#5 hours of sleep but at the worst time possible

[wolfxe]

btw i don't live in like australia or smth. i just mostly post at 4am in my time cause my sleep schedule has been fucked for a few months now

[phantaloon]

.

[reiderwriter]

Satisfaction Feels Like a Distant Memory

Chapter Three of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Your mounting attraction to Spencer Reid pushes you to the edge, turning begrudging friendship to deep hatred when he finally shows up on your doorstep. He's the only thing that can out you out of your misery even as you sink further into it.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, hate sex, rough sex, argument as foreplay, oral (f recieving) and face fucking, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, forced orgasms, "forced" submission, creampie, p in v penetrative sex, etc.

A/N: I've had about as much sleep as the reader in this fic has for the last week, but HERE IT IS! Chapter Three 🥰 You may need a bottle of water on standby, or at least a hand fan, because this one gets a bit heated....

Masterlist || Add yourself to the taglist!

You hesitated in front of your office door, which you supposed was going to become a bad habit of yours now. You tried lying to yourself, that nothing was different now, that you weren't attracted to him in a completely stupid way, but you still stood frozen in front of your own office door. 

Frozen and horny. 

Shit. 

You mentally went through a list of the worst things that could happen if you went in. 

1. He was there. 

2. He wasn't there. 

3. He was there, and he touched you again, and you moaned. 

4. He was there, and he didn't touch you again, but you still moaned. 

5. He was there, and you threw yourself at him immediately because why wouldn't you when you'd seen what you could be working with the night before? Fuck moaning once, moaning multiple times as he pushed you against the bookshelf would- 

“Are you gonna go in, or are you just going to fondle the door handle?” He asked from behind you. From too close behind you. 

You turned, keeping the doorknob in your grin, and immediately flattened yourself against the door as he took a step closer. 

So close. He was so fucking close and it was suddenly all you could think of. 

“W-What?”

“You know, the CDC warns that door handles should be washed every 20 to 40 hours To prevent bacteria like Escherchia coli and Staphylococcus aureus from-” You ignored his words, drowning everything else out as you tried to dampen the fire burning under your skin.

“Cock?” You said, all attempts obviously not working. 

“Staphylococcus, yes. It can cause Adenovirus, Rhinovirus, not to mention-” 

“Okay! Okay, Spencer. Taking my hand off the handle now.” 

Finally, you twisted it and walked backwards into your room, walking backwards a few steps before your foot caught on a stray pile of books. 

“What the-” you cried, waiting for the impact of your landing as you swung out your arms frantically for purchase, screwing your eyes shut as you found none. 

Instead, you found an arm snaked around your waist, another wrapping your hip tight as Spencer Reid cradled your body to his own. 

“Thanks,” you breathed out, not even hearing the words yourself for how much air was in them. How was it possible to expel air and hold your breath at the same time? Because that was how it felt being in his arms: at once a sigh and a stopping of all bodily functions barring want. 

“I thought this was your office, Y/N. Surely you should know the layout by now.”

Moment over. You pushed at his chest to stand upright, and he stepped backwards, removing his hands from your person. 

“Very funny. We both know these are your books. Setting traps for me now, Spencer?” 

You moved around the piles of books again as he flicked the light switch, moving the opposite way around your desks, before meeting you again next to yours. 

“You're usually more observant than this. Is there something wrong today?” 

“What, like Adenovirus or Rhinovirus?” 

“No, like something…” he searched for the right words, pace slowing as he tried not to scare you away by talking with you like this.

“Like something on your mind.” 

You snorted, leaning down to switch on your computer, and also to avoid his eye contact. Unfortunately, academic curiosity had gotten to you in the last few weeks, and you'd read some of his psychological papers. You knew exactly what it was the BAU was apparently so good at, and you didn't want him to know that you'd imagined him balls deep in you hours before. 

“Not friends, Spencer. If there's something I need to talk about, I'll talk to a friend,” you said, standing straight again and turning to him again. You still avoided eye contact, but it didn't matter. His eyes weren't on your face but angled further down, like he'd been checking out your ass as you bent over or something. 

No. No, you weren't going down that train of thought. 

“Or even better, my therapist.” You were planning on the words being a bit more playful, but your voice came out deeper than you expected it, more gravely somehow. 

Your bedroom voice, you were using your stupid fucking bedroom voice on Spencer Reid. 

You cut yourself off again before you said anything else. Before he touched you or didn't touch you, and you got to test your earlier theory about which would be the more demeaning reaction. 

“I have class in ten. Clean up before I get back,” you ordered, and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when he replied. 

“I don't take direction well, Y/N.” 

No, you didn't think he would. Neither did you though.

For a week, you tiptoed around the man, your words sharp, but your body weak to him. 

By day, you were hurling insults back and forth, messing up his papers and screwing with him via bookshelf again. 

“YOUR…FLY…IS….OPEN.” 

“VERY….MATURE.”

“MADE…YOU…LOOK…THOUGH.”

“BUSY….LOOKING…AT…OTHER….THINGS.”

“LIKE…THE…UNDERGRADS…THROWING…THEMSELVES…AT…YOU…?”

“LIKE…THE…PROFESSOR…I'M APPARENTLY…DATING” 

“Very fucking funny, Spencer,” you sighed at the last message, throwing the books off the shelf and pilling them up on the floor. 

“Don't even for a second entertain the idea of making that gossip a reality.” 

He grinned at you from behind his desk. 

“Okay.”

“Don't even - don't even think about it,” you said, stepping over his desk and poking at his chest as his smile deepened.

“Heard.” 

“I'm serious, Spencer, don't-” 

“You've thought about it.” You froze in shock at his words, as if your blood wasn't sure whether to run cold or burn hot and fast. 

“What?” You spat the words at him, unable to stop them coming out any other way. 

“You've thought about entertaining the gossip. You've thought about it a lot.” 

You needed to deny him, but he was right. By day, you tried to torment him, but by night, he did torment you. A week of wet dreams, of imagining him taking you over every inch of your office, of sleepless rest and failed orgams, and you could not escape. 

“No,” you said with a whisper, shaking your head and trying again even as your voice cracked from the lie and your body's cry for pleasure, for this man. 

“No, I haven’t- I don't-” You took a deep breath, but you knew it was no good, as his hand grabbed yours and flattened it against his chest. 

“Your pupils are dilated, your pulse is heightened, and your legs are practically clamped shut. Your mouth is dry, and I'm not sure if you've noticed yet, Y/N, but you're shaking.” 

“All signs of anger, Spencer, as you're well aware.” 

He let go of your wrist and sat back in his seat, just out of reach of you again. 

“Shame,” he whispered under his breath, nearly low enough that you didn't catch it, as he flipped open his book and continued whatever the fuck it was he even did in this office. 

You ignored it, anger really flooding you now, warring the heat of arousal that was firmly settled in your body for dominance. 

The anger won out. 

You grabbed books from your desk, files, and papers from the side table by the couch and your laptop from your desk and left the room quickly. 

You slammed the door, and you didn't look back, knowing that if you did, you'd see his winning smirk staring right back at you.

You marched yourself right to the staff administration office and put in for a week of leave. Spencer had one more week of work at the university, and then he would go back to being a regular FBI agent. 

Your paths wouldn't cross because you wouldn't let them cross, not when it meant for certain that you would give in.

You spent the week working to distract yourself from work. You finished books for your next semester courses, highlighting the better articles and essays to use, going through each bibliography to find better sources if they weren't good enough. You wrote more of a research paper you didn't have time to think about with so much going on. You corresponded with students, with TAs, with the other professors who wanted to know where you were. 

Okay, that was a lie. You aired the professors, but you did look out for any inboxes from him. Surprisingly, there were none. 

You spent a week throwing yourself head first into your work, and still, each night, you felt his phantom touch on you. No matter how exhausted, your brain still co jured images of his hands grasping your wrists, pushing them above your head and forcing his cock into you, his lips biting against your skin, the fire of his kisses leaving scars where they trailed down. 

You were running on three hours of sleep per night, sure, but at least you were as far as you could possibly get from the man ruining your life. 

You poured yourself a glass of wine the next Sunday, knowing that when you went back to work the next day, he'd be gone.

You wrapped yourself in blankets and put everything else off for the day, ordering food and eating it and not moving as you worked your way through boxes of pizza. 

It was when you finished your first glass and went to pour yourself another that there was a furious pounding at your door. 

“Y/N, I know you're in there, open the door.” His hand sounded again, and you nearly dropped the glass at the sound of Apencer Reid's voice. 

Your body acted alone, immediately following his directions as you damn near tripped over your own feet to open the door for him. 

Throughout all of your arguments, all of the quips you'd thrown at him, every stupid little thing you'd done to get under his skin, you had not once seen Spencer Reid looking this angry. 

His brow was furrowed uncomfortably, as if it were frozen in place. Gone was his perpetual smirk. 

“Spencer, what the fuck a-” 

“Thoughtless. Careless. Do you even know what you've done?” He snapped at you, stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind himself as he immediately walked into your space and began touching things.

“Stop! Fucking stop it, Spencer!” You said grabbing his arm and pulling him around to face you. He brushed you off quickly and worked his way through papers you'd left on your coffee table. 

“No. You stormed out over a week ago, you blocked my number, you did not answer any of my emails-” 

“I didn't get any emails,” you spit back, pushing yourself between him and your things now, bodies so close they were touching. 

“Then you blocked my email, too. You don't even know what I'm looking for or the damage you could have done, do you?” His hands were on you then, not threateningly, as you'd expect, his anger still burning through him if his shaking voice had anything to say for it. 

His hands stroked up your sides and back down again, smoothing away your need to think. 

“My files. My team sent me a file. It was on the coffee table, and you took it with you when you left. The case is ongoing, and I'm flying out tomorrow, and without some of the classified information in that file, we will be at a disadvantage. Our odds of catching our unsub fall from 83% to 47% without all of the pertinent information.” 

Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer. 

“So yes, I'm going to go through your things, and if you're a good girl, you'll root through with me and help me find it.” 

He stepped away then, and you held your tongue. As much as you hated him, he was right. You knew what he did, you knew who he was and to trust him not to lie to you about his chances without this information. 

“The files on the coffee table are research notes, everything I took from the office is in that case over there,” you said pointing at a bag still where you'd dropped it by the door a week earlier. 

He walked to it and rooted through it quickly before finding the file he obviously needed and letting some of the tension out of his shoulders. 

“You're probably glad to see the back of me, right?” He said, laughing bitterly as he turned back around to you. 

“Obviously not as happy as you are,” you spat back, stepping back over to him. 

“If you ever speak to me that way again,” you started, spitting at him in the most threatening voice you could muster. “It won't be a fucking unsub that ruins your life.” 

“And how are you going to manage that, Y/N?” He said, stepping closer to you until he had you backed up against the wall, trapped in by his bigger frame, using it to his advantage to intimidate. 

“How will you manage to ruin my life,” he said, his voice softer as he finished his sentence, but not by much. “When you shake with just every time I get close?” 

“This is not lust,” you growled the words out, but try as you damn might, you were shaking, vibrating even. 

“Then what is it?” 

“Hatred, dislike, loathing, detestation, abhorrence, fuck Spencer, you can pick up a thesaurus yourself and find out.”

“Yeah. Okay. I'll believe your lies for a second.” He walked away, he was walking away but the fire was ringing in your ears and you needed him to stay fucking put so he could take it all. 

“You're a jackass.”

“Original.” 

“You slammed into my life, expecting me to bend to your will and be at the mercy of your needs, your wants. Your office space, your fucking case files, your job-” 

“None of that was my choice.” 

“And it wasn't mine either, but at least I fucking left you alone. I spent the week in this apartment and left you the fuck alone, and you couldn't even allow me the same.”

His focus was back on you again, but you refused to be backed against a wall this time. 

“What did you say?” 

“You will not let me know peace. I have lost my security, my patience, my fucking sanity with each word you have said, my peace of mind, my sleep, my fucking sanity, Spencer.” Your chest was heaving, touching his with each exhale as he too held his place in front of you. He was so close, you'd practically spat the words directly into his mouth. 

“How is that my fault?” He whispered, voice still dripping with disdain even as his hands again wrapped themselves in your hair, and he tugged your head back, baring your neck to him as he leaned down into you. 

“How do you know that you're not doing the same to me?” 

You refused to answer, though, meeting his eyes for one last second before you grabbed his hair in your hands and yanked him down to your mouth. 

It wasn't so much a kiss as a battle for dominance, each trying to torture a surrender from the other with clashing tongues and teeth. 

You made the first move, but he was obviously expecting it, and he didn't even pause before launching his own attack, finally pushing past your strong defence to walk you back to the sofa you'd abandoned earlier. 

His tongue still lashed against yours as you retreated, refusing to give up your upper hand even as you moaned into his touch. The couch hit the back of your knees, buckling, and you silently cursed your lack of sleep for leaving you so unstable right now. 

No, that wasn't true. It was him. He had left you so unstable, moving between happy and playful to angry and wrathful in the space of a week without you, and you'd been denying yourself the ability to even entertain any of this happening. Now that it was, your body was unprepared, totally at his mercy, as he pushed you to your back and pushed up your skirt. 

“You're already so fucking wet,” he groaned slipping two fingers inside you as you moaned around him, no longer capable of thought. This was the moment, this was when he was going to make you submit to him finally. 

Instead, he dropped to his knees and you gasped as his to guess found your sweet cunt and he began sucking to your clit. 

You were on fire, skin scorched from the inside out, spreading in waves from your pussy to the furthest regions of your body. 

With one hand, he spread your thighs further apart and pushed his entire face further into your cunt, tongue pushing inside right by his fingers, nose pushed right up against your clit as he didn't relent. Every movement was another curse falling from your mouth. 

“Shit, Spencer, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered, hips rocking back and forth as you tried to fuck his face, begging for more. 

To your surprise, he didn't keep your hips still but let you keep riding his face, riding his fingers as you chased your first orgasm.  

It came quickly, overwhelming you with the impact, jolting through your body like a lightning bolt as he let your hips shake and crash across his tongue. 

When he finally pulled his face away, it was glistening, and he wasted no time shoving his tongue back in your mouth. His message was clear - he may have let you take whatever pleasure you'd wanted with him, but he was still the one in control. 

You trailed kisses along his cheeks, neck, shoulders as he divested himself of clothing, shirt, belt, pants, ripping at yours to free your body as well, until the two of you were only left with underwear and you'd picked up every last drop of your cum left on his skin.

“On your back, now,” he said, and you complied. You spread your legs, and rubbed at your still wet cunt, jolting as he finally lined himself up with your cunt. 

But he didn't push in yet. Instead he wrapped two arms under your knees and pulled you closer, so his cock rested over the top of your stomach, and leaned down, his face hovering inches over your own, holding himself up with a forearm rested just above your head. 

“You see that?” He said, glancing down. “That is how much I am going to fill you. That is how deep I am going to ease into you. That is how far I am going to go to claim you. You can take it like a good girl, right?” 

“Just shut up and put your cock inside me, Spencer.” 

“You're so fucking pushy for a submissive little slut,” he said, smiling finally. 

“I am not a-” you started to protest, but he slid inside of your hot cunt and you lost the ability to focus. 

“Not a what, Y/N? Speak up,” thrusting shallowly as your cunt grabbed him and held tight. 

“I'm not a- SPENCER!” You screamed his name as he pulled out quickly, thrusting into you again with a speed and strength that had you wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly, fighting for him to stay right there deep inside. 

“Not a sub? Y/N, you're whimpering and drooling right now. You're three seconds away from begging for my cock, why the fuck can you not be honest with yourself?” 

“Fuck…you,” you said between moans as he rutted into you like a beast. He wasn't man anymore, bit monster, and he was claiming you inch by disgustingly perfect inch. 

“Let go. Let me take care of you, let me control you. Come on, baby, you know how good it would feel,” he said, before ducking his head and wrapping his tongue around a nipple. 

You screamed his name again, but you still tried to resist. 

“Come on, Y/N. Show me. Cum on my cock.” 

For a brief moment, you'd thought you'd resisted the demand. But then your brain faded, and your nails cut into his back like daggers as your body followed his commands and you came on his cock for a second time that night. 

“Perfect. One more, you can do one more,” he said, kissing your lips and lifting himself back up so he was sitting on his knees as he again picked up the pace. 

You mumbled his name over and over again as he fucked out all of the frustration in your body. Every thing either of you had said or done melted away in the glow of pleasure, your body buzzing from the feeling of him taking ownership of you. 

“One more, Y/N. One more, you need to cum one more time.”

“I can't, I can't I can't I can't, Spencer I can't I really can't,” you said, voice growing pathetically whiny as the tears sprang to your eyes and you choked back a sob. 

“Yes you can, one more. Together, we can do it together,” he said, groaning as you clenched around him.” 

He claimed your mouth again, his hand wrapping around your throat as he cut off your air supply for a second, then two, then three, as your ears buzzed and you finally slipped over the edge again. 

But this time, as promised, you weren't the only one caught in the pain of pleasure. Spencer collapsed on top of you as his dick spurted inside you, holding you close as he unloaded everything he had into you. 

He sat there, warming his cock as he lazily kissed open mouth kisses into every inch of your shoulders, collar bone and chest. Everywhere he could reach without pulling out of you and leaving you there. 

After weeks of no sleep because of him, it was his soft lips that finally enticed you into the hands of the sandman, his weight a comfort as you closed your eyes. 

When you woke in your bed, clean and clothed, he was gone, and so was every sign that he'd ever been there in the first place. 

🔖 @stillhere197 @understandingsunrise @mindfullycriminal @aliteralsemicolon @r-3dlips @alexafromamazon15 @jasf444 @subunitless @thebloomingeagle @lackingoriginalthoughts @empressgraytea @nox-sprite @alondralolll @allspicestones @chiyozai @i_heart_mgg @2hiigh2cry @tiyuel @jiuseoks @readinglatenights @placidus @dreamsarebig @pisceslovrr @waywardgoddess66 @tampon_racecar @kbaby-024 @luvdella @feyresqueen @a1dyn @pleasantwitchgarden @kolasbombaf @lovehadlovelost @kissesforspence @moonchildooh @bubbleebubz @theoraekenslover @melagem02 @calypso-read @ari-aurelia

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[sanjisblackasswife]

……we’re gonna need a fic about y/n leaving dickies on the monster trio….. and law…. Pretty please….😀🥹😙😙😙

𝔾𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℍ𝕚𝕞 𝕒 𝔻𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕪

If yall dont know what a dickey is its a hickey on a dick.

Ft. Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Law

Blk Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Dick sucking.

Sanji

It turns him on in the worst way.

The first time you sucked his dick you overstimulated him to the point he was blabbering between “Please stop” and keep going.

The day after that he woke up to do his usual routine of getting ready when looking down to pee he noticed a small bruise under his tip.

“I—…Y/nnnnn!”

Like a child running to their parent’s room to tell them they three up he stood by your sleeping body and tapped your shoulder in a small panic.

“Y/n…baby…baby lookit.”

You were still half sleep, so turning around to see a naked Sanji with his semi- hard cock dangling 5 inches from your face made you peer up at him.

“Sanji, I told you if you wanna use me while i’m sleep use me.” You tried turning over, voice still sleepy, he wanted to laugh a little at youur drowsy voice but shook you some more.

“N-no Y/N. It’s this. This bruise you left. I think you left a hickey on me.”

That woke you up.

Sanji was shocked, and excited all at once he nearly forgot he had to get dressed to start cooking. He couldn’t stop praising you for leaving your mark on him.

“Y/N can…can you do this again”

“What?”

“IT’S GANNA WEAR OFF SOON I WANNA KEEP IT”

You on the other hand couldn’t be more embarrassed. You didn’t mean to suck his dick THAT hard. You probably should have stopped the first time you heard him scream.

Luffy

It’s very hard to leave a hickey on him at all with his rubbery ass body, you have in the past but it took A LOT of trial and error.

When you did finally pop off and away from your boyfriend’s pelvis you felt a little pride erupting from your stomach seeing a tiny little purple spot form on his shaft.

“I did it!”

“Did what.”

You never really told Luffy you wanted to leave a dickey on him. You kept it as your own personal goal so you didn’t know how to properly explain it to him

“You can do that?!” Luffy immediately sees the hickey on his dick and starts CRACKING UP as if he didn’t just cum like a whiney slut a few seconds ago.

“You’re like a puffer fish!”

“Shut up, Luffy!”

It just tickles him to know you sucked on his dick so much just to leave such a small mark. It wasn’t bad at all, but funny none theless. Now he actually expects a dickey from you.

Which.

Have fun with getting lock jaw everytime you go down on him now.

Zoro

Didn’t even know it was possible and neither did you so when you when to experiment Zoro damn near started actually moaning and whining due to overstimulation.

“O-okay okay okay fuck—you tried long enough! We can’t—FUCK—-!”

You were determined to leave that damn hickey, your mouth was wet and covered in drool, his cum, and your lips started to swell a little. Luckily you loved sucking him off anyways so this was just another Tuesday for you.

You really wanted to leave a pretty mark on his tip.

And that you eventually did.

“HA!” You smile, face wet, teary eye’d and flustered. You rub your thumb on the tip of the sensitive dick and it causes Zoro to grab your wrist.

He was absolutely exhausted.

“You got it. Please….fucking stop.”

“You’re so lame. But look! I did it!” 😁

Zoro just doesn’t understand you or the point of why you had to damn near suck the soul out of him for a bruise that’s ganna wear off in a few hours.

….He does like looking at it though. It reminds him of his slutty little girlfriend.

Law

He bruises very easily.

So this wasnt too hard you actually leave him in dickeys all the time

and everytime you point it out he hates it.

every

single

time

“I hate that fucking word.”

“I think it’s cute. Like your dick.”

“ENOUGH.”

Doesn’t get the point of it, he thinks you’re a sadist for it. You tend to bruise him up a LOT when you both get intimate.

He does get a little shy when you point out how good of a boy he was taking it. It’s almost as if he loves being praised and marked by you.

[gavisuntiedboot]

We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Stylist! Reader

Part 2

Warnings: None

Word count: 4.3K

A/N: Back with part 2! I'm warning y'all now - it's going to suck until it doesn't. Please bear with me. Also, I have included the links to both the shirts being sold for Gaza and the direct donation link. Please check them out! And if you can't donate yourself, I donate $1 for every watermelon comment under this post! So please make sure to share at the very least.

~~~

Being scolded was the worst feeling in the world. Well, actually, sleeping with a famous client and then having him immediately chase your coworker was the worst feeling in the world. But boy was this meeting with Katerina a close second.

“There needs to be a case study on this kid.” She muttered under hear breath as she moved sticky notes around the December calendar. She darted her eyes around her current configuration, before turning sour and looking up at you. The dark circles under her eyes had darkened a shade since you had seen her the previous week, and a twinge of guilt played against your sternum for contributing to her fatigue.

“Let’s go over some basic rules, my dear. First and foremost, you cannot block your client’s number.”

“But I-“ You began to protest, but your boss lifted one finger, silencing you instantly.

“I do not care. I do not care if he is a dick. I do not care if he is going to make my stylists kill each other. Honestly, that might be a blessing.  I do not care if he is the father to a litter of bastard children running barefoot around your home. You work for SDF. You work for Pedro Gonzalez. He will have access to your phone, your email, your address, hell your underwear size if he asks. Understood?”

You bit back the urge to protest, just nodding silently. She breathed in deeply before continuing.

“Second, you will not share his information with the other girls in the office. That includes his photoshoot timing, the PR being sent to him– anything. I’m tired of having to file reports to Milan about my girls fighting.”

The command was followed by another nod, this one more genuine. You had no intention of getting within 100 meters of either Tania or Sylvia, who were still not speaking but had also telepathically decided that you were a common enemy. You had been stepped on a suspicious number of times while collecting their pins from the floor, and you always caught them whispering to the other girls in the office about “la naranja podrida”. Didn’t take a detective to put those pieces together.

You were still in a state of agitation regarding the whole ordeal. In your fit of anger, you had done the mental calculations of how long it took Pedri to text another girl. He had left just as the sun was rising, so about 5:30 am. Google maps said you lived 25 minutes from the stadium, but he would have gone home first, because that’s where the damned boots and more damned note would have been. That brings us to 6 am to account for wherever the gremlin lives. By all your most optimistic estimates, he had waited at most a hour between leaving your bed and texting your coworker.

“Hey Silvia” was the text heard around the world. After the report (and a few hair samples) was filed away, a company-wide letter from HQ was sent out reminding employees of professional boundaries with clients. The giddiness and satisfaction that had come from a harmless prank had dissolved, leaving a queasy feeling in its wake. Day damn one. You lasted 4 hours before you crumpled like a convenience store receipt over a boy at work. Ignoring every caution sign, you dove head first into a pool of prospective romance - and promptly hit the concrete.

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell anyone. Bryce had responded to your gushing sonnets in the worst possible manner: with logic. You had brushed aside every one of her very appropriate questions, looking through your rose-tinted lenses at your life. You had gone as far as to tell her she was being a bad friend for trying to find any possible negative in this situation, causing her to pull back.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”

The words of her static-garbled voice memo never left your head. There you were, only a few hours later, stomach turned and heart shredded, completely and utterly hurt. And you weren’t ready to face the sting of “I told you so” that was waiting for you, so you just… never said anything else. When she asked about Pedri, you responded formally with his upcoming campaign schedule. Lucky for you that she was too busy with her own life to keep pestering.

The upside to the current tragedy in your life was that you were working in fashion. It was hard to cry when you spent hours upon hours looking at some of the most beautiful clothes in the world, getting full creative freedom to bring your visions to life. Not impossible, because there were definitely a couple of wet spots on the Margiela from yesterday, but harder. Barca Femini had been in and out of the office for fittings, and it was a relief to be able to work with something other than khaki trousers and blazers. There were seemingly hundreds of hangers carrying vintage sports pieces, colorful jackets, and silky skirts. It sparked little moments of happiness, knowing that you were so good at playing dress-up that now you were getting paid for it.

It had been a week since your unfortunate altercation, and though the evening (and unfortunate following morning) had never left you, it had seeped from the front of your mind to the base of your skull, a dull throb that could be ignored during the course of the day. That was, of course, until you received an email from Adidas.

~

"Okay, Pedri, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but this means you're blocked."

There was a snigger that floated through the lunch room that, had he been able to pinpoint the source, Pedri would have promptly quieted with a slap to the head. But it whizzed around like a gnat between some of the younger players.

"How could I be blocked, Fermin?" The question was met with a raised eyebrow from Fermin, who was mentally cursing his college education.

"Maybe it has something to do with you sleeping with her and then disappearing?" Gavi offered up that brilliant hypothesis between bites of grilled chicken.

"No, it couldn't be. She's American - they don't take sex so seriously. Besides, we just met! What was I supposed to do? Propose?"

Pedri resisted the urge to shrink back from the judgmental stares he was receiving. He was used to being questioned by Gavi, who believed in the "stare at her intensely until she falls for me and confesses" method of romance. But now that he had roped in Fermin (the most tech-savvy of the squad), he couldn't handle the intensity of the silent disapproval.

In all honesty, Pedri was tired of the emotional rollercoaster that had plagued the entire day. The previous night had been incredible. He wasn't quite sure what to expect when La Naranja stepped through her front door, but she surely exceeded expectations. Pedri believed he was happy in his normal routine: DM an Instagram model, engage in the little cat-and-mouse game where she pretended she wouldn't bend to his every will, and go back to her place for a decently fun time. But there was something about the way you walked, so coy and bashfully, looking up at him through delicate lashes with wide eyes, that warmed the most primal part of his being. His heart quickened at the sudden desire to chase, to capture, to consume. He wanted to protect this pretty little thing from the sharp eyes and sharper teeth of his friends. He was ready to savor everything you offered.

Over the course of the evening, the feeling gnawing at the inside of his chest became harder to ignore. The soft grip you maintained on his bicep to keep him close, the warmth of your fingertips searing his skin. He wanted to bark at Ferran to never look your way again. To sink his teeth into your neck, have you cry out his name so every man would know to never come near you again. Your hand, so delicate and soft in his own, maintained a firm grip as he dragged you out of the club, and a firmer grip on his hair once he was finally able to kiss you senseless. He felt like a wild animal unleashed in bed with, unable to slow or take pause. You were so hypnotizingly innocent, and he was going to destroy that.

The warmth in his chest remained till the following morning. As he kissed your cheek and whispered his goodbyes, he allowed himself to imagine what kind of arrangement the two of you could have. He was more than eager to feel the caress of your soft lips again. Maybe you would be open to picking up his late night calls, spending long, tedious days together talking and fucking and laughing at nothing in particular. He thought about the flush in your cheeks that would arise whenever he came into work, dropping subtle hints about your activities in the days before. He could really make you a permanent part of his rotation with little difficulty, facilitated further by the fact that you had been assigned as his personal stylist. Filthy as it may sound, he contemplated not showering upon his return home. He would have to later in the day following practice, but until he could secure a second audience with you in a bedroom, he wanted to savor the scent a little longer.

His front doorstep was littered with packages once again, about half from Adidas and the other from Springfield. He was not a designer by any means, but he appreciated that he was at least sent the collections that were meant to be his. Fer was sipping on a coffee when Pedri walked in, and expertly avoided ay questions of where he had been the previous night. He was a concerned older brother, but he was also a guest. He instead asked to see the piles of PR that his younger brother had hauled through the door.

"I don't understand why they bother sending you all this stuff. Why wouldn't they just send it to the styling team."

"Because I actually have to play in the boots, hermano." Pedri said, lifting the lid off his newest pair. He was excited for another Adidas campaign, or any campaign really that would bring him closer to you once again. Oh how he wished he could have captured the way you looked in that dress forever, immortalized it in an oil painting and hung it on his wall (right beside the ripped remains of the dress, which he so desperately wanted to destroy). His daydream had been broken by a crisp white envelope contrasted against the bright orange of the boots. There was a feminine wave of scent in the air, and the heart pumping in his ears drowned out the sounds of his brother’s whistles and taunts. Had you done this? Had you been planning ahead to send him a note had he neglected to ask you out while at the office?

He tensed his forearms to disguise a slight tremble, ripping open the envelope and scanning the page only to find-

“Ay dios mío. Silvia.” He allowed his head to thud against the counter, Fer’s tittering laugh clear as a bell now.

“Is she the scary one or the weird one?” His brother asked, prying the crumpled letter from Pedri’s dejected form.

“Both are fitting adjectives. She’s the shorter one with the silver hair. She kind of looks like our Tia Marisol?”

Another tittering of laugher, and this time Pedri joined in with a cracked smile of his own.

“She wants to tell you how much she admires you, how much you make her … quiver? Ew.” Fer squinted at the note further.

“Listen to this line. Ehem: ‘I am ready to serve you, worship you, give you my body and soul because I love you.”

Pedri groaned so loudly he was sure the neighbors heard. Honestly, what were these girls thinking?? That he would start blushing and giggling at the mention that they would sleep with him? That was the least most girls would do. It turned his stomach, constantly fearing that he would be trapped with a child.

“Let me text this girl. I have to go in next week and I don’t want her bent over a table spread and waiting when I arrive.”

He typed in the number on the note, drafting a long text before deleting everything but the “Hey Silvia” at the top.

“It’s too forceful to say ‘hey I don’t want to fuck you’ right off the bat, no?”

He hit send, reluctantly heading off to shower away his escapades before he went into training, waiting for a reply before he asked not to receive any more erotic letters from his stylists. Oh how he wished she hadn’t.

~

“So run us through it one more time.” Gavi said, Ferran deciding to stifle his groan. The last thing he needed was to enrage Gavi further, as he suspected it would result in him finally getting the punch that was coming to him. Ansu and Fermin were nodding along vigorously, eager to hear all about Pedri’s first experience having feelings.

“We went out, we fucked-“

“Pedri!”

He rolled his eyes at the indignation from the boys. Kids these days.

“Okay. We went out, we had a magical lovemaking experience, and then I had to come to training. I texted her about her being my stylist to ya know break the ice. And I found myself in deep shit and promptly blocked on like everything.”

“I think your first mistake,” said Fermin, “was not texting her about last night. Why would you start with her working for you?"

Pedri dragged his hand down his face in frustration.

"What was I supposed to say? Good morning linda, great pussy last night?"

Gavi stood promptly with his hands up, leaving the room.

"I don't want to hear about another girl's vagina."

"Yes," Ferran muttered, "God forbid he cheat on his crush by listening to a story."

"Whatever happened to 'Hey, I had fun last night'? Is that not a normal thing to say?" Ansu asked, as shaken as Gavi but remaining planted by his desire to be in the loop.

"I think my agent is texting SDF to get her to unblock me. Not super easy to talk to my stylist if I have to do so through messenger pigeon. Where did Gavi go?"

Pedri followed his friend out of the locker room, watching as Gavi stared dejectedly at the Doctora’s office.

“Are you done moping?” Pedri asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

“No. She might lose her job and we play her stupid boyfriend’s team tomorrow. I just want to keep her safe from that asshole.”

For a minute, something sparked in Pedri’s chest. Was that jealousy? He had never before felt that there was something missing in his life, content with being surrounded by friends and family and teammates. But there was something about watching Gavi pine, listening to the way he spoke of this girl, and it caused him an ache. He was in awe of this foreign spectacle: loving someone so deeply, so intensely, that it led to begging for crumbs of their time and attention. He almost wished to be in the Doctora's position, always having someone waiting around the corner for him.

"I have a styling meeting today. Do you want to come and keep me company?"

~

"Naranja, the bastard is here."

You didn't even lift your head when Maria informed you of the arrival of your client. You had worn all black to mourn the death of your self esteem, prepared to ass-kiss as much as needed to preserve your job. Unfortunately, it was difficult to push down the burning rage in the pit of your stomach when you had to kiss the ass of the man who has hurt you so intensely.

Pedri strolled into the room clad in the ugliest jeans known to man, his doe-eyed teammate (Gavin?) trailing behind him. At least the littler one knew how to dress. He was in baggy jeans and an Amie Paris t-shirt, clean sneakers in the same shade of blue as his top. Pedri, on the other hand, was an abomination. His black hoodie was far too baggy on his frame, making him look somewhat inflated. It was made worse by the tight and ribbed denim hugging the (admittedly stunning) legs that ended suddenly in some chunky clompers.

"Good morning, Naranja."

God. Even the sound of his voice was like swallowing razor blades. You wished that you could hear the lilt in his speech without remembering the soft whispers against the column of your throat, guiding you to ecstasy at his command. The way that he encouraged you, coaxed the gentle sighs and high moans with just an ask.

"Let me hear you, pretty girl."

And who were you to deny? But now, looking at his soft eyes and confident stance, you wish you had resisted. Pretended you didn't speak Spanish that first godforsaken day in this office.

"Good morning Pedro."

A stifled laugh and wide eyes from the boy behind Pedri (God what was his name? Gustavo?). Pedri's shoulders had dropped significantly, his thick brows coming together in confusion.

"No one calls me Pedro. Not even my mother."

"Well, maybe it's a good time for you to learn what disappointment feels like. Especially since you're so comfortable giving it out to others. Do you have your boots?"

You could tell Pedri was lost for words, and it caused you a mild spark of satisfaction. You had spent the last week boiling silently, unable to unleash all the rage simmering in your chest. He nodded silently, pulling the box out of his bag.

"Great. Gabriel, there is a coffee shop on the second floor if you want to grab a drink while I'm fitting Pedro. I'm sure you've seen him naked plenty of times but-"

"No, no, I'll go. Would you like anything?"

After shaking your head, he exited the room, and you began frantically grabbing different sweat pants and shirts for Pedri to put on.

"His name is Gavi by the way." Pedri said to break the silence, and you turned so he could strip off his shirt.

"Come on, Naranja. Don't pretend you haven't see it already." He smiled somewhat earnestly, softer than he did at the other girls. You were a gentle thing, and he wanted to be gentle with you.

"How many other girls in this office have seen it as well, Pedro?" You asked with as much venom as you could muster, turning to face him and eyes locking as he unzipped his jeans.

"You think that sleeping with me is a company welcome gift, Naranja?"

"That's not my name."

"And Pedro isn't mine. But if you want to poke at me, I'll poke at you right back."

He was now in only his boxers and his socks, and it took everything within you not to glance downwards, a reminder of the sight from one week and one night ago. He took a defiant step forward, the heat radiating off his body.

"You know, Pedro," You began, steadying your voice. "Texting my coworker mere minutes after leaving my bed is a sin on it's own."

"Wait, what? Hold on-"

"But in those mere hours of bliss, I googled you. Looked at your name on Twitter. Saw who you were. And you're just another slimy athlete that uses girls and throws them away."

Your face broke when you heard him laugh loudly at the revelation. It made you angry, expecting him to feel ashamed of his behavior.

"I despise miscommunication, Naranja. So don't go jumping to conclusions and acting foolish. Your coworker sent me a letter essentially begging to fuck me, but I suspect you knew that already. Hell, you might have even been the one to switch the names around."

Your cheeks grew warmer, and a part of your brain registered that Gavi was now lingering in the doorway.

"But beyond that, linda, is that I was texting her to say I wasn't interested." He began dressing, joggers defining his legs in a way acid-washed denim never could. "But I don't like being judged based on rumors on Twitter. I want to be your friend-"

"Again with that word!" The outrage was finally seeping from you, and now that the lid had come off there was no containing it.

"How am I meant to be your friend, Pedro? You hit on me, you sleep with me, and then you moved on to the next girl. How am I supposed to be your friend after everything you've put me through?"

"What did you expect of me exactly?" He shoved his shirt over his head, a sweet bit of relief in a tense situation. "I like you, Naranja. More than a lot of other girls I've met. And I want to keep seeing you," he let his eyes burn a path down your body, "as a little more than a friend. If that's something you're into."

You took a step back, hand over your chest in shock. Did this man just ask you to be a friend with benefits, mere minutes after you asserted your disgust for his very being.

"You must think so highly of yourself." You couldn't raise your voice out of fear of it cracking. Just how much had you deluded yourself into thinking you found something special?

"I don't actually," there was a tone of laughter in his voice, "quite the opposite actually." There was suddenly not enough air between you. You simultaneously wished someone would interrupt you and that the moment would last forever.

"You're a sweet girl, Naranja. Too sweet for someone like me. I know who I am and what I want, and a girlfriend is not on that list currently."

"So what? I'm good enough for you to fuck and not to date?" You asked, the question heavy between the two of you. He remained silent, lips unmoving, the wheels turning behind deep chocolate eyes.

"I like you enough not to want to hurt you, Naranja. So, what do you say? Friends?"

"Go fuck yourself, Pedro."

~

The high pitched noise of the camera going off repeatedly was starting to get to your head. You leaned against the wall, rubbing at your temples to try and stave off the impending migraine. You opened your eyes briefly to see Gavi also leaning against the wall, gnawing on his lip and staring at his phone. Propelled by boredom, you shifted slowly along the wall to peak at what he was doing, desperate for any form of entertainment.

Thank God for the lack of Gavi's vertical blessing. A quick peek revealed that he wasn't actually typing any words, only rereading text from a contact that was saved as...

"Holy shit are you fucking your doctor?" You asked, probably a little louder than appropriate.

His eyes went wide as frying pans and he began to go visibly red. He started babbling out denials, explaining that the two of them were just friends.

"I mean she has a boyfriend and even if she didn't she would never go for me because she's so much older than me and cooler than me and she's way out of my league but all I want to do is keep her safe and make her happy and-"

His brain finally caught up to the words he was letting loose, and he abruptly suspended his word vomit.

"Does she know that you like her?" You asked, back against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Gavi.

"God, I hope not. I don't want to do anything to make her life harder than it already is."

"Maybe telling her how you feel will make it easier. Maybe she feels the same."

"Yeah," he sighed deeply, looking wistfully at his phone again, "That's what Pedri keeps telling me."

The disgust was evident on your features. "I wouldn't really take Pedri's relationship advice."

"Now now, turning my best friend against me because you want me is a little extreme, Naranja." The voice behind you was too much to bear.

"Someone needs to give your best friend advice on how to not transform into a heartless user."

"Ironic. I remember one of us chanting 'use me, use me, use me' just last week." The response died in your mouth as Pedri's publicist approached. Where did this guy get off? Even if you believed his bullshit excuse about not wanting to fuck Silvia, the teen drama explanation as to why he doesn't "do" relationships compensated plenty.

"Alright you crazy kids! Ready to go shopping?" You spun around so quickly that you almost smacked Gavi with your hair.

"I beg your pardon? I am a stylist, not a personal shopper. I get pieces sent to me."

That was the truth. You weren't in charge or brand relations, and the purchasing department was an impenetrable fortress. Each week, a soulless intern wheeled a rack into the room, and you worked with what you were given. You had several ideas for how you could modernize some of these stuffy athletes, but that wasn't your place. Not yet anyways.

"Yes, of course. But we are redoing Pedri's wardrobe entirely. We have received communication from the team that his tunnel outfits are - what was the official wording? Oh yes, 'a detriment to the team's public image and an offense to the eyes of culers globally'. Springfield have also asked us to film some content during the journey."

"I don't think this is really part of Naranja's job description."

Of course Pedri was the one undermining you. Of course it was his voice speaking out only to call you incapable. You forced on your biggest smile, turning to face the agent directly.

"Oh, there's no issue at all. It would be an honor to makeover Spain's worst looking footballer."

~~~

Okay end of part 2!! I have decided that I want to post more frequent, smaller parts for this story rather than giant updates every three months. Please let me know what you think in the comments and in my ask box, and potentially where you want this dynamic to go! Thanks cutes xoxo gavisuntiedboot <3

(also if you would like to be on the taglist for this story, pls lmk!!)

Taglist:

@girlidekanymore

[unforth]

I had a day off yesterday.

And I can already practically hear the assumptions that such a statement is prompting the reader to make. Those assumptions are wrong. I don't mean I didn't work. I did, for about 8 hours. That's not at all what I mean.

I mean my wife took the kids out at 9:30, spent the night with her mom, isn't back yet the next morning.

There are things I NEED people on this website to understand about parenting. And I've talked about it before, and I'll talk about it again, because honestly the way that Tumblr as a cohort talks about parents makes me sick. Multiple polls have shown that only about 2% of people on here are parents. We're a huge minority, and we're constantly talked over, ignored, or accused of being bad parents (like, personally, I have had people reply to my comments or come on to my posts and tell me I shouldn't have my kids). In my case, being a parent means I'm almost 41, I'm married to @ramblingandpie, and our children are inching up on being 8 and 6 years old.

My entire day, and therefore my entire life, revolves around them. I'm up most mornings at 5 AM, because that's the earliest they're "allowed" to wake up, and so my brain just defaults to being awake around then - better to wake up before them, at least then I get a few minutes in the morning. Between 5 and 7, I sit with them, do my social media, work on side blogs, study Chinese. Then it's helping them get ready for school, then my wife or I or both get them on the bus, and then I work until the last possible minute, which is either when I need to go pick them up for an after school activity or when I need to go down and meet them off the bus. My afternoons are after school activities, chores such as washing the dishes and cleaning up toys, talking with them, working with them, playing with them. Their bedtime starts at 7:40, and my son gets scared if I leave before he falls asleep so I sit with him until about 8:15. As soon as he's asleep, I go fall on my face, sleep as best I can, then wake up and do it again. Overnight, it's hard to sleep deeply, because about once a week someone will wake up in the middle of the night and need help. That could be as minimal as a hug or as complex as having to completely change the bedding on a bunk bed at 2 AM while also comforting a child who is afraid they'll be in trouble, or afraid they're sick, or afraid of their nightmare, or, or, or. Further, if a child is awake, there is always noise. I usually study Chinese with two or more competing sources of noise. I read the same way. My life is loud, and active, and consists of constant interruptions.

I adore my family, and I love my children, but this is terrible for me.

I do all of this as an neurodivergent introvert. My clinical depression is at least medicated, mostly because post-partum depression after I gave birth the first time nearly drove me to suicidal in under a week (we were expecting this and were prepared, fortunately, getting help was as simple as a phone call). The constant noise and interruptions and forced socialibility are about the worst combination of home-life I could be subjected to. I spend far too many early mornings just breathing deeply and gearing myself up to be subjected to the wall of Loud, Boisterous, Needing-My-Attention that is every minute when anyone else in the house is awake.

So what did my day off look like?

I helped get the kids ready to go and did some morning chores. I'd been up at 4:30 AM so I also had already social media'd and studied. Then, while my wife finished the preparations, I started work, and I worked from about 8 am to about 4 pm, straight. I didn't get hungry so didn't bother stopping for lunch. No one interrupted me, no one asked me to look at anything they'd built, no one broke my concentration, no sounds could be heard except those I'd chosen myself.

I'd been out the day before at a local shopping street and listened closely to the things the kids said they wanted, so at 4 I grabbed a couple orders I needed to ship for work and drove to our local downtown, dropped the orders in a post box, then went back to the shops and did some Christmas shopping in the 45 minutes or so before everything closed. I think I'm basically done with what we'll get them - other bigger things will be left to grand parents - so that's a load off, I literally had a stress dream earlier this week about it being 12/24 and having forgotten to do the shopping and having to go to (oh horrors) the mall on the day before Christmas. (Reminder: I'm a Jewish atheist. It's just virtually impossible not to Holiday in the Culturally Christian Hellscape that is the US. Also, my wife is Christian. So.) Found something cute for my wife, too, even tho I already know the main thing I'm getting her. Then, I realized - one of my favorite restaurants is on that block. So. I went there. I sat by myself at a table, only the indistinct restaurant hubbub around me. I read four or five chapters of my book, and ate a savory crepe, and drank lovely fruit tea, and got a scone to-go that I'll eat for lunch today. It was more than I probably should have spent on myself - about $25, including tip - but fuck it. I only get maybe a handful of days off all year, and I'm allowed to indulge a little.

Then I came home. There were no lights on. There was no noise. I had considered doing some more merch work while watching TV on the actual television (my kids are too young for subtitled shows, so usually if I want to watch My Shows I either have to do it on my computer when they're not around, or put them on and read all the subtitles aloud while trying to keep up and process the actual meaning of what I'm reading). But when I got back, the quiet and dark was so goddamn NICE that instead I curled up on the couch and read more of my book. I did that until bedtime - still about 8:15, because I'm exhausted. Then...I went to bed. And I slept long and deep, knowing that there was no chance I'd be interrupted and woken up, I didn't have to be, even in sleep, alert to every noise and possibility that I'd be needed.

I'm still exhausted and burned out, but even one night to myself felt really, really nice.

Saying "Tumblr does X" as a universal statement is doomed to failure, but generally speaking, the parenting posts I see on Tumblr, the ones with tens or hundreds of thousands of notes, speak what's apparently widely seen as a truism on here: that unless someone wants to spend 24/7 with their kids, to be 100% emotionally available at all times, is always kind and patient and perfect, they are a bad parent, maybe even abusive. I remember when covid started, there were multiple posts actively mocking the "oh god, my kids are now home all the time, how am I supposed to do this?" attitude that a lot of parents posted in despair. WhY dId YoU hAvE kIdS iF yOu DoN't WaNt To SpEnD tImE wItH tHeM?

Look at what my usual day looks like.

Look at what my day off looked like.

Do you really think I don't want to spend time with my kids? Do you really think I don't love my kids?

But I'm not a fucking MACHINE. I'm a PERSON. That's what people on Tumblr seem to forget. PARENTS ARE PEOPLE. The same tumblrinas who post ~uwu be kind to yourself rest if you need to, you should forgive yourself for that mistake you made~ will turn around, with zero sense of irony, and post "you're a bad parent if you ever raise your voice around a child."

Expecting parents to be perfect means expecting parents to be inhuman. It also means that a parent can't be poor (can't spend all your time being the perfect parent if you have to work multiple jobs or weird hours!), can't be introverted (can't be a perfect parent if you're not completely emotional available, god forbid socializing is exhausting for you), can't be on the ADHD or autism spectrum (what do you mean you forgot to get your kid to a doctor's appointment once? what do you mean over-stimulation can make you angry? how dare you get angry at a kid!), can't be depressed (gotta get out of bed every single day, gotta always be upbeat, patient, happy, or else that's Evil), can't be (like my wife) physically disabled (what do you mean your hands hurt too much to hold a child's hand? are you denying them touch?? CRUEL). And when the only answer you can offer to that is, "if you can't be that perfect you shouldn't be a parent," then you're saying people who aren't middle class to wealthy, people who aren't neurotypical, people who aren't physically able, shouldn't have children.

And honestly...what the fuck is your problem?

I'm not perfect. I tell my kids to just leave me alone sometimes. I raise my voice, especially when one of my kids starts punching the other, but also sometimes just cause I'm exhausted and Can't Anymore. I've forgotten an appointment by accident and felt like a total fucking idiot, and I've skipped an after school activity because I just wasn't up for taking them. I've served them more unbalanced, unhealthy meals than I can count. I've made many, many mistakes, but I've also done my best, and I love my kids, and I hope that when they grow up, they'll still love me even as they recognize that I wasn't perfect, just as I've come to accept my own parents' short-comings while still loving them very much. They're people, too, and the older I get, the more I understand where they were coming from.

When I fuck up, I apologize.

When they tell me they're unhappy with something I've done, I apologize, and I try to do better. Sometimes I even succeed.

This shit is hard, yo. And it's getting harder every year.

I'm BEGGING Tumblr: you need to start seeing parents as people. The way y'all talk about parenting on here is toxic, and genuinely harmful, and frankly exhausting. You have no idea what the reality of raising kids is like, and you need to shut the entire fuck up.

I had a day off yesterday.

I might get one more before the end of 2023.

I already can't wait. I am so, so, so tired. sigh

(if you actually read this whole rant and even a single word of it resonated for you, please reblog it. I'm tired of never seeing positive posts about parenting while I see negative ones with a bajillion notes.)

[junipers-archive]

Power-Outage

Word Count: 1.2k

Includes: fluff, fluff, fluff spencer x reader when a power-outage occurs and spencer being spencer and being adorably the perfect boyfriend

Dark. It is dark and you're alone and its honestly embarrassing how quickly you pick up your phone to call your boyfriend. I mean...who's still scared of the dark? What're you 5?

It's two in the morning and you shouldn't be calling, really. You've only been dating for a few weeks, but he's Spencer, he's technically been your best friend for 4 years, 3 months, 2 days. and...about 18 hours, but who's counting? You convince yourself you just need to hear his voice, his sweet, safe, angelic-

"H-hello?"his voice breaks from that of someone just woken up at an ungodly hour by his co-dependent girlfriend who so happened to have accidentally hit the call button while she was second-guessing herself.

Maybe he'll hang up? Maybe you can convince him you butt-called him in the middle of the night tomorrow at work? Or maybe-

"Y/n baby I'm really gonna need you to respond before i drive over there." he sounds calm, not at all agitated, not at all like someone woken up at 2 in the morning, he sounds...like Spencer

"Hi..." You exhale into the mic with relief. You should say something, really say something, apologize, yes that's what you'll do "I'm sorry I shouldn't have called, god I'm so idiotic...I just-well the power just went out and its 2 in the morning and I really should get some sleep but-"

You're cut off by the jingling of keys on the other line.

"Spence you still there?"

"I'm on my way." Was that a car door?

"On your wayy..." It takes you second, or it takes your un-caffienated and sleep deprived brain a second to realize he means he's coming over to your house. Your home. Where you live.

And yes you're bestfriends with him and you've had sleepovers before but that was when you were ready. That was when you had cleaned.

"No! Spencer No! That is completely unessecary! I'm fine! I just wanted someone to talk to and I thought-"

The engine of his car starts. You can hear him trying to repress the laugh that graces your ears every time he knows something you're trying to hide from his genius mind.

"I'm already pulling out of the drive-way, forget about it. Plus I know you're afraid of dark."

Maybe he'll turn around if you just- "Spencer. I am not afraid of the dark. That is childish and obsurd and I mean im not a little kid anymore! You can just go home, go to bed and forget this ever happened"

There's a silence on the other end, besides the hum of the car, absolute silence.

Until, "Do you still have the candle I got your for Christmas?"

Of course. Of course Dr. Spencer freakin Reid wouldn't believe you. I mean he knows you better than anyone. What were you thinking?

"Yea spence. Yea I have the candle"

He hums in response and you can practically hear him grinning on the other end.

You admit defeat.

"Can you at least bring over some marshmallows? I'm all out from our last movie night." You would honestly rather have him over as soon as possible if it weren't for your hideous room and the pile of "i'll get to it" in the living room haunting your mind. This will at least buy you time.

But again he's dr. reid. "I've already got some from my stash, jumbo and small and snowmen shaped. And of course hot chocolate!"

He's perfect. He's everything and more you could've asked for.

And yet. ANd yet. At this very moment you'd like to strangle him. And not that impersonal type of cowardly strangle like really just-

"Don't be embarrassed baby. I've already seen your room at its worst. I'll be there in ten, turn on the candle and read your books for now."

You hear him knock on the door a few minutes later, as to not disturb the neighbors. Because of course, he's Spencer and would've thought about that too.

You run with the only flashlight you have to the front door, and you're greeted by a ruffled, grinning and ever-charming Spencer with his satchel stuffed with god knows what and wearing his periodic table of elements pjs.

You mirror his grin almost immediately, albeit sheepishly and look down to hide your own embarrassment...only to find him wearing the pink bunny slippers he'd stolen from your house only a few days ago.

With that all or any ego-preservation skills were out the window. He was here already...right?

You let him in, still staring down at your shoes as he leads you two straight for the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets to find the ingredients and kitchenware as if he'd lived there his whole life.

You take a seat at the kitchen's island stool, and watch him work.

This should be embarrassing. I mean it is. It is!

That is, until he hands you a steaming cup of hot chocolate with little snowman marshmallows dissolving on top and smiling like he hasn't just driven 8 miles with these ingredients to make you happy because you called him.

You called him at 2 in the morning.

And with that the unease floods back. And you're hiding your face in your hands and mumbling something incoherent.

This is when he finally speaks. "So...you wanna build a fort?"

You rub your eyes and look up at him. "i-i'm sorry?"

"We should build a fort." He's assertive in this, something at another time you would've found very hot, but at this moment it concerns you. Because to any other person what you've just done would be unacceptable.

"You...want to...build a fort?"

"I find it helps, I mean...at least when I was younger my mom and dad, they used to help me build forts when the power went out. To distract me if anything. It was kind of the only time I remember them getting along."He chuckles and looks down bashfully.

And now all you can think of is building a fort with the beautiful boy in front of you.

"Yea, yea i'd really love it if we built a fort."

And you do, you build a fort with what now you deem as you're future husband. Lighting the other candle he brought you on the counter that fills the air with your favorite scent and finding battery power camping lamps in your closet to light up the room.

He tells you stories about the kinds of forts he used to build and to the best of both your abilities you try to recreate his favorite.

By around 5:30 in the morning the sun is rising and you're both past out in the center of the monstrosity you two created while high on a sugar rush provided by the hot chocolate and one two many marshmallow snowmen consumed.

But you'll remember this for the rest of your life you think. You'll remember Spencer for the rest of your life. Because no one, no one would understand how to make you forget your biggest fear like he did.

While surrounded by darkness all you could see was him.

He was your light.

He was your light, and for as long as he'd have you, you'd be his too.

[matchadobo]

KIDD; wedding headcanons

warning/s: partial nsfw but no occurrence of the actual thing, super fluff i died and alived

i'll fix the formatting lateeeerr >:) red ones are individual bullets while white ones are subheadings of the previous red one (hope that makes sense)

* when you bring the question to him he'll be like:

* "me? you wanna marry me?" he'd point to himself.

* "yes, silly! who else?!"

* "i-i mean," he'll instantly become red and start fumbling over his words. "i-i was supposed to pop the damn question out..."

* you best bet it'll be a full blown steampunk wedding! he'd want it to be in the victoria but it's also fine with him if you'd want a beach or garden wedding so long as the theme stays. this i what i think he'll be wearing, the aesthetic of the event, and what your gown'll be.

* during preparations, he'd mostly leave it up to you so long as you follow his color palette: red and blacks. but when it comes to foods, he'd be keen on having an attendance while you taste test and choose out stuff.

his and your fits

* before your wedding day, he'd be soooo anxious. i have this thought that when you two are individually out on your bachelor/ette parties, he'd be calling you by the end of it just cuz he can't sleep.

* "it's pretty late, kidd. did your party just finished?"

* "yeah, every one's knocked out of their damn minds. and apparently, i can't fuckin' sleep."

* "hmm, nervous?"

* "like the fuck i am." he'd try to deny it but eventually give in. "i wanna see you before i sleep."

* "but you know the superstition-"

* "fuck that shi-"

* "no! i don't want any bad luck!"

* "luck? baby, we defy all odds, don't we?"

* he'd insist but you'll also insist. so he just settled on an overnight call where you two slept in.

* during the wedding day, you two'll be tired as fuck because the only sleep you guys got was 2-3 hours because of talking and comforting each other until 5 😭. while getting ready, kidd will be more impatient and irritated than usual. but it's just due to the combination of weariness and anxiety. mostly anxiety. he never felt this anxious when it comes to you, he'd always be confident about how you two felt about each other. but right now, all he thinks if he's sure or not. if you're sure with him. eustass kidd never doubts, but he feels so deeply for you he'd never want to hurt you and that brings him to a wall. the people involve with him that day had a hard time working with him because his attitude is extraaa mean 😔

* but when he sees you at the end of the aisle as you donned a dress that looked way too good on you it was insane to him, all his worries left his body through a tear that cascaded down his eye.

* "you crying?" killer nudged kidd, noticing the taller to reach over his breast pocket to fish out the hanky.

* "shut up, you ain't the one doing the marryin'."

* i imagine his vows to reflect the kind of person he is, passionate and brute about it. he'll be soooo poetic it'd surprise you.

* "where do i even start fuck-" you'd giggle along with the audience. "i do lotsa damn declarations but this is makin' me shy, jeez."

* "name," he'd sheepishly look at you. "you are my dream and i honestly curse the seas that i'd only found you nos and not at the time i needed you the most. and now i, for the life of me, can't imagine how i'd live without you."

* "i, eustass kid, will put hands on anyone who mess with my wife, if those fuckers think they're so big, well so am i, aye?! if she cries i'll cry with her, and trust me when i say i will kill any bastard who dares do her wrong, because that's my wife, they better not look at her cuz she's taken, she's mine. got it?"

* "you've learned to love me, an insufferable asshole, in ways i never thought possible. you've seen the worst and the best, the weak and the strong, the ugly and somehow the pretty in me. you make me a better man."

* "you conquered all my fears, seized my pride, and built my strength. you are the reason i became the way i am today. you crawled your way in 'ere and took control over my heart, you little monster."

* "from the start, i haven't exactly been kind to you. i mean, i've been rude, and disrespectful; but you grew on me, you were patient and measured up to my irritated ass... so much that I don't know what happened, you really snuck up on me... so may you forgive me my past dumb mistakes. because even if I am stupid and mean, and I may not show my love properly, I love you and will do anything to give you what you fuckin' deserve. you know that."

* "name is a great woman, one who stands and always fights for what she wants, and I want the honor of being your husband. we'll conquer anything, yeah?"

* "okay i'm very fucking embrassed now so i'll just come out and say it... I need to marry you, not because I love you, not because I like you, but because I have to to... yeah, I said it, I don't like you or love you, i need you in my fucking life."

* man he'd end up crying while saying them. but his voice wouldn't waver, it's eustass kidd come ooooon

* he'd be dramatic and give you the bridal kiss where you kind of hang mid air and he supports your back.

* reception would be firrrreee it'd be an absolute rave! you'd have your wedding dress be modified where you can discard the tulle or some shit to make the dress shorter.

* your guests and dearest friends each made a speech about your craziness with each other

* "kidd was so damn insane for this girl. one time, he asked me if he should get her an otter or dung beetle as a christmas present. bro doesn't even celebrate christmas until she came along!"

* "kidd stood out as one of name's partners, he was the first jackass she fell for that was actually a keeper."

* "i'm telling you, kidd became so self-conscious when he met name! he started worrying if his lipstick was the right shade or if his eyeliner looked neat!"

* "what confuses me was whenever they talked to me about each other, the word 'i hate' always comes first and them being whipped follows after. it was annoying."

* drinking games come after, trivias about the couple and between you two after. and as expected, it was competitive because neither of you wanted to lose and give way 🤣. kidd as a man, will never go easy and let you win tho. he respects you like that.

* but what prompted me to make this hc is the wedding garter tradition 🫦. this will be his favorite part. he'd be very extra tho,

* he'll take off his suit jacket and roll up his sleeves when you two are in front for the act.

* he'd maintain reaaaally strong eye contact and will be feeling himself while you burn red and start fanning yourself from laughing or actually feeling flustered under his gaze.

* he'd get under your dress, have a long whiff of that 🐱 and his breath'll tickle you bc he nasty like that, lick your thigh a little, give the flesh on your hips a squeeze, and drag the garter off with his teeth very very languidly

* he'll be very pouty when it's time to give it to the bestman tho

* then the actual rave comesss! blasting music and lights at the victoria, it didn't seem like a wedding reception. but you and kidd were in the center of it all, dancing with each other the same way you two met in a bar.

* "wanna get out of here?" he whispered with his hands on your hips, bending down to your ear due to the deafening beats.

* "hmm, ain't this familiar?" you giggled.

* "aye. this is the part where you come with me and we kiss at the back."

* "eh? that's different from what i remember. your mean ass was angry at me for stepping on your shoe." you poked at his nose while he laughed subtly.

* "shh shh, we both know how bad that ended. bar got fucked up real good." you two broke out in laughter, reminiscing at old times.

* kidd would inevitably drag you to his quarters, man's hungrryyyyy

* he'd be so desperate to take off your clothes, with how beautiful you look today and how he was deprived of you for a couple of nights

* you'd leave the deck making out, walkign sideways, backwards, u name it

* "it'd be pretty weird if the bride and groom's gone on their reception, right?" you broke out of the kiss.

* "and we don't give a shit about it, don't we?" he'd grin, tugging at your lips

* aaaand stuff thst happens in the honeymoon happened 😏

been in the works foR WAY TOO LONG

[waayoutofline]

Murder On The Dance Floor (part 1)

(from the When the Cat and the Mouse Go For a Midnight Dance series) | Part 1 | Part 2| Marvel Masterlist

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Prompt: Vigilante!Reader x Agent!Natasha

Summary: Natasha isn’t having the best of luck in trying to bring one of the ex Hydras general down. You however may be able to assist her. Will you two be able to cooperate? Or is it your fate to always stand on opposite teams?

Warnings: None in this chapter.

WORD COUNT: 2510 (give or take)

A/N: Hello!! So, this is heavily inspired by the song Murder on the Dance Floor (duh). I think it really suits the dynamic between Agent Natasha and Vigilante!Reader, and I thought, okay, let’s actually write it instead of just thinking about it and eventually forgetting. There are a few changes from the canon universe. In this AU, the Avengers didn’t separate after the Sokovia Accords (I’m a child of divorce, okay), so they’re a real family here. Peter is also part of the team and was never forgotten by every single human except, well Hulk (he deserves better). Natasha is alive and well, along with Yelena.And finally (last thing, I promise), this will be part of a mini-series. Maybe with three parts.That’s about it. Enjoy, and thanks for reading! :)

//

It was too late to do this. Natasha rubbed off the tiredness of her eyes for what must be the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes. This was getting ridiculous.

”…What if-“

“For the last Yelena, we are not committing arson.” The blonde grunted at the quick dismissal, sliding down the synthetic, black leather chair. Crossing her arms with a tired pout, she didnt look much to different from the six year old girl Natahsa remembered. The clock in the conference room is getting more obnoxious by the second, as if teasing them to not having an answer yet.

Across the room, the sulked eyes of Benjamin Horvat were looking right back at her. His picture was poorly pinned, hanging unconventionally by a small blade (courtesy of Yelena) on the board. Steve wont be happy when he sees it.

”It would be a small one! It wouldn’t be that hard, just some small fires around some of his clubs, see if there is any luck and make him come out. Quick and subtle.”

”There is nothing subtle in that plan Yelena.” Natahsa turns down again dryly.

It’s been six hours since Yelena payed a visit to the renovated compound, bringing her 5 month old puppy Fanny (which is currently being spoiled by Wanda and Peter). She came in with new dirt onto a possible Hydra ex-officer, one of a depressing long list that the team has yet to tackle down. Most of them ran when SHIELD fell down.

The two of them plus Steve and Bucky, managed to get intel on Benjamin’s Horvat. He was currently involved is some kind of shady precious gem business, along owning some expensive clubs that served as covers for the mafia. At first glance, you’d say that he was just another second class criminal. But that as far as aparences went. Because people like him were worth something, he was heavily guarded.

His intel was precious enough to make him valuable and well-protected. Access to him seemed almost impossible.

The worst part was that he didn’t even bother using conventional transport. Even after combing through all national surveillance, he didn’t appear on any of the cameras. Not even Redwing, Sam’s beloved drone, had managed to get a clear visual of him. It was almost as if he’d gone underground (which he hadn’t—Natasha checked). And despite his love for nightlife, the clubs he owned and frequented were highly exclusive, each with multiple layers of security clearance.

After a long evening, both Steve and Bucky called it a night, but the two sisters were too stubborn to let it go. They were both running out of ideas—or, in Yelena’s case, running through a list of increasingly dangerous, borderline illegal suggestions. Eventually, exhaustion began to take over, and the blonde started dozing off, her head slipping forward as sleep crept up on her. Natasha wasn’t far behind, her eyelids drooping as the hours dragged on.

But then—a sharp, static crackle echoed through the speakers, jolting both women awake. Instinctively, they snapped into defensive stances, eyes darting to the screens around the room as they flickered in a disorienting pattern of black and white, struggling to stabilize.

Finally, the screens gave a clear image, revealing a shadowy figure cloaked in darkness.

“Night, ladies! Glad to see you’re still awake,” a teasing, lilting voice echoed through the speakers. “Huh, take out from Luigi’s huh? Their pizza rolls are to die for.”

Natasha’s eyes widened, a flicker of recognition sparking across her face. Her posture shifted, shoulders squaring as an unconscious surge of energy overtook her weariness. It can’t be.

“I’d prefer pizza bites. Who are you?” Yelena asked, mirroring Natasha as she stood up. She’d clearly sensed the change in Natasha’s demeanor.

The redhead grabbed the tablet on the table next to her, attempting to trace the breach, but the system was completely overridden. Whoever this was shouldn’t have been able to slip past their security. She called for FRIDAY, but the AI didn’t respond.

“Aw, come on, not even a hello? Do you know how long I spent trying to surpass that stupid robot of yours?” the voice continued playfully. “It’s been a while, Natty. I thought you’d be glad to see me—or, well, hear me.”

Natasha’s face remained painfully stoic, but her white-knuckled grip on the tablet betrayed her turmoil. She knew this person loved theatrics, but even for them, this was going too far. “How many times have I told you not to call me that.” Natasha grunts in annoyance, a headache already starting to set in. There is a brief silence. She can practically see your pout from here.

“Geez, so grumpy.”

Yelena watches the exchange with curiosity, somehow not detecting a real threat. “I sense some... history here.”

“There is!”

“There is not!”

Both women snapped at Yelena, making her eyes widen as she instinctively stepped back, lifting her hands in mock surrender. “Ha, when you say that, it usually means there is…” she stated, amused.But the sentence died under Natasha’s withering stare. “Alright, just an observation. Geez, you are grumpy.” she muttered under her breath. Catching Natasha’s warning look, Yelena slid back into the chair, still grinning despite herself.

“Can we focus?” Natasha said, voice clipped.

Yelena just shrugged, casting a glance between the two of you.

“Oh, come on, don’t get shy on me, Agent Romanoff. Is it because we haven’t had our little “I run, you go after me” sessions recently?” You teased. “I promise, you’re the only one I let chase after me.”

It’s true that its been a while since you have gone under the radar. Even if you weren’t out committing your little revendouz vigilantes acts, Natasha still couldn’t help to keep an eye out for you. It wouldn’t be the first time that you took a mini sabbatical and returned with more messes for her to clean up.

Finally, from the shadows, a woman stepped a young woman, posture relaxed, radiating an air of practiced confidence. You wore your typical casual clothes, a fitted jacket and a crop under it. Your face was partially obscured by the lighting, but Natasha could see a few loose strands of hair escaping, catching faintly in the room’s dim light. Chest rising up and down rather fastly. It’s like you just returned from somewhere.

Your eyes, bright yet focused, lingered on Natasha with an amused glint. The faintest smirk played at the corner of your mouth, an expression that made Natasha feel strangely restless. There was something in that permanent look of yours that always kept her on edge.

“Who are you?” Yelena blurted out.

You gasped dramatically, resting a hand on your chest as if genuinely wounded. “Why, you hurt me, Agent! Didn’t you tell her anything about me? And here I was, starting to think that I meant something to you.”

Natasha sighed in exasperation, her gaze still scanning for any sign of how you managed to break in. But it was as if you’d been authorized from the inside. She knew you were good, hidden behind that playful demeanor, but it was exhausting how you always seemed one step ahead. “There’s nothing to tell,” Natasha replied curtly, “besides the fact that you’re a pain.”

You huffed in false offender , crossing your arms. “Archenemies would have sufficed. Besides, that is no way to greet someone who can help you with Horvat.”

Both of them froze at the name. Giving up, the redhead throws the device on the table, getting slightly closer to the TV and crossing her arms. If this was going where she thought it was, caution was very much need. Especially with you.

“A little…birdie, told me that we have, for once, a common enemy. Excluding each other of course.” You smiled at the last sentence, but your eyes were bright with a dangerous spark.

“He’s not as unreachable as you may think. I guess that by now you have figured that he frequents the nightclubs in the Lower East Side. He is supposed to assist to an event tomorrow at night. Just our luck, right?”

Natasha’s brows furrowed. “Our? What, exactly, do you want with Horvat? Did he make it onto your little blacklist?” She scowled, still irritated by the last man you’d managed to eliminate right under her nose.

As if reading her thoughts, you let out a light, teasing laugh. “Ah, well, I wouldn’t exactly call it little,” you said, an amused glint in your eye.

Natasha huffed under her breath, visibly displeased with your evasiveness. “What’s in it for you?”

Your smile faded just slightly, and for a moment, a flicker of real purpose showed through the facade. “Let’s just say he has something I need. Something personal.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, her suspicion unwavering. “And how in the world would you ever entertain the thought of me agreeing to work together?”

“Because you’re stuck,” you shot back, your voice sharper than usual. “Let’s be real, Romanoff—if I could do this alone, I wouldn’t be here. But not even you can’t get to him on your own. And…neither can I.” You admitted through your teeth. The playful glint softened, replaced by an intensity Natasha hadn’t quite seen from you before.

“I need someone who won’t mess it up if I’m going to get to him,” you continued, the amused mask slipping just a bit more. “That’s where you come in. I mean, who better to handle some undercover work than the Black Widow herself?” The slight provocation didn’t go unnoticed, but Natasha’s mind was already racing with possibilities.

The room fell into silence, the ticking clock on the wall seeming louder than ever as Natasha’s eyes bore into yours, as if trying to see every hidden motive. Perhaps she should just go fetch Wanda. Still, she held herself steady, determined to avoid letting any trace of intrigue slip. It only took a spark for you to create a fire.

Yelena, sensing the tension between the two of you growing sharper by the second, finally cut in, a note of exasperation in her voice. “So… how could you get us in—”

“Yelena, no.” Natasha cut her off sharply, her posture rigid and unyielding. “We are not entertaining this. And I’m certainly not working with her,” she added, the cold in her tone unmistakable. She turned her gaze back to you, her expression filled with deep distrust. “She does nothing but trick and deceive, and I’m not about to let her pull us into a mess.”

You held her gaze steadily, a flicker of hurt passing through your eyes—brief enough for Natasha to notice. She shook her head sturborling, she couldn’t afford to feel any remorse for you. But as quickly as the emotion came, it vanished, and you rolled your eyes playfully. That was something that sparked Natasha’s curiosity. Just like herself in the past (maybe still now at times) it seemed as if you had a mask. She didn’t know exactly how genuine that unserious facade, the one you always seemed to hide behind, truly was.

“So distrustful and uptight as always, I see. Tell me, has she always been this way?” you asked, looking at the blonde. Yelena shrugged, starting to answer but clamping her mouth shut as Natasha arched an eyebrow in warning.

“Look, I’m not thrilled about this either. But it’s the only way. Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think so,” you said, your tone uncharacteristically steady. “I’ll even compromise and act like one of your ‘goody-two-shoes’ heroes.” You almost gagged on the words. “Swear I’ll play by your rules, as long as it gets us to him. If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I don’t lie. Have I ever lied to you, Natasha?”

There was no mockery in your voice this time, just an unexpected sincerity. Natasha paused, caught off guard. Had you deceived her? Absolutely. Tricked her? Too many times to count, wounding her pride each time. But lied, outright and blankly, right to her face? As shocking as it was, she couldn’t recall a single instance. No matter the game, you’d always been blunt about what you were going to do.

Yelena, noticing Natasha’s hesitation, leaned in. “сестра (sister), maybe… maybe she has a point. We’re no closer to him on our own. And if she can get us in…”

Natasha looked at her, seeing the reason in her words, though every fiber of her instinct fought against trusting you. After a long pause, she rubbed her temples, exhaling heavily. As sad as it was, there wasn’t any better option. But to admit that she had no other option than to work with you, of all people, was burning her pride.

“Fine.”

Yelena gave a small fist pump of victory, relief lighting her face after the hours they’d spent trying to come up with a solid plan. Meanwhile, you grinned, satisfaction gleaming in your eyes.

“But—” Natasha cut in, fixing you with a hard look. “No tricks, no double-crossing. As you said before, do this by my rules, is that clear?”

You raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of your usual defiance flashing in your expression. “Well, I mean… it is my plan so technically—”

“My. Rules.” Natasha repeated, her voice dropping to a dangerously low tone that left little room for argument. Her stare bore into you, unyielding, and the confidence in your face faltered just a bit. “Understood?”

You swallowed, any spark of rebellion snuffed out under the intimidating weight of her gaze. “Understood,” you muttered, a hint of surprising, begrudging compliance in your tone.

“Oooh, scary mean glare,” Yelena muttered under her breath, clearly entertained as she watched you two bickering. A mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned back, curious to see how will play out between you two. Perhaps she should pay visits more often.

“Enlighten us, then. What in the world does this great plan, legal plan of yours involve?” Natasha inquires dryly. Another cheeky grin on your face was enough for her to know that she won't like it in the slightest. It was almost sinister, how much you enjoyed to push her bottons.

”Well…that answer can vary. How are your dance moves, Agent Romanoff?

Clearly baffled, she didnt have time to answer when someone blasted through the door, startling all three of you. “You! Are you the one you hacked FRIDAY?” demanded a frantic Tony Stark, dressed in Iron Man-themed pajamas, bags under his eyes and a steaming coffee pot in hand labeled “#1 Best Hero” (a gift from Peter). Honestly, Natahsa is a firm believer that he bought it himself but whatever.

You giggled almost manically. “Oops, that’s my cue! Talk to you later to get into details, Agent.” You practically purred, teasingly waving goodbye before cutting the connection in one swift motion. Natasha was met with her reflection on the now dark screen, your last words hanging heavily on the air.

Natasha drops on the chair heavily, grunting and rubbing her temples while looking at the roof in despair. How does she always end up in these situations?

[bingwriterxo]

drunk

pairing: tara carpenter x freeman!reader

summary: in which you've turned to drinking as a coping mechanism

warnings: talks of stabbing, mentions of throwing up

word count: 1600+

scream 5 spoilers! read at your own risk!

Heavy and rushed knocks on the front door of the apartment drew Tara from sleep. She sat up in her bed with bated breath and turned on her beside lamp as she heard Sam flick her own light on in the bedroom next to hers. There was the sound of shuffling footsteps, her sister's voice as she called out, "Who is it?", muffled noise as whoever was standing out in the hall answered, and then the clinking of locks being undone and the squeak of the door opening. 

Tara waited for a few moments, released the breath she was holding, and wondered if she'd have to get out of bed next. Her question was answered when Sam yelled, "Tara! Can you come in here?"

She slipped out of bed quickly, feet soft against the wood floor, and padded out into the living room. She was greeted by the sight of Sam, who was standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed over her chest, and Mindy and Chad, who were looking at her with worried eyes.

"What's going on?" she asked. 

"Tara!" The voice startled her as it came from none of the three people she was staring at, and she ventured farther into the room until she could see over the back of the couch. You were lying there, a wide grin on your face at the sight of the brunette and your arms wide open, like you were expecting her to just lay down right on top of you. "Hi, baby!" you greeted. 

She smiled. "Hi, Y/N."

"She's, like, really fucked up right now," Chad said, and Tara whipped her head up, staring at him with wide eyes. 

"What do you mean 'she's fucked up right now'?"

"He means," Mindy began, causing Tara's attention to fall on her instead, "that she showed up at my dorm like half an hour ago looking for you. She was blubbering like an idiot because she missed you but forgot how to get to your apartment." The girl shrugged. "I went to get Chad and we brought her over here."

"That's the fourth time this week, Tar," Sam interjected carefully, watching her younger sister. "She's been drinking a lot."

Tara glanced down at you, who was staring at her with big, dreamy eyes and clearly not listening to the conversation at hand, and sighed. "I know." She glanced at her friends and sister. "She's...she's still coping with...you know." The brunette didn't have to say the words for them all to understand what she meant: Woodsboro. 

Of them all, you had probably experienced the worst betrayal--Amber was your twin sister, and you had had no idea what she was planning until it happened. The raven-haired girl had stabbed you mercilessly with the idea of leaving no survivors behind, and you nearly died. 

Tara had experienced far too many times the nightmares that you would wake up from, in which your sister was hovering over you again, that same horrible smirk on her face as she dug the knife into you repeatedly. She'd tried to get you to talk about it, but you always refused and instead turned to partying as much as possible, which always resulted in this same ending--you, on her couch, plastered to the point of no return, and her taking care of you. 

Sam sighed. "I'll grab some Advil and water." She turned to Mindy and Chad. "You two can go now, if you want. Or stay." She shrugged. "Either way. Doesn't matter to me." She made her way to the kitchen, and the twins decided to follow her, leaving you and Tara alone in the living room.

"Oh, Y/N," Tara sighed as she rounded the couch. She kneeled beside you and placed her hands on your cheeks gently. You simply watched, leaning into her touch a bit. 

"Hi, pretty girl," you slurred, and, even after having been with you for the past three years, Tara could feel herself blush at the compliment. "Can we go cuddle?"

"Soon, my love." She rubbed her thumb against your skin and leaned closer. Your eyes flitted down to her lips, and she chuckled. "You can't keep doing this to yourself," she whispered. "It's not good for you."

You sucked in a breath. "Yeah."

Tara knew she wasn't going to get a real conversation out of you, not when you were that drunk, but she took that word as a sign that you at least knew that what you were doing wasn't right. She sighed and decided to table the conversation for the morning.

Sam returned then, with the twins in tow, and said, "I left two pills and a glass of water on your nightstand for her when she wakes up."

"Thanks, Sam," Tara said gratefully. She stood up and glanced at you before looking to Chad. "Could you...?"

He nodded and crossed the room, slipping one hand beneath your shoulders and the other beneath your knees. He picked you up gingerly and carefully carried you to Tara's room, lying you down on her bed. 

"Be good, champ," he said to you, squeezing your shoulder lightly before telling Tara, "We'll come by tomorrow."

"Okay," the brunette said with a nod, and then he disappeared, shutting the door behind him. She could hear the twins and Sam talking softly in the living room, most likely about the situation at hand, but her attention was focused on you. 

"Can we cuddle now?" you asked.

"Soon," she repeated. "Let me get you out of those clothes." She was gentle as she helped you out of your jeans and top, and then just as gentle as she slipped you into a pair of her pajama shorts and an old soccer t-shirt of hers. "Doesn't that feel better?"

You only hummed in response, and she knew that the alcohol was starting to put you to sleep. She nodded to herself and then climbed into bed beside you, reaching over your body to shut off her lamp. Once the two of you were encased in darkness--save for the small night light Tara had glowing in the corner; she couldn't find it in herself to sleep in the complete dark anymore, and neither could you--she wrapped an arm around your waist and buried her face between your shoulder blades, legs intertwining with your own.

"I wish you'd stop doing this to yourself," she whispered to ears that weren't listening. She held you close and tried to ignore the tears that pricked at her eyes. 

* * *

When she woke up, you were no longer in bed with her, but she could hear you in the bathroom throwing up, and she ran a hand down her face. The noise only lasted for a moment before the flush of the toilet came, and then the sound of the faucet, and then you were standing in her doorway, your palm pressed to your forehead.

"I feel like shit," you mumbled. 

Tara chuckled softly. "Well, you were really drunk last night, so I'm not surprised."

You groaned as you sauntered toward her bed, throwing yourself down on the edge of it. She sat up, rubbing a slow hand down your spine as you sat there, praying for your head to stop pounding. 

"Could you hand me the stuff on your nightstand?" you asked, referring to the pills and water Sam had left there the night before. Tara nodded, shuffling a bit before returning to you, placing the items in your hands.

You took the pills quickly and gulped down the glass of water after them, sighing with relief as the liquid quenched your parched throat. 

Silence blanketed the two of you for a moment before Tara decided to speak up. "That was the fourth time this week that that's happened, Y/N," she said, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. 

You clenched your eyes shut at the thought, releasing a shaky breath. "I know." You turned to her. "And I'm sorry that you keep having to take care of me."

She shook her head. "That's not what I care about. I'm more than happy to take care of you when you need it." She inhaled deeply. "But you can't keep doing this. It's not healthy."

You glanced down, staring at the bedsheets. "I know that, too, but...the only time I can't hear her is when I'm drinking." You swallowed. "Any time else, she's in my head. I don't...I don't know what else to do," you confessed quietly. Tara could see tears brim your eyes. "She won't go away."

"Is it just...that night?" she asked carefully. She didn't want to push, or that would cause you to end the conversation completely, and this was the most she had gotten out of you since the attack happened. 

"No," you said with a shake of your head. "No, sometimes it's just...memories, of growing up. I mean, with our parents gone all the time, we were basically the only family each other had. She...she wasn't great, obviously, but she was still my sister, and I just--" You were trembling, thoughts of Amber swirling around in your head and tears unable to be kept at bay. "I miss her, Tara."

"Y/N..." Tara wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you in, your face burrowing into her neck. She felt as your tears soaked her skin, and she held you tighter. "You're allowed to miss her. It's normal."

"But with everything she did, I feel like I shouldn't," you sobbed. "It's just...it's so much. And I--God, Tara, I just want things back to the way they were."

She ran her hands through your hair. "I know, baby. I know."

"How do I get it to stop? H--how do I stop feeling like this?"

Tara sighed. "It's gonna take time, sweetheart. And talking, too, you know. That'll help."

You pushed yourself further into her. "I'm sorry," you cried.

She shushed you. "What're you apologizing for? You don't have to apologize."

"I've been such a mess recently, and...and you've had to take care of me, and--"

"It's okay. It's okay." She tightened her grip. "You're okay. We'll just...we'll find you a better outlet, okay? That sound good?"

You nodded against her, your sobs quieting a bit. "Thank you. For being here. For sticking with me, after everything."

Tara pulled away just enough to place a kiss against your temple. "I'll always be here. I'm not going anywhere."

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 6: The Tip Of Your Tongue

Content warning: cannibalism, forced cannibalism, vomiting, angst, mention of non-consensual voyeurism

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

Total Depravity - The Veils Touch Myself - Genitorturers

* * * * *

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

* * * * *

Hours had passed since you awoke, long before sunrise and well before anyone else at the shrine had stirred. The night still envelops the world outside as you tiptoe out of your chambers, beginning your preparations for the day.

You bathe, tie your kimono, and comb your hair until it’s glossy. You're ready.

Now, you sit on your futon, waiting as the early morning sun gradually slides its fingers through the slats of your window.

Inevitably, your thoughts turn to the incident from last night. After two weeks of absence, Sukuna had finally returned to the shrine, and he certainly loved making an entrance. In a brutal display, he killed his stablehand in the corridor, toying with him, and making him suffer before ending his life.

You're unsure why Takashi entered your chambers while you were asleep, but hearing him die in such a manner was nauseating.

Worst of all, right before the end, Sukuna tauntingly declared he would be having Takashi as a meal. And you knew you would be expected to dine with him for the first time as husband and wife this morning.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling the cool silk of your gloves against your skin.

The mental acrobatics you were about to perform would be nothing short of a miracle. But that's why you were up early—to prepare.

You had bathed, your kimono tied, hair combed until it was glossy. You were ready.

Now, you sit and wait for the impending knock at the door, indicating your attendants' arrival.

Any minute now.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous about the upcoming encounter. The last time you saw Sukuna was weeks ago during that heated standoff. More heated on his part than yours. You still recall the way his four pupils dilated.

That way, he looked at you… You really need to kill him, and fast.

Your hands move to your lap, smoothing the fabric of your kimono in a repeated motion. Creasing it over and over again, then flattening it back out.

Back and forth, back and forth.

Any second now.

Your stomach cramps, pitching painfully.

You can handle this.

Knock, knock—

“Come in.”

You are on your feet before the third knock sounds.

The door groans open as Sayuri and Ren enter, giving you their customary bow. 

"Good morning, my Lady," they greet.

Ren’s voice is as reserved as ever, while Sayuri's tone is unusually animated. Her cheeks are practically glowing, eyes flashing with a bright intensity as she raises her head.

"Good morning," you nod, a calm, measured smile spreading across your face as you place your hands behind your back to fidget with them.

Sayuri steps further into the room. "Ah, you look lovely this morning." She all but beams the words at you.

"Oh, thank you," you reply, swallowing back modesty.

Ren silently moves to the futon to complete one of the few tasks you have allowed. Each morning, one of them sets the sheets back into place. They’ll likely need washing, as you woke up this morning covered in sweat from another one of your nightmares.

“Ren, would it be possible to have my sheets cleaned today?” you ask.

"Of course, my Lady," she replies, already starting to work efficiently. "I’ll replace them with a fresh set and remove these."

"Thank you," you murmur, twinging with embarrassment as the sweat-stained coverings are carefully removed.

It’s time to find a remedy for your disturbed sleep. Perhaps Uraume could help by making a sleeping draft.

"I’ll be the one showing you to breakfast this morning," Sayuri says, swaying on the balls of her heels. "Shall we?" She moves toward the door.

You glance at her, feeling your nerves taking root as if trying to anchor you in place. Despite the feeling, you force yourself to start moving. 

As you approach the door, something catches your eye—a small, pearl-white stain caking on the floor. It wasn’t there when you went to sleep last night. You toe it with your wooden sandals, watching the congealed mess flake. Your stomach curdles; you may be a virgin, but you are not naive. You know what semen looks like.

The incident from last night. Takashi.

You clench your fists.

Fucking pervert.

Beneath the surface, people can be an entirely different breed of animal.

You swallow the ugly feeling weighing on your chest before subtly grabbing a cloth from the wardrobe, wiping the stain off the floor and tossing it away.

Focus.

You exhale and move into the doorway's threshold before halting and glancing back.

"Ren, could you also have my door fixed? It makes a racket when opened and closed, and it's driving me a little mad," you ask gently, feeling conflicted about asking more of her. Though you suspect she won’t mind at all.

She looks up from folding your sullied sheets into a neat pile. Her eyes soften ever so slightly, a rare and welcome surprise.

"Of course," she hums before retreating into her familiar quietude, seamlessly returning to her task.

“Thank you.”

Sayuri moves closer to the doorway, silently urging you to step into the corridor. She communicates with her eyes, blinking prettily with her long, dark lashes.

You leave your chambers and glance to the right, towards Sukuna’s room. The muted feel of his presence suggests he’s gone, possibly already waiting for you. Though he’s not one to wait for anyone. 

Sayuri clears her throat, giving you the final push needed to take that first step.

One foot in front of the other, you start walking.

Though you've been traversing this same path for two weeks, today, the corridor seems to stretch on far longer than usual.

You keep moving forward, counting each step as if it were a mantra.

The skirt of your kimono brushes softly against the smooth wooden floor, its whispering sound helping you stay calm, stay centered.

Ahead, the turning point signals that the central hall is near. From there, you'll take another long corridor before reaching the private room.

You turn the corner.

Now, each step feels like a compulsion.

You pass the central hall and move into the final passage.

The door to the private room comes into view. It’s usually open, but today it’s shut. You swallow hard, realizing that being in that small space with the King of Curses will be suffocating.

You reach the door, stand there, and stare at it.

The lack of a breeze in the corridor suggests that the sliding door to the garden is also shut.

You listen intently for any sounds but hear nothing. Perhaps he isn’t here. You take a deep breath and catch the faint aroma of raw iron. He is here. The realization makes your mind go blank, erasing everything you had planned for this encounter.

The panic starts settling in, and you step away from the door.

“My Lady?” Sayuri’s soft and airy voice comes from behind. She steps closer, standing next to you. “Is something wrong? Is there anything I can do?”

Her voice, so reminiscent of your sister’s, brings you back to your purpose. Yuna is the reason you are here—the reason behind it all. To save her.

You straighten your shoulders and shake your head.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you, Sayuri.”

Inhale. Exhale. Reach. Pull.

You slide the door open halfway.

You are greeted by a large expanse of muscled back draped in a haori the colour of midnight.

Sukuna sits on a large cushion, facing away from the door. His body overwhelms the space, leaving little room for you to navigate to your side of the table. His upper arms extend outward to support his weight, while the lower pair is hidden in front. The dark colour of his garment contrasts with his skin, making the ink snaking around his wrists appear as an even deeper shade of black. He assumes his usual sitting position with one knee raised and the other leg folded beneath him, his posture both casual and attentive.

The sliding door thuds softly as you push it open fully.

Sukuna continues to give you his back, ignoring the sound of your entrance and making no gesture to acknowledge your presence.

Fearing him like a sleeping bear, you move silently through the door and into the room. You walk heel to toe, keeping balance, moving quietly.

You fix your eyes ahead, focusing on your destination: the cushion at the opposite end of the table.

Almost there.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see your bodies align side by side.

So close.

You take another step to pull yourself from his proximity.

Suddenly, his upper right hand leaves its place on the floor and moves forward. With all his arrogance, he pushes it beneath the hem of your kimono.

A firm grip ensnares your ankle, halting your steps.

His fingers, warm and steady, settle against the softness of your skin, wrapping tightly around the slender curve of your ankle.

You flinch, mustering all the restraint not to pull away, and in the end, you don’t.

If Sukuna were a shackle, you were a prisoner.

Heart racing, you tilt your head down to take in the situation.

Half of his forearm vanishes beneath the layers of fabric, and his tendons flex and shift as he adjusts his bruising grip.

You slowly raise your gaze until you are looking into his face. His eyes are lowered, focused on a ceramic dish on the table before him. A thick slab of meat stains the plate bloody. The cut is slick with a glistening sheen, hinting at its freshness.

He uses his lower left hand to eat, scooping up the pulpy flesh and bringing it to his mouth to tear off a chunk. Remarkably, he manages to keep blood off his chin, though his hand is smeared. His indulgence is almost civilized—almost.

He chews thoroughly, then swallows, the muscles in his neck tensing and rippling with the motion before going still. A look of bliss crawls over his face, making yours twist with disgust.

“Wife,” he says. His lower eyes are fixed on the meat as he places it back on the plate. His upper eyes turn to you. “I’ve been gone for two weeks, and you think you can slip in here without addressing me properly.” All four eyes finally lock onto you. “It appears that living under my roof in my absence has made you cocky.”

The grip on you tightens like a noose. The pressure against your delicate bones aches.

Your mouth dries.

From this angle, if you draw your right leg back, you might have a good chance of smashing his mask with your knee.

Be charming. Be obedient. Bottle everything up.  

“Welcome back, my Lord.” You bow your head respectfully. “I trust your travels were successful. We certainly missed your presence while you were away.” You force the words at the end through clenched teeth.

Cocking his head to the side, the monster studies you for a moment before bringing his red-stained hand to his mouth and licking the blood from his fingers while maintaining eye contact with you.

Your eyes start to narrow but then widen.

In one of the most bizarre displays you've witnessed from him, you feel his thumb start tracing gentle circles on the skin of your ankle, the pad of his fingertip sliding up and down.

A tremor of unease spans the length of your body.

Up and down, up and down. His thumb continues its languid path.

His jaw is set so severely that a muscle pulses along his jawline as he clenches his teeth. It’s clear he’s challenging you to do something reckless, but you stay perfectly still, even as your palms begin to sweat beneath your gloves.

Up and down, up and down.

What if you threw caution to the wind, tore off a glove, and shoved your hand into his face? Would you make contact in time, or would he cut you down before that? Most likely, the latter. You’d probably be dead.

Up and down, up and—

The circling abruptly stops.

A sharp, biting sting radiates from your ankle. He digs his nail into your skin with enough force to make your body jerk and twitch involuntarily. You feel a warm liquid trickle down your ankle. He’s broken the surface of your skin.

His nostrils flare in anticipation as if he can smell the blood pulsing beneath the fabric of your kimono. His eyes shut, chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he savours your scent.

You struggle against the urge to run, shifting on your feet, body swaying.

His eyes snap open, pupils dilated into black pools that swallow you whole.

You cease your movements, your spine locking into place as a shudder moves through you. Sensing it, the curvature of Sukuna’s mouth turns into a wide, hypnotic grin that reveals his sharp, pointed canines.

Now, you are scared.

“Sukun—my Lord.” your voice is a hesitant warning.

When he hears your nervous words, his eyes flicker to your mouth, and for too long, he’s captivated by the gentle dip and bow of your trembling lips. 

He blinks once, then twice.

The blackness consuming his eyes fades, and his grin vanishes into a pensive line.

Finally, he slowly releases your ankle, drawing his hand out from beneath your kimono. He then picks up the meat from the plate.

“Sit,” he commands dismissively, his eyes never leaving the bloody pulp.

It takes several heartbeats for you to gather yourself before you begin to move. Each step exacerbates the pain from the cut on your ankle. You are aware that you will need to bandage it later, once you can properly assess the wound. A pool of blood remains at the spot where you stood, and your kimono trails through it, leaving a stain across the floor.

When you reach your spot, you kneel on the cushion. Your meal is already prepared and waiting for you. As usual, it consists of rice, fruit, and vegetables. Meat has finally been removed from your meals, as it consistently remains untouched.

You lift your head to realize Sayuri is still waiting in the doorway, her presence having been forgotten. Now that you've finally taken a seat, she eagerly steps inside, her gaze remaining on Sukuna.

There’s a sense of longing behind her eyes.

“Get out,” he snaps, not bothering to turn. Her face falls, and you can’t help but feel sympathy for her as she is dismissed so curtly.

“Yes, Master,” she murmurs before retreating from the room and sliding the door shut, effectively trapping you inside.

You glance back at Sukuna, narrowing your eyes as you watch him eat in silence. His lower left elbow comes to rest heavily on the table, making a thud that rattles everything on it.

“I can feel you staring at me, brat. Why don’t you focus on the shit in front of you instead of me?” Sukuna remarks between mouthfuls, chewing voraciously.

You suppress a scoff and glance down at your plate.

“What do you mean, ‘that shit’? It’s called food,” you retort, grabbing your chopsticks from the table. “Unlike that travesty on your plate.” With a sharp glance at Sukuna, you pick up a piece of cucumber and shove it into your mouth.

What the hell are you doing? Charming. Obedient.

His eyes lift, and the atmosphere shifts as he pins you with a stern expression. To spite you, he takes a larger bite and chews so loudly that the clacking of his teeth is almost unbearable.

“You want to talk about what this travesty is?” he growls through his chewing, lifting the meat for emphasis. “Or rather, who it is?” It flops in his grip, accentuating his point.

Your blood runs cold.

No. You didn’t want to discuss who it was, because you already knew. The shame of what happened gnaws at you. You are unsure what you did to earn the stain that ended up on your chamber floor. All you know is that Takashi came into your room, and now he’s dead.

“I’d rather not,” you murmur, dipping your chin and focusing on your food.

“Tch, of course not,” he scoffs before returning to his meal with a renewed appetite.

Choosing not to respond, you scoop some rice up with the chopsticks and eat in silence.

Technically, you have only known each other for a day and have been married for just a few weeks. Yet, already, your interactions resemble those of a long-married, unhappy couple.

As you work through your meal, you finish the vegetables, then the rice, and finally, a cup of water to wash it all down.

You save the best for last: a fat, ripe peach.

You slide one glove off and bring the succulent fruit to your mouth. As you take a bite, the smooth skin gives way effortlessly under your teeth. Juices burst onto your tongue, a perfect blend of sweetness and tanginess that almost makes you groan with pleasure.

Uraume may be many things—emotionless, aloof—but they definitely knew how to find the most delicious peaches.

Feeling a sudden heat on your skin, you realize Sukuna’s gaze is fixed on your face. You look up to find him chewing slowly, deliberately, his eyes following the velvety fruit held between your thumb and index finger and the way your lips wrap around it.

A trickle of juice escapes from the corner of your mouth, making its way to your chin. Without thinking, you use the back of your hand to wipe it away before taking another bite.

Sukuna's eyes darken.

You are not entirely sure if this is part of your plan, but perhaps this approach will work—death by peach seduction.

The fruit squelches as your teeth sink into it for a third bite.

Drip, drip, drip.

Sukuna pauses mid-chew, his eyes fixed intently on your hand and mouth. His top lip twitches slightly. For a moment, he remains motionless until he swallows visibly. With a sudden sharp movement, he tosses the meat onto the plate, causing the ceramic to clang loudly.

“Come here,” he snaps.

The abrupt command catches you off guard. Not eager to provoke him, you set the peach down on your plate, wipe your hand, and slip your glove back on.

You approach cautiously and stand by his side.

With two fingers, he gestures to a spot on the floor.

“Sit.”

You sink to your knees beside him, feeling dwarfed by his imposing size.

Before you have a chance to react, Sukuna swiftly grabs your wrist with his upper left hand.

“What are you—ah!”

You stumble forward into his space as he pulls you with a force that makes you take a sharp breath. The sheer strength he uses forces you to brace yourself by placing your other hand on his muscular thigh.

“Hold still,” he grunts.

As you try to steady yourself, memories of his aggressive handling of your breasts in the forest flash through your mind, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead.

He studies your delicate silk glove closely, rotating your wrist and forcing your palm to turn over several times. Then, with his lower left hand, he reaches for the human tissue and rips off a piece.

He brings it towards your face.

“Open.”

Shit.

“I’m not eating that.”

He clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“Oh, come on now. You once asked me to share a meal with you. Well, I’m doing just that. Besides, I can’t have my wife going hungry, can I?” His sneer is laced with mockery as he moves the piece of red tissue, pinched between his thumb and forefinger, closer to your lips. “Now, open.”

You lean back, trying to distance yourself.

“Your wife is not hungry. Let go,” you snap, your heart rattling in your chest.

“That’s a shame because I’m not taking no for an answer,” he growls. “Now, part those lips you just so brazenly taunted me with.”

Your face flushes with heat. He always seems to have the upper hand in these moments.

“No, there’s no way I’m eating that,” you insist, shaking your head as you shuffle backward, sitting on your haunches. 

He grabs your other wrist with his upper right hand, tightening his grip on both. Slowly, he drags you back towards him. Your wooden sandals scrape against the floor until you are practically in his lap.

“I will give you until the count of three before I pry your mouth open,” he says, his voice dropping to a menacing tone.

Using his extra appendages to his advantage, his lower right hand wraps around your face. Your chin rests between his thumb and forefinger, while his palm supports the underside of your jaw. His hand is so large it nearly engulfs your entire head.

You can’t help but whimper at the intense physical contact.

His eyes narrow.

“One.” 

He starts the countdown.

Your breathing grows uneven.

Your eyes dart between the piece of human flesh—no, Takashi’s flesh—in his fingers and his unyielding gaze.

"Two." 

If you can free one wrist from his grip, you might be able to slip off one glove.

“Three,” he says quietly, his grip tightening on your jaw and wrists. “Time’s up.”

Without hesitation, he follows through on his threat.

He begins to part your lips, doing so with excruciating slowness. Your tongue fights against the pressure, making a soft clicking sound as it leaves the roof of your mouth.

As he forces your mouth to open wider, his own mouth parts slightly. Tilting his chin up to look down at you, his red eyes lower in a way you've come to recognize—those eyes that seem to catch you at your most vulnerable, when your facade starts to crumble.

You are trembling with a desperate need to escape, pulling gently and testing his hold, but his strength is unmatched. The King of Curses is always unmatched.

A low whine escapes your mouth as he moves the piece of meat closer to you. His thumb, previously resting against the side of your face, shifts to press into the dip under your lower lip, dragging it downward.

Time slows.

Your heartbeat pounds so loudly in your ears. The piece of flesh approaches your parted mouth.

Your vision narrows. Weightlessness overtakes you.

He guides the meat past your lips, positioning it carefully on the tip of your tongue before gently setting it down. Salt and iron. As he withdraws his fingers, he presses his thumb upward, closing your mouth.

“Chew.” His voice has become low, rough.

You don’t chew.

His grip tightens painfully around your jaw.

You begin to chew.

Rolling the meat around in your mouth. You force yourself to ignore the unsettling texture and suppress the urge to regurgitate it into his lap.

“Swallow it.”

Fuck you, Ryomen Sukuna.

You swallow.

Satisfied, he smirks and releases his hold on you.

As the chewed human flesh moves down your esophagus and settles in your stomach, your face contorts in reaction. You feel your body tense and revolt.

You heave once.

Sukuna’s face morphs into a look of disgust as he realizes what’s about to happen.

You scramble to your feet with frantic speed, rushing to the garden door and wrenching it open. The door almost comes off its track with the force of your action.

Bursting into the summer heat, you stagger into the garden, bend over, and vomit the contents of your stomach onto the ground.

A harsh bark of laughter erupts from back inside the room, echoing through the open door and reaching your ears over the sound of retching.

You stay hunched over, expelling every last bit of bile until there’s nothing left to throw up.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaches, and you tilt your head to glance back at the doorway.

Sukuna casually leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with a smirk.

“You really couldn’t handle it, could you?” he chuckles. “You are so fragile, so weak.”

You straighten.

On the tip of your tongue lies every profanity and curse that waits to be unleashed. But you swallow them down, choosing to hold back the torrent of rage.

“Nothing to say? Your father really does have you well-trained. Just a mutt.” Sukuna taunts.

You clench your fists in response to his relentless goading, then turn to head back inside, deliberately brushing past him.

“I should have taken your sister as my wife instead.”

The statement hits you like a slap, though you know such a union was never an option. Still, the sheer audacity of him using it to provoke you stops you cold.

Your breathing halts as you turn on your heel to face him.

“What did you just say?”

A vicious smile cracks across his face. He steps closer.

“You heard me. Your sister. I should have taken—”

“Don’t you ever talk about my sister again, you fucking vile creature!” you shout, the words spewing from your lips with anger.

He takes another step toward you, and to your surprise, you step toward him as well. Standing chest to chest, you strain your neck to look up at him.

“What are you going to do, girl?" He mocks, patronizing you. "Scream, yell, cry at me?”

If only he knew what you were truly capable of and what he'd just unleashed.

Your palms itch inside your gloves, every taunt drilling into your skull.

“Go ahead, try to do something. It will be entertaining and utterly pointless,” he spits so bitterly that his top lip curls up.

A violent surge of adrenaline courses into your veins, and that familiar hum, skittering beneath your fingertips, rises to the surface.

Control yourself.

Sukuna closes the distance further until your chest is pressed against his abdomen.

“Do it! Let’s see if you're even capable of scratching me.”

You tremble. Fists clench and unclench. Subtly, you bring your hands together, pinching the edge of one glove and preparing to remove it.

His fingers curl inward, leaving only his middle and index fingers extended. His presence fills the space with a tense energy, coiled like a snake ready to strike.

“Do it!” he commands, voice booming.

Your jaw shakes. Your legs shake. The overwhelming urge to strike at him is too much.

Kill him.

But your rational mind reasserts itself.

You can’t do it.

Throwing everything away in a moment of reckless fury is not an option. A reckless death is not an option. Surviving this—so you can return home—is and has always been your only option.

With a deep breath, you let your hands fall to your sides.

The anger that crashes across the King of Curses' face is instantaneous. His four arms tense as if he's restraining himself, just as in your recurring nightmare.

A deep, jagged groove cuts a path between his mask and eyebrow. His energy increases.

With no other options available and no way to escape the escalating situation, you push off your wooden sandals, gather the hem of your kimono, slip through the open garden door, and fucking run.

* * * * *

🔗 Chapter 7

[goldsbitch]

I gave so many signs

summary: First unrequited love is not the one to ever leave your mind. Y/N looks back at her missed connection with Charles Leclerc from the time they were just teenagers and regrets having him slip away.

song fic (disclaimer: rights belong to the respectable owners)

exile - Taylor Swift Lie to me - 5 Seconds of Summer (feat. Julia Michaels) Worst of you - Maisie Peters

warning: Present time, the past

Coming back home to Monaco always brought a sour smile to her face. She loved growing up in this strange small town where everyone knew each other and celebrities came to show off and then went back to wherever, to tell stories of Monte Carlo.

They say that you get to experience three very different real loves in your lifetime - and only if you're lucky, it would be with the same person. Her first love was Charles Leclerc.

I saw you lookin' brand new overnight I caught you lookin' too, but you didn't look twice

Visiting family was the reason why she always came back, but going out with the few girls from high school who stayed there was a treat she dared not to miss. There is just something about hanging out with those people who helped one buy the first eyeshadow and with whom she pregamed at one of their step dad's dermatology office before going on trying to get into any club that would allow minors in. So there she was once again, at the old time spot, having a harder time to hold her alcohol since she'd passed the magic non hangover years. And to her luck, he walked in only a bare half an hour later than her.

Whenever she saw him, even after those years, it was like everyone else had dissapeared from the room. He seemed to age like wine.

It's 3 AM and the moonlight's testing me I know that you've been holding on to someone else And now I can't sleep

"Come here to me," she teased, moving closer to him. He tried to stop her and playfully pushed himself the furthest away possible the couch would allow. "Charlie, let me see!" she insisted and sat on top of him. She had to act quickly, there would be no way for her to keep the upper hand. He was just turning eighteen soon and the time in gym was starting to bring back results. "I do not have any hairline, Y/N," he gasped, annoyed. His tone changed. Back then she interpreted it as just him being done with her shit. Looking at it now, there probably was a different reason why he became more stiff. She sat on him, going through his hair and taking few photos, blissfully unaware. "I'll show this to you in a few years and we'll see! Ha!" Charles eyes were shooting arrows in her direction. She looked back at him, curious and not grasping the moment in the same way as he did. "What?" she asked simply. "Nothing..."

I can see you standing, honey With his arms around your body Laughin', but the joke's not funny at all

She laughed a bit at that memory as she sipped her drink and tried her best to avoid keeping looking back at him as he sat with his current friends and an absolute gorgeous girl laughing at his joke. She knew who she was. Sometimes she peaked at his socials and then blocked him again right away. She certainly knew he had her blocked.

They went to different schools and Charles had his racing activities anyway. So they'd spent a lot of time texting. A lot.

It was just one of the horrifically long school days where she doubted the point of her existence. Life had to be more than sitting in a pointless computer science class. She wanted to be a big lawyer girl boss one day, so why would she ever care about programming. There she was, staring at the assignment from the teacher who was stuck in 20th century anyway, having little to no clue what to do. As she'd usually do, she texted Charles. Bombed him with twenty texts demanding attention, before he finally responded. "OMG i thought someone had died" "i am dying charles" "no your not" "*you're" "i can go back to my race simulator if you keep being a little shit" "nooo, please dont go. you're my only hope. sorry, your. i get it, you got out of the school too early." "that's it, i'm gone" "noo, please stay, I'll be nice and say nice things about you" "i'm staying, go on" "you are absolutely gorgeous" "yes, agree. more" "you are soo funny, amazing, future heart breaker and your passion for racing is so inspiring" "i like this. more"

Second, third, and hundredth chances Balancin' on breaking branches Those eyes add insult to injury

They were inseparable, yet nobody knew. Always meeting alone, because they did not need anyone and their social circles didn't really meet together. Whenever he was back in town, the two of them would hit up their favorite café or hang out at his house and then go for a walk. The two of them walked around Monte Carlo as if they were suppose to be the cartographers creating the first map of that area ever. Those were the good old days that came to end very unexpectedly.

We always walked a very thin line You didn't even hear me out (Didn't even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)

His hands were shaking when he sent the email. But he just could not take it anymore. He was over the moon in love with her and didn't know how to contain it.

"there is no easy way to say this. i love you. sorry. i'm stupid and i know we're just friends. but i basically live only for racing and seeing you. i'm terrified of seeing you with someone else. if there is at least a cell in your body that feels the same, please let's meet up and talk about it. if not, do not reply and i will never mention this again and deal with it. i love you."

She was seventeen when she got his message out of the blue. A scared little girl who was petrified of feelings and anything relationship related. So she never replied to his email.

All this time I never learned to read your mind I couldn't turn things around (I couldn't turn things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (You never gave a warning sign)

Charles had a very little hope that she'd feel the same - why would she, such an amazing person, kind, fun and totally glorified in his eyes, so he could not even imagine him being worthy of her. But what if? What if he was enough? With every day when she did not respond to his email, his heart sank lower. Still, the pain of the first rejection is a hard one to take, because it's usually from a scared unexperienced heart to another and the clumsiness causes great deal of accidental collateral damage one remembers until the end of their life.

You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out

She texted him from school few days after that - a normal text, as if nothing happened. Both of them were too chicken to address the situation openly. So he opted for buring his feeling and she for playing like she had no idea. Deep down, she always knew, even before he emailed her. They texted, continued to meet up. But it was never the same again.

Flashing back to New York City I was done, but you undid me Classic me to run when it feels right

It was hard to get closure for her. After all that had happened and the mess the two made for each other was a hard lesson she remembered vividly. She glanced at your first love again - and finally she met his look, after almost two years of managing to missing each other while they were both back in Monaco. She'd daydreamed about bumping into him, the two chatting and smiling again. The world stopped again for few moments. He shot her an unsure quick half smile that said it all. She knew him too well for that.

And now I wish we never met 'Cause you're too hard to forget While I'm cleaning up your mess I know he's taking off your dress

It was her prom night and she could not be more excited. All her friends were here, family, even Charles managed to get in town to watch her dance and drink all night. She had the night of her life, perfect end to end this chapter of life. The excitement her eyes held was contagious. She spent the first half of her evening with the family and Charles, sharing few dances and laughs. If felt like the good old days. But one shot of tequila led to another and there she was, drunk as pirate and unhinged like a teenage girl. Charles did his best to keep her parents at bay, keep them occupied while he got one of his friends to take care of her. He was worried she might do something stupid, like walk up to the stage and fall down breaking all of her bones. Finally, her parents decided to leave without having to saying goodbye to her after Charles spent a good half an hour convincing them she was just in the back stage and that he'd get her home safe. When they were gone, he began to search for her, only to finally find her sitting on the stairs, making out with the friend he assigned to keep an eye on her.

So take me to every party and just talk to your friends Why don't you let me down, I'll let you do it again Go on and walk all over me, just don't walk away Give me the worst of you 'Cause I want you anyway

It was like being cut open alive and having people watch. There was nothing even remotely graceful about her actions, she was literally sitting on the floor having a battle of tongues with another drunk teenager while people had to walk pass her. It was embarrassing. Charles didn't know what to do. He wanted to run away and never come back, but he couldn't leave her there alone. He couldn't bring himself to stop the two of his friends, because he was just too sad and heartbroken to do so. He just stayed nearby and kept an eye on them. It was one of the longest nights in his life.

She couldn't remember the second half of her prom night and Charles would never speak of it, even though she begged him many times. He always became stiff and started to leave the room. She only kept asking, because it marked one of the biggest shifts in their friendships. He became cold, unresponsive and after few weeks, he stopped communicating completely.

You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out I think I've seen this film before

Funny how people's faces change with years, but the eyes stay the same. The eyes and the look. Charles looked at her the second time this evening. It was like staring back at the eighteen year old boy who was drowning in his feeling.

It was one of her last nights in Monaco before leaving for university. Finally, her dreams were coming true. She was more than ready to get our to show the world she was a force to be reckoned with. She sent Charles countless messages before her final departure, at that moment, she was sure she'll never ever get back to Monaco and wanted to at least understand why he became distant. One evening, he finally agreed to meet up and talk. She was over the moon. Knowing that she could always turn Charles over, she left feeling confident - he was one the very few people she was sure shared the same soul as her. It was as if they'd never stopped talking. Jokes flying everywhere, the two of them strolling around, having no idea this would be the last time (and maybe, that was better for her at the time). There was so much to share, the two kept talking over each other for hours. Charles was happy when she finally stopped to take a breath for a moment. She looked him in the eye and saw a look she'd seen countless of times on his face. There was a shift in her mind and out of nowhere, she was kissing the boy she'd been unknowingly in love for years. She'd realize that she loved him only once she started dating a random guy from her college, expecting the same feeling Charles gave her. But it never came. Had she known, she'd have stayed with him. He tried to convince her to start dating him. Almost begged her to try it with him long distance. But there was a whole world for you to discover, places to be and versions of her that needed discovering. She had kissed only once. But it was a kiss of a lifetime. He blocked her on all socials after she rejected him again.

I never learned to read your mind (Never learned to read my mind) I couldn't turn things around (You never turned things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) So many signs, so many signs You didn't even see the signs

The girls were laughing at some joke she missed while digging in her memory for traces of her first love. Charles Leclerc. He was sitting few tables away from her. This time, her heart sank as he kissed his girlfriend on the cheek as they walked away from the bar. She wanted to run to him, to talk to him again after all those years. To tell him the same thing he once emailed her. To explain that she was just too young to notice she had the love of her life right next to you. But she knew all too well what his answer would be. And just like he had back then, she never wanted to hear it out loud.

And I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

part 2

[charlotteking23]

Would you be able/willing to write an Eric Coulter x reader soulmate au where you feel a dulled version of your soulmate’s pain (more of an awareness of there being pain, and knowing where that pain is then actual pain) after you meet them for the first time, and the way that Eric figures out that the reader is his soulmate is because she suffers from chronic migraines and one day she’s missing from training and he finds her curled into the foetal position on the bathroom floor trying to keep still so the room stops spinning long enough for her to stand up? Maybe he takes her to the infirmary or maybe he doesn’t, but the entire time she’s like that he has maybe the worst headache he’s had in his entire life and he knows it’s nothing compared to what she deals with almost everyday.

My Pain

Eric Coulter x Reader soulmate au

I lay curled up in bed hearing the snores and the eerie quietness of the dauntless dorm. I looked around to see everyone asleep but me. This damn headache kept me awake the whole night.

I try to fall asleep squeezing my eyes shut as hard as possible but to no avail. I hear loud footsteps approaching the dorm, knowing it's Four here to wake us up. I silently got out of bed, quickly changing my shirt and putting on my shoes since I decided to sleep in my sweats.

The migraine was still killing me, I wondered if my soulmate could feel the amount of pain I was feeling, or if he was able to get any sleep?

I walked down towards the dauntless cafeteria, hoping I still had an appetite. As I approached, I saw Uriah already awake eating cake. I sat on the bench across from Uriah taking a piece of bread.

"Why are you eating cake at 7 in the morning?" I said with a teasing smile. "Why not? It's delicious" Uriah replied stuffing the rest of the cake in his mouth.

I quietly giggle under my breath. "Are you not hungry, You Usually finish like 5 pieces of bread", Uriah said with a concerned look. "Yeah I'm fine, just a migraine," I said with a fake smile but Uriah saw right through that.

A booming voice interrupted me and Uriah's conversation, "Initiates hurry up, you have two minutes to get to the gym". I look to find Eric standing there with all his glory. He looked out of place among the dauntless maybe it was his emotionless face or his bright blue eyes. But that didn't matter, all I felt was this throbbing migraine, How does one even get a migraine.

I quickly got up rushing towards the gym.

Four told us to run 10 laps, I started running but it kept feeling worse and worse. My head was pounding because of the immense pain, and I felt as if I wanted to puke. We finally finished and by that I mean I was the last one done. Immediately I fell on the floor, trying to regain my breath from the run.

Hearing footsteps, I look up to meet those blue eyes that haunt me. "That was pathetic", Eric said glaring at me as if I was dirt on his shoe. "What," I said getting up from the floor and glaring back at him ignoring the pain I was feeling. " what makes you think you can get into Dauntless if you can barely run 10 laps, He said as if running 10 laps around the compound was the easiest thing to do. Thankfully before I could reply, Four told us to partner up and fake fight. I left feeling Eric's eyes gapping through my head.

I was partnered with Tris, she was decent. I felt so dizzy feeling like I could pass out any minute. I left Tris telling four I had to use the restrooms. I made it in the restrooms splashing some water on my face to wake me up. I sat on the bathroom floor in the foetal position trying to keep still so the room stopped spinning long enough for me to stand up. I sat there for what felt like forever not having the strength to return to training.

Eric P.O.V

Where is she? it's already been half an hour, I said rubbing my hand over my chin and looking for Y/N. I don't know, she said she needed to use the restroom, Four said not even glancing at me but only focusing on that stiff. I huff walking out of the gym to the restrooms, Ever since last night I have been feeling some headache pain but it's been feeling worse recently. I hope she didn't skip if she knows what is best for her.

I expected to see an empty restroom but saw Y/N curled on the floor, crying. Hey, are you okay? I was trying to approach her but didn't know what to say. I am not good at comforting people at all. I gently pick her up bridal style, carrying her to my apartment. I approach my apartment opening the door with my keys.

It was bigger than most apartments because I was a leader. it was spacious with a living room and a bookshelf near my desk. I walked towards my bedroom gently laying her on my bed since she was asleep.

I could she didn't get any sleep because her eye bags and her nose looked so red because of the crying. She looked so peaceful but I know in reality she was hurting. I waited for a couple of hours until she woke up, Training for today was already over.

Y/n P.O.V

I woke feeling well rested, the covers were so soft it felt like silk, It was so warm and I didn't want to ever leave. If I didn't realize this was not the dorm but someone's apartment.

I carefully slid off the bed checking if my clothes were still on. I tiptoed towards what seemed to be the living room but who was there surprised me. "Eric", I whispered his head immediately looking toward me. "how are you feeling? I made some tea if you wanted some, He said but all I could was nod yes. He pats the seat next to him on the couch, and I quickly sat next to him. I waited for him to speak but he just kept looking at me with these different emotions, it felt overwhelming to look in his eyes.

" what happened and why am I in your apartment?", I said trying to recall what had happened. Eric's voice interrupted my thought, "I found you laying on the bathroom floor asleep so I carried you here because they were full in the infirmary." "Thank you, Eric". I felt grateful he had helped me and that my migraine felt less intense than before.

"What happened, why were you on the floor?" Eric began to stay seeing how curious to know what made me pass out. "I had a migraine since last night and It got worse throughout the day". I replied, expecting Eric to kick me out but instead, I heard him whisper last night over and over as if trying to solve a mystery.

"Y/N, I think I am your soulmate", He said putting his hand through his hair. Okay, that wasn't what I was expecting him to say. "what, are you sure?" I said not believing him. You said you got your migraine last night well so did I and it felt worse today, especially when you passed out. And I know it sounds cliche but when I held you I felt sparks.

"Here I will prove it." This man decided to punch himself in the face to prove he was my soulmate. That's kinda sweet but stupid but still sweet. "Owe, Okay I believe you but please don't punch yourself on purpose again", I said as I rubbed my cheek angrily with a pout on my lips.

"I'm happy I found my soulmate, even if it is the scary leader", I said with a teasing grin I probably look stupid right now but I didn't care I was just happy I found my soulmate and didn't have to die lonely. "I am happy my soulmate is someone I tolerate", Eric said smiling. It was my first time seeing him smile knowing it wouldn't be the last.

[lilacmingi]

FULL MOON

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. And please don’t spam-like!

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Vampire!fem reader

Word count: 5,000

Note: I’ve been STRESSING about not having any completed imagines for Halloween but I was able to finish this one. It’s fluffy and sweet but also there’s a steamy kiss at the end oop 🫢

The light of the full moon shone down on the dew-covered grass outside as you sat inside on the couch, cuddled up next to your boyfriend, Chan, who felt particularly warm and cozy as the both of you watched a movie together. On the screen, the end credits rolled, your eyes momentarily following as each name passed before lifting your head from Chan's shoulder.

"Another?"

That one word gained a nod from your boyfriend who took the remote and started scrolling for a second film to occupy your time. Both you and Chan were major night owls and enjoyed staying up into the AM hours, often having movie marathon hangouts when you were both nothing more than good friends. Other times were spent indulging in late-night ramen and having pointless conversations that led nowhere. You were a good match, perhaps even perfect.

Since you started dating four months prior, things hadn't changed much, other than the fact that your hangouts were now called dates. And then there were the cuddles and kisses that took place during these dates of yours.

Chan pressed his pillowy lips against your temple as a small display of affection while flicking through suggested movies on the screen, not really paying attention to the time. Normally, he wouldn't let it get away from him, but with you around, it was easy to get caught up in the moment. It wasn't until that all-too-familiar feeling tugged at his chest that Chan realized what time it was, his eyes darting to the living room window where the full moon shone down outside.

He forgot.

Picking up on his change in body language, you glanced over at him, brows tugging together in mild concern.

"Is everything okay?" You inquired, placing a tentative hand on his bicep, rubbing it in a soothing manner.

Chan's heartbeat increased rapidly as he fought to maintain a straight face. He didn't want to reveal his true form to you, but he knew he couldn't hide his secret forever. Though he had managed to keep it under wraps throughout your friendship and, so far, four months of dating.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He responded, giving you a forced half smile. "I'm just a little tired, that's all." It was the worst excuse he could possibly come up with, but it's what slipped out of his mouth.

"Mr. I Stay Up Until 5 AM is tired?" You teased him lovingly. It's something you always did when you were still just friends. Teasing was a big part of your relationship.

He rolled his eyes at your playful remark. "Maybe I'm trying to get my sleep schedule back in order."

Though you considered hitting him with another teasing comment about how he'll never get his sleep in order, you chose to be serious.

"Alright, alright. I'll cut the teasing. Let's put on another movie and if you get tired, you can sleep in my lap." You offered.

Chan's expression softened at your proposition and he hoped it would be a good distraction from the effects the moon was having on him. All he needed was something to calm him. Surely that would do the trick—right?

"How can I refuse such a sweet offer?" He grinned, using the remote in his hand to select a movie from your shared watchlist.

The both of you settled back into the couch as the opening scenes played on the screen, the background music filling the room as the main cast's names flashed over the backdrop. Things were peaceful, but it didn't last long. Roughly five minutes into the film, Chan became tense again, his hands clenching into fists where they rested on his knees. That feeling in his chest was getting stronger and he wasn't sure how long he could hold back his true nature before it came out and reared it's ugly head. If he let that happen, your relationship would change forever.

He slowly laid his head on your lap to which you immediately accommodated, letting him get situated before running your fingers through his soft brown curls. A sigh left him at the gentle and calming sensation your fingers caused, sending waves of relief throughout him with each caress. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to tame the beast within trying to break free. The moon was really starting to effect him and not even your calming touch could help. He couldn't suppress the creature trying to break free from within; the transformation was inevitable. Chan knew he would need to make up an excuse to leave the room soon or things wouldn't go well. His worst nightmare would come true.

He let out the faintest strained noise as he was overcome with another wave of discomfort, sitting upright and getting to his feet.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom. Don't worry about pausing the movie." The words left his lips hurriedly, his urgency barely concealed.

You nodded, assuming he wasn't feeling well, not thinking too much of it as he scurried out of the living room.

The door was pushed shut behind Chan hastily while another wave of discomfort twisted his insides. He moved to the sink, letting out a heavy sigh and hoping he didn't raise any suspicions with his exit. The other part of him, what he was, had slowly started to take over now, his eyes flickering from their natural warm brown to a golden hue as he tried his best to repress it.

"No, no, no." He hissed under his breath, clenching his teeth.

This was not supposed to happen.

With the way things were going, he had no choice but to let nature take its course. He mentally cursed himself for thinking he could have a date with you on the night of the full moon and for failing to keep an eye on the time.

The bathroom was small and cramped, which meant Chan could accidentally hit or break something during the transformation process, but he didn't care at this point. The urges within him were much stronger than his worries and the aches were only getting more intense.

A familiar tingling sensation prickled at Chan's hands and he raised them to find his nails growing longer, slowly forming sharp claws. It was a sight he was accustomed to, but not one he wanted to be seeing on this particular night. His breathing became labored, leaving him in heavy huffs as he gripped the edges of the sink, leaning over it while the last shred of humanity within him resisted, but it wasn't enough to stop the inevitable from happening. He inhaled a sharp intake of air, his eyes fully shifted to a golden hue, glowing softly from the intensity of his transformation. He stumbled a bit and doubled over as his ears grew into points, his clenched canines elongating to form sharp, pointed fangs that could easily tear through flesh. He leaned against the wall with a thump and a groan, pushing himself off to try and stand up as the agony slowly came to an end. A growl rumbled in the back of his throat, his clawed hands trembling as he tried to steady his breathing, but his body was on high alert for some reason and he was finding it hard to relax. He panted heavily, hunched over the sink while fighting off the urge to burst out of the bathroom and go outside to hunt.

You were seated in the living room on the couch, your worry for Chan rising by the minute. He had been in the bathroom for a while and you wondered if you needed to check on him. He could've been sick, but something in your gut was telling you it was more dire than that. Pausing the movie, you stood up with the intention to see if your boyfriend was alright. That's when you heard a thump down the hall, assumably from the bathroom where he was. Your instincts flared up immediately, knowing that something wasn't right.

You stepped forward, moving down the hallway. A faint mumble of some sort could be heard from the bathroom followed by a low and rough growl. A feeling—or more like a scent, hit you. There was a werewolf in Chan's house. Your immediate thought was that your boyfriend was in danger and your body went into protect mode immediately.

Due to that sudden spike in emotion and the fact that you were close to a werewolf, your eyes shifted to their vampiric red that you kept hidden so often and your fangs lengthened, your defenses kicking in full force. Revealing your true identity to Chan was the last thing on your mind as you slinked towards the bathroom door, preparing to strike. Your top priority was making sure he was safe and if you had to show your true nature to achieve that, then so be it.

You wasted no time grabbing the handle, which wasn't locked, and pushing open the door with urgency.

"Chan! Are you alr—" The sentence was left unfinished as you froze, your red irises meeting his golden ones.

He was the only one in the bathroom. Your stunned gaze took in his appearance: pointed ears, sharpened canines, and even sharper claws. You were dumbfounded.

Chan, equally as shocked by your own appearance, let out a little exhale of disbelief, frozen in place due to the magnitude of the situation. Despite the bombshell revelation, he didn't feel threatened, that tenseness in his body loosening a bit at your presence. Even the urge to hunt was diminishing.

"Chan, you're..." You didn't even care that you had exposed yourself as a vampire. You were more shocked to find out your best friend—your boyfriend, was a werewolf.

Your voice pulled him from his stupor and he nodded. "Yeah. I am. And you're..."

"Yes." You responded, your hand falling off the doorknob. "I... I was worried. I heard noises and smelled a werewolf, so I thought you were in danger."

You weren't sure how you didn't figure out what Chan was sooner. This whole time you thought he was a human, as he never showed any signs of being anything but.

The fact that you were concerned for him made his heart soften.

"You came to check on me?"

You nodded. "My need to protect you was greater than hiding my identity. I was ready to burst in here and kick some mutt to the curb, but it's just you."

It's just you.

Those words echoed in Chan's mind and struck him right in the chest. You weren't bothered at all by what he was. What's more, you were ready to protect him and you revealed your identity to do it.

"That's so sweet." Chan's expression softened.

Like you, he never really thought about you being anything but a human so this was certainly a huge shock for him. He was stunned that he never once picked up on you being a vampire, which was quite embarrasing on his end.

No more words were exchanged for the time being, both of you stunned to silence at this revelation. Stepping forward, you cupped Chan's cheeks, his eyelids fluttering softly at your touch which calmed the beast inside of him.

"You're beautiful." You murmured in awe, your crimson eyes scanning over his face and taking in his new wolfish features.

"So are you." He responded in an almost breathless manner, his heart hammering in his chest.

There was a fluttering in your own chest, a new emotion blossoming within, something you couldn't quite describe. Though if you had to explain it, it was something akin to immense love. Finding out Chan was a supernatural being like yourself made you feel closer to him in a way. You stepped forward and embraced him in a hug. Revealing your identity to Chan one day had been a concern of yours, but you knew you couldn't keep it secret forever and would have to be honest with him at some point, but now that you knew he was like you, you were relieved—happy.

"I still love you, y'know. Even more so now."

Chan's heart leapt at your words and he wrapped his arms around you, returning the warm embrace. The tension that was in the air just moments earlier had vanished completely and was replaced with a sense of comfort.

No longer would you two have to hide your identities from one another. You could be your true selves now without hiding.

"I love you too." Chan murmured, his palm rubbing up and down your lower back. "So so much."

You hummed softly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and taking in his scent; a mix of morning dew and musk.

"You smell nice." You breathed.

"Yeah?" A small smile played at the corner of Chan's lips, his heart fluttering.

"Yeah. Comforting."

He closed his eyes and inhaled, taking in your scent which was a pleasant mixture of roses and fresh berries. "You smell nice too."

The both of you stood in each other's embrace for a few moments, relishing in each other's comforting scents and allowing it to overtake your senses.

After some time, you turned your head towards the bathroom mirror you and Chan were stood in front of, catching a glimpse of your reflections.

"Look at us." A small chuckle of amusement shook your shoulders at the sight that was before you. "A werewolf and a vampire."

He tittered at your comment, gazing fondly at the both of you in the mirror, finding that he quite liked how you looked together.

"What a deadly duo." He smirked. "I like that."

You mirrored his amused expression. "I like it too."

He turned to you, his golden eyes taking in your mesmerizing features that seemed even more beguiling now. "What a dangerous and beautiful combo."

A small grin tugged at one side of your mouth. It was true. Two different supernatural creatures together was something else. Your hand came up to caress his cheek, your captivating crimson eyes taking in his subtle wolfish features once again, unable to deny how attractive he was like this. You still couldn't quite wrap your head around all of this, but you truly couldn't be happier.

"Now I know why you're always so warm."

"You noticed?"

"Mhm. Especially tonight. That's why I was cuddled so closely. You were like my own personal heating pad."

"So you were just using me, huh?" He teased with a dimpled grin, his upper and lower canines on display.

"Hey. I may be a vampire, but I get cold sometimes. Besides, it's not my fault you feel so nice and cozy."

A breathy chuckle left his nostrils in response.

"Well, I guess I don't mind being your portable heater."

The light laughter you shared died down as you thought about what Chan went through just moments ago, transforming against his will.

"How are you feeling?" You asked him, delivering a gentle caress to his back. "Do you feel well enough to get back to our movie night?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Doing something calming is a good idea. When I'm like this I get these urges to go run around in the woods to blow off steam and hunt, but I don't wanna do that. I wanna stay with you." He nuzzled his nose against your jaw, making you chuckle softly at the slight tickling sensation that followed.

"Alright then. Let's get back to it." You took his hand and led him back into the living room where you reclaimed your spots on the couch. The movie on the screen was resumed, though you weren't paying much attention to it due to the questions that lingered in your mind. Questions relating to your boyfriend and his not-so-secret identity.

"So, how long does this last? A few hours or until the sun rises?" You inquired.

Being a vampire, you knew about werewolves and their transformations during each full moon, but you never knew the details of it.

"Until the sun rises." He responded. "I'll be back to normal by morning."

You hummed, nodding as you took in the information. "I can stay up all night if you need me to."

Chan looked up at you, his golden irises glimmering like those of a puppy. "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course I would. Besides, it won't hurt me if I don't sleep. I'd much rather stay awake and keep an eye on you until I know you're relaxed."

His expression softened and you could hear his heart thudding faster in his chest.

"Thank you, love."

"You're welcome." You pulled Chan closer so he was resting against your chest, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He let out a soft hum, leaning further into you. The warmth he emanated was felt even through the fabric your shirt, seeping into your skin. You brought a hand up and caressed Chan's hair, absentmindedly playing with his soft curls as you watched the movie. Another hum of contentment vibrated against you as your digits twirled strands of his brown hair. A calm like he's never felt before settled over Chan like a cozy blanket at the gentle actions. Those urges he mentioned earlier were fading away, slowly being replaced by the need to be close to you. While there was a tinge of animosity between most vampires and werewolves, Chan couldn't possibly feel that way with you. Most of his kind would be tense around a vampire but he was the complete opposite. Your presence soothed him and calmed those animalistic urges within.

Your red eyes moved from the TV screen down to your cuddly boyfriend whose eyes were closed.

"You sleepy?" You inquired softly, tracing the shape of his pointed ear.

"Mhm." He hummed. "You think we could stay like this until I fall asleep?"

Your heart softened at his sweet request. "Of course we can, bub."

Bub. It was a nickname you often used with Chan during moments like these where he was being a big cuddle bug.

He sighed softly at your gentle caresses, snuggling further into your lap like an overgrown puppy and it had your heart swelling with immense adoration. As you sat there with the movie long forgotten, your focus solely on your boyfriend, your own eyes started to feel heavy. The coziness of the situation was relaxing you to the point of slumber, your eyelids drooping little by little until you dozed off.

The sun's morning rays seeped into the window of Chan's living room, light spilling into the area stirring you awake. You winced, not being a big fan of the offensive light of the outdoors due to your vampiric nature. However, that mild discomfort was quickly pushed aside as you caught sight of your snoozing boyfriend sleeping peacefully on your chest. It appeared you two had shifted during your slumber and you no longer sitting upright, now stretched across the couch with Chan laid on you.

The sight caused a smile of adoration to pull at your lips, your hand moving to card through his curly locks. He hummed softly in his slumber, his eyes moving around behind his lids. It eased your mind to see Chan resting so peacefully, now back to his usual appearance. Though, you couldn't deny he looked rather attractive the previous night in his werewolf form.

Chan's eyelids fluttered open and he squinted a bit at the sunlight coating the room, grumbling softly.

"Morning, sleepyhead." You greeted in a soft whisper.

He chuckled drowsily. "Morning. How'd you sleep?"

"I slept well. You?"

"Really good." He hummed, nuzzling into you. "Thank you for being with me last night. Your presence was calming. I've never felt that way during a full moon."

Your heart swelled at his words and you were certain he could hear it thumping loud and clear with his werewolf senses.

"I can't tell you how happy that makes me."

Your gaze moved to the window where the sunlight filtered in, a thought crossing your mind.

"I'd like to be here with you every full moon. Or whenever you need me. That way you don't feel so alone and maybe my presence can help your transformations easier." You spoke aloud.

That offer alone made Chan feel overwhelmed with love and adoration for you. It was wish a small thing but it meant the world to him.

"I would really like that." He spoke softly, his sleepy voice muffled slightly due to his face being pressed against your chest.

"Then it's settled. I'll keep a close eye on my calendar and I'll be here every time. I promise."

The atmosphere was comfortable and cozy, so you and Chan stayed where you were, latched to one another, basking in the warm glow of the sun and the comfort of each other's embrace. After a few minutes of bliss, you got to your feet and stretched.

"I should probably head home. I need to shower and change clothes."

"It probably wouldn't be a bad idea for me to do the same." He huffed out a soft laugh, hooking his arm around your waist and pulling you into a hug. "Thanks again for staying."

"Of course." You pressed a soft kiss to his temple. "I'm here for you always."

With that, you saw yourself out and headed home.

In the following weeks, you and Chan visited each other and called or texted when you were apart, going about your lives as usual. There was an obvious shift in your relationship since the night your secrets were exposed. Your bond had become stronger and in turn, you'd both gotten closer emotionally.

Before you knew it, it was time for the next full moon and you were at Chan's house just like you promised, having been keeping track of the days. The front door swung open to reveal an already smiling Chan, who more than likely sensed your presence before your knuckles even hit the wood of the door.

Immediately, you were pulled into a warm hug, his nose nuzzling into your hair affectionately.

"Hey, sweet thing." He greeted, his breath fanning your ear and making you shiver.

"Hi, darling. I missed you."

"I missed you too."

You stayed locked in Chan's embrace as he pulled you inside, kicking the front door shut, not daring to let go.

"What are your plans for tonight?" You asked him, allowing your clingy boyfriend to guide you towards his room.

"I'd just like to lie down with you and cuddle if that's alright."

"Of course it is."

Chan dropped down onto the bed, taking your hand and pulling you down with him, his arms snaking around your waist, making you giggle lightly.

"So clingy." You teased.

"Can't help it." He murmured, pressing his nose in the crook of your neck. "I just love you so much and having you here tonight means a lot to me."

Your heart melted at his words and you found yourself holding him tighter, turning your head just enough to press a kiss to the tip of his pretty nose.

"I can't imagine having to go through this alone without someone by your side."

"You get used to it."

"Yeah, but I would've been here for you if I'd known."

You and Chan were best friends before you started dating and to even think about him being forced to shift and not have someone to keep him calm made your chest hurt.

As if he could sense your sadness, he lifted his head, his brown eyes starting into your e/c one's.

"You're here now. That's all that matters."

His words brought a comforting smile to your face.

"Right." You nodded, resting back against a stack of pillows on Chan's bed. "When does your transformation usually take place?"

"Midnight."

Glancing at the digital clock on the nightstand, you took note of the hour. 11:00 PM. One hour.

You passed the time by talking with Chan about his life as a werewolf, letting him share stories that he used to keep a secret. In turn, you shared your own experiences about yourself and it felt good, not only to be able to talk about these things so openly, but for there to no longer be anything hidden between the two of you. You laid there with him while keeping an eye on the time, watching as the minutes ticked away and it neared midnight.

"How are you feeling, my love?" You asked him, playing with his curls.

"I'm alright for now." He raised his head to glance at the clock.

11:50 PM.

"Do you think you could keep holding me when the change starts happening? I think it'll help me stay relaxed."

"Of course." Your thumb traced his cheek lovingly, taking in his features that were uniquely him.

The next ten minutes passed by in a blur and Chan gave a glance at the clock that now displayed 12:00 AM.

"It's time." He noted aloud, his body tensing.

"It's alright." You soothed, rubbing up and down his arm. "I'm here."

He let out a breath, nodding his head. As if on cue, his nails began to lengthen, growing into pointed claws. The sight didn't startle you in the slightest, in fact it was quite the opposite. You were entranced, watching as his brown irises swirled with a golden hue that overtook his natural eye color. Chan breathed through the whole transformation and allowed his ears to extend, coming to a point at the tips, his fangs elongating while you caressed his arm, melting away the tenseness in his muscles.

"There he is." You smiled softly, cupping his cheek as he looked up at you. "You made it through."

The clock was at 12:02 AM, the transformation process being quick and easy thanks to your presence.

"Thanks to you. Things were much easier this time. I hope you know how much I appreciate you doing this for me."

"I do and I'm glad I could bring you some comfort." You smiled softly. "So how are you feeling? Any urges to go hunt?" You asked him, playing with his hand and admiring his long claws.

"None. I'm feeling very at ease." He shook his head. "You seem pretty fascinated with my nails."

"They're pretty."

"Pretty dangerous if you ask me." He chuckled.

"They may be dangerous, but I'm not scared. They'd never cause me any harm."

"Of course not. Your safety is my top priority. I'll always protect you."

Your heart softened at his vow to keep you safe. Though he knew you were a vampire and could handle yourself, he still wanted to protect you and that meant the world to you.

"I know you're the one protecting me, but if ever there's a time where you need protection, I'll give it to you."

Chan lifted his head to gaze at you with a loving expression. "Thank you, sweetness."

Your hand released his, moving to cup his cheek, entranced by his supernatural features.

"Can I confess something?"

"Yes."

"I think you look hot when you're wolfed out."

An amused smirk played at Chan's pillowy lips. "Is that so?"

You bit your lip, nodding.

"Well, I think you look hot when you're all vamped out."

Just to be cheeky, you let your eyes flash red.

His expression shifted into something more sinister when you did that, a spark of something primal igniting within him.

"Go on, sweet thing." He encouraged.

At his sultry words, you revealed your true form to him and he couldn't help but think you looked even more enchanting now than you did the last time.

"Exactly like that." Chan growled out, leaning forward to press his lips to yours.

A small noise left the back of your throat at the force behind the kiss, your arms wrapping around his broad frame and pulling him closer.

Chan grunted softly against your lips, anchoring his knees into the mattress to hover over you, one of his clawed hands cupping your cheek while the other helped to keep him propped up. Your fingers slid into his curly locks, unintentionally brushing the tips of his pointed ears which sent a shiver down his spine.

"I love you so much." He spoke breathlessly between kisses.

"I love you too." The words were returned almost immediately.

Your closed eyelids fluttered at the sensation of his plump lips encasing yours, your fingers curling to grab a handful of his hair to ground yourself. A rough sound left the back of Chan's throat in response and the pace of the kiss picked up, his fangs clashing and clicking against yours amidst your heated lip-lock. There was something so passionate and perhaps animalistic about the whole situation that had your head spinning, and having Chan's earthy musky scent filling your nostrils wasn't helping in the slightest.

The full moonlight cascaded in from Chan's bedroom window, casting a pale glow on the both of you tangled together on his bed. There was something so romantic about it, kissing under the bright beam of the moon. It was fitting, especially for two creatures of the night like yourselves.

Chan parted ways, resting his forehead against yours while panting heavily in order to catch his breath. His tongue darted out to lick over his swollen lips, savoring the taste of you that lingered on them. Your fingers ran lazily through his hair as you gazed up at him adoringly.

"I have a new date night idea."

"Do tell." Chan murmured, placing a few kisses down your jawline, nuzzling the tip of his nose just under your ear.

You let out a soft exhale, your eyelids fluttering at the pleasant sensations that rippled down your neck.

"Maybe one night you and I can go running in the woods together, hm?" You suggested.

Chan pulled away a bit, an excited gleam in his golden eyes.

"I think that would be romantic."

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

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[savingsallow]

— (5) Sad Facts About Val

Things about my MC— Valentine Black —that make me question why I let my child suffer.

content warning: contains themes of trauma, grief, mention of loss of loved ones, nightmares, mental health struggles, isolation and emotional distress. please proceed with caution.

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1.) Recurring Nightmares

Val enjoyed a happy and healthy relationship with her parents despite their identities as dark wizards. The first four years of her life were filled with laughter and joy. In fact, many of her fondest memories are vivid, tracing back to her early childhood.

But that joy was short-lived.

Tragically, Val witnessed her parents' deaths while hiding in a cabinet, peering through a small hole. This traumatic event became one of her most haunting recurring nightmares, alongside the vivid memory of her best friend's lifeless body from her time at the Muggle boarding school.

These nightmares drive Val to avoid sleep whenever possible; short naps are the worst, bringing her the most haunting visions of her past. At night, she bravely travels into her dreams, seeking patterns and lessons, yet she always awakens in terror. To distract herself, she immerses herself in her projects and ideas.

Though her erratic sleep schedule takes a toll on her health, it has unexpectedly allowed her to excel in her studies—particularly in her favorite subjects like potions. She even created a potion fitting for her situation called the "Vitality Veil." As the name suggests, it restores natural vigor and creates a subtle aura of vitality that enhances one’s appearance and can last up to 12 hours.

Essentially, it’s a potion that makes Val seem put together, while in truth, she feels like a chaotic mess.

2.) Stealth Mastery

After being reluctantly adopted by her uncle, Val realized her freedom had limits. She has always resisted authority, never one to follow rules blindly. By day, she mastered the art of compliance, driven by a desperate need for her new family's approval; by night, however, she let herself roam free.

Val knows all the creaky floorboards to avoid, as well as the hidden passages where she can escape. She scours the house for a safe haven to dive into her latest obsession—be it a book about the universe or potion experiments.

House-elves often assisted her in sneaking around unnoticed. The house-elves of the House of Black, including Kreacher and Scrope, became her friends. Sometimes they'd play wizard’s chess together or cook meals for her as she immersed herself in her books and potions.

3.) Isolation

Val has never felt a true sense of belonging. Growing up in London, her extended family made it clear—especially during family gatherings—that she was a burden. Desperate for their affection, she felt the need to don a deranged mask, something she hated but believed was necessary for survival.

Feeling like an outsider in her family was compounded by her alienation in the Muggle world, where her peers considered her an oddball. This constant rejection cultivated a friendship with solitude. It spurred her obsession with researching topics of interest and experimenting with potions in her own unique way.

The closest companions she had were the house-elves, her stuffed animals (which Aunt Ursula eventually disposed of), and her best friend from the Muggle boarding school—who tragically passed away too soon. In the depths of isolation, Val found a friend in solitude, and beneath her facade of preoccupations lies a profound sense of loneliness.

4.) Silent Cries

Though Val has grown more comfortable expressing her emotions, especially at Hogwarts, she struggles to cry in public. It’s not that she doesn’t want to; it’s that she can’t bring herself to do so. Raised in an environment that viewed emotions as weaknesses, she grappled with her naturally expressive nature.

Her Aunt Ursula would lock her in her room for showing strong feelings, teaching Val to control her emotions too well—so well, in fact, that she finds it difficult to cry, even when the urge washes over her. Instead, she has learned to cry silently, in the quiet of night when no one can see.

Even after making friends in her fifth year and gradually opening up to them, Val has never shed tears in their presence.

One of the few times Val almost cried in front of her friends was when she witnessed Sebastian spiraling down a darker path in a misguided attempt to "save his sister," all while seeing Ominis worry for him as he used Unforgivable curses, a path he had vowed to abandon.

Conflicted and terrified, Val struggled to think of the next right steps to take to help her friends, all while handling her growing yet destructive fire magic and Ancient Magic, both of which were becoming unstable due to her involvement with the Dark Arts, especially the Unforgivables.

5.) Layers

Having endured so much, Val has constructed walls around her heart, protecting whatever happiness remains.

At first glance, one might assume she leads a lighthearted and comfortable life; many perceive her as a spoiled brat from the House of Black, underestimating her bubbly personality.

But beneath this facade lies a heart marred by trauma. Though she may seem like an open book, with her genuine remarks and emotional transparency, don’t be deceived. Beneath that cheerful exterior lies a guarded, wounded soul.

Her trust issues run deep; as a child, she invented her own alphabet so no one could decipher her journal entries. Later, at Hogwarts, she enchanted her journal, rendering her words invisible to others—only her whimsical doodles visible to the untrained eye.

Once she begins to share her secrets—like her treasured niffler stuffed toy—freely divulges her quirky ideas, lets you hug her, and miraculously allows you to witness her tears, then you have truly earned her trust.

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🥞 thanks for reading this rather angsty facts! ❤️‍🔥

🥞 non native english speaker, so teeny tiny grammatical errors are very much possible XD

🥞 casually lore dropping bc why not

🥞 leaving here more links about val in case you're a newbie to her lore:

✨ 10 Facts About Val

✨ Val & Hairstyle

✨ Val's Character Introduction

[arbiterlexultionis]

Instant Eternity

Time travel involving the infinite realms is truly a bizarre thing. Sometimes it follow one set of rules, and sometimes that set of rules may as well not exist. Usually, however, it works in one of two ways, the first is when the time travel is achieved through artificial means such as clockworks portals and allows for the altering of the timeline as one would expect time travel would allow. The other type of time travel is through natural means, portals usually, and it’s just that, Natural. That portal to the past opened up in the past the same moment it did in the present. If you step into the portal in the year 2000 then you already stepped out of the portal hundreds of years ago. It’s A Thing That Already Happened. Danny himself experienced this, as while chasing Vlad through time they fought in the middle of a Roman coliseum and, whoopsy daisy, set a really big fire. A fire which Danny had learned about years before he even had his accident.

So, the infimap can take the user anywhere, anywhen. And the infimap is just that, a map. It doesn’t make new roads, it just drags you across already existing paths. So it is a natural form of time travel, if you use it to go in time to kill your grandfather in order to insure your never born your interference will result in your grandparents falling in love and your birth.

Danny realizes that anytime he needs to heal from a battle or has gone 156 hours without sleeping or eating he can use the infimap to pop back to the past for a few days and then have the map bring back to the “Present”, exactly one second after he left. A three week vacation that lasted one second. At first he’s really wary about using this, worried about accelerated aging or getting lost in the time stream and a hundred other issues. At first.

It’s been months sense the accident. Sam and Tucker have both shot up several inches. Danny, on the other hand, hasn’t grown sense the accident. At all. They fought a ghost who could rapidly age opponents, a single slap turned Tucker into a decrepit old man. The ghost wrapped his hands around Danny’s throat and spent 5 minutes trying to strangle him while Danny bought time for Sam and Tucker to pull off the plan. The sucked him into the thermos, his influence on time ceased so Tucker returned to his proper state. “Jeez it sure is lucky he didn’t try and age me, right guys? Ha ha ha”. Danny gets blasted through a natural portal while making a trip through the zone and spends years trying to get home, not aging a day.

He can’t deny it after that, can’t ignore it. He’s immortal. He’s going to live forever. He’s going to watch his friends and family whither away and die out. He’s going to have to spend the rest of his life wandering from place to place trying not to get outed as the same 14 year old who save someone’s great great grandma 100 years ago.

After having his first middeath crisis, suddenly the only reasons he had to not spend years on end wandering the world and the past is gone, even if he loses the infimap, worst case scenario he’ll just take the long way home. Suddenly, he’s dreading the next 80 years of the “Present”. He decides that if he’s going to watch his friends and family grow old and frail he’s going to make sure it’s takes as long as it possibly could, from his perspective. By the time they’re 20 Danny’s gonna have 200 years under his belt.

He becomes a temporal tourist, hopping into the past every time the late night fights and schoolwork become to much. Spends years in every civilization imaginable, mastering every skill he can, leaving legends in his wake.

I feel like Danny and his adventures do have a lot of potential for story’s, as it’s a pretty good setup for having Danny in any type of time period or historical event for extended periods of time, fighting in the trenches of World War I, exploring the Americas during the era of colonialism, sailing the seas a swashbuckling vigilante pirate. I, however, have most of my related ideas being based around crossovers. So most of that will be in part two, so that people who like to filter out all that can still see this post.