#5 hours of sleep but at the worst time possible

[elenadoeslife]

🔥/🚿?

[phantaloon]

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[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you being overwhelmed !

pairings: ot13 x reader

genre: fluff, angst possibly?

word count: 1.5k

cw: bad relationship w/ parents (mingyu)

a/n: a request done for mina ( @lavoilee ) !! I FINALLY GOT IT DONE. also i decided to make this a longer one, enjoy my kings bc idk how i feel abt this. dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

seungcheol - you're so tired. you've been working nonstop, whether it be studying, working, applying for better jobs, completing projects and assignments back to back, and you can't even get a break because you have an exam coming up for your worst subject.

it feels like the world is going too fast and you're the only one who's behind. i mean, people do this all the time. why can't you keep up?you hold your head in your hands, contemplating on where to start when seungcheol walks in.

his hair is damp from showering and damn, he looks hot as hell, but you're not really paying attention to that right now.

"hey baby, did you want me to- hey, what's wrong?" he drops everything when he sees you on the couch, obviously distressed. (like literally, he dropped the towel he was using to dry his hair)

he kneels in front of you, lifting your head up so he can see your face. and ugh you just start crying. he doesn't ask you anymore after that, just joining you on the couch so he can cradle you in his arms. "it's okay baby, you're going to get through this," he whispers into your hair.

jeonghan - you just feel like going to sleep- for a really long time. you can't seem to catch a break. why did you decide to sign up for so many courses? you don't remember now.

it's been 5 hours, you haven't gotten up from your desk since you sat down, it's sunday, it's sunday NIGHT.

you groan, somehow you still have to get up at 6 in the morning tomorrow to catch the bus on time, but you can't even go to bed yet.

you're too busy caught up in your work when you feel jeonghan come up behind you. "y/n, it's late. let's go to bed," he offers gently, kissing you a kiss on the temple.

"han, i really would... i really want to..." you say, almost giving in.

"don't worry baby, just let me take care of this." he offers, and you decide an hour of rest wouldn't hurt. that hour of rest turned into 7, but it's okay! jeonghan somehow sent your professor an email for an extension?? and it worked???

joshua - he can tell just by your face that you're burnt out. he's heard you ranting to your friend about it all week, not wanting to intrude though, he's just been silently helping. but now he can see you starting to crack.

you're on the floor, project laid out, but it's not really a project. it's a large white piece of paper that's completely blank. next to it, however, there's about 7 pieces of balled up paper- your previous attempts at mapping out this floor plan for some stupid architecture thing.

you have about 2 days to plan and present it, and to make matters worse, your partners are no help, leaving you to do it alone. but you just can't.

finally, joshua sits down in front of you, putting his hands on your shoulders. "overwhelmed?" you nod and he pulls you into a hug, "it's okay, let me help you. you don't have to do this alone, love." his reassurance makes you sigh in relief, feeling some weight being lifted off your shoulders.

jun - you slam your phone on the counter, making jun and you flinch at the sudden noise. he looks at you with wide eyes, coffee cup threatening to be dropped from his hand. muttering an apology, you retire to your room.

your friend was driving you nuts about planning her wedding. at first, you accepted the challenge with open arms, but she was just so picky about everything and you didn't have a high budget. you'd just had an argument on the phone about literal napkins.

absolutely done, you flop onto your bed, trying to figure out how you're going to fix this . it's been about 10 minutes or so when you hear your door creak open. you pop your head up to see jun, poking his head through the door before his hand pops out as well with a cup of tea.

honestly it's so cute that you let him in with no question.

"minghao said this might help," he explains, putting the cup on your nightstand. he's about to walk away, but you grab his wrist, "stay for a little, please?" he seems genuinely shocked, frozen in place, so you have to drag him onto the bed. "sorry, you just looked really mad," he apologizes sheepishly.

hoshi - you're so lost. you're at practice with your dance team and you can't keep up with any of the choreography since you were sick the day before.

you can tell the other members are getting frustrated, but they can't really get mad, so they just sigh and give you some pointers.

by the time practice ends, everyone is tired, but it's mainly because of how many times you had to redo the parts you missed. you feel terrible about it, so you decide to make it up by staying to practice.

but lord, you just don't get it and the impending doom of the upcoming performance starts to dawn on you. sweaty and tired, you sink down against the mirror until you're sitting down. you don't know how you're going to catch up at this rate, but then the door opens.

hoshi strides in, "y/nnnn i'm here to pick you up, let's go home," but when he sees you in your position he kneels down in front of you.

"it's your choreo, isn't it?" he asks, as if he's read your mind. you nod sadly, and he hums like he's trying to figure out what to do. all of the sudden, he gets up, pulling you with him. "well you don't have an idol as your boyfriend for no reason, right? don't worry, i'll help you,"

wonwoo - wonwoo's full of worry when he comes near your door to hear your quiet sobs. he knocks on the door, "y/n? are you okay?" and doesn't really give you time to respond before entering.

you're on the ground, knees held up to your chest, head down with a laptop opened in front of you.

"babe? what's going on?" he asks, giving you a hug before turning your computer towards him so he can try to detective his way into finding out the answer, frowning when he reads the screen.

oh- you'd just lost your job. he doesn't ask any further questions, shutting the laptop and giving you a hug. you'd already gone through enough in the past month, it wasn't fair.

"you can break up with me, you know," you whisper, having the sudden feeling that he deserves better.

"y/n, what are you saying? i'm not going to leave you, not like this."

and he doesn't, holding you in his arms like you're the most valuable thing in the world.

woozi - when your teacher emails you about how you're missing another assignment, you just lose it.

yes, of course you're missing another assignment when your teacher has spent the entire week just absolutely spamming you with assignments and projects like they don't take at least an hour to complete.

you slam your head on your desk, a little too hard for your liking, making you wince. jihoon hears the noise, walking over to your room to find your head still planted on the table.

sighing, he walks over and grabs a pillow off your bed. "up." he says, making you raise your head from the desk in confusion. he puts the pillow under you.

"you're going to hurt yourself by doing that," he explains, making you roll your eyes, but you place your head on the pillow anyway. suddenly, he gives you a peck on the cheek before walking away without saying anything. you forget about your assignment, confused and cheeks flushing.

dk - babysitting is not for the weak. your friend asked you to watch her kids while she attends a wedding, it seemed easy enough at the time, but now you're stuck in the living room with 3 demons running around.

to be honest, you've never been good around kids, and today was no exception. all your patience has ran out the window by now and you're just praying for your friend to go home.

you don't even know what to do with them- they're loud and active, practically jumping all over the place. your head is starting to hurt when seokmin enters the house.

at first, he laughs at your condition, but then gives you an empathetic look.

"don't worry baby, i got this," he tells you reassuringly before giving you a kiss on the forehead and taking over as the kids' favorite uncle.

mingyu - after you and your parents argue back and forth on the phone for an hour, they finally hang up, calling you a disappointment right before, of course. you're so tired, it's like you can't please them with anything at this point.

you walk out of your room to get some water, trying to calm down. mingyu's in the kitchen, looking up at you when you walk in.

he stops chopping vegetables to give you a hug.

"doing okay? i heard you in the room, babe," he asks into your shoulder.

"yeah, just my parents," you sigh, letting him sway you two back and forth. the more you think about it, the more you feel like crying, lifting your head and blinking aggressively to stop the tears.

"no, don't do that," he says, holding your face, "it's okay, don't hold it, y/n." he urges, touching your forehead with his.

the8 - minghao frowns when he sees you looking blankly at your laptop and on the verge of tears. he comes up behind you to see that you have like 100 tabs open, all on various assignments.

simply closing your laptop, he gives you a back hug, "we're going,"

you turn to him, looking miserable but he doesn't budge.

"it'll make you feel better, trust me," he pushes. reluctantly, you let him drag you off the couch.

he takes you to a gazebo, it's a short walk from your apartment, but you never noticed it till now. you admire the scenery, there's lights strung around it and there's virtually no one there, giving you and him some privacy.

taking your hand in his, he looks at you, "it's pretty, right?" you nod in response, giving him a small smile. it's really just what you needed, being just with him surrounded by warm lights.

seungkwan - he’s just like “nope, we’re not doing that” when he sees you on the ground next to some papers and a giant binder, but more importantly, with blood shot eyes.

but what else are you supposed to do? you have 3 days to finish 2 different projects and you’re close to spiraling at this point.

“hey, babe, look at me,” he kneels in front of you.

“it’s going to be okay,” he reassures you, despite having no idea why you’re on the ground in the first place. hugging you tightly, he vows to destroy your professors, because who else would be causing you this much trouble?

vernon - you should be asleep by now, but you’ve spent the last 2 hours in bed, wide awake. staring at the ceiling, you contemplate your life. you’ve got family matters, stupid friend drama, and work issues to deal with.

vernon’s asleep beside you, breathing softly. man, he’s so perfect, and honestly your relationship is the only thing keeping you afloat right now.

you shuffle around a bit more, fighting invisible demons when you feel vernon pulling you close to him.

“what’re you doing awake?” he mumbles, yawning.

“just the usual, regretting my life decisions,”

“it’s too late for that, babe. you should sleep on it and we can talk about it tomorrow,” he mutters sleepily. he probably didn’t even process anything you were saying, but his calm demeanor is reassuring, luring you to sleep.

dino - “y/n~ it’s okay~ don’t be sad~” chan sings while back hugging you, obviously panicked when he walks in to find you crashing out at the counter.

your manager has just yelled at you for the dumbest thing ever right after your mom lectured you for something that wasn’t your fault, and you hate when people yell at you. so naturally, you start crying.

honestly, he’s got no idea what’s going on, and his only goal is to make you feel better. he keeps singing comically, but when he realizes it isn’t doing anything, he guides you toward the couch.

spooning you, he apologizes for no reason out of sheer panic, “okay, babe i’m really sorry, i know i’m not the best singer, just tell me what’s wrong?”

[makeitmakesomesense]

The Early Morning

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Day 5: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely friend with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 5th of January, which is 'blind'.

It is just past the middle of the night. You have officially entered the early morning. You find yourself awake. You went to sleep right after your last mission. This is your consequence. 

You don’t try to fight it, instead you roll out of your bed and make your way to get something to drink. Ever since Vision and Wanda have become part of the Avengers, things have been a little different. You’ve all done your best to welcome them to the team, but they have kept to themselves far more than you expected. The changing dynamics have been something to adjust to.

You let yourself enjoy the easy peace of the quiet nighttime. 

You walk to the kitchen and freeze for a second. 

Wanda is sitting at the dining table. Her hair is wet. Her face is ashen and her hands are cupping a hot mug of tea. Her eyes flit wearily to you. 

You hesitate, not sure how to approach. You’ve never spoken to her alone.

‘You okay?’

Wanda turns back to her tea, she doesn’t answer. 

You watch the ends of her hair drip onto the tiled floor. 

You refill the kettle and turn it on. You take a seat next to her. 

Wanda’s wearing a grey sweater. It’s too big for her. The sleeves have ridden up and her forearms are exposed. Goosebumps coat her skin. 

You try again. Something more direct. 

‘Are you cold?’

Wanda’s eyes meet yours and you know that she is. 

The kettle boils and you stand up, your hand touches her shoulder as you pass by. You feel her shudder.

You bring her a new mug. The steam curls promisingly above the liquid. Wanda leans over it. Her hands wrap around the ceramic, even though it must be burning hot. She shudders again and closes her eyes.

You sit next to her with your own mug and think.

Dim light seeps through the large windows and illuminates Wanda’s face. Her eyes have dark shadows under them. You can tell she must not be sleeping. You wonder where Vision is.

As if she can read your thoughts (and you can’t help wondering if she can). Wanda answers your silent question.

‘Viz doesn’t sleep. Not like people do. It’s more... robotic.’

You picture immediately a long cable connecting the android to a computer. You push down the ridiculous image that's probably not so far from the truth. You nod at Wanda silently encouraging her to continue. 

‘At night, he goes offline. Really offline. Missiles could go off and he’d be blind to it.’

You try to understand the subtext of Wanda’s words. There’s a strange suspense to your next question, it is the possibility that she might say yes. 

‘Do you worry about that? About missiles going off?’

Wanda smiles at you. Her head tilts. It could be playful if her eyes weren’t full of pain. 

‘It’s all I worry about.’

You give a half smile back, you know it doesn’t reach your eyes. 

‘I’ve done all my sleeping for tonight.’ You tell her carefully. ‘If you want someone there… someone awake. I was going to watch a movie anyway and I can put on headphones.’

Wanda takes her first sip of the slowly cooling tea. 

‘Thank you.’ She says a moment later, her small smile now weighted with relief.

Wanda follows you back to your room that night. She waits for you to prop some pillows against the headboard and lie back on one side of the bed. She falls readily onto the other side of the mattress. 

She’s not self conscious, not like you’d half expected. 

She sinks into the bed like it’s been calling her for days. You listen to her breathing even out before you put on your headphones.

.

It becomes a routine of sorts. Your new sleep schedule is not nearly as difficult as you expect. You switch your mindless after-dinner screen time with an early nap.

Wanda knocks on your door in the early hours of each morning. You plug in some headphones and watch whatever film you can think of.

Wanda lies beside you. Now that the worst of the sleep deprivation has abated, she is slower to fall asleep. Sometimes you even talk for a few minutes, about the day before or the film you’re planning to watch. 

It’s easy to talk to Wanda, much easier than you ever expected. You try to understand the distance she’s always kept from everyone on the team except Vision.

Each morning, you wait patiently for the inevitable long pause in coversation, for the moment that her eyelids slowly start to close. 

There is something comforting about her steady breathing beside you.

It is too easy to be comfortable. Despite your best efforts, it only takes a week for you to become lulled to near sleep yourself. 

You’re not quite asleep, you’re still following along with the dialogue from the movie. But your mind has drifted and your eyes have closed. 

They fly open at the first feeling of movement beside you. You startle suddenly as you understand your inadvertent mistake. You move backwards unthinkingly and hit your head sharply on the edge of the headboard.

You hiss out and apologise automatically. 

Wanda is still lying in the bed next to you, she has turned to face you. Her head is resting on the pillow. She looks exhausted with a different kind of fatigue. She sits up very carefully, as if her presence is inherently scary.

You don’t know how to explain. That your automatic panic came only from the disorientation of nearly falling asleep by mistake. 

Wanda speaks before you can. Her mouth twists into the same bitter smile that you’ve seen once before. She is watching you rub the sore spot at the back of your head.

‘It’s your amygdala.’ She explains.

‘What?’ You ask unsurely.

‘That’s why you’re afraid.’ 

‘My amygdala.’ You repeat dumbly.

‘Yes. Vision explained it once. It’s what makes you afraid of me, even if you don’t want to be.’ Her words are rehearsed. They sound calm but you can hear something else simmering behind them. ‘Your amygdala knows the danger that comes with being near me.’

‘And what about Vision’s amygdala?’ You ask sharply, suddenly hating the implications of her words. ‘How does he manage?’

‘It’s synthetic.’ 

‘That’s lucky.’ You comment dryly.

She stares at you seriously. An overwhelming loneliness fills her eyes. 

‘Yes.’ Wanda says quietly, looking down at the bedspread. ‘It is.’

You watch Wanda leave. 

.

You spend the day caught between a wish to apologise and a lingering uncertainty that something else is wrong. Something more complicated than you’d realised.

You seek out Natasha in the end, trusting her advice and needing someone to speak to. You find her as she’s leaving a boardroom after a meeting. She invites you back into the room and you sit together. You start to tell her about Wanda. You try to state the facts. The sleep deprivation. Vision’s words. Her isolation from the team. 

You hope you don’t sound biased, you hope your concern doesn’t seem excessive.

Natasha’s lips twist and you can tell she doesn’t like the details either. She tells you other things, small moments she’s noticed. Their separate meals from the rest of you. His frequent appearances in Wanda’s room without warning. How it's the one thing he can’t seem to learn not to do. A sudden lengthy monologue about the benefits of Stark’s technology, unaware of Wanda stiffened posture beside him.  

You exchange a long look with Natasha, it holds something that you recognise in your bones.

You decide to worry together. 

.

That night you find Wanda before the time she usually comes to your room. It is just past midnight and she is sitting at the dining table. Her dark hair is wet again. 

She startles violently when you call her name. Her shoulders relax immediately as she turns to find you. 

Wanda stands suddenly and moves to the kitchen counter. You watch her refill the kettle and turn it on. She takes out two mugs. She smiles at you again. There’s relief in it. 

‘Good evening.’ She says at last. Her fingers tap out a steady rhythm against the marble countertop. 

She notices you watching and her hand stills suddenly. She stares down at her fingers. Her mouth closes and her jaw ticks. She is lost in thought. You know she is remembering your last encounter.

This time, you speak first. You start slowly.

‘I’m not afraid of you.’ You tell her carefully. 

Wanda doesn’t look up. You watch the familiar bitter smile that makes your gut twist unhappily.

‘Then you are not paying attention.’ She says simply. 

‘I am.’ You counter stubbornly. 

‘We can’t change who we are.’ Her voice is monotone and you can tell that she is quoting someone else. ‘We can’t relinquish the dangers that comes with our power.’

‘But we can always have family.’ Your argument is quiet. ‘We can still have love and care. We can forgive ourselves for who we are.’

Wanda goes very still. After a moment, she reaches for the kettle that has now boiled. You watch her pour the water into the two waiting mugs.

‘Vision -’ She begins at last, looking at you unsurely. ‘It’s hard’

‘What is?’ 

She hands you a mug of tea and you watch her grip her own drink like it’s a life support system. 

‘He would never do the things I’ve done.’ Her voice cracks with barely repressed guilt. ‘It can be hard to not feel alone.’ 

You drink your tea and watch her for a moment. Wanda's breathing is shallow. Her pupils have dilated in the dim light. Her dark eyes are watching you, waiting. 

‘I would’ve.’ You confess softly. ‘If I’d been you. I think I would have done the same things.’

A thousand emotions flit through Wanda's expression. It settles somewhere between fear and longing.

You move forward and place your mug on the countertop, carefully you take Wanda’s from her too. When her hands are free, you hold them gently in your own. 

She grips them tightly. You can feel her shaking. 

‘Do you want to get out of here?’ You offer softly. ‘Just for a few days. We can borrow a car. We can go right now.’

Wanda is so close to you now. You feel the hitch in her breath as you much as you hear it.

Wanda’s expression fills with the same look of longing and she glances outside at the full moon that is brightening the darkest part of the night. 

‘Viz’ll wake up soon.’ She hesitates. ‘He hates it when I leave this place.’

You shake your head. You give her a small smile. ‘Natasha said they’re using his offline time tonight to update some of his old programming. Getting rid of some of the biases that Tony created back when it was only Jarvis.’

You pause. Wanda is looking at you like the world is something new again.

‘We have time.’ You tell her and it feels like a promise. 

Her small smile is full of sudden happiness.

Wanda leans forward and her head rests against your shoulder. There is a weightlessness to her tired relief.

You are grateful that your amygdala is very real. That you can feel this entirely.

‘Okay’ She says finally against your shirt. ‘Do you mind if I sleep while you drive?’

You laugh and wrap your arms around her. The wet ends of her hair drip onto your arms.

You leave the Compound before the sun has risen.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[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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[delight-angelsbliss]

Hiii!!! Your ADHD post was perfect, thank you so much! I have the inattentive type as well, but I got really good at masking it/forcing myself to focus in some school classes lol (that is, if I had some sliver of interest in that class haha) I have another one, if it's ok :3

Could you maybe do shadow and sonic with a reader that is just absolutely terrible at getting proper sleep (4-3 hours 😭) who usually just can't sleep or is up doing something? Maybe hyper focused on a task? The amount of caffeine I have to consume in the morning is probably unhealthy 💀

Hope things are going great for you!

Precis: Shadow + sonic with an insomniac!Reader

Warning: side effects of no sleep and too much caffeine, no fender specified

Notes: I remember as a child (5) I would always stay awake longer to practice for ballet that I've been doing since I was 3 but I was taken out of gymnastics and ballet cuz of health issues:(( I love this blinkie too much please never leave me. I keep thinking of my step sisters and I can't stop crying knowing my dad is probably doing something to them the same way he did to me and it's eating at my heart tbh I could barely focus on writing

Sonic

We all know Sonic has massive amounts of energy, seemingly never running out of it. He isn't really a night owl type of guy, nor does he ever want to be, but when he met you, that changed. You were the complete opposite of him, always tired, staying up late, always drinking coffee etc. He didn't mind at first, but your unhealthy habits scared him greatly; you crashing out in the middle of the day was the thing that scared him the most, the way your energy turned down so fast was enough to get Sonic on the internet to try and fine some kind of help for you. He knew there were many healthy ways to get you to follow a routine. Sonic tried giving you melatonin, it worked for a few months, but it strung you out fast and you needed more to be able to sleep properly, he tried getting you some tea, but those smelled and tasted to bad you'd puke it all up.

It felt hopeless, but he didn't wanna give up helping you. You meant too much to him, you were such a nice person, yet you had the worst problems. He didn't understand it, but that didn't stop him from helping you. "Hey! [Name], let's go for a race! Whoever loses has to buy us a chili dog" he'd try to tire you out, cut your screen time and do as much as he possibly can to help you sleep. It broke sonics heart to see you so tired and strung out all day, he doesn't want to intrude too much, but he'd do anything to see you in a happy state. Besides all the chaos, Sonic doesn't mind your attitude much. He finds it kind of funny when he sees you almost falling asleep on your desk while studying.

Overall, Sonic doesn't mind it too much but he still worries daily about you, about your health. No matter what, he'll stay by your side though. He finds it fun to stay with you during the day, your calm demeanor (maybe a side effect) is like a refreshment for him, but the sudden mood swings and headaches you complain about will always bring his worry back to bloom all over again

Shadow

Shadow is also a night owl! The sun is too blinding for his brooding behavior, he'd rather watch it fall and the moon come up to greet his cold demeanor once more. He's the ultimate lifeform so he doesn't need sleep that bad, but since you're a mortal you obviously need sleep. He finds this out a few weeks into your relationship (platonic or romantic) Since he's so stubborn, he gives you an ultimatum: "It's either you sleep or you sleep on the couch" that worked for a day or two, but your bad sleeping habits, caffeine addiction, etc. Would always lull you back into staying awake doing whatever you wanted, it was your alone time. He wouldn't take that away, Shadow understands what it's like wanting to have some alone time... But he still knew how harmful this was for you

Shadow started switching your coffee with decaffeinated alternatives. The first few nights were the most rough, your body was still getting used to and adjusting to this new schedule, which helped greatly! Instead of trying to use medicines or tiring you out, Shadow tries discrete methods and ways to get you to practice better habits. Shadow knows he might not be the best for this, but he will still try and help you nonetheless. Shadow does know that you don't exactly enjoy all of this frustration from your lack of sleep, but he's baffled to know that you don't actively try to find some solutions, he doesn't mean it in a bad way... At the same time it feels like he does get angry, not at you, but your lack of motivation to help yourself. The way you continually have to go take naps just not to pass out

Shadow doesn't believe in naps, he sees them as the average way to ruin your sleep schedule. When he sees how many small naps you take just to function, it makes him worried knowing you're so tired all the time. He sees the way you strain yourself everyday, every passing second of the day. Shadow tries his best to help you, he really does. Shadow isn't the best at communication, so he doesn't see that as an option. That won't stop him from helping a loved one, Shadow isn't a very open person, but his past trauma makes his overbearing nature show easily. If overbearing helps you sleep easy, he'll stay that way

[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

[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.

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

I saw your Girl dad! Josh post!

….Bill in his girl dad arc when (JK! JK!….unless)

(Lol lock tf in chat this is gonna get interesting to say the least

Bill dickey as a Girl Dad headcannons

1. "You're Not Dating Anyone Until You're Thirty-Five."

Bill is insanely overprotective but in the worst possible way. He doesn't trust anyone, especially boys. If his daughter so much as mentions a crush, he launches into a 15-minute rant about how “men are scum, and I should know, because I am one!”

2. Turns Her into a Nerd by Force.

He starts her on comics, sci-fi, and horror movies from the womb. Think “Alien” at age six and mandatory Sunday night viewings of Twilight Zone.

“You don’t get to sleep until you can name the entire creative team behind Swamp Thing vol. 2.”

3. Absolutely Cannot Handle Emotions.

She cries? He panics. He just stands there holding a Mountain Dew can like, “Uh… do you want… a Funko Pop or something? Stop leaking! I didn’t raise a weakling!”

4. The Most Toxic PTA Parent Ever.

He shows up to school meetings in a black trench coat, rants about the school’s media literacy failures, and says things like, “If my daughter’s being bullied, I will sue. I have lawyers. I know people on forums. Don’t test me.”

5. Secretly the Best Coach in a Weird Way.

Bill is a ruthless perfectionist when she shows interest in anything creative. “If you’re gonna draw anime, do it right. These proportions? Amateur. You call this anatomy? This is CalArts-tier crap, and I won’t allow it under my roof.”

But his standards push her to be really, really good—even if she wants to murder him half the time.

6. Grudgingly Proud Dad Mode

She wins an art contest or aces a project? He brags nonstop for a month—but never directly to her face.

“She’s not bad. I mean, obviously she got the talent from me. But yeah, whatever. I guess she’s okay.”

7. Hyper Fixates on Her Interests to “Vet” Them

If she likes something he doesn’t understand (like K-pop), he goes full rage-research mode. Watches 6-hour YouTube essays. Then returns to say things like:

“Okay. So this Jungkook guy? I guess he’s talented. Still don’t trust him.”

8. Accidentally Raises a Girl Just Like Him

One day she quotes The Thing perfectly, destroys a boy in an online debate, and calls someone a “poser” for not knowing Kirby’s original designs. Bill just stares and mutters, “My work here is done.”

9. Will Go to War for Her

She never sees it, but if anyone seriously messes with her? He’s already on the dark web tracking their IP address. His threats are too specific.

“You want me to drop their home address or are we playing the long game?”

10. Sentimental? Nope. Never. (Okay, Maybe Once.)

He keeps a photo of her in his wallet, folded and beat up. He never talks about it.

But sometimes, when she’s not around, he looks at it and sighs.

“She’s… fine. Not like she makes me proud or anything. Idiot.”

“The Coat”

Bill was elbow-deep in a tote labeled "CON BADGES / UNTOUCHED GARBAGE", muttering under his breath about how these kids wouldn’t know practical effects if they crawled out of a latex womb, when his daughter walked in—dragging the massive, beat-up orange flannel from the back of his closet behind her.

It was practically a robe on her. Oversized, worn, and clinging to the smell of years of conventions, bad takeout, and Bill’s lingering rage.

Daughter:

“…Can I wear this to school tomorrow?”

Bill turned like she’d just asked to burn his comic collection.

Bill:

“That? You mean my coat? The coat I wore to every screening of The Thing between ‘92 and ‘06? The coat I nearly got kicked out of Wizard World for wearing over a Gremlins tee because some idiot thought I was doing a bit?”

Daughter: (nodding calmly)

“Yeah. That one.”

Bill: (offended beyond comprehension)

“Why would you want to wear that? You trying to look like a failed screenwriter with back problems?!”

Daughter:

“It’s warm. And I like how it smells. Like… your weird soap and burnt pizza.”

Bill: (pointing dramatically)

“That’s character! You don’t earn that smell, you live in it.”

Daughter:

“I want to live in it. Just for the day.”

That shut him up for a second. He looked at her—dwarfed by his rage-blanket of a coat, arms poking out like she was wrapped in a sleeping bag—and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like: “…you’re a menace…”

Bill: (grumbling)

“Fine. But if anyone spills anything on it, anyone—you, your friends, some gluten-free goober with a juice box—I will rain hellfire upon that school. I will march in there, I will quote John Carpenter until they expel themselves, and I will not be held responsible for what happens next.”

Daughter: (grinning)

“Love you too, Dad.”

Bill:

“I didn’t say that. I don’t believe in love. I believe in practical effects and staying angry.”

She rolled her eyes, already backing out of the room.

Daughter:

“Sure. I’ll be careful. I swear on your limited edition ‘Murder of Crows’ box set.”

Bill: (horrified)

“DON’T YOU JOKE ABOUT THAT—!”

But she was gone. And he was left staring at the empty spot where the coat had been, rubbing his temples and muttering:

Bill:

“Kid’s gonna be the death of me. In the best possible way.”

[scary-grace]

Opposites Attract (Chapter 2) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your quirk lets you capture almost anyone with ease, and you can't believe you let Shigaraki Tomura escape. Shigaraki can't believe it, either, and according to the League, there's only one possible explanation -- you let him go because you've fallen in love with him. He decides to find out if it's true. You decide you won't fail to capture him again. You both get a lot more than you bargained for. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Chapter 2

It’s been two weeks since the League of Villains vs Kamino Ward: Round 2, and there hasn’t been a single day that somebody hasn’t read you the riot act. It wasn’t enough that Miruko did it on-scene, well within microphone range of every single news crew who swarmed the park – every senior hero in Yokohama got in on it, too. And as if it wasn’t already your worst week ever, the HPSC called you in for a formal review of your pro hero license. You didn’t sleep at all the night before, and when you got to the hearing half an hour early with sweat stains already oozing through your one nice blouse, you found out that they’d done the review already, and the hearing was just to present the findings. One of the members of the committee mentioned that you looked a little pale. In hindsight, you’re amazed you didn’t have a heart attack.

You found out that the review of your license was a PR thing more than anything else – although your choices weren’t popular or flashy, nothing about how you handled the incident fell outside the hero code. Not that it matters to the general public. If you had an agency, they’d be booking you on podcasts and talk shows so you could explain yourself, but you’re underground, so you’re stuck listening to TV presenters who’ve never met a villain and podcasters who’d piss themselves if they came face to face with even the pettiest of criminals, all talking about how badly you blew it. There was even a petition circling demanding that you make a public apology for what happened to the All Might statue – one apology to the sculptor who made the statue, and one to All Might himself. When that one started making the rounds, you set your social media accounts to private and hid from your phone for the next three days.

Things are starting to die down, you think, but you’ve still got one stop left on your humiliation tour, and it’s the one you’re dreading the most. Your alma mater is always looking for learning experiences to offer their students, so you’re spending this afternoon at UA, listening while the first-year hero students pick apart every action you took in Kamino Park.

It’s an open forum, so everyone who wants to run their mouth gets a chance to do it, and you sit stonefaced in your chair, praying for your composure to hold. Eraserhead said he’d give you chances to respond, and he does, every time a student sits down. But you don’t want to get into a back-and-forth with a bunch of kids. You did what you did. You can’t go back. Maybe they can learn from what you did wrong.

What did you do wrong, actually? The HPSC cleared you. You’re so unpopular right now that they’d seize any chance they got to strip your licenses, but they cleared you – and you’re still here, listening to a bunch of teenagers take shots at you. The unfairness boils up inside you all at once, and when the next kid sits down, you stand up before Eraser invites you to.

“You all think you could have done better than me out there,” you start. “Maybe you’re right. There are always things that could be done better. What did I do wrong?”

It’s quiet for a second. “Are you stupid or something?” Bakugou asks you. “They got away! That’s what you did wrong!”

“Is it? Kurogiri and Shigaraki got away at USJ, and again at Kamino the first time. I don’t see you lighting All Might’s ass up,” you shoot back. Bakugou makes an affronted sound. “Answer me for real this time. What was my actual, quantifiable mistake?”

It’s quiet for another beat. Eraser opens his mouth, but Class B’s teacher speaks up first. “That’s the more interesting question,” he says. “We’ve talked about how Skynet could have done better. What actual mistake did Skynet make that led to the final outcome of the incident?”

You know what it was, deep in your heart, and you also know that the only person who could call you on it is somebody you hope you never see again. A hand creeps up, and Vlad calls on the student – one of Eraser’s. “Yes, Midoriya?”

“I don’t know if I would call it a mistake,” Midoriya says, “but I was wondering – why didn’t you use more of your quirk?”

That’s a new one. You wait quietly, and Midoriya elaborates. “I mean, Magnetism has dozens of applications. You’re sort of known for being creative with how you use it. And r/herojapan did a power ranking of every active hero and you ranked the highest out of all non-charted heroes.”

That’s news to you. “So I guess that’s what I want to know,” Midoriya concludes. “If you have a quirk with a lot of applications and a lot of power to work with, how could the League of Villains escape?”

“Uh –” You glance at Vlad King, then at Eraserhead. They both gesture for you to go on. “What you said about my quirk – you’re right. I can go big with it. But the bigger I go with it, the less control I have, and I’m not creating magnetic fields out of thin air. I’m enhancing and altering what already exists. Every magnetic field I alter is touching another one, and my alterations affect those fields, too. If I want to use my quirk safely on a large scale, I have to alter some magnetic fields while stabilizing others simultaneously, and I have to do that while protecting civilians and assisting my fellow heroes and trying not to get killed. Using my quirk on the scale I would have needed at Kamino just isn’t possible.”

You can tell Midoriya doesn’t get it. Nobody else does, either. “Maybe you should demonstrate,” the girl from Class B who can make her hands enormous says. “Show us what would have happened if you used your quirk the way Midoriya is talking about at Kamino.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Vlad says. “Ground Beta should be open right now. Let’s go.”

Vlad was your homeroom teacher in your first year at UA. You’ve been struggling not to call him sensei since you set foot on campus, and you know he knows how much you’ve struggled with your quirk. You also knew he was going to support you, but you’re not sure you like how he’s doing it – proving that you’re right, sure, but proving it by proving that you can’t handle your quirk at even partial strength, when the way you were using your quirk wasn’t even the real problem. If you had reacted faster, gotten a solid grip on Shigaraki through other means instead of getting distracted by how not-okay he is, you’d have held all the cards by the time the warp villain came to play. You’d like to see the warp villain try to back you into a corner when you’ve got a piece of rebar wrapped around Shigaraki’s throat.

But you didn’t have your shit together, because you were too stuck on just how shocked Shigaraki looked when you asked if he was okay. Not fake-shocked, not mocking-shocked, not look-at-the-hypocritical-hero-pretending-to-care shocked – truly, honestly shocked, like you’re the first person who’s asked him that question in a while. You flatly refuse to entertain the thought that you’re the first person who’s ever asked him that, because that would be too goddamn sad and you’re not into woobifying villains. You know more than a few heroes who have those romance novels about getting captured and ravished by a not-bad-just-misunderstood villain hanging out on their e-readers, and that’s not your style at all. So why did it bother you, seeing that look on Shigaraki’s face? Why are you still thinking about it two weeks later?

You shake it off as you, Eraser, Vlad, and the students reach Ground Beta. If you don’t want anybody to guess how you actually messed up, you need to do a good job proving that their idea of your mistake is the right one.

Vlad sets up a target a quarter of a mile down Ground Beta’s main street – the distance from one end of Kamino Park to the other – then makes his way back to you and the others. Eraserhead ushers everybody away from you. “Okay,” you say, projecting your voice, “I’m going to show you what it would have looked like for me to use my quirk to drag the League of Villains to me from across Kamino Park.”

Part of you is tempted to just blow it. Use your quirk recklessly, without worrying about consequences or property damage or anything but how it feels to finally let loose. But you’re a hero. You need to set a good example, not give the students even more reasons to question why you still have your license, and even here, there’s a chance that using your quirk at full strength isn’t safe. You get set, feeling the stabilizers in your boots anchor you to the ground. You tap into your metal sense, identifying the target a quarter mile away. Then you extend your hand, activate your quirk as precisely as you can manage, and pull.

The practice target starts moving. Unfortunately, so does everything else. No matter how hard you try to keep your focus on the target and only the target, metal fragments in the concrete lurch upwards, responding to your shift in the magnetic fields, pulling the street apart. The buildings on either side crumple inwards as their steel frameworks tear free. Lightposts bend into impossible shapes. Manhole covers lift from the street and fly towards you, forcing you to employ your other hand to stop them from striking the students behind you. The air vibrates. And sure, the practice target is flying towards you at high speed – but the destruction you’re wreaking on everything in between you and it is worse than what anyone but Shigaraki could have done to Kamino Memorial Park.

You let your grip on the magnetic fields fall when the target’s within thirty feet or so, and let momentum do the rest. Then you turn back towards the students. “This looks bad, right? If I’d done this at Kamino, it would be even worse. Anybody want to guess why?”

“Water mains,” the girl from 1-A with the Creation quirk says at once. You nod. “Cities are full of underground infrastructure, and most of that is made of metal. If your quirk is hard to focus narrowly at a distance from the target, you could do billions of yen worth of property damage.”

“What about people?” the electricity kid from 1-A says – the electricity kid who, if you remember right, also has a wide-range quirk. “Do they get caught when you do that?”

“No,” you say. “I have to be at close range to manipulate the iron in someone’s body. And they have to have enough iron in their bloodstream to make it possible.”

You say that, cringe, and brace yourself for what must be coming – one of the students, probably Midoriya, realizing that Shigaraki’s weapons-grade anemia is what kept him out of your reach at first. Followed by one of the students, probably Midoriya, asking why you didn’t use any of the other means at your disposal to capture him. “Oh,” the electricity kid says instead. “I get it now.”

“I have a question, Skynet,” Bakugou says loudly. “Couldn’t you do all that without destroying everything if you trained your quirk harder?”

You asked yourself that question a lot when you were a student at UA. The theoretical answer was always yes. “No,” you say, without getting into all the reasons why. “Does anyone else have a question?”

A Class B student named Honenuki has a question about what types of property you should avoid damaging if possible, and a Class B student named Monoma wants to know whether you were in Class A or Class B when you were at UA. He looks pretty happy when you say Class B, which is weird. You’re persona non grata among heroes right now. It doesn’t make a ton of sense that he’s excited that you were in the same class as he is. Vlad doesn’t ask you how things have been going; he just pats your shoulder and walks off. You try to escape before Eraserhead can talk to you, and make it exactly five steps before he calls out. “Skynet.”

You grit your teeth. “Do you want me to apologize, too?”

“For what?” Eraser looks irritated. “I asked you to look after my students. You looked after them. I’d be asking you to apologize if you’d let them fight.”

“Oh.” You weren’t looking forward to making that apology. “Then, um – what did you want to talk to me about?”

“My students are used to having their quirks temporarily canceled, but my quirk is unique. They’re much more likely to run into villains whose powers serve to restrain them,” Eraser says. You get where he’s going with this and try to interrupt, but he talks right over you. “I want you to come back for at least one of our basic training sessions. It’s rational to give them a chance to practice against a power set like yours, and it’ll also allow you the chance to work on fine-tuning your quirk.”

You knew there was a backhand somewhere in there. “My quirk’s as fine-tuned as it’s going to get.”

“We’ll see,” Eraser says. “The next basic training where all my students will be present is next Thursday. Come in.”

You recall making a promise to yourself, one which included telling Eraser to go to hell if he asked any more favors. But you still need to rehab your image. A lot. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

You change out of your costume before you leave campus – everything except your boots, which you wear almost all the time – and while you’re waiting for the train, you get a text from the group chat you have with the three other female pros who debuted in the same year as you. That’s about the only thing the four of you have in common, but that’s not stopping Yue from messaging in all caps. I MISSED MY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY! WE NEED TO CELEBRATE <3 <3 <3

Yue was the last one of the four of you to debut. Her agency held her back for maximum press impact, whereas you just picked a day at random to quit working as a sidekick and strike out for yourself. Kagura, another member of the debut class, texts back before you can. Spa night?

That sounds good to you, but it’s not Yue’s speed at all. GOING OUT! I CAN GET US INTO CLUB 100 IN TOKYO!

Right – Yue’s number 25, as of the most recent billboard chart update. Mayuko, the member of the class you get along with best, texts next. It might be nice to see what it’s like?

Kagura gives a thumbs-up, and Yue sets the celebration date for tonight – and orders you all to come to her apartment to get ready. She has a special message for you. NO BOOTS, SKY. THEY’RE TOO CLUNKY FOR DANCING.

You send back a frowny face, and Mayuko chimes in. You can borrow my shoes. It’s been so long since we got together! I can’t wait!

That’s true, and you’ve missed them – but right now you’re a liability. Are you sure you want to be seen in public with me? I’m sort of radioactive right now.

Nobody will recognize you out of costume, Yue says, instead of what you were hoping she’d say, which is that it doesn’t matter and she has your back. Be at my place at 6!

There goes your quiet night. You board your train and lean back in your seat. If you have to go dancing tonight, you’d better catch some rest now.

Shigaraki refreshes the page, frowning. Then he refreshes it again, getting the same message. What the hell does ‘set to private’ mean? He googles it, learns that only approved followers can see an Instagram account that’s set to private, and feels a surge of annoyance. It figures. He spent two weeks debating whether or not to look you up, and by the time he’s finally decided it’s not creepy to look up the weird hero who has a crush on him, you locked all of your stupid social media accounts.

Part of Shigaraki still thinks everybody’s messing with him – everybody except Toga, who’s delusional, and Twice, who’s probably never touched a girl who wasn’t in the process of arresting him. But something about it keeps bothering Shigaraki. Something about you keeps bothering him. Thinking about it makes him itch, and not thinking about it isn’t working. After two weeks of trying both, Shigaraki decided to look you up and find out what you’ve said about him and the League of Villains, so he can finally delete the mental save file with you in it.

But you haven’t said much about the League of Villains. Shigaraki can’t tell if that’s because no one’s asked you or because you don’t have anything to say – or at least not anything you’d say publicly, which is why he went looking for your personal social media accounts and found them all locked. Shigaraki scratches with one hand and looks you up on Reddit with the other. He has to be pretty specific in his search query. Just looking up “Skynet” brings up a lot of stuff about movies.

The Reddit threads about you are a mix of obsessive hero fans and people who think you’re hot. The latter group spends a lot of time bitching about the fact that you don’t post enough thirst traps. It doesn’t seem like you go for fanservice. Good. Shigaraki hates heroes on principle, but he hates the ones who don’t showboat ever so slightly less.

You used to work with Eraserhead, which is probably why he let you supervise his class. You went to UA. There are links to all your Sports Festival performances, and Shigaraki bookmarks them for later, in case you’ve got skills you didn’t show in the fight at Kamino. You’re not very well-known, and none of your arrests have been of big-time villains. And as far as Shigaraki can find, you’ve never said a word about the League.

It’s not like Shigaraki was expecting to find a whole essay about why you don’t hate the League and why you have a crush on him. He wouldn’t have liked that. But he also doesn’t like the fact that you apparently didn’t think about the League at all before you fought him at Kamino. Maybe you did and you were just keeping quiet about it. Or maybe you didn’t care at all until you met Shigaraki in person, and then you – what? Worried about him? Cared about him? Wanted him to live? Do people actually fall in love at first sight?

Toga would say yes, but Toga’s seventeen, and also insane. Shigaraki can’t take anything Toga says at face value.

There’s one other spot on Reddit where Shigaraki finds you – in a thread on the weirdest hero names. He remembers the movies that kept popping up in his earlier search results and finds one of them on his favorite pirating site. He’s bored. There’s nothing to do right now. He’s decided not to do anything else until the dust has settled. He has time for a movie.

The hideout is quiet right now. Dabi’s been gone all day. Toga and Twice left this afternoon, either to scout things out or to steal more supplies, and Spinner, Compress, and Magne are all napping in the next room. This afternoon, Shigaraki sent Kurogiri to ask the doctor for help. He didn’t want to do that, but with Sensei gone – gone, and it’s Shigaraki’s fault, because it was his stupid plan – the League is out of Nomus and running out of money. They need backup, and Kurogiri’s better at convincing the doctor to do things than Shigaraki is. A scarecrow with a paper bag over its head is better at convincing people to do things than Shigaraki is. If Shigaraki was convincing at all, he would have won Bakugou over, and none of this would have happened.

The movie is sci-fi, or maybe horror. It’s also really old, from some time period where all the movies were set in a world where quirks don’t exist. If quirks existed, this movie would be over before it even started. Probably. Shigaraki wonders if you’ve seen this movie. If you liked it. What other things do you like, in addition to him?

A few minutes later, he gets an answer to at least one of his questions. You’ve definitely seen this movie, and you must have liked it, or you wouldn’t have named yourself after the evil supercomputer that nuked humanity and started building killer robots to take out anybody who survived. Now Shigaraki gets why you were on the list of heroes with weird names, and he’s pretty sure you should be at the top of it. You must have at least a couple screws loose. That’s probably why you took one look at Shigaraki and decided to fall in love with him. If you have fallen in love with him. Have you?

Shigaraki needs to stop thinking about this. He presses play on the movie again. Now that he’s got at least an answer or two, maybe he can focus on something else. Something other than the fact that he’s tired and hungry and has a headache and will probably get dizzy if he stands up too fast, just like he always has. And the fact that none of those things were a problem until you asked if he was okay.

He must fall asleep or something, because the next thing he knows, the screen of his phone’s gone dark, and someone is hollering at him from the other room. “What?” Shigaraki shouts back.

“Get in here,” Dabi says. Dabi’s back. “Your girlfriend’s on the news.”

“All over the news,” Toga adds gleefully, before Shigaraki can argue back that a) you’re not his girlfriend because b) he doesn’t even like you. “She’s even cuter when she’s covered in blood!”

What? Shigaraki stands up too fast, comes close to blacking out, and scrambles unsteadily into the other room. Magne has the TV on, and Shigaraki elbows his way past Compress and Dabi for a look at the screen. It’s the national news, a special report. Something about speed brakes failing on a Shinkansen headed through Tokyo and a catastrophic derailment. Or what would have been a catastrophic derailment, if it wasn’t for you. Before Shigaraki can tell somebody to look up what happened on their phone – his is dead – the news broadcast plays a video of the incident. All Shigaraki and the others can do is stare.

“Damn,” Spinner says into the silence that falls afterwards. “If she’d done that at Kamino, you all would have been toast.”

No kidding. Shigaraki didn’t go to school past kindergarten, but every idiot knows that trains are heavy, and knows that the faster something is going, the harder it is to stop. In the video, you’re on the tracks behind the speeding train, hand outstretched. Shigaraki sees the train shudder when your quirk catches it. It yanks you off your feet about three seconds later, and you get dragged out of the frame facedown, one hand still extended, still hanging on. Whoever’s holding the camera pans left, following the train, and it’s pretty obvious that the train is slowing down. Shigaraki thought your quirk was good for paralyzing people and pulling wires out of the ground. He’d never have guessed you were capable of this.

“Why didn’t she do that at Kamino?” Dabi asks, baffled. “She could have made it big as the hero who took down the League of Villains instead of getting dragged by the press for letting us go.”

“Which do you think dragged her harder, the press or the train?” Magne cackles, and Dabi snorts. “She looks like roadkill –”

“Don’t be dumb,” Toga says to Magne. “She’s got blood all over her. It’s cute! And she let us go at Kamino because she loves Tomura-kun.”

“Oh, right.” Magne nods. Dabi’s still snickering. “The train isn’t half as cute as the boss is!”

Dabi’s snickering gets worse, and Twice is guffawing in the background. Shigaraki yanks the remote out of Magne’s hand and turns up the volume on the TV to drown them out. “ – pleased to report a lack of severe injuries to the passengers, courtesy of the gradual stop achieved by what was first believed to be a civilian acting without authorization,” the newscaster is saying. They’re on the scene. There’s an ambulance in the background. “We’ve since confirmed that the individual responsible for the save is an off-duty hero by the name of Skynet. We have her right here –”

The camera zooms in on you, just in time for you to spit a mouthful of blood into the gutter. Magne was right – you look like shit – and Toga was right – you’re covered in blood. You’re not wearing your costume, and your clothes are pretty shredded. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand and stand up straight, grimacing. Shigaraki’s taken his share of hits in battle before. He’s impressed against his will.

The interviewer is asking you a bunch of questions, and Shigaraki listens carefully. Now that he knows how powerful your quirk actually is, he needs as many clues as possible about how it works. He picks up things here and there, but he keeps getting distracted by you. By the blood dripping from the corner of your mouth. By the big, bloody scrapes across your torso. By the way one of your shoulders is pretty obviously dislocated, and the fact that you’re standing there doing an interview when you should be getting help. Shigaraki doesn’t need to ask a stupid question about whether or not you’re okay. He knows you’re not. Why does he care?

Because you were off-duty. Because this wasn’t your job. Because you got in trouble for letting Shigaraki go at Kamino and still jumped onto the tracks to get dragged four hundred yards behind an out-of-control train. The heroic system is bullshit, and there’s nothing defensible about it, but that train probably had hundreds of people on it, and they’d be dead if it wasn’t for you. Being a hero is idiotic at best. But if it’s possible to do an idiotic thing the right way, you’re doing it.

The interviewer is asking you why you stepped in when you weren’t on duty, and you’re getting pretty visibly annoyed. Spinner is the only person other than Shigaraki who’s still watching. “She’s underground, right?” he asks. Shigaraki nods without looking away from the screen. “She acts like a true hero. Stain would approve.”

Shigaraki doesn’t give a shit what the Hero Killer thinks about anything. But he has a really bad feeling that he’s starting to give a shit about you. What the hell is he supposed to do about it?

Turn you, obviously. The League could use a quirk like yours, and it would be a serious blow to hero society for an established hero to join forces with Shigaraki. You probably weren’t trying to get Shigaraki’s attention by stopping a speeding train, but you’ve got his attention now, for a good reason instead of a stupid one. The thought of your feelings for him is a lot less uncomfortable now that they’re something he can use.

Kurogiri gets back from the doctor with bad news – the doctor can’t help them right now, because they’re taking too much heat. It sounds like bullshit to Shigaraki, but he has something else on his mind. He talks to Kurogiri away from the others. “Find out where Skynet lives.”

Kurogiri looks surprised. “Why?”

“She’s stronger than I thought. We can use her.”

“I see,” Kurogiri says, but he’s giving Shigaraki a weird look. “Why do you need to know where she lives?”

“So I can let her know I’m interested,” Shigaraki says. Kurogiri’s expression doesn’t shift. “I don’t have to tell her what I’m interested in.”

Kurogiri’s still making a weird face. As much as Kurogiri can make any kind of face. “Right?” Shigaraki prompts, and Kurogiri nods. “Right. Once we know where she is, what should I do?”

“Something subtle,” Kurogiri suggests. “Consider it while I seek the information you requested.”

Something subtle. Easy enough. Shigaraki feels better about the whole thing than he has since he ran into you for the first time. You’re in love with him? That’s fine. If you love him so much, you can help him destroy the world.

<- Chapter 1 Chapter 3 ->

[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

[lokisprettygirl]

Step Out Of Line (Bill Skarsgard! Eric Draven x Female Reader) (Alternate Universe) (18+)

Read chapter 4 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 5

Summary : Bond between you and Eric grows deeper as you get him through this difficult time.

Warning: 18+, smut, non consensual sex, mention of drug addiction, grooming, mommy kink, age gap relationship, emotional cheating, marital abuse, sexual abuse, consumption of weed

You entered the hospital room and saw his upper body in the cast. He had broken his shoulder blade on the right side and his humerus bone on the left. There was a fracture on his clavicle as well. It made you feel horrible, you found yourself burdened with guilt, he couldn't even lift a finger and this happened to him because of you, if you hadn't insisted on leaving, he never would have gotten upstairs and your mother never would have screamed for attention.

Thinking of your mother reminded you of the conversation you had just heard, what was she talking about? Why did she need to keep an eye on him until he was twenty five? What was she planning to do to him once he turned 25?

You knew you'd have to figure it out soon as there wasn't much time left until his 25th birthday.

His head was wrapped in a bandage too, luckily he fell with all his weight on his arms so his head was not impacted and the injury was superficial.

“Hey” you mumbled softly so he looked at you, his eyes were teary so you walked towards him and cupped his cheeks, then you carefully wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping your hold as loose as possible, he immediately placed his head down on your shoulder as he sniffled.

“How am I going to workout?” He asked you, you couldn't help but chuckle at his concern.

“I don't think you can do it for a few weeks” you said to him so he groaned in response.

“Hey..” you murmured softly so he looked you in the eye, those green bulbs of his widening “Don't ever scare me like that again alright?” You said to him sternly, he was going to ask where his wife was but the concern and care he saw in your eyes made him forget all about it. She had never looked at him this way, and she never would either.

You wanted to ask him if there was any significance to him turning twenty five that she wanted to exploit but this wasn't the right time, you had to take him home first and take care of him.

“Okay you step down carefully now” you mumbled softly as you held onto his waist to give him support.

He was cleared to go home, a nurse would visit him tomorrow to change the bandage on his head, it was a job your mother could have easily done if she wanted to.

“Where is Dolly?” He finally asked you so you shrugged, you didn't want him to feel hurt, especially when physically he was in such distress and on hard medication.

“She needed to take her medicines so she went home” You said to him so he nodded.

That was just an excuse though and you wondered if he believed your lie, this precious man next to you, didn't sleep, didn't eat, and sat at her bedside for hours when she was hospitalized a mere few days ago and she couldn't wait to just get out of here when the situation was reversed.

“Everyone is staring..I feel like a clown, they are probably making fun of me” he said to you so you looked around. Nobody was staring at him, this was a hospital, people came here in the worst of conditions, maybe one person did but you could tell it was all in his head, perhaps the trauma from bullying made him feel so self conscious.

“Nobody is staring I promise, if anyone dares make fun of you I'll kick their asses okay?” You mumbled playfully so he smiled.

God he was adorable.

Cab had arrived already so as you stepped out of the building you helped him in the car.

As you leaned over him to tie his seatbelt, the proximity made his head spin. He couldn't stop staring at you, the way you treated him made him feel so giddy in his heart, he felt like a teenage boy again. He wondered how life would be if you were his wife instead of his stepdaughter. No that was wrong, he had to quit thinking this way.

“Are you still leaving?” He asked as the car began to move so you turned your head towards him.

“Of Course not,” he smiled at the response. Well at least his pain and misery brought him something good. You were glad he wasn't bringing up the love confession and humiliating you with it..

When you reached home Dolly was nowhere to be found, suddenly she didn't seem to worry about you stealing her husband when she knew she'd have to take care of him now in every possible way, put some actual effort into this marriage of convenience. This is how she avoided responsibility, when you were a child she'd often hire a babysitter whenever you got sick so she wouldn't have to take care of you.

He was drowsy from the medicine so you helped him down on the bed carefully, he went out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow and you were grateful for it because sleeping like this in one position would definitely take some getting used to.

Later that evening when she finally graced the house with her presence you glared at her.

“Where have you been?” You asked her so she sighed.

“I went to buy these for him” she said as she showed you the bouquet of flowers and a get well soon card. God she was infuriating.

He'd have appreciated her being there with him much more than these false gestures.

Next morning when he woke up he needed to use the bathroom so he looked at Dolly, feeling slightly embarrassed and hesitant.

“Hey..i need to use the loo” he said to her so she looked at him as she finished spraying the perfume on herself.

“Then go honey..i need to go see Bethany..I'll be back in the afternoon” she said to him as she walked towards the bed and leaned down to kiss his lips before stepping out of the bedroom, clunking of her heels fading more and more the farther she got, he called her name but she pretended to not hear him.

How was he supposed to take a leak or do other stuff? He couldn't move his arm at all and he definitely won't be able to hold his dick for that matter.

He couldn't even grab his phone to call you. What was he supposed to do now? He really needed to go like an hour ago-

“Ohhh fuck..fuck my life” he said as his bladder loosened up finally, he couldn't hold it anymore, he felt the wetness running down his legs, drenching his pants, then the bedsheet and the mattress beneath him.

He felt so ashamed and overwhelmed, he wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out of there.

Half an hour later when you entered his room you found him sniffling, when you noticed the mess you walked towards him.

“Hey-” you called out to him softly which made him cry even harder.

“Please get out ..I can't ..just get out please..leave me alone” he sniffled between his words as he spoke, not wanting anyone to see him in such a disgraceful state..

“No no I'm sorry..I'm sorry it's my fault, i shouldn't have left you with her..I'm sorry hey..look at me please” you said to him as you cupped his cheeks and wiped his tears. You should have known better than to believe that she'd take care of him and at least offer him human courtesy.

“I feel so bad” he cried softly, making your own eyes well up with tears.

“I know I'm sorry..” you mumbled as you kissed his forehead. Wrapping your arm under his neck you helped him in the sitting position.

“Okay stand up now..very slowly okay” you said as you wrapped your arms around his waist to help him up.

You never thought you'd ever see this day with him but that's just how life surprised you.

“Y/n?” he said to you as you made him stand against the sink in the bathroom, you needed to help him change the pants.

“I need to go again” he said to you, his eyes teary and full of shame so you held his cheeks.

“Okay..it's a natural thing..don't worry okay?” You said to him softly so he nodded but he still felt mortified by this whole situation. This was you, his y/n, his friend, his supposed stepdaughter, this was a spouse's job or a mother's and definitely not yours, you shouldn't have been made to feel responsible for this, he wouldn't even have been upset with you if you had refused to help and had left him to his condition, he would have understood.

He always knew you were completely different from your mother, perhaps you got this kindness from your father but he never expected this level of generosity, he didn't even know humans were capable of being this way if they weren't being paid for it. At that moment you looked like an anomaly to him, something out of this world.

“Okay so uhh..I'll just hold it and you can..ummm I'll keep my eyes closed” you assured him so he wouldn't think you were a pervert or something. You just wanted to help.

You assisted him to the toilet before you stood next to him and turned with your front facing him, then you closed your eyes. He kept his eyes on you though, this was the weirdest, perhaps most humiliating situation he had ever been in his life, he never wanted the girl of his dreams to see him this way but this situation was out of his hands. Literally.

You carefully lowered down his pants, keeping your eyes closed all while.

“Okay so I'll just hold it now okay?” You said to him awkwardly so he hummed in response.

You took a deep breath as you placed your hand on his cock. God damn why was it so thick? You could hear his breath hitching the moment you touched him. This wasn't the time to have dirty thoughts but both of you were in a peculiar situation.

“Point it up” he said to you, suddenly sounding so confident so you did what he said.

“A little to the left, wouldn't want to make a mess” he said again so you followed his instruction.

You could hear him sighing in relief as he was done relieving himself.

“Stay here I'll bring a fresh pair of pants” You said to him as you turned to the sink to wash your hands, keeping your back facing him, then you walked back into the bedroom. When you returned, you were graced by the sight of his bare ass so you closed your eyes again.

After helping him brush his teeth, you took him to the kitchen table and made him sit down, he needed to eat before his medication. Before making breakfast though you looked for a male caregiver who could come and stay here for a few days, you didn't mind helping him but you knew he required personal care and you didn't feel equipped for it. That's what you should have done in the first place instead of depending on your useless mother to take care of her husband.

And you definitely didn't think you'd survive holding his cock again so there was that too.

The Caregiver arrived in the afternoon, his name was Taylor, he was a man in his thirties, and he had been doing this for a decade now so Eric was in good hands.

You also called a cleaning lady to change his bed sheet and deep clean the mattress as well as she could. Meanwhile you moved Eric to one of the spare rooms upstairs, that way you'd be able to reach him quickly whenever he needed you.

You didn't give a shit what your mother would have to say about this when she comes back later and she finally did, late at night.

“How dare you move him without my permission?” She asked you as she entered your room. Your jaw clenched so hard you feared you'd break all of your teeths.

“Doctor suggested that he sleeps by himself, you could hit him in your sleep and make his injuries worse” you said to her nonchalantly, controlling all the rage you were feeling for her. To think of it she didn't really need to be asleep in order to hurt him.

“Oh he did huh?” she chuckled condescendingly.

“Yeah you'd know that if you were there yesterday like you should have been” you said to her making her even more furious. As she stormed out of your room, her footsteps thumped loudly against the stairs. She didn't even go see him or tried to spend time with him, she went straight back to her room. That's when you decided to go visit him, as you entered his room Taylor was almost falling apart on the couch so you asked him to go rest and be up early the next morning as Eric would need him.

As you reached near his bed he opened his eyes and gave you a smile

“Hey..i did that voice activation thing on your phone so if you want to call me or Taylor, you just have to say it out loud okay?” You told him so he nodded.

He didn't even ask why you didn't mention Dolly and that made you feel a little better, you really needed him to open his eyes and see her true self.

“How would I ever repay you for this morning? And everything else?” He asked you so you shook your head as you smiled.

“And here I thought we were friends..gee thanks”

His eyes teared up as you said that, you were friends, in fact more than friends, he didn't think he had a word for what you were becoming to him, not a lover, not a stepdaughter, but something more, something probably even deeper than love. You were starting to become his person and that terrified him.

“Want to hear a joke?’ you asked him as you sat down at the edge of the bed so he chuckled.

“Is it funny?”

“Yeah, it really is” you answered so he hummed in response.

“What's that one bad word I can use for you that you aren't allowed to feel offended for because it's hundred percent true?” You asked him so he thought about it but he couldn't come up with an answer.

“I don't know.. what is it?” he asked so you grinned widely before answering.

“Motherfucker” his eyes widened as you said that before it sunk in and he erupted into a laughter, his chest vibrating, the more he thought about it, the funnier it became.

“Okay that was hilarious” he said to you so you patted yourself on the back, this is how you'd keep him all the time if he was yours. All giggly and happy.

“Since you mentioned it..where is she?” He asked you finally.

“In her room”

“She must be upset about the mess i made”

No he should have been upset that she left him like that knowing far too well that he won't be able to do anything on his own.

“She won't be able to tell ..I got it all cleaned up”

“You're an angel” you chuckled as he said that before you grabbed the hem of the blanket and covered him up.

“You should sleep now”

“I just woke up..will you stay with me for a bit?” He asked you so you smiled before you walked around the bed and got next to him. You knew he'd doze off again soon so you didn't mind staying, you'd have stayed all night if he wanted you too, you didn't care how inappropriate it would be to do so. Definitely less inappropriate than you helping him take a leak though.

“Do you want me to read to you or something?” You asked as you rested your back on the pillow behind.

“No I'd just like to hear your voice” your face flushed as he said that, the way the words rolled off his tongue sounded so smooth. He was so ignorantly unaware of the effects he had on you and that frustrated you at times. He didn't even realise how hot he was and that was a damn near shame in your eyes.

“Okay..” you mumbled as you laid on your front on your elbows, he couldn't turn his body so he just tilted his head.

“You know when I was a kid my dad used to do this whenever I was fussy and would refuse to sleep” you murmured as you began running your fingers over his scalp, he closed his eyes immediately as he felt the tickling touch.

“That feels good” he smiled as he felt the soothing sensation. He wasn't used to being touched so tenderly.

If your mother would walk in right now she'd misunderstand the situation but you didn't give a shit about her fake feelings anymore.

He fell asleep soon after so you leaned down to kiss his forehead before you turned off the lights, covered him up properly and left his room.

*******

Later that night Eric woke up to Dolly on top of him, she already had him inside her, he was so drowsy that he didn't wake up until she had started to really go at him.

“What are you doing?” He asked as he looked at her, his eyes tearing up.

“Oh baby i have missed you so much, so glad my babyboy is fine now, I was so scared” she said as she continued to hop on him. He felt weak and he was in pain, this was the last thing he needed.

“Please stop.. i.. stop please” he begged her, hoping she'd show him some mercy but she didn't. She never really stopped whenever he'd ask her to stop.

Once she was done she leaned down to kiss his cheeks and told him that she'd come back to clean him up but she didn't, he waited for her for an hour but she didn't come back. Eventually he had to call Taylor, he was so embarrassed he didn't even want to explain the situation. He felt humiliated but the man was kind about it, and told him that it happened sometimes.

Why would she do this to him? She hadn't seen him all day and when she finally did, this is what she needed from him?

Next morning Taylor helped him use the bathroom, then he gave him a bath, and helped him dress up before taking Eric downstairs, Taylor followed closely behind, making sure he wouldn't trip since he couldn't really hold onto the staircase. He called out for Dolly but she was nowhere in sight, he did find you in the kitchen making breakfast though.

As you saw him you smiled.

“Good morning..to you both.. breakfast?” you said to Taylor so he declined politely.

“Actually I'm gonna head out for half an hour” Taylor said to you so you nodded.

As he left you helped Eric sit down at the kitchen table, he didn't need your help doing that, his legs were fine but he was starting to enjoy the attention and care you showered him with.

“I'm not a great cook, so I just made eggs and fried some bacon, oh and there's butter toast” You said mindlessly as you moved around the kitchen and he just watched you with a feeling of awe, bundle of affection brewing in the bottom of his heart.

After making two plates you sat down next to him.

“How did you sleep?” You asked him, his smile faded as he remembered what his wife had done in the middle of the night.

“Good..how was yours” you looked at him with suspicious eyes as he said that. You knew his hands must be itching to fidget in nervousness, he got that way whenever he was nervous or was lying. You didn't want to press him though, he never opened up if he didn't want to.

After breakfast you took him to the yard and you both laid down under the early morning sun.

“You know once you're out of this cast ..we should make that portfolio” he couldn't believe what he was hearing so he looked at you to double check.

“You're kidding?”

“No, I'm serious. Let's just try it okay? See how it turns out”

“I'm not a model..I'm just tall”

And absolutely ethereal you thought.

“You don't know that.. that woman saw something in you, that's why she approached you” you argued, you had a solid argument though.

“I won't be good at it”

He said in such a somber tone it broke your heart. She had broken him slowly in the past six years. He always felt so useless and underconfident.

“You can't say for sure if you won't even try” you argued again.

“I don't even look good in pictures”

You sat up finally as he said that, you wouldn't take such slandering, the look of disbelief flashed clearly across your features.

“Now you're just fishing for compliment” You said as you took out your phone from the pocket of your pants.

“Just lay there.. and look at the camera and just smile okay?” You said to him so he chuckled.

“As if I have other options here”

You clicked a picture of him and turned the phone so he could see it

“See you're a whole supermodel ..” you said to him so he shook his head. He didn't see himself the way you did.

“And this is just from my phone, no make up, no fancy lighting, though the sun is really working in your favour” he let out a giggle as you hyped him up. He didn't know he could feel the way he was feeling at the moment.

“I feel like I'm too old for that now.. almost 25” he said to you.

“You can easily pass for twenty with that perfect skin..in a way those actors do when they're like thirty but playing a teenager in a movie or tv show”

He chuckled again as you said that, he had a feeling you weren't going to give up on the idea of him being a model now.

The mention of him being almost twenty five brought up the thing your mom had said so you cleared your throat.

“So big twenty five..in two months how does it feel?” you asked him.

“Don't know..I'd still feel the same”

“Yeah but that's when the frontal lobe gets fully developed you know”

He smiled as you said that. You really wanted to ask if there was any significance to this particular age in his life, anything that would connect the dots but then he answered the question without even asking. That's when you had decided that you really needed to get him out of your mom's clutches before she'd ruin him completely. You were going to rescue him, you just didn't know how yet.

“I guess that's why my father put that clause in there regarding the trust fund..he must have thought that I'd be a complete grown up as soon as I'm 25” he said to you so you looked at him, your interest piqued.

“What do you mean? What clause?” you asked him curiously.

“When I turn twenty five I can legally transfer half of the funds and assets to my wife and when I die everything else will go to her”

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist @mariaenchanted @malenoradgn @loushaw131460 @wiseyouthinfluencer @muchwita

[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

[charlotteking27]

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.

[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?

[loth-creatures]

Do you have any more Hera pregnancy headcanons?

Yup!

Hera has always been the constantly running on 3 hours of sleep 5 cups of caf and a single slice of meiloorun type which is Not Good when you're pregnant and so she's forced to learn to for real take care of herself at a time in her life when it's harder than ever to think about herself.

Not to mention Kanan was likely the one reminding her to take care of herself before. Zeb and Sabine are trying so hard to get her to rest and eat enough but she's just throwing herself into her work harder than ever and emotionally shutting down out of grief. I feel like there was lot of tension between the three of them, with Zeb and Sabine getting frustrated bc they're terrified of losing her too, everyone is greiving, they're struggling to maintain the Ghost when they're missing 2 crew members which makes the grief even worse. They're a mess.

I also feel like it took Hera a while to come to real terms with the fact that she is growing a whole baby and it's going to have consequences on her body like she's in near denial about being sick and in pain and exhausted and is determined to push through meetings and maintenance and missions no matter what. It's not until she can feel him kicking that she fully realizes that it's not just about her, she can't put off being a mother until he's actually born, he's already here and needs her to sit the fuck down and eat something.

Oh and she has the most bizarre cravings. Zeb and Sabine are struggling to find her food she wants, like the options had to be fairly limited on a rebel base, it's mission impossible to feed this woman.

And at the end of it all, Hera definitely went into labor at the worst possible time and the birth went horribly. Like. Rebel command was a few days away from their third attempt at declaring her unfit for active duty when the baby comes prematurely in the middle of a mission, Sabine flies them back and Zeb has to sprint carrying Hera to the infirmary and it takes hours and hours and hours and there's complications and it's a miracle they both survived.

She's fully out of commision for a while after that but then as soon as she's halfway recovered Hera is determined to keep working on base with the baby strapped to her. Jacen's been to so many critical meetings he deserves his own honorary rank.