pro. "Tch, what you staring at, dumb ass?".

Rolling your eyes at the typical statement that you knew he didn’t mean anything, you smirked slightly before stretching your arms above your head. "Well, I was staring at something hot. Those explosions pack some heat".

The mischievous-laced response made Bakugou growl in annoyance, his figure stopping just short of you before kneeling close beside you. "Don’t think I heard you the first time, what did you say, (y/n)?".

Letting your arms drop, you lifted your hand and ran your fingers through your hair. Taking a moment, you closed your eyes as you hummed, opening them again with a grin. "What's the matter, Kat? Jealous of some explosions?". Leaning forward, you let your lips brush against his before laughing.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Bakugou turned his head as he crossed his arms, focusing on something in the distance while you hummed to yourself. Sometimes it was too easy for you to get under his skin. "Hey Kat, let me dance for you".

Red eyes watched attentively as Bakugou became completely transfixed on you. The way your hips moved to an invisible beat. A beat that was enticing him in every single way imaginable.

Every time you picked up a piece of your fire dancing equipment, especially the fire fan, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world. No one else got to see this side of you, only him.

The passion you held for this somewhat unique hobby was a sight to behold. It was one of the many sides of you that only he knew about, one that you kept away from others, not because you were ashamed of it, but because it was something you could be vulnerable about. A feeling not often accepted when it came to being a pro.

You'd brought him into your world, and he wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon. Undeniably proud of the fact that you were still his girlfriend, the love of his life after all this time. If one thing made him fall deeper in love with you, it was this.

On the outside, you didn't seem it, but you were quite a firecracker, a perfect match for him at the best of times. Appearances can be deceptive, and he loved that. You also didn't back down when the going got tough, and he admired you more than he cared to admit

Looking over your shoulder, you smiled softly, face slightly illuminated by the flames, as you turned and began making your way back to him. Slow steps and you inched closer to his sitting form, not missing a single move as you kept your gaze fixated on him.

Tension hung in the air as you stopped in front of Bakugou. Moving the fan in your hand to the side, you blew a quick kiss while lifting each piece of metal equipment up to your face, firmly extinguishing each flame with a puff of breath before setting them safely to the side.

"You enjoy testing me, don't you, (y/n)? You know what you do to me when you fire dance". Letting out a soft hum, you crouched down and set yourself into Bakugou's lap, arms wrapping around your waist before pulling you closer.

Leaning forward, he pressed a soft kiss to your neck before pulling away, eyes lingering over the spot before he dipped back. Closing your eyes, you sighed, feeling his lips on your neck before moving your head to the side to give him more room.

Moments later you sucked in a breath, breathy moan being exhaled as heat began pooling in your gut. That sound was like heaven to his ears, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as you gripped his arm. "Maybe that's why I do it, Kat, I enjoy making you crave my body to the point of you fucking me senseless".

It was true, and he knew it. You both did. One of the ways you loved to get Bakugou in the mood was by fire dancing for him, enticing him with your movements before he pinned you below him with his own movements.

Loud moans, lewd noises, and dirty words that you moaned out when he took you for himself. The beautiful stretch that had you feeling full before his hips snapped, dragging the most sinful noises he could from you.

"Don't you worry, I'll fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight tomorrow. You'll be begging me to help you, in more ways than one".

Rubbing your legs together, you moaned again at his words, lips caught in a rough that grew nerdier, hands began to wander. Leaning back, you panted before wriggling out of his arms, pulling him up with you a moment later as the two of you rushed home.

Back pressed against the door, the second it shut, rough kisses that grew needier until you found yourself picked up. A small laugh leaving your throat as you gripped onto Bakugou’s top, your body placed softly onto the mattress of your shared bed.

Propping yourself up, you watched as he knelt into the bed, mattress sipping slightly under his weight as he hovered above you. Eyes looking you over as you smiled softly. You knew it was going to be a long night, but you didn’t care. Not when he spoke words that made you lie back, arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer.

"My little fire dancer, how I love every part of what you do to me and how much I love you”.

© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

[at-this-point-i-dont-even-know]

Maybe youll want to write a fic about a shift happening on the 4th of July, fireworks and firecrackers everywhere, and our poor vet Abbot going around ER all stressed, flinching and panicking at every explosion, and Dana/Robby calming him down, maybe some bigger breakdown?

pairing: Dr. Jack Abbott x F!Nurse!Ex-militaryReader

I ended up making this a follow up to my other story Don't go where I can't follow. This also got away from me and ended up being about three page long!

Warning: Panic Attack and general Pitt warnings

(Also I know nothing about fireworks, the Fourth of July or how Panic Attacks work except for what I found while googling, so please ignore anything that doesn't make sense)

My Inbox is still open for requests!

“What is with your fucking country and fireworks?” you mutter under your breath to Dr Robby as you both work on removing a patient's highly flammable pajama material after they decided to let off fireworks in their bedroom.

They were also 38 years of age.

“They're fun and pretty!” the older doctor said, smiling behind his glasses and mask. The smell was enough to turn your stomach.

“They literally burn peoples skin off! What's fun about that?”

“The colours, my love, it's the colours.” Dr Abbott walked behind the curtain, his own smile bright, “They sparkle and look pretty, so of course the idiots think they can control them. Or think they won’t get hurt because it's never happened before.”

You continued slowly pulling the material away from the burning flesh, your stomach rolling and your eyes sweating at the smell.

Dumb, dumb, dumb  you mutter to yourself ignoring as your partner and his friend continued their discussion about the best fireworks they had ever let off.

“My dad once took us to Lake Tahoe when I was ten- I think- first time I ever got to set off fireworks, we put them in the mud on the banks, ran a fuse line a couple of feet, if that, and let them go. Except none of us knew that you should stagger them so about two hundred dollars worth of fireworks went off all at once. About ten seconds of excitement and a couple of burnt eyebrows was all our fourth of July excitement.” 

Your boyfriend, (or partner, you hadn’t quite worked out the wording for what you were), looked so excited as he described his childhood memory. 

Dr Robby joined it, explaining wildly about his own memorable mishap with fireworks.

You shook your head and made a quick exit, two attendings didn’t need a nurse to stand over them while they worked, so you quickly rushed off your gown and gloves and breathed in the fresh air of the ER. As fresh as air in the ER could be anyway. 

It was the Fourth of July and you had awoken to Jack thrashing in the bed, a nightmare gripping him and forcing him to relive something horrific. Between the fifteen odd years of active duty and the hospital shooting last year, there are many things to hold Jack under while he sleeps.

So you are spending half your day keeping one eye on him, with the help of Dana, the current Charge nurse on shift, to make sure he wasn’t going to melt down half way through the day.

Between you taking on a double shift to be here, and Dr Robby doing the same, there were three sets of eyes on him at all times.

It felt like overkill as the fourth hour of the shift ticked over, a handful more people coming in with firework related injuries, some burns from barbecues, and a couple of sore heads from drinking mishaps but Jack was holding his own as he went from patient to patient helping the interns and residents do most of the heavy lifting.

You found him looking over the board as the hour dragged on, playing on his phone and laughing at something Dana was saying. You lean into him a little, bumping hips and shoulders. 

Jack was the calmest you had seen him in months. For weeks after your shooting he had been on edge, every noise had set him off, anytime a door in the hospital slammed he had jumped to his feet ready for something. When you were discharged after seven long weeks, he had bought a car. No longer trusting you on public transport or walking from your apartment to the hospital, he insisted on driving everywhere. Which you had had to put a stop to because while Jack is an amazing doctor, loving partner and all round great guy- he was a terrible driver. It had taken you three months after your release from the hospital to get back to work, and even then it had been on the desk, not running the floor, which Jack had decided he liked more, “Easy to keep an eye on you.” he had said, which had led to more than a dozen fights before you returned to full nursing duties.

It had taken a while but Jack was no longer watching your every move, no longer shadowing you with every patient, or making an intern follow you everywhere (including the bathroom).

So you had noticed the irony of making his friends follow him around for the day.

“I know what you're doing.” he leant in and whispered into your ear, his words tickling your neck as you just looked up at him innocently.  

“What am I doing?”

“I am ok- it was just a nightmare. I’m fine.”

“Maybe. But humour me?”

----

By hour seven you almost want to laugh at yourself for being so overly cautious. 

Everything was going absolutely fine to the point you took a break to find coffee in the breakroom. 

The lukewarm coffee was mainly something to put in your hand as you made your way back to the main desk, Abbott was with Dana again, laughing together over something when it happened.

A group of teenagers exited the lifts, laughing as they jostled each other, one with his arm in a sling and the others holding bags. They talk to each other and you give them nothing but a half second glance. Groups of teengers on the fourth of july is not a unique situation and not worth your time.

Until it was.

The fireworks shot from their bags, lights and noise echoing around the room.

Pink flashes, followed by blue and green. The sound ricocheting around, as sparks burned your skin on contact.

You drop to the floor, your heart in your chest as you remind yourself over and over again where you were.

Hospital.

Not a warzone.

Hospital.

It took only ten seconds for the sound and light to stop, but it echoed through your head for over a minute before you could finally pull yourself out of a panic and get to your knees. 

Jack! You screamed internally, as you looked straight across where you had last seen him. Dana’s at her desk, her own eyes filled with tears as she rushes to put out spark fires and her calming voice, edged with fear, barked orders at the staff all still trying to find their calm after the fireworks.

But Jacks nowhere to be found.

“Dana! Jack?”

“Can’t find him.”

“He was just here!”

“Try the breakroom!”

You run, your heart once again in your throat as you search. The door slams shut behind you and you slide to a stop. 

Jack is curled in on himself, in the smallest spot between the fridge and the wall. Your knees buckle as you fall in front of him, careful not to grab him. 

He's muttering to himself, nothing that you could make out but it didn’t matter.

“Jack- Baby?”

He doesn’t look up, his face white as a sheet and his pupil blown. His head thrown back as he rocks himself in place, his head hitting the wall, over and over again. YOu rip off your cardigan and throw it between his head and the wall.

You know enough to know not to pull him immediately from a panic attack, it could end with him hurt or you hurt and neither would be good for Jack in the long run.

“I’m here, I'm not going anywhere.”

So you get comfortable on the floor, your legs crossed and your hands just out of reach of his, you hum a song from your own childhood over and over again, giving him something else to cling to then the demons he is fighting.

The break room door opens and you lean across and slam it shut on whoever tried to enter.

“OCCUPIED!” you yell before locking the door. There was nothing that Jack would like less than to know people saw him this way.

“Baby, you with me?”

His hands reached out and grabbed yours. They shook as he finally looked up with tears and fear showing through every movement.

“You’re here.” he whispered, before falling forward into your lap, your body cringing as his shoulder slammed into the ground.

You sit back, your fingers gently playing with his hair as his body's shaking finally settles, his breathing coming back minute after minute until you realise he had fallen asleep.

“I’m never leaving.” you promise.

[touchstarvedbbg]

Touchstarved LI General headcanons

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Pairings : Touchstarved LIs x reader in some!

General : Played through the demo again recently and wanted to touch up on some general headcanons!! I came out of this experience with a new love hate relationship for ais 😭

Warnings : None :)) this is SFW

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Vere

|🩰| Vere has been alive for an incredibly long time, though I don’t think he’s entirely immortal. He cannot be killed by natural human causes (old age, sickness, murder). But I do believe that he could most definitely be killed by the hands of something more powerful than him (the allmother, or even Kuras)…. Hopefully the devs don’t kill him

|🩰| He seems like the type to have physical touch as a love language, but more giving than receiving. I don’t think he’d be a fan of being touched spontaneously.

|🩰| Typically has a very airy, light tone to his voice. It’s sultry and has a fake innocence to it, but can quickly drop into a more rough tone.

|🩰| Has hundreds of drawings of people he has seen throughout the years in various situations, even people he doesn’t like. Despite disliking some of his subjects, he draws them as they are most of the time. They can be beautiful and, in his eyes, still suck. (Ahem.)

|🩰| Once In a while though he’ll slightly alter the persons appearance just enough to make them question everything. Psychological warfare in a way.

|🩰| Has a surprisingly low alcohol tolerance for somebody who it seems is at the bar with Leander and Ais quite frequently. Very picky with his alcohol, he doesn’t like it tasting too much like straight booze but still appreciates a little buzz to it (his drink of choice is wine)

|🩰| Slightly wavy hair, maybe around 2A-2B. His sprites in game look rather straight, but come on, he’d look so good with wavy hair 🫣.

|🩰| On that note, he definitely takes good care of it BUT also is very bare bones with what that entails. (I.e. it’s always neatly done and brushed, but he probably uses the eridian equivalent of 3 in 1 shampoo or whatever the senobium gives him)

Leander

|🩰| Has a body count higher than one would like (and probably a rice purity score low enough to make most concerned…) but hasn’t had many long-term, serious partners. Has a hard time getting attached to people, but when he falls he falls very hard.

|🩰| Was most definitely a problem child growing up. If Kuras’s clinic wasn’t free of charge he’d be in debt that would take lifetimes to pay off.

|🩰| Tramp stamp. No elaboration needed.

|🩰| Always acts like a tough guy in public and tries to impress others to the ends of the earth… but would probably refuse to watch any movie where a dog dies. (Valid)

|🩰| INCREDIBLY smart academically, but makes tons of poor life choices. He’d simultaneously get in trouble for deciding to light firecrackers in the boys bathroom while having straight 100s in the hardest of classes.

|🩰| Big on gift giving!!! He sees something he thinks you’d like and finds a way to get it. Seems like the type to give his partner a bouquet of flowers weekly without fail. However if you give him something else he’d totally pull the “you don’t need to get me anything” card. (he cherishes it dearly)

|🩰| In a normal world he’d definitely be a frat bro (so sorry.) fishing, and taking photos with the fish, would be a weekend activity for him and his followers.

|🩰| He likes curve on his partners. Out of all of the LIs, I’d see him adoring having a bigger partner! Very supportive of the few people he chooses to give his full love to. (He really saves it for the best people)

Ais

|🩰| HES A PRICK (and one of my favs). Even after getting into a relationship with somebody he won’t stop riling them up unless absolutely necessary. Ask him why and he’ll just 🤷‍♂️

|🩰| Always has his hands on his partner in some way. Personal fav idea is having a hand wrapped around their waist (regardless of gender it’s just so 🫣)

|🩰| Takes a long time to open up to other people emotionally. For a while he’ll keep up the douche act. It’s definitely a way to make sure people around him don’t stab him in the back somehow.

|🩰| Definitely a night person. He does his best work in the dark of night (regardless of how many times he tells you it’s unsafe at night). He also likes the night so he can drink and catch up with Vere.

|🩰| Longer lifespan than a human, but not immortal in the same way that Vere or Kuras are. He’s definitely going to be (and already has been) around for quite some time.

|🩰| Most of his companions are soulless or other animals/monsters. Somewhere in his past he probably has been betrayed in some way, so he’s very locked up emotionally.

|🩰| He’s got big hands😻

|🩰| Really good cook. When he volunteers at the clinic he makes food for those who need it as a rescue effort.

|🩰| Has a really good photographic and numerical memory. Ask him a name for somebody he should know and he’ll have no clue- but ask him the exact number of atoms there are in an element or where he placed a needle in a haystack? He’ll know it.

|🩰| He has some sharp teeth naturally… but he probably tried to sharpen the others at some point to look more badass

Mhin

|🩰| Has a younger looking face, but is definitely way older than they look.

|🩰| Figures out one method of doing things quickly and sticks to it. Doesn’t toy around much with new methods once they’ve found a working one out of fear of screwing up. (To be fair, most of what they do has very little room for error)

|🩰| Mhin strikes me as a horrible student, but they’re not at all dumb. Simply, they would be more suited to more hands on learning than a typical educational experience.

|🩰| Very big on quality time. Especially the silent kind. Their favorite thing to do with a lover is to walk around outside where it’s quiet. Mhin hates that crowded spaces that eridia has an abundance of, a break is always welcome.

|🩰| Hard-headed and doesn’t take no for an answer under most circumstances. They’re resilient and always follow through on things once they agree to it (however hard it may be to get them to agree..)

|🩰| At some point in their past they’ve most definitely experienced being treated as if they’re glass about to shatter. They hate the feeling of it and as such do their best to remain independent unless absolutely necessary.

|🩰| Cat person!

|🩰| VERY random but I’d see them wearing a perfume/cologne with rainwater and musk as the notes! It’s unique and calming while being slightly off-putting. Whatever it is they use though, it most certainly was a gift and is on its last spray. They’re very frugal.

Kuras

|🩰| Similarly to Vere, he couldn’t be killed by human methods, but certainly could be smited by the allmother.

|🩰| I did my research, and angels do eat- however not a human food (manna- psalm 78:25, though the meaning of it is up to many interpretations). Clearly, he’s not getting this on earth. As such he most definitely hungers, but not for something that he has any hope of getting (similarly to redemption.)

|🩰| Actually cannot tolerate most human foods or beverages. As an angel, he wasn’t made to digest it (it’s been mentioned he fakes eating.) he probably could handle a drink or two, but his tolerance to it is laughable at best.

|🩰| Big on words of service. He praises his partners whenever he finds reason to. He’s incredibly loving, but doesn’t seem touchy or available like the others are (so words are his favorite)

|🩰| He often keeps the clinic frigid. Kuras himself is naturally very warm and doesn’t notice the cold, however his patients (along with Ais and Mhin who both seem to frequent the clinic) certainly do.

|🩰| he is an angel, but since he is in a human form I could see him on VERY rare occasions catching diseases or getting fatigued in this form. However he usually pushes through it and it goes away within a day or two.

|🩰| His handwriting is unreadable but beautiful. No matter how hard he tries to make it look legible, it ends up looking like an ancient text.

|🩰| He has some very androgynous features all over (angels don’t have genders themselves). Honestly he may very well be intersex in some regard. If it wasn’t for his voice and the fact he’s so tall, some features would be a quite difficult to discern as masculine or feminine.

[addiglessthanthree]

LADS LI + Kids Headcanons

My favourite dynamics for LADS LIs with their own kids

(obv i think they would love any child so much it wouldnt be funny so this is just for fun)

Rafayel has a baby girl who he spoils and she turns into a rebellious sassy tortured artist despite trying to not be like her dad. As a baby she's his little dressup doll princess! Always so fashionable, he brings her literally everywhere, uses her as an excuse to leave early and forces people to listen to her babble when he wants them to shut up "Sorry, what was that princess? Tell the nice lady all about it" When she's a teen she tries sooooo hard to not be like him but cant help it. Shows up to his art shows to make a scene, unwittingly participates in performance art. He's sooooooo smug about it. Thomas' daughter babysits her growing up and ends up being an older sister figure to her.

Sylus has two little princesses that crawl all over him like a jungle gym. He's so nonchalant about it, one will be perched on his head, gnawing on his ear while he takes a call. The other is on top of a cupboard and he just catches her mid-air. They grow up and one (the younger one lets be real, even if they're twins one is younger) is the manipulator who always gets on the other's nerves. The other is just so genuine and gung-ho about everything she does. They cause so much chaos. He teaches them at shoot at age 12.

Xavier has an actual cherub baby boy who turns into a hyperactive monster at age 2. The most docile sweet big blue eyed baby is a total momma's boy that knows exactly what he's doing. Gets on Xaviers nerves allllll the time and mom is constantly stuck between the two pairs of biggest poutiest blue orbs shes ever seen. Xavier lets him watch him game as a kid and he gets really good at it. Tries to join team sports, doesnt love it but excels at track and field.

Zayne with fraternal twins, a boy and a girl. The boy is a firecracker like mom and the girl is his exhausted know it all. His dynamic with his son is bewilderment for the most part "Why would you lick that? You know we've discussed proper santitation procedures." With his daughter he's so soft and tender, making sure she's motivated to improve and be the best she can without imposing any standard to uphold. He might even actively steer her away from medicine so she doesnt feel any generational pressure. I think the son ends up being obsessed with firetrucks and becomes a firefighter, the drive to help people and save lives manifesting in his own way.

Caleb screams boy dad that only got girls and so he has 3 girls before they gave up. Not that he doesnt love them! Quite the contrary, he does everything that he wanted to do with his sons with them: builds them a treehouse, takes them to the creek to catch frogs, get them to hand him wrenches when he repairs the car and kitchen appliances. Puts them in scouts and takes them camping all the time. His favourite place to be is buried in cuddles with them. Lets them have their girly phases and paint his nails and put clips in his hair: shows up to a Fleet brief with two sparkly pink fingernails. Has a soft spot for the middle girl. The oldest girl is a mini-him and they butt heads a lot but becuase they're so similar they deeply understand each other.