#mc prompts

[girl-named-matty]

Thirty-One HL MC questions for October!

It's finally here! As I said in my post a couple of days ago, I'm putting this out a couple of days in advance so that anyone who would like to do this can prepare! There is an Autumn/Halloween oriented MC questions for each day in October that you can answer and let us get to know more about your MC's!

You can answer in any way you'd like, this is about your MC after all! If you would like, use the tag #HLMCOctober2024 so we can see all of them!

we will also be participating in this on my discord server as our October activity so if you'd like to join to have more in-depth conversations about your MC's or other HL characters you'd like, just lmk! <3

[coffeeandmagicaltales]

Thirty-One HL MC questions for October

by @girl-named-matty (see here) week 1

Something about my baby Morana <3

[wuzetianadmirer]

Obey Me x Queen Reader

Warnings: slight yandere and implications of foetus murder

I'm basing this off a C-drama I love; Ruyi's Royal Love in the Palace

As a woman, a daughter of the Qing Emperor you had few options. It didn't help that you were the daughter of a low ranking concubine and not an Imperial Consort. You most likely would be married off to somewhere far away, to a chieftan or duke or any other noble. However, you knew you could do better than marry a good man. You decided to become Emperor yourself. After the death of your father, your half-brother had been crowned Emperor. Oopsie! If only a mere servant didn't poison him on his wedding night! And one by one, the Imperial sons were either killed or implicated and banished. The Imperial daughters were married to obscure men of the Empire. And officials began disappearing.

Who was doing this? You!

You had all the right people in your pocket. You had disposed of those who were unneeded.

In the span of two years, you had seized control of the Qing Court. Elevating your mother to Queen Dowager and yourself as Emperor. A female Emperor? There hasn't been one since Wu Zetian! You were strongly opposed but within days, those kind if thoughts were quelled. It was a blood bath, whether it was a necessary one, you did not know.

You had everything now.

Power was in your hands!

You married powerful men and secured your position.

And after five long years, you are your beloved King Consort were expecting. You were finally pregnant! You could establish your own dynasty at last.

But you were now in the Devildom. How frustrating!

I imagine the Mc to look like this:

Lucifer

Yeah, he didn't really care at first.

The only royalty he acknowledged was Lord Diavolo.

He didn't quite regard your ambitions with much interest.

But when you showcased your amazing leadership skills, as well as great diplomacy, and managing to quell those annoying noble demons, you got our boy falling fast!

He then started to understand your situation better, and you began to reside in him too

He too lost everything after the Fall

So now the both of got somebody to relate to

At times, you'd discuss certain politics over a glass of demonus

He also shared some tips as to how you could strengthen your hold over others

Has mixed feelings about the bae

On one hand, you want to go back to your husband. Everything you worked hard for shouldn't be in vain

But on the other, when you first came here, you were beyond stressed. Rarely did you let yourself relax

He decided to help you

And while you may not agree, you can have everything you'd want here. He'd make sure of it!

You want power, he'd make sure you'd dominate the Devildom.

And dont worry about the kid. He himself has unofficially adopted six demons under his care, what's another

Best dad/husband material if you ask me. (Better than the Emperor in the actual show)

Mammon

Man just wants to scam you out of your crown and jewellery. But as a powerful woman yourself, you decide to out him in his place

You, a human, put Mammon in his place. Kneeling at your feet, your heel atop his head.

Man would be lying if he said he wasn't whipped!

After that, he's like a puppy, following you around.

He listens to your story and how you had to struggle and conive your way into power.

He respects that. He's just sad, that a person as brilliant as you had to prove your worth tenfold before anybody aknowledged you

He was the first demon to form a pact with you. Thus, he wants to be your everthing. Your forst man as well as the person to take care of you

But that little bundle in your belly complicates things.

Nevermind! He'll just have to the best dad there is. For both your happiness and his.

Treasure, if you think you can go back...you've got another thing coming...

Leviathan

Your an Emperor?

Thats so cool! Totally OP

Was a bit sceptical at first as you didnt know shit about video games, much less technology.

You're alot like Simeon in that sense

He starts teaching you how to play videogames

And lets just say, you might have been rocky before but you're slaying it now

Especially since you have good critical thinking you can make quick counters

You find that you have a liking towards otome games.

They're similar to the fact that they're alot like dealing with people at court. Kiss up to a few people and destroy the ones that aren't needed

He thinks your so cool.

And after hearing you life story as to how much you had to give up in order to get where you are today, he's just in awe.

Promises to be your bestest friend as well as godfather to your bundle of joy

Satan

Doesn't really care, much like Lucifer

At first, that is

Everyone is astounded that you handle his anger so well

Must be because you're used to having to deal with hot heads

Especially those who didn't deem you worthy as Emperor.

Satan is firmly neutral towards you

Until he discovers your shared love of literature

Is is impressed at your prowess of poetry and appreciates it. Finally, somebody to confide in

Then he finds out, because of your constant strive for power, as well as your status as Emperor, you had to time for pets. Especially not a cat

He decides to change that

And suddenly your living quarters are now a pet shop.

Not to say you hated it, you're already having baby fever due to being....um...pregnant, but now you're having kitty fever!

Our man is definitely in love

Which makes him feel uneasy about your pointy belly

Contemplates killing the babe once its born, but holds himself back. He doesn't want all your hard work to be for nothing

Definitely helping you reclaim your throne if anybidy opposes you in the near future

Very angry about you going back to your husband but keeps it in

Cant loose a good friendship over this, now can ge?

Asmodeous

This echantress is set on seducing you.

Only your resolve is strong

He tries his best, only to realise that his charms don't quite work on you.

Nevermind that, your fashion sense is so chic!

He then decides that you need a makeover. Dont misunderstand him, you're beautiful as is, not as beautiful as him, but all that stress isnt good for you honey.

Insists you get nine hours of sleep

All that court shenanigans and running the empire has given you bags inder your eyes. And are those wrinkles! Honey, I'm gonna get you the best spa day of your life!

You become fast friends, surprisingly. Even you are baffled.

The both of you share makeup tips. He even introduces you to modern makeup as well as cosmetics and fashion.

You insist on wearing longer dresses and do your hair up. You sport long, elegant clothes. And while you think its fine wearing your hair loose every now and then you ultimately stick to your roots.

And while he insists that you'd look stunning in anything you wore, he ultimately respects your fashion choice.

He even replicates traditional Qing dynasty qipao. As the Avatar of Lust, he does have connections to all the high end fabric stores.

And in respect to your status as Emperor he insists that you only dress as the best!

He even manages to get someone to make a few sets of liangbatou for you (the type of headdress Qing dynasty women wore)

Is excited as to being an uncle! Definitely going on a baby shopping frenzy

Practically your best friend!

Beelzebub

I personally think he thought your crown was made of candy.

Cant blame this baby boy

He once even thought you were made of white chocolate with how smooth your skin is

Has tried eating you

Your glare, made his mouth go dry

You're much like Lucifer as to how you baby him sometimes.

You're quite tall yourself but still look like dwarf next to him.

A bit confused as to why you ate so little, even offering your food to him every now and then

He thinks its the pregnancy hormones.

Makes sure you're eating well, cuz honey, you're not just eating for yourself but for your kid too.

Definitely sees you as Lilith.

This hunk of a man swears nothing bad will come to you.

Much like Asmo, he wants to be an uncle so bad

"(Yn), you haven't eaten yet? Are you craving something. I'll go to Hell's Kitchen to get it".

Belphegor

Doesn't give a shit

Just sleeps

Only after Beel stats giving you attention does you pay a shit

You look like one of those prissy nobles

Literally doesn't care that you're an Emperor

Does that mean you can sleep all day?

Is horrified that you tell him that you barely get any sleep due to the stress.

A bit worried at first, cuz you look older than you are

Subtly tells you to get some shut eye. He even puts a spell on you in order to get better sleep. Makes sure your bed is comfortable.

He takes a bit longer to finally start caring as he isnt exactly the most proactive.

Same as Beel . Sees you as Lilith

Not too enthusiastic about your being pregnant. It just means a baby's gonna keep him up later on. But still cares. Definitely tries his best.

On the same side as Beel, Asmo and Levi; wants to the kids uncle.

Overall, you've got seven demons on your side. Quite useful incase there was any opposition on your part. Your kid is gonna have the best uncles!

[princeps-lucis]

🚘 Road Trip 🚘

A bunch of people misfits on a trip 🤣

Thanks to our dear member, Pearl, for sorting our characters in our HL home. <3

Get to know our OCs and introduce yours too, and together, let's have fun!

We are a minor-friendly community for all Hogwarts Legacy fans out there!

[rafeslvbug]

your kids telling nfl!rafe they don’t want to do sports…

your daughter:

she’s only three, absolutely adores her dad and does not feel the same way about netball. he enrolled her as soon as he could, determined to turn both his kids into little sports people.

but she discovers early on that she doesn’t like it.

it’s when you’re baking with her, she’s sat on the counter, chewing on the string of her dress until it soaks and you have to pry it out her mouth, that she softly whispers to you, slightly ashamed, “momma i don’t like netball anymore.”

you cup her chubby cheeks in your hands, cooing at her soft pout and the tears bubbling in her soft, round eyes. you frown at her crumbling face.

“why not baby? is there somethin’ else you wanna do?” you ask softly, humming as she nods her head, pigtails bobbing up and down.

“ballet,” she nestles her head into your stomach, as if to hide from the shame she feels in not wanting to do what rafe wants her to. you took her to a ballet class a few weeks ago, and hadn’t even realised how much she liked it. holding her in your arms, you reassure her in the best way you can. “yeah? you can do ballet,” but she only shakes her head, rubbing at her wet eyes with little balled fists. furrowed brows, you ask why not, only for her to respond with a guilty whisper of “dada”.

after a few gentle coaxes you manage to get her to agree to tell rafe, but she clings to you the whole way to the couch, where he’s sitting with your older son. you kneel by the couch as she climbs into rafe’s lap and breaks the news, watching as rafe’s face morphs from initial disappointment to near tears of his own when she starts crying again.

he engulfs her in his arms, rocking her back and forth to soothe her, shushing her with a gentle, “it’s okay baby girl, it’s okay, daddy’s not angry, i think it’s great. yeah? me and your momma will take you to get cute outfits, i’ll take ya’ to practice n’ everythin’, ‘kay?” he murmurs into her hair until she calms down, pulling away enough for him to wipe her tears and kiss her on the forehead.

it doesn’t take long for her to be okay again, bouncing and bubbly as she toddles off to play with her dolls. when she’s gone, rafe groans, running a hand over his face as he drops his head back. you chuckle at his behaviour, the picture of a man in despair either from the fact that she doesn’t want to play netball anymore or that she got so worried she cried. that in itself was enough to make him crumple.

“i know that was hard for you, baby,” you tease, sitting on the couch next to him while one hand of his reaches out to lay your legs over his lap.

“hard? sweetcheeks, that was fuckin’ devastating,” he mumbles,burying his face into your neck, only causing you to laugh more. “i hear ballet’s hard though..” he muses, appreciating hard work over anything.

“yeah? and she’ll look adorable in the tutu,” you add, earning a hum from rafe while you pat his back, sharing a look with your son as he plays with his trucks on the floor. rafe was always the exaggerator.

your son:

he wouldn’t even allow it.

(jk, if his son really didn’t like it, he’d get over it. luckily for him, his son does like nfl)

[wuzetianadmirer]

I think about this and quite honestly I dont have the answer for this. I think we all know by now that Mc loves the brothers not just romantically but as a family as a whole. I personally think MC would choose the brothers through and through because in all honesty, their bond goes deeper than we can can fathom. They protect each other. Do without a doubt, I feel as if MC will choose the brothers if a war were to come....

Solomon who is so conflicted about MC's relationships with the demons, who COULD show MC the atrocities done by demonkind so they understand. But he won't. Not to spare MC's widdle feewings but because he doesn't know what he's gonna do if MC decides they do not care and sides with the demons anyways :)

[promptedwordsmith]

Please mayhaps could you write something cute of Mc/Reader falling asleep while laying on their chest listening to their heartbeat 😭

inspired by this dialogue from Zayne I just got 🙈

Love your writing btw, I binge read all your stuff earlier…😭

Aww thank you!

Caleb

The night was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city in the distance. The stars stretched endlessly above you, faint against the glow of streetlights filtering through the window. The air was cool, a soft breeze shifting the curtains, but the warmth of Caleb beside you made the world feel impossibly small, like the only thing that mattered was the space between you.

You hadn’t meant to stay this late.

It had started with a casual visit—an excuse, really. Just an evening spent together after days of missing each other between missions and responsibilities. You had barely managed to steal moments alone lately, both of you too caught up in the demands of your work, your Evols, your duties. And now, here you were, hours later, lying on his couch, wrapped up in his presence as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Caleb sat against the cushions, his black and orange jacket tossed somewhere over the armrest, leaving him in just a simple t-shirt. He had one arm resting lazily behind his head, the other draped across your back. Your body was half on top of him, your cheek pressed against his chest, rising and falling with each steady breath he took.

The sound of his heartbeat filled your ears.

Strong. Constant. Safe.

You hadn’t planned on falling asleep like this. But after everything—after the exhaustion, the weeks of pushing forward without rest—this felt… inevitable. Like gravity pulling you down.

Caleb hadn’t moved much since you’d settled there, just enough to shift comfortably, to make sure you had the space to breathe. His fingers ghosted over your back, absentminded, soothing. He wasn’t speaking, but he didn’t need to. The warmth of his body, the solid presence of him beneath you—it was enough.

You felt his chest rumble slightly as he let out a breath, a soft chuckle you almost missed.

"Didn’t think you’d get this comfortable with me so soon."

You made a small noise in protest but didn’t lift your head. It was too much effort, and you were too content.

His fingers brushed against the curve of your shoulder, warm and slow. "Not that I mind," he murmured.

You sighed, shifting just slightly, letting your body mold more against his. “M’not comfortable,” you mumbled sleepily, words muffled against his shirt.

"Oh?" Amusement colored his voice.

"M’just… too tired to move."

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Right. That’s it."

You didn’t argue. You barely had the energy to think, much less banter with him. The steady thump-thump of his heart was lulling you under, making it hard to focus on anything but the warmth beneath your fingertips.

A few minutes passed in silence, peaceful and undisturbed. Caleb wasn’t one to stay still for long, not with the kind of life he led, but right now, he hadn’t moved an inch. Maybe he didn’t want to wake you. Maybe he just liked this as much as you did.

And then, in a voice quieter than before, he spoke again.

"Feels nice."

You made a questioning sound, but you didn’t open your eyes.

His fingers traced a slow, lazy path down your back. "Having you here like this."

Your heart skipped.

It wasn’t like Caleb to say things outright. Not when it came to feelings, anyway. He showed his affection in actions—through protection, through thoughtfulness, through every quiet way he looked after you. But every now and then, he let things slip.

And for some reason, this moment felt more intimate than any of the ones before.

You swallowed, suddenly more aware of how close you were. His heartbeat, still steady beneath your ear, was the only thing grounding you.

You exhaled. "I like it too."

His hand stilled for half a second, then continued its slow, absentminded movements.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, saying nothing at all.

Time didn’t matter.

The world outside didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the quiet rise and fall of his chest, the way his heart beat for you, with you.

And eventually, before you even realized it, you drifted into sleep, safe in his arms.

Caleb had lost count of how long he’d been lying there, unmoving, just watching you.

You had fallen asleep so easily against him, so naturally, as if you had always belonged there. Your breaths were soft, steady, barely more than a whisper against his skin. And your weight—light but present—felt right.

He exhaled, staring at the ceiling.

He should’ve moved. He should’ve carried you to bed, tucked you in properly, maybe even left the room to give you space.

But he didn’t.

Because some part of him—some deep, selfish part—couldn’t bring himself to let go.

His arms tightened around you, just slightly. He felt the way you shifted in response, curling closer in your sleep, like even unconscious, you knew you were safe with him.

That did something to him.

He had spent so long protecting you, making sure you were okay, keeping his distance where he thought you needed it. But now, here you were—sleeping soundly on his chest, trusting him without hesitation.

And it undid him.

His fingers traced absent patterns against your back, slow, thoughtful. He didn’t know if you’d even remember this in the morning, if you’d be embarrassed, if you’d pull away and act like it hadn’t happened. But he’d remember.

He’d remember the way your breathing synced with his, the way your body had fit against him like it was meant to be there. He’d remember the warmth of you, the way you had melted into him without fear.

And, more than anything, he’d remember the moment he realized—he never wanted this to end.

He exhaled, tilting his head just enough to press the lightest of kisses against your hair. A whisper of a touch, something you wouldn’t feel, something just for him.

"Sleep well," he murmured against your temple. "I’ll be here when you wake up."

And for once, he truly meant it.

Rafayel

Rafayel always ran a little warmer than most, his body heat like an ember refusing to die out. It was comforting in a way that made it difficult to resist curling up beside him, though you rarely admitted that out loud. He’d be insufferable if you did, teasing you with that lazy grin, calling you clingy despite the fact that he was the one who draped himself over you like a heavy blanket more often than not.

Tonight was no different.

It had been a long day—one of those days where exhaustion settled into your bones like a permanent weight. The kind of day where even lifting a hand to wave away Rafayel’s usual antics felt like too much effort. You had barely managed to shuffle into his home, kicking off your shoes in a haphazard heap by the door before collapsing onto his couch without so much as a greeting.

Rafayel, ever the dramatic one, had let out an exaggerated sigh as he flopped down beside you, slouching against the cushions as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “You look like you’ve fought an entire army and lost.”

You hummed in response, not even bothering to open your eyes.

That wasn’t enough for him, of course. He prodded your arm with a single finger, then two, then your cheek, then your forehead—until you swatted weakly at his hand, cracking one eye open to glare at him.

“If you don’t let me rest, I’ll—”

“What?” He smirked, all sharp teeth and amusement. “Throw me out? I live here.”

You groaned, rolling onto your side to put your back to him, but it was no use. Rafayel was persistent when he wanted to be. His arm slung itself over your waist, not quite pulling you in, but making sure you couldn’t wriggle away either.

“Stay up with me,” he murmured.

“No.”

“Rude.”

You huffed a small laugh, but the exhaustion was winning. You felt the weight of his arm shift slightly, and before you knew it, he was adjusting, coaxing you effortlessly into his embrace as if it was second nature.

You barely resisted.

His chest was warm beneath your cheek, rising and falling in an easy rhythm, his heartbeat a steady thump-thump against your ear. You listened without thinking, without meaning to, letting the sound ground you in a way that nothing else could.

“Comfortable?” Rafayel’s voice was softer now, lacking his usual teasing lilt.

You made a vague sound of agreement, nuzzling just a little closer.

His fingers skimmed lightly over your back, absentmindedly tracing little shapes into your shirt. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Mhm.”

“You weren’t supposed to agree.”

You smiled sleepily.

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty. It was full of the warmth of his body, the scent of sea breeze and something faintly sweet, the quiet lull of his breathing.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

You wondered if he even realized how soothing it was. If he knew how easily he could lull you to sleep just by being there.

His hand stilled against your back, and for a moment, you thought maybe he had fallen asleep too. But then, his voice—softer now, barely above a whisper—broke the silence.

“You do this a lot.”

You hummed, half-asleep already. “Do what?”

“Listen to my heartbeat.”

Your eyes cracked open just enough to peek up at him, but his expression was unreadable in the dim light. His gaze was focused on the ceiling, his lips pressed together in quiet contemplation.

You shrugged, your fingers absentmindedly curling into the fabric of his shirt. “It’s… nice.”

Rafayel let out a small breath of amusement, though there was something thoughtful in the way he tightened his grip around you, as if trying to pull you just a little closer. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before.”

You blinked sleepily. “Really?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering it. “Most people don’t get close enough to notice.”

That made sense, you supposed. Rafayel was not an easy person to get close to. He could charm his way into any room, could captivate entire crowds with his talent and confidence—but when it came to true closeness, true intimacy, he chose his moments carefully. He built walls around himself, kept his distance from the world even as he stood in its spotlight.

But with you…

You weren’t entirely sure when it had changed. When the teasing had shifted into something softer, something real. When he had stopped keeping you at arm’s length.

Maybe it had been gradual, like the way the tide reshapes the shore over time.

Or maybe it had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged.

His fingers resumed their absentminded tracing against your back. “Does it make you feel safe?”

You hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Yeah.”

Rafayel exhaled, a breath that sounded far too heavy for such a simple conversation. But he didn’t say anything else.

His heartbeat continued its steady rhythm beneath your ear.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

You sighed, letting your eyes drift shut again. Sleep pulled at you like a tide, warm and steady.

You didn’t know how long you lay there, tangled up in each other, before Rafayel finally spoke again, voice so quiet you almost thought you imagined it.

“…Good.”

And then, as if nothing had happened, his fingers continued their slow, lazy patterns against your back, lulling you further into sleep.

The last thing you felt before drifting off completely was the faintest press of lips against the top of your head.

Rafayel didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t need to.

Sylus

The night was warm, the kind of heat that settled under your skin and refused to let go. The air carried the faint scent of rain from earlier, mixing with the smoky tang of the fire burning low in Sylus’ study. You had been sprawled across the couch for what felt like hours, tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, but no matter what you did, rest wouldn’t come.

You huffed, rolling onto your stomach, cheek pressing into the cushion. Across the room, Sylus sat at his desk, flipping through a dossier with the kind of effortless focus that made you want to be a distraction. He had been watching you from the corner of his eye for a while now, though he hadn’t said anything—probably waiting for you to admit defeat first.

"You’re brooding," he finally murmured, flipping another page.

You groaned. "I don’t brood."

His lips curled slightly, but he didn’t look up. "You do when you don’t get your way."

Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

He turned a page with an infuriating level of ease. Smug bastard.

"You heard me," he mused. "Something’s bothering you. You don’t want to admit it, but you also want me to figure it out for you. You’re restless, and I don’t like it."

You scoffed, pushing yourself up. "You don’t like it? Oh no, whatever shall I do?"

Sylus sighed, finally looking up at you, his crimson gaze dark and knowing. "Come here."

You sat up fully, arms crossing over your chest. "No."

His expression didn’t change, but you saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes. "No?"

You smirked, lifting your chin. "You want me? You come get me."

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if weighing his options. Then, without warning, he moved.

You barely had time to react before a shadow loomed over you, arms slipping around you with the kind of effortless strength that made resistance seem laughable.

"Sylus!" you yelped, squirming as he lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing.

"Problem, kitten?" he murmured, the warmth of his breath brushing against your temple as he adjusted you against his chest.

You kicked your feet, half-heartedly shoving at his shoulder, but he didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he sank back into his chair, pulling you down with him, settling you against him.

Your back rested against his chest, his arms lazily draped around your waist, as if holding you there was the most natural thing in the world.

"You’re ridiculous," you grumbled.

"And yet," he mused, resting his chin lightly against the top of your head, "you always end up right where I want you."

You huffed, about to argue, but then—you heard it.

The steady, unshaken rhythm of his heartbeat.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Slow. Certain. Unyielding.

For a moment, you forgot why you had been restless in the first place. The world outside faded, the tension in your limbs melting into the warmth of his body. His heartbeat filled the silence, a constant, grounding sound that made everything else feel so small.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—his warmth, the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back, the way his fingers had started tracing small, absentminded circles against your ribs.

"You’re listening," he murmured, voice quieter now.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

His heartbeat was so steady, so sure. A deep, resounding thing that made you realize just how erratic your own had been all night. But now… now you were matching him, falling into the rhythm of him.

A breath.

A beat.

A moment.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeve, gripping just a little tighter.

"...You’re annoying," you mumbled.

Sylus huffed a quiet laugh, his fingers slipping up to cup your jaw, tilting your face just enough for your eyes to meet his. "And you’re a brat," he murmured.

Your lips parted, but no words came.

Because his gaze wasn’t teasing anymore. It was soft. Intense in a way that made your stomach twist and your pulse stutter, despite the slow, grounding rhythm of his own beneath you.

"...Don’t do that again," he said after a moment.

Your brow furrowed slightly. "Do what?"

"Try to deal with things on your own when you don’t have to." His voice was low, serious. Final.

You swallowed hard.

Sylus was not a man who needed anyone. He was self-sufficient, independent, a lone wolf who had built an empire from the shadows. But with you, he let himself be different.

And this? This was him asking you to do the same.

You let out a slow breath, turning your face back into his chest. His heartbeat was still there, still steady, still constant.

Your fingers loosened against his sleeve, your grip no longer desperate, but something else. Something trusting.

"...Okay," you whispered.

Sylus let out a quiet hum, satisfied with your answer. His arm tightened just slightly around you, and for the first time that night, you weren’t restless anymore.

You listened.

To the crackling fire. To the distant city.

To him.

To his heartbeat.

And slowly, carefully—you matched it.

Xavier

The steady rhythm of Xavier’s heartbeat was the only sound you could focus on. A soft, constant thump-thump, thump-thump beneath your ear, grounding and unwavering. It was late—too late—but exhaustion had long since settled into your bones, making your eyelids heavy.

You hadn’t meant to end up like this, curled against him with your cheek resting over his chest, legs tangled loosely. It had started as a simple evening together, the two of you stretched out on the couch, basking in the rare quiet. The mission earlier had been grueling—physically and mentally draining—and you had been too sore to move much, content just to exist in Xavier’s presence.

He had been the one to pull you close, an arm draped lazily around your waist as if it was second nature. And now, as you lay against him, your body melting into the warmth of his own, you realized how easy this felt.

His fingers traced light, absent-minded patterns against your back, the touch featherlight, almost reverent. You could feel his breath ruffle your hair every now and then, slow and even. The city lights outside cast a faint glow across the room, flickering against the walls, but neither of you made a move to turn on the lamp.

"You're quiet," Xavier murmured. His voice was deep, a little rough, the kind of tone that made something inside you settle. "Tired?"

You hummed in response, nuzzling just slightly into his chest. "Mm. Comfy."

A soft chuckle rumbled beneath you, and you could feel his amusement more than you could hear it. "So, you're just using me as a pillow, then?"

You smirked but didn’t open your eyes. "You make a good one."

Xavier huffed, but his hand on your back didn't stop its slow, lazy movements. "Lucky me."

There was no teasing in his voice, though—just something warm, something fond.

It wasn’t often that you got to be like this with him. Unrushed. No missions, no battle wounds, no chaos pulling you in opposite directions. Just you and him, together.

And God, it felt good.

His heartbeat was steady beneath your cheek, a quiet, comforting rhythm that made the exhaustion settle even deeper in your body.

Xavier didn’t push you to stay awake, didn’t urge you into conversation. He just let you rest.

And maybe that was what made it so easy to finally let yourself relax.

At some point, you started drifting.

It was slow, like sinking into warm water, the world softening around the edges. You could still hear him breathing, still feel the rise and fall of his chest, but everything was beginning to feel lighter.

And then—

A soft voice, close. "You gonna fall asleep on me?"

You made a vague noise of acknowledgment but didn’t move.

Another chuckle. "That’s a yes."

You felt him shift slightly, adjusting his hold on you, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, his grip on your waist tightened just slightly, as if anchoring you to him.

"You’re warm," you muttered, your voice sluggish with exhaustion.

Xavier huffed out a breath. "You're barely awake and that's what you choose to say?"

You smiled against his shirt. "Mhm."

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, softer—quieter—"Good."

You might have imagined it, but his hand moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. A touch so light it almost wasn’t there at all.

You sighed, content, before finally letting yourself fall.

When you woke up, you weren’t sure how long you had been asleep.

The first thing you noticed was that you were still on Xavier’s chest, still curled up against him like you had never moved. The second thing you noticed was that he hadn't moved either.

His arms were still wrapped around you, one hand resting at your lower back, the other still tangled lightly in your hair. His breathing was deep and even, but you weren’t sure if he was actually asleep or just resting.

You shifted slightly, tilting your head to glance up at him, and—

He was awake.

His blue eyes, always sharp and focused, were soft as they met yours. There was no teasing smirk, no witty remark. Just quiet warmth, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

"Morning," he murmured.

You blinked, still groggy. "Is it?"

A small, amused huff. "No. But you’ve been out for a while."

You exhaled, stretching slightly but making no effort to move away. "Why didn’t you wake me?"

Xavier’s fingers ghosted against your back again, tracing idle shapes. "Because you looked peaceful."

You stared at him for a moment, then rested your head back against his chest. "...Still comfy."

This time, he laughed—a soft, real laugh, not one of his usual teasing chuckles.

"You just gonna stay here forever, then?"

You hummed. "Might."

His heartbeat was still steady beneath your ear, his warmth still pulling you under. And God, if it was up to you, you wouldn’t move at all.

You must have fallen asleep again, because when you woke up next, the lights outside had shifted. The city was still glowing, but the colors were different—softer, cooler, as if the night had settled deeper.

You yawned, stretching slightly before blinking up at Xavier again. He was asleep now, his face more relaxed than you had ever seen it.

And something about that made you pause.

Xavier never truly let his guard down. Even when he was exhausted, even when he was resting, there was always something about him that remained sharp. Always aware, always prepared for whatever came next.

But right now?

Right now, he was peaceful. His lips were slightly parted, his expression free of tension, his breathing slow and even.

And you realized, with a quiet pang in your chest, that he had fallen asleep because he trusted you.

Carefully, hesitantly, you lifted a hand to brush a strand of silver hair from his forehead. Your fingers barely grazed his skin, but he didn’t stir.

You swallowed, something unspoken tightening in your throat.

You were safe with him.

And maybe—just maybe—he was safe with you, too.

You smiled, small but genuine, before settling back against him.

"Sleep well, Xavier," you whispered, knowing he wouldn’t hear you.

Then, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat, you let yourself drift off once more.

Zayne

The world outside had slipped into an almost unnatural silence, the kind that only seemed to happen in the late hours of the night when everything around you had finally fallen still. The air was crisp and cool, but inside, the warmth of the apartment wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You had spent the evening together—dinner, quiet conversation, and some small talk that had faded into comfortable silence. Zayne’s usual stoic nature had softened somewhat, allowing you a glimpse of the ease he usually kept hidden behind the layers of his professionalism.

The clock on the wall ticked slowly as you settled beside him on the couch. Zayne sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, his back straight despite the fact that he had obviously spent long hours at work. His three-piece suit was loosened now—the jacket discarded, the top button of his shirt undone, and his glasses resting casually on the coffee table in front of him.

You noticed the tension in his shoulders, how he unconsciously worked his jaw, as if the stress of the day was still weighing heavily on him. Even after everything he had done, the hours he had put in, he still couldn’t seem to let go.

Without a word, you shifted closer, your body naturally gravitating toward his warmth. Zayne didn’t seem to notice at first, absorbed in his own thoughts, but when you rested your head gently against his chest, you felt him pause.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet in the room was broken only by the soft hum of the city in the distance and the low sound of Zayne’s breathing.

Then, you heard it.

Thud-thud.

His heartbeat.

Slow, steady, and constant.

It was like a pulse that reverberated through his body, steadying your own. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it, how much you needed to hear it, until now. There was something about the sound of his heartbeat—something reassuring. Something grounding.

Zayne shifted, his hand slowly moving to your back, his touch light and hesitant at first, as though unsure whether he should be the one to initiate any sort of contact. But when he felt you settle against him, the tension in his fingers eased.

“You’re tired,” he whispered softly, his voice low and warm.

You hummed in response, not sure if you wanted to admit how exhausted you truly were.

“I know,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Zayne’s hand moved slightly, his fingers brushing gently against your back, tracing light patterns across your shirt. There was no hurry in his movements—no urgency, just a simple, soft touch that seemed to say more than words ever could. The rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear grew louder, the thudding echoing in your mind as you closed your eyes, allowing it to lull you further into the moment.

His fingers brushed the nape of your neck, the motion tender, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the warmth of his touch in places you didn’t know you’d been longing for. The affection in his actions, the unspoken connection between you, was enough to make you feel more at ease than you ever had before.

Zayne was never one to show too much emotion, at least not outwardly. His professional demeanor kept him composed, distant even when he cared deeply. But in moments like this, where the world outside faded into a blur, it was as though his true self could breathe, and you could feel the softness beneath the armor he wore so often.

Thud-thud.

It was so constant, so unchanging. A reminder that no matter what the day had thrown at either of you, here, in this moment, things were calm. You were safe.

You pressed your ear a little closer to his chest, your cheek resting on the fabric of his shirt. The steady beat of his heart was becoming something you could depend on, something more constant than the passage of time.

“I’ve got you,” he said after a long pause, and even though it was a simple statement, it was one that carried the weight of his every unspoken promise.

You felt his hand move up, brushing softly through your hair, the action slow and deliberate. It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t forceful. It was just him, being present. Being there.

“I know,” you whispered back.

The room was so still, so quiet. Zayne didn’t speak again. He didn’t need to. His presence, his heartbeat, was enough to keep you tethered to the moment, to him.

You allowed yourself to settle even further, your exhaustion beginning to take hold in a deeper way now. But there was something else there too—a feeling of peace, of contentment that you hadn’t realized you were craving. His touch was the anchor that kept you from drifting into sleep completely.

When you let your eyes fall shut, the warmth of his body against yours seemed to blanket you in comfort. You could feel the faint rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the subtle movement of his body, and the weight of his hand against your back. Everything about him—the rhythm of his heart, the quiet of his breathing, the soothing motions of his hand—wrapped you in something that felt like home.

“Stay with me for a little longer,” Zayne murmured, his voice a soft plea in the dim light of the room.

You didn’t answer immediately, simply nuzzling closer, breathing in the familiar scent of him—clean, calm, and grounded.

There was no rush. No need to go anywhere.

It was just you and him.

The thud of his heartbeat was all you needed. It was enough to lull you deeper into sleep, into dreams where his presence remained close.

Thud-thud.

The rhythm of his heart.

And in that moment, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

[zuzuzolsstuff]

Coffee ☕🩷

[5sospenguinqueen]

Sebastian: Yeah, we're just friends but I would shag you if you asked.

MC: (looking up from her essay) Pardon?

Sebastian: (blushing) What?

Ominis: He said he'd shag you if you asked.

[zephyrchama]

Asmodeus was in a foul mood. The cupcakes he had purchased were eaten by his younger brother. He spent most of the day venting to you, however, his frustration continued to grow. By the end of the school day, Asmodeus had gathered most of his other brothers and declared it time for a good old fashioned gossip session to ease his mind.

"Tell me the worst thing you've ever seen Beel eat," he demanded. "Satan, you go first."

"I saw him wrapping a chunk of mystery meat in bacon and sausage, slathering it with an entire bottle of sauce, then wrapping it in even more bacon and a new bottle of sauce. Over and over, until he had this big meaty rock," Satan explained. He had a faraway look in his eye. "It was too excessive. I couldn't even bring myself to watch him eat it."

"I know what you mean," Leviathan commiserated. "I've seen him devour eleven roasted shadow hogs in one sitting." He shuddered upon recalling the feat of pure gluttony. The image was burned into his mind.

"That's nothin'," Mammon told him. "I watched a train carryin' a boatload of frozen horror cherry pies derail. Beel ate 'em all off the tracks. Every last one. I can still hear him crunchin' on the rocks that got mixed in." He stuck his tongue out and pretended to gag.

Belphegor was next to chime in. "You know what sounded crunchy? This one time, Beel wrapped and ate three live huma—"

Everyone's faces turned pale. Asmodeus rushed to poke him hard in the side, causing Belphegor to yelp to a stop.

There was a lot of nervous side-eyeing in your direction. Mammon had his hands raised like he was going to clamp them over your ears. Satan was rubbing the bridge of his nose to stay calm. Leviathan's mouth was a giant frown, opening and closing like a fish out of water. Things had become incredibly awkward.

Belphegor continued, very slowly, "Three... humongous pizzas."

[nobodiesreallyhere]

𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗂𝖾!𝗋𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈’𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗂𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋𝗌？

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗒!𝗋𝖺𝖿𝖾，𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗂𝖾!𝗋𝖺𝖿𝖾，𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽(𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋… 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺?）𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌

(𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍，𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾．𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒🫠🫠)

rafe cameron was an asshole. to everyone. he was mean just to be mean, cocky just to be cocky, and downright cruel when he wanted to be. nobody crossed him. nobody got close. nobody except her.

behind closed doors, rafe was a whole different person. soft. needy. clingy as fuck. and no one—i mean no one—could ever know.

he was already half-asleep, his body practically melting into hers, when she started shifting.

“where are you going?” his voice was groggy, muffled against her skin.

“bathroom,” she whispered, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

he groaned, arms tightening around her for a second like he was debating just holding her hostage. but after a deep sigh, he let her go, flopping onto his back.

she got up, stretching as she walked toward the door. she didn’t even make it three steps before she heard him shuffling behind her.

she turned to look at him. “are you serious?”

he didn’t say anything, just rubbed his eyes and followed her like a damn lost puppy.

she sighed but didn’t argue, too tired to question it at this point.

when she sat down on the toilet, he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. she gave him a look.

“do you have to be in here?”

he shrugged, tilting his head back against the mirror.

“you’re literally insane,” she muttered, washing her hands as he waited, quiet and content just being in her presence.

the second she was done, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her into his chest like he’d been deprived of her for hours instead of seconds.

“you’re so dramatic,” she teased, letting him squeeze her tight.

he hummed, not even denying it.

when she made her way downstairs to get water?there he was again, right behind her, practically stepping on her heels.

“rafe.”

he didn’t respond, just wrapped himself around her from behind the second she stopped in front of the fridge, arms locked around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.

she groaned, twisting off the cap of her water bottle. “you’re insufferable.”

“mhm.”

“like, actually.”

“yep.”

she sighed, sipping her water as he just stayed there, clinging to her like a damn koala.

when they got back upstairs, he wasted no time yanking her onto the bed, wrapping himself around her like she was his personal security blanket.

she sighed, running her fingers through his hair. “you know, if people knew how clingy you are, your whole reputation would be ruined.”

his arms tightened around her waist, he had the most serious look plastered on his face.

“if you tell anyone, i swear—”

she bursts out laughing. “relax, rafe. your secret’s safe with me.”

he huffed, burying his face in her neck. “good. now shut up and let me hold you.”

and who was she to deny him?

[moondvncer]

okay this specific pose is giving dancer/poledancer in some demon nightclub where he's an incubus, do you see the vision?

[coffeeandmagicaltales]

Thirty-One HL MC questions for October

by @girl-named-matty (see here) week 1

FAVOURITE TEACHER

[wuzetianadmirer]

Mc who grew up in a bad area with not much to go around

Mc who now has seven rich demon brothers, a demon prince and a butler, a sassy wine aunt, three angels, a sorceror and a reaper to spoil her

Mc who has a mini panic attack when they give her anything expensive

Mc who nearly faints when Mammon gets them new high-end stuff.

Mc who marvels at Levi's gaming consoles and rare merch

Mc who very reluctant to try on the branded clothes Asmo gets them

Mc who nearly cries when Beel cooks them food and makes sure they eat their fill

Mc who adores the new bed that Belphie got them, saying that the old one was too rigid and stiff

Mc who loves reading Satan's rare collection of books and chilling with his fluffy cats

Mc who feels nauseous even touching Lucifer's pens

Mc who gets suffocated with Lord Diavilo's constant flow of gifts

Mc who's showered with baked goods and treats from both Barbatos and Luke

Mc who gets the nicest little trinkets from Simeon from the Celestial Realm

Mc who goes down on the Demonus Mestopheles stocks up cause it tastes like caprisun

Mc which Thirteen treats like a fashionista

Mc who Solomon always tries to cook for them (please don't) but still appreciates it

Mc who cant let go of her new-found family

[blaire-apricity]

hi! i just wanted to say I love your writing! I noticed your requests were open and I was wondering if you could please write something with Sylus x reader where Sylus gets jealous of MC’s coworker or anything like that. Thank you!! 🩷

Possession and Jealousy

sʏʟᴜs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ┆ : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰-𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯?

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ┆ : 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 & 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘖𝘖𝘊

─────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

Calling Sylus the most jealous man you knew was an understatement; he should be the ONLY man you know. That’s his point. He’s possessive of his possessions, whether material or not, and that included you. If only you would stay in the N109 zone, then he could keep an eye on you at all times.

But knowing you had to return to Linkon City sooner or later, he didn’t stop you. After all, he gave you a brooch so you could return to him anytime.

What he didn’t expect was you taking your time to return. You had no other business there for now, and you had a job as a hunter to keep. Of course, you had responsibilities in Linkon City.

During his free time, he would impatiently rest his chin on his palm, elbows on the table, frowning at nothing. The mere fact of your absence irritated him, though he wouldn’t openly admit it to anyone. Even while fulfilling his errands and business meetings as usual, his mind occasionally drifted towards thoughts of you.

Where were you? What were you up to? And whatnot.

Luckily enough, he had Mephisto monitoring you at all times. The mechanical crow would always stand on the power wires, acting almost innocently, but you knew it was basically stalking you. Not that you minded; it was both amusing and endearing to have Sylus monitor you every day using Mephisto.

The mechanical crow would usually return to Sylus at night before going back out in the morning to observe more. From the moment you woke up until the end of the day when you retreated to the comfort of your blankets, Mephisto was there.

Everything was as usual that night. Sylus sat by his bed in his sleeping robe, glasses on, a book in his lap. Just in time, the mechanical flap of Mephisto’s wings echoed until it reached his bedside.

His crimson eyes skimmed through the pages of the book, occasionally glancing at the screen playing your entire day as observed by Mephisto.

Nothing was out of the ordinary until he saw the same guy, who seemed to be a newly hired hunter, coming up to your desk repeatedly. You, being the kind and helpful hunter you were, always assisted him.

That’s when Sylus’s attention to the book gradually disappeared. He stared intensely at the hologram of the new hunter beside you. If looks could kill—there’s no need, because he’d personally deliver that.

The next morning, as you prepared as usual, you noticed Mephisto was nowhere on the power cords. You made sure to glance around, but there was no trace of the mechanical crow. You dismissed it, thinking Sylus had used Mephisto for something more important.

But imagine your surprise when you heard a knock at your apartment door. You instantly recognized the messy silver hair and crimson eyes staring down at you.

You stood there, blinking up at him. He frowned a bit, looking annoyed. “So?” he asked, probably waiting for you to welcome him in. His face spelled out three words: ‘Let me in.’ You eventually did.

“Where’s Mephisto?”

“You’re looking for him when I’m right here?”

You almost looked at him in disbelief. Is he being petty about his own mechanical crow? You almost cracked a chuckle but held it in. “Never mind.”

“I’m surprised you’re here; don’t you have something important to do?” you asked.

“I do. I just came by since I’ll be leaving shortly,” he replied, walking towards you. He leaned in, giving a quick poke on your forehead. His small signature smirk was plastered on his lips. “Stop entertaining other people. People might think you’re still single.”

“Are you jealous?” You smiled, laughing a bit.

“I am,” he bluntly said, crossing his arms and tilting his head slightly to the side, giving you that dominant look. “And I don’t like it when someone gets close to what’s mine.”

You immediately connected the dots, figuring it was probably the intern that had been asking for your assistance who triggered his possessiveness. Even then, you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as you placed your hand on his cheek, gently caressing it, reassuring him.

He released a soft sigh, annoyed by your antics but also endeared by them.

It even surprised you that Sylus didn’t do anything to that individual. He was acting very tame; he just seemed to have approached you, which was a bit unusual. Maybe it was your gentleness rubbing off on him.

Thank goodness. It would be pretty bad if something were to happen.

You thought that was the end of it until you returned to the association and heard from Tara that the newbie insisted on being placed in a different faction from yours.

“He really didn’t want to stay; I wonder if we did something wrong,” she wondered thoughtfully.

You hesitated in your mind, immediately thinking of Sylus. Just then, you saw Mephisto land on a nearby power cord, tilting its head innocently at you.

“Captain Jenna wants to talk to us about it.”

“That bastard,” you muttered under your breath.

·❆　　　❆　❅　　　　•　　　　.　　　　　❆❆• 　·　.　　　❅

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐴𝑙𝑠𝑜, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘, 𝐴𝑛𝑜𝑛~♥ 𝐼 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑜, 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑓𝑢𝑛 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑆𝑦𝑙𝑢𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 <3

𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑎 𝑋𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑆𝑦𝑙𝑢𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑚. 𝐻𝐴𝐻𝐴𝐻𝐴𝐻𝐴𝐴𝐻𝐴. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝑀𝐴𝑁 𝐷𝑂𝐸𝑆 𝑊𝑂𝑁𝐷𝐸𝑅𝑆 𝑇𝑂 𝑀𝑌 𝐵𝑅𝐴𝐼𝑁.

[rafeslvbug]

when military!rafe realises lovebug!reader has more brains than him..

It was in the soft glow of his study, where rafe stressed, nearly pulling out his own hair over the plans in front of him. Calculating the number of soldiers that he could take with him next deployment, figuring out how to distribute the rations amongst them and trying to calculate costs had taken a toll on him. After hours of staring at numbers on paper, they had begun to mingle, swirling before him and evading his bloodshot eyes when they darted out to each digit, trying to claw back the remnants of his sanity.

Rafe wasn’t bad at math. He just wasn’t an expert. After graduating school he left straight for the marines, but ever since he rose the ranks, securing a higher role yet safer job, the type of calculations he’s had to do weren’t taught in state school - and his calculator isn’t much help when he doesn’t know what to put in it.

Tossing his pencil onto the table, led worn down with the numerous scrawls he’s had to rub out, rafe officially gives up, aching head in his calloused hands while he mutters a, “fuckin’ calculator doesn’t tell you shit.”

For the past hour, his mutterings and grumbles have bothered the peaceful silence of you painting your nails on the leather couch of the study. Glancing up when you hear his hopeless mumble, you let out a soft huff, rolling your eyes only slightly since you’re sure rafe has a sixth sense for when your attitude slips out. You untangle yourself from the mass of blankets surrounding you, wading from the depths of your personal corner towards his dreary state.

Half-painted nails run along his broad shoulders as you attempt to soothe him, his murmurings having subsided when he leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. An unmistakable invitation, you perch yourself onto his lap, until one arm draws you closer into his chest. “ ‘s work that hard, sweetie?” you ask in that doting tone, the one that earned you your nickname from rafe. He lets out a hum as if in acknowledgment of what you said, never wanting to admit out loud that maths is too hard for him.

He tries to hold back a chuckle though when a pout crosses your face, that familiarly determined look appearing when you turn your head towards the scatter of papers on his desk. “Don’t bore yourself with that, bug, you won’t get it,” he cajoles, rough hand sliding onto your thigh, giving it a squeeze to turn your attention back to him. You, however, only lean more towards the desk, twirling the pencil inbetween your fingers as you make sense of the scribbles rafe has put down. Amused by your stubbornness, although it would annoy him any other day, rafe leans forward too, elbow on the desk beside you, resting his cheek on his palm, as he watches your attempt.

It’s only when actual numbers, that make sense, and are going in the right places are put down on the paper, does his smirk begin to fade. You’re faintly humming some ridiculous song he’s played a thousand times for you in the car, so peaceful as you navigate the work like second nature. Twenty minutes later, and he’s in awe at how fast you work ; his papers are stacked into a neat pile and every calculation he couldn’t do, you did without even using the “stupid digital thing”. And when he asks, “where the fuck did you get that smart?” You just shrug and chuckle, like it was the easiest thing in the damn world.

Now he’s been dragged onto the couch with you, forced under your bundle of blankets as he half-watches the dumb sitcom you’ve got on his tv, while you resume painting your nails that cherry red colour. And he’s decided in his head, that you’ll be doing all his stupid maths work from now on - better to spend thirty minutes watching you do his work than spending an hour away from you without progress.