#confused face and sculpted body. my type

[c2-eh]

oh my GOD

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨

　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: In a seemingly perfect relationship, Y/N and Matt face a silent storm when Y/N, after appearing in a video on Matt's personal channel, is the target of cruel comments that leave her feeling inadequate. Unable to share her insecurities, Y/N distance herself from Matt, wallowing in self-criticism and painful comparisons, until he snaps.

WARNING: Crying, insecurities, comparison, yelling, fighting.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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Y/N felt the weight of the world on her shoulders as she tried to navigate the dark mazes of her mind. Since she appeared in the last video on Matt's personal channel, everything had changed. The acidic words of the "fans' comments burned in her memory, leaving deep marks.

It was a vlog-type video, where the couple was spending the day walking through parks, going to museums and strolling through the mall, but comments like "She's not good enough for him", "Matt deserves someone better" and "The other YouTubers' girlfriends are better than this" filled the comments box and echoed in her mind constantly.

What was once a stable and loving relationship now turned into a minefield of insecurities.

Y/N began to see herself through the distorted lens of the comments. She endlessly compared herself to other women on social media – the influencers with flawless skin, sculpted bodies, and perfect smiles. Each comparison only served to erode her self-esteem even more. She wondered what Matt saw in her and if, perhaps, those people were right.

This whirlwind of insecurities made her distance herself from Matt. She avoided dates, responded to his texts in a short and evasive way, and when they were together, her mind was always distant, immersed in thoughts of inadequacy. Matt, in turn, noticed the change but didn't understand the depth of what was happening.

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The morning after the video came out, Y/N and Matt sat down at the kitchen table for breakfast. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, along with the random sounds of Nick and Chris echoing through the house, but the silence between the couple was deafening. Matt was engrossed in his phone, responding to emails and interacting with his followers.

Y/N, on the other hand, could barely look at him. The words of the comments were eating her up inside.

"Good morning, baby." Matt murmured when noticing her presence long minutes after she had entered the room without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Good morning." Y/N responded, trying to hide the anguish in her voice, her teeth gripping her bottom lip in a death grip, restraining herself from saying anything else.

She stirred the stainless steel spoon inside the white bowl full of cereal, without appetite. Her mind returned to the nasty comments, each word a knife in her heart. She felt inadequate and inferior.

Her eyes occasionally glanced at Matt, who looked so happy and self-assured, and wondered how he could love her when so many people thought she wasn't good enough. When he had thousands of better options than her.

"Do you wanna go to the mall today?" Matt asked, looking up from his phone in confusion seconds after, noticing the unusual silence. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, I am." Y/N lied quickly, nodding her head and forcing a smile. "I just didn't sleep well. Maybe I should stay home today." She shrugged, maintaining eye contact.

Matt accepted the answer without question, returning his attention to the phone a few seconds later. For Y/N, it was a momentary relief, but the pain was still latent, pulsing.

How had he not noticed the sea of ​​pain in her eyes?

Maybe he didn't care anymore.

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A few weeks later, Matt decided to take Y/N out to dinner at a restaurant they both loved. He wanted to cheer her up, realizing that she had been distant the last few days. However, Y/N could not escape the mental prison she had constructed.

As they sat, Matt excitedly talked about his new ideas for the Sturniolo Triplets channel and how excited he was to be able to vlog and stream again. Y/N tried to pay attention, nodding her head and keeping her eyes fixed on the boy's face, but her mind wandered to the words that seemed etched into the walls of her mind.

Her orbs momentarily strayed to the tables around hers, noticing other couples made up of beautiful women.

They looked beautiful, confident, and charismatic.

And she felt small and insignificant.

"Did you hear what I said?" Matt asked suddenly with a slight tone of frustration, his brow furrowed and his posture rigid.

"Sorry, I was distracted." Y/N quickly responded, feeling embarrassed, her hands clasped together above her thighs, squeezing her fingers in an act of nervousness.

"You've been so distant lately. What's going on?"

Y/N wanted to spill it all, tell him about the comments, about how inadequate she felt, but the words wouldn't come out. She was afraid Matt would confirm her insecurities.

"Nothing, I'm just tired. Work has been taking a toll on me." The girl lied, avoiding the blue eyes that stared deeply at her.

Matt sighed, clearly worried and annoyed, but accepted the apology.

Dinner continued, but the atmosphere was tense and heavy. For Y/N, every moment was a fight against tears and despair.

He would get tired of her.

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A small launch event for one of the Space Camp lines. It was a momentous occasion, and the triplets were excited to take a new, longer step in their Internet career.

Y/N wore her best dress with the best heels and the best makeup, trying to look confident, but inside, she was in pieces.

During the event, Matt was surrounded by people, laughing and talking, interacting with his closest friends, and explaining his role within his brother's brand.

Meanwhile, Y/N felt like a ghost, invisible. Every time someone looked at her, she felt like they were judging her, comparing herself o other women present.

At some point, while Matt was busy chatting with some important guests, Y/N heard two women commenting nearby.

"She's Matt's girlfriend? Wow, she doesn't seem like anything special."

"He could get someone so much better."

The words were like stabs. Y/N felt the ground disappear beneath her feet, and all the air escaped her lungs, her heart freezing.

She needed to get out of there.

The girl quickly walked towards the nearest bathroom and locked herself in a stall, tears streaming down her face, completely ruining the makeup she spent hours doing.

She felt like an impostor, a farce.

When she returned to the event about twenty minutes later, Matt noticed her red eyes and lack of makeup almost instantly, excusing himself from those he was talking to and walking towards her with quick steps.

"Babe, hey, what happened?" Matt asked in a low tone as he approached, worried.

"Nothing, just something got in my eye, I had to take off some makeup to get it out." She lied once again. She was getting good at it. Too good.

Matt looked suspicious but didn't insist, nodding slowly.

Upon arriving home that night, Y/N lay down on the bed next to Matt, the duvet covering half of her body. Matt quickly fell asleep, exhausted from the event, seeming to not have the strength to try to talk to his girlfriend or the will.

Y/N lay awake, staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing a mile a minute.

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The culmination of everything happened when Matt decided to share with Y/N ​​a new idea for the channel, something he was really excited about. He had spent weeks planning the boys trip with his brothers and Nate, along with how they would record everything, turning the precious moments into a long vlog, so sharing the finished idea with his girlfriend was a crucial moment for him.

Y/N sat next to him on the large sofa in the living room, curling up on the gray upholstery and trying to focus on the excited words coming out of Matt's mouth, not even giving herself the luxury of feeling surprised at how quickly he spoke - different from his usual self, her mind being far away.

"So what do you think?" Matt asked after finishing his line of reasoning, his eyes fixed on Y/N's face expectantly, waiting for a reaction.

"Ah yes, that sounds good." The girl nodded briefly, smiling slightly, her eyes with a distracted gaze.

Matt frowned, noticing her lack of enthusiasm.

"You didn't even hear what I said, did you?"

"Sorry, I'm just... distracted." She cleared her throat, looking down at her crossed legs.

"I can't handle it anymore." Matt muttered in a low tone, taking a deep breath as his expression closed completely, one of fury taking the place of confusion, standing up abruptly and starting to walk between the television and the sofa in an attempt to calm himself down. "You've been acting so strange, so distant. I feel like I'm talking to a wall all the time. What's happening to you? Where's the bubbly Y/N I used to know?"

Y/N remained silent, tears already beginning to well up in her eyes as she looked at him through her wet lashes, silently begging him to stop, but Matt continued, his voice rising with each word.

"I'm tired, Y/N. Tired of being ignored, tired of trying to figure out what the hell you want. I feel like I'm carrying this relationship alone! You act like you don't care. Do you even care anymore? Because, honestly, it doesn't seem like it, and with each passing day, I become more discouraged with you."

He stopped his steps, breathing heavily, his eyes now fixed on Y/N, waiting for a response. When she finally looked up, her vision was blurred by the tears that were now running freely down her face.

"Matt, I... I'm so sorry." She began, her voice shaky and weak and her throat burning from the force she was trying to stop the sobs. "I didn't mean to make you feel this way. I'm just going through a hard time now-"

"Hard time? This has been going on for weeks! I don't know what else to do to reach you." The brunette suddenly interrupted her, his frustration boiling over. "You refuse to tell me what's going on, and I'm tired of being ignored."

"You don't understand..." Y/N felt a wave of despair take over her heart, shaking her head repeatedly.

"Then make me understand! I can't go on like this, Y/N." The boy ordered with tears in his eyes, his right hand flying to his own hair, ruffling it roughly in an act of nervousness. "Maybe we're not ideal together. Maybe you're not the right person for me!" The words escaped as quickly as his mind could process.

Y/N felt her heart stop for a few seconds, her skin freezing as her throat closed before a loud, ugly sob shot through her like lightning, escaping her lips intensely. Every cruel comment, every insecurity, everything accumulated in her mind at that moment, confirming her worst fears.

"They were right," she thought, "I'm not the one for him."

All she wanted to do most at that moment was run out of that house and away from him, but with the storm outside, her not knowing how to drive and the late hour prevented her from making any hasty decisions, after all, she had nowhere to go. That was her home, or it was meant to be.

Meanwhile, Matt closed his mouth almost instantly, his eyes widening as his mind seemed to process the words he had spilled, feeling the impact of them, his heart aching as if a hand was crushing it hard as he watched the girl he loved breaking down in front of him.

"I didn't mean that, baby. I-I'm so sorry. Oh my-" His words were interrupted by his own sob before his now weak legs began tentative steps towards Y/N, afraid of her reaction.

But Y/N couldn't do anything but cry, her body shaking violently with the strong sobs that escaped her mouth, clawing at the walls of her throat, her face already swollen and wet with the intense tears that fell without stopping.

"N-no, you're right. I'm a fraud. I'll never be good enough for you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for m-making you loose time with me, I'm so sorry! M- Matty, I-I'm sorry-" That was all her mind could process: apologies. Her hands tightened into fists above her thighs, her long nails digging into her palms, drawing blood and hurting the sensitive skin.

"Baby, please, breathe, you're going to hurt yourself if you keep crying like that. Breath, hm? Please." Matt sat down next to her, his left hand pressing against his own eyes roughly, trying to shake away the tears that flooded his blue orbs, while his right hand flew to Y/N's ones, trying to slowly undo the knots of fingers she had created.

"The comments on your channel... about me. Saying that I'm not good enough for you, that you deserve someone better." Y/N began to say again between sobs, pulling in choppy air between one word and another. "I can't stop thinking about it, comparing myself to other women, and the worst of it all? They are all right! I couldn't bear the thought of being close to you and making you look ugly with me, o-or dislocated... so I distanced myself." Y/N's hands that were surrounded by his right one clenched tighter against each other, her skin taking on a reddish tone due to the strength she exerted in her grip, feeling her wrist and arms shaking with nervousness and anxiety.

"I don't-" Matt shook his head, sniffling and blinking repeatedly in an attempt to stop the tears. "I had no idea. I'm sorry for not having noticed, for not having noticed the signs in your way of acting and trying to understand, I'm sorry for acting on impulse and blaming you, love. I'm sorry for having said those horrible things, I'm so sorry, lovey. Why didn't you tell me?" His blue eyes, which looked at her with attention and closeness, carried immense pain for seeing her in such a state and knowing that it was his own fault.

"I just… I didn't know how to tell you. I was afraid that you would agree with them, that you would realize that I really wasn't the right woman for you, and that you would leave me." Y/N choked back a sob, sniffling repeatedly, trying her best to stop her crying, looking up at him as she felt his hand squeeze hers tightly, trying to stop her from keep hurting herself.

Matt's expression softened as his eyes met hers, a mixture of understanding and pain written across his face before he closed them for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"Y/N, you're not weak for feeling all this. Everyone has insecurities, but hiding them from me... you're pushing me away, which caused me to think other things were going on, on my own fault. It was a miscommunication on both sides, but I want to help you, and I can't if you don't trust me, babe."

"I'm so sorry, Matt. I'm so sorry for hurting you, for letting my insecurities get to us. I just... I feel so lost." The girl murmured, her voice lowering in volume considerably, her shoulders slumping even more. "Maybe I'm really not the one for you, you know? Maybe they're all right, and you just have to see it, too."

Matt's heart clenched at her words, and he gently lifted her chin so their eyes could meet again, his orbes traveling repeatedly around her face.

"No, Y/N, don't say that." He whispered fiercely. "You are the one for me. You're everything to me. These comments, they don't know us. They don't know how much you mean to me, how much you complete me."

"But how can you be sure? How can you be sure that I'm not dragging you down?" Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her breath still hitching from the sobs and her bottom lip trembling.

Matt sighed deeply, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.

"Because I know what we have. I know the love we share, and I see the amazing person you are, even if you don't see it yourself right now. You're not dragging me down. You're my partner, and we face everything together, good or bad. And I'm sorry for making it seem different or the opposite of what it really is by acting like that, I wish I could take it all back." He shook his head, feeling his hear burning with shame.

Her gaze softened slightly, a glimmer of hope sparking within her.

"But the comments... they get to me, Matt. It's like their words are a constant echo in my mind." She sniffled, immense pain surging through her shoulders and back as the adrenaline and tension subsided.

"I get it. I really do." He nodded understandingly. "But we can't let other people dictate our happiness. We have to believe in ourselves and each other. We're stronger than this, Y/N. And I'm here for you, always." His thumb caressed her jawline, lightly wiping the wet trails where the several tears fell.

"I don't want to lose you, Matt. I want to be strong for both of us." A small, tentative smile formed on her lips, the first real smile he'd seen in weeks.

"You don't have to be strong alone." He reminded her, his hand finding hers again, holding it firmly. "We'll be strong together. But you need to talk to me. Let me in, okay?"

"Okay. I'll try. I promise." She nodded, her grip on his hand tightening.

"That's all I ask. Just promise me you'll never feel like you're alone in this. We're a team, sweetheart. And I love you so much." Matt leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"I love you too, Matt." She whispered, a new determination settling in her heart. "And I'll do better. I'll let you in."

"That's all I need. We’ll get through this together." He smiled, a genuine, relieved smile before using his hand holding hers to slowly pull her closer, wrapping his arms around her torso and pulling her upper body to rest against his own, laying her head against his hoodie-covered chest before resting his chin on top of her head, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply, the fresh smell of shampoo filling his nostrils, making him realize how much he missed it.

They stayed there, holding each other, feeling the weight of emotions that had been suppressed for so long. Y/N knew that the road to regaining trust and security in the relationship would be long and difficult for her, but in that moment, wrapped in Matt's arms, she felt a spark of hope.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @junnniiieee07 @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @hpyjw @annamcdonalds67 @slutsformatt @chrissturnsss @l34n @chrissturnsss @selenascorner @sturnsxplr-25

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[activemelil-blog]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ dating the JJK boys, men headcanons

note: english is not my first language, so any spelling errors are because of it !! also, all stories mention you being female. slight 18+, seven per character . . .

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|• 0:10 ── Choso, Megumi, Nanami, Sukuna, Toji, Geto, gojo and yuji <3 (in order.)

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CHOSO, KAMO ─── ͙͘͡★🩸ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

choso would most likely get embarrassed seeing you half naked, or if he even saw you with a tank top with no bra underneath. he would look away so fast, his cheeks heating up. you would probably just look at him a little confused, and he’d walk; or back away slowly.

while choso loves you for your, he would definitely be a fan of your body too. hes an ass/thighs guy. he would love the feeling of his face being crushed by your thighs if hes eating you out, or when he falls asleep, he rests himself on your thighs, or your ass.

he’s probably inexperienced. this man is half curse, and 150 years old, so when you two get together, he’s a little clueless about having a girlfriend, but somehow he manages to be perfect. not to mention, definitely the first time he leaves a hickey on you, he admires it for a while, and leaves more. it is definitely one of his guiltier pleasures.

his back is.. really sculpted, and well defined, so when you see him sleeping face down, with no shirt your a little surprised. not to mention, its sensitive. so when you trace patterns along his back; he holds his moans in, whimpering lightly instead. his back arches cutely though. he’s definitely embarrassed about that later on when you tease him about it.

if you two go out, you bet this man would have his arm either around your waist, mainly over your shoulder. he’s really touchy, to an endearing extent, and he would definitely squish your thighs if he’s anxious, or if you two are watching a movie, he’ll be gripping your thigh, his hand itching higher up accidentally.

he would definitely stay up when your sick, and would coddle you like a baby if your sick. he would probably be so worried, he would have himself laid in between your thighs, murmuring stories about mahito, and whatever to you to keep you awake.

he would be the absolute best at planning dates, he would have you guys cooking together, and he would lick the access off your face, you guys would match halloween costumes, you guys would have the best dates, because of him.

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KENTO, NANAMI ─── ⋆｡°🕯️✩.˚₊

kento would be be the type of boyfriend, husband and or fiance to spoil you rotten. he would pay for everything when you two go out, he would take you out to the best, most fanciest restaurant, and you’d take photos together for you to save.

he definitely likes praising you. he would definitely use pet names, and his main three are darling, my love and sweetheart. he loves calling you nicknames, especially if its your name, just a shorter version of it.

when he’s driving you two out, oh, this man would have one hand on the wheel, the other firmly holding onto your thigh. he’d make sure to slightly rub your thigh, a little more subtly.

when you two are having sex, (mainly after he comes home from work) he would cover your eyes with his tie, or tie your wrists above your head to watch you be a little helpless. he’s gentle with it, soft, as too not be too rough.

he’s 100% a gentleman. If you two are doing anything you always make sure to ask for your consent, and then move on. he’s gentle to play with you, and or to tease you.

if you two are texting, he would send voice messages that would probably make you squirm, which you also do when he decides to cook, and he’s wearing an apron. he looks nice.

if you fall asleep on the couch before he gets home, he would probably either pick you up to put you onto your shared bed, and or sit beside you, and grab a blanket.

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MEGUMI, FUSHIGURO ─── ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☃️ ﾟ｡⋆

he’s a cutie. he would definitely get shy if you compliment him, even if its a small one, like you like his jacket, his shirt, and or his eyelashes. he gets flustered easily, and its how you two began to date.

even if he ghosts other people, for example one time he left yuji on read for two months, mean while he only takes less than thirty seconds to reply to your messages. your his first priority, always. he always makes sure your okay, and even if your zoned out, he’ll be concerned for you.

when he first notices his crush on you, he immediately rushes to gojo, panicking. since your his friend at first, he gets awkward around you, but then when you confess to him first, and he runs away, leaving you dumbfounded. he tells gojo again, and gojo sets you guys up on a nice date.

often, the silence with megumi is awkward with anyone else. when its you two, its not awkward at all, if anything its comforting. since hes not a big fan of pda, he often just sticks to holding your hand lightly, and if hes feeling nice that day, he’ll put his hand, more so his fingertips lightly on your thigh. he’s too nervous to do more.

when it snows in the winter, you two would have snow dates almost every week, every day. you would make a snowman, and itd be a three way thing, gojo being a third wheel. he would often third wheel you two, for example when you two went into his room, gojo would be peaking time to time to make sure you guys aren’t doing anything inappropriate behind that locked door.

behind that door, you two are listening to music on his AirPods, as his head is in between your legs, scrolling on his phone as you also look. whatever you find funny, he often blankly stares at it, which makes you rethink your life, a little.

one time you gave him a matching necklace, and he shrugged it off, and when he saw your slight pout, he wore it every single day after that. he enjoys doing little things with you, even if its something as simple as studying, and he always manages to end up taking you home while your asleep.

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RYOMEN, SUKUNA ─── જ⁀➴🍒

having.. one of the strongest beings as your boyfriend, is a little weird for sure. he was convinced you were the love of his life, since he’s still convinced you have some alterer motive, because he thinks your not too innocent as you lead on. but, he’s wrong. he finds you endearing in a sense. his favorite thing about you is probably your tits, and the way you speak softly, and look at him like he hasn’t committed genocide.

he wouldn’t be too toxic. maybe on a scale from one to a hundred, probably a sixty eight, though you questioned his loyalty when he forgot your birthday, he blames it on you. he made it up to you by making you pass out later on that night. when he does do that, he does have the niceness to clean you and him up.

if you send him a paragraph about how much you love him, he’d either respond him with, ok and or, i love you too. (with the period, he is dramatic.) and when he finds out you have other peoples numbers, he gets mad, and he gets all pouty, and whiny.

one time, he showed you a cute video on a phone he stole, and it was a nice video, and it jump scared you. you slapped him, and he was pouty after that too. he scoffs it off, and notices how you genuinely look upset, he nudges at you until you give in.

he wouldn’t be afraid to rub up on you in public. especially if you two are shopping together, he would grab your ass in-front of whoever, wherever, and then whisper to you, then you often slap his hand, because he only does that if theres a kid around, to piss you off.

when you ask him if he has two cocks, or four, he furrows his brows, and asks you where you even got that from. you gesture towards the fact that his actual form has four arms. you tug on his pants, making his breath hitch.

he ends up having two. its hard to manage.

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TOJI, FUSHIGURO ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🍑 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

realistically, i think a lot of people say he wouldn’t be very loyal. my version of toji would probably be, he uses you because your rich, then he genuinely ends up falling in love with you, and when he does, he tries to ghost you, and fails.

when you two first started seeing each other, he often stays over at your place, and sleeps with you on your bed, being the big spoon. but, when he learns that he does actually like you, he starts to remember more important dates, when you two first started dating, a year in, he forgot about it, and when you hint towards it, he ends up taking you out, and makes you pay for it, and he makes it up to you later that night.

GYM DATES!! this man would love to go to the gym with you, and or train at home with you, and he would show off, as you look at him in awe. when he tells you to do squats, and you play along, he stares at your ass. he’s an ass guy; all the way.

when you two do go out in public, like when you wanna take a walk, and when you wanna go to the grocery store, he’s a little iffy about it. he doesn’t really like going out, but for you, he’ll do it.

he loves it when you sit on his lap.

when your parents first meet toji, they think he’s using you for his money, and boy were they right, and wrong at the same time. he quickly gets along with your dad, when they have a few drinks together, complaining about women, ( you, and your mom.) and he explains how much he adores you, and how you changed his life, gaining your parents trust.

on a scale of one to ten, he’s a seven on roughness.

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GOJO, SATORU ─── 🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

mischaracterization for gojo is crazy in fan fiction, no he would not be narcissistic, he would care about you more than he would care about himself, and he would make sure you fall asleep before him, and he would play with your hair, vise versa. this man would tell his students about you, and ramble about you until class is over, and they would definitely be somewhat intrigued, even if megumi already knows about you.

If you two were dating, and or engaged, married, whatever is it you two are, he wouldn’t ever raise his voice at you. if he did, it would probably be more of a whine. he would remember the smallest things about you. he would do anything to cheer you up if he sees you upset, even if it was embarrassing.

TEEN GOJO!! would wake you up at three in the morning to tell you about something he dreamt about, and then he rants for thirty minutes about how its symbolic, and you would probably fall asleep half way through, and he would be whining about how he wants you to wake up.

this man would spend all his money on you. but he definitely would see you glance at something in the store, and then he would buy it later, and you just look at him in awe when he does. he would also call out sick just to spoil you that same day, and his students would for sure know something’s up.

TEEN GOJO!! whenever he gets angry at you, and if he gives you silent treatment, he’ll get all pouty, and hope you’ll ask him whats wrong, same thing if you get distracted by something anywhere, he’ll look at you with slight irritation before poking at you, as he wants you to look at him instead.

if gojos eating you out, hes doing it while holding softly onto your thighs, and occasionally looking up at you with a grin on his face, compared to you, who’s gripping his hair, your eyes fluttering. seriously, he would be sloppy.

───────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖─────────

GETO, SUGURU ─── ♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

in a modern college au, if you two FaceTime from morning to night, he would definitely do your skincare with you, and or follow along with you, as you ramble on about whatever your pissed about at the moment.

TEEN GETO!! when he sees you sleeping, and he sees how you’re slouched over, he would resort to moving next to you, and letting you rest on his shoulder, and when you wake up, your resting on his lap, and he’s playing with your hair, a small smile forming on his face.

if suguru gets sick, he’s more vulnerable, and a lot more clingy. he’ll spill his whole life story to you, and probably will cry in your arms because he’s scared of you leaving him. so when you reassure him you wont leave, he says thank you softly.

when you tell him any sort of drama, he would be listening in, and be on your side, even if your wrong, he’ll always be paying attention to you, and side with you.

in a modern college au, Suguru will probably have little to no social media, and if he does, he only has less than twenty followers, most of them being his friends, and or family. when he does post, its you, and only you.

he’s all for fingering you. he loves using his thumb as his main for edging you. he loves edging you, seeing your facial expressions, or the way you try to close your legs as an instinct, he opens them up with plopping two fingers inside you.

he would definitely remember everything about you, little, and big. he’s all for it, he’s a good listener, so he remembers everything you say; and he’s also a good boyfriend because he’ll buy you flowers, and chocolates for you, even if its not an important date.

───────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖─────────

YUJI, ITADORI ─── ✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

when he texts you to come over, and you say yes, he immediately rushes to clean his room, and when you show up, he grins at the sight of you, he loves everything about you.

he’s the perfect boyfriend; really. he calls you every single day, asking if your okay, asking if you wanna have a date, asking when, where, and it always ends up with you sleeping over at his place, and waking up drowsy from the video-games you two played, and how you two went to bed at almost five in the morning.

whenever you two kiss, its gentle. its not a full tongue on tongue, super make out, since you two are teenagers, you dont do anything crazy. up to the way he tucks your hair behind your ears, and he pulls away flustered, smiling at you, it makes happy.

when he first overheard the fact you dont like people with bad posture, he immediately stands onto fixing his posture, and now whenever you glance at him, he boasts about it to megumi. since you two don’t particularly speak at first, your mainly friends with nobara.

when he first meets your parents, he’s mortified of your dad, and your mom immediately questioned him, but when he assures your parents he wants nothing other than to make you happy. your dad softens up to him, and they get along well, so its even.

yuji is all for pda. he loves holding your hand, he loves flicking your cheek when your looking away from him, and how you yelp, he likes how soft your hands are, when his hands are a little bit more rough. compared to yours. he’s not all for sexual intimacy, mainly because you guys believe too young to.. well, do anything further than kissing.

when your dating him, since he also has sukuna possessing him, he often comes out to boast about how your also his girlfriend, and yuji panics internally, trying to take over, sukuna is probably the opposite, and he often makes.. rather concerning comments, and when yuji comes back out, he apologizes rather quickly, but you dont mind. it adds to his character, (is what you tell yourself.)

───────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖─────────

if you did read all of those, kudos to you 😇 this only took me half a day soo hope it was good to whoever read these 🫶 if you want to repost my work,

make sure to give credits ‼️

[ruibaozha]

The Inconsistency of Nezha's Age, a Short Introduction.

Put very bluntly, Nezha’s age varies greatly depending on which story you’re reading and who’s retold it. He is not always a child or an adult depending on retelling, though my intention here is to highlight the sheer variety available first and foremost - and perhaps shine a light on the Indian dieties which may have influenced him. If these varied images are unwanted, please keep scrolling.

I happened to stumble upon a timeline error where Nezha’s brother Muzha is described to be using martial arts weapons referred to as “Hooks of Wu” which were specific to the 1800s, quite a long time after Canonization of the Gods was published, but also originating from a time period where numerous varied editions of that story were in circulation. Upwards of twenty different versions exclusive to the 19th century, actually.

The problem arises that Canonization of the Gods is meant to be occurring during the Zhou Shang conflict, that I will generously assume to be in 1045BCE, centuries before the Hooks of Wu would actually exist. It’s completely possible that the version Gu Zhizhong translated was one of these later editions as is makes no chronological sense for Muzha to have those kinds of weapons to begin with. So I have been on somewhat of a rabbit chase trying to pin down the edition Gu Zhizhong used.

Bearing such errors in mind, it’s easy to see where the confusion of Nezha’s age can come from. Before his origin story was integrated within Canonization of the Gods he would be roughly three to seven days old when his conflict with Ao Guang and the Lady Rock Demoness would occur - whereas within Canonization of the Gods he’s actually 6 or 7 years old.

Outside of that, a definitive age isn’t actually provided. Genuinely, within the scope of Chinese folklore and mythos it’s very rare to assign someone an exact age - which I do believe contributed heavily to the known discourse surrounding Nezha’s age to begin with.

He was imported as an adult from India, a child form not seeming to exist for a while until stories of Krsna were integrated to how the Chinese envisioned Nalakubara. Krsna, being an infantile disguise for the notorious Vishnu, also displays supernatural human strength and is actually successful in killing his father figure (1) — unlike Nezha.

As children, both Krsna and Nezha are able to wield heavenly bows and subjugate water spirits (2) while also being known to be dragon tamers (3). The inclusion of these stories to Nezha predates the sculpting of the Quanzhou Pagoda’s (which have been discussed briefly here) and are arguably the earliest evidence of Nezha being a dragon tamer.

Speculatively a child god combination of both Nalakubara and Krsna named Nana is likely where a majority of Nezha’s child attributes come from, based in the Scripture of the Supreme Secrets of Nana Deva - which would see translations within China during the Northern Song period of 960AD-1127AD. Nana would be described thus:

At that time there was a Deva called Nana. His appearance was exceptionally handsome, and his face beamed with a gentle smile. He was holding the sun, the moon, and various weapons. His numerous treasures and abundant jewelry shone more brightly than the sun and the moon. He made himself a luoye robe (4) from the dragons Nanda and Upananda, and a belt from the dragon Taksaka (5). He possessed the same strength as Narayana (i.e. Visnu). He too came to the assembly and sat down facing the Buddha … At that time the Buddha emanated great light from his dharma body of meditation. The light covered the entire Buddha Universe, reaching all the great evil yaksas, the various types of raksasas and pisacas (6) and all the evil dragons as far as the heavenly constellations. When the Buddhas light shone upon them they all awoke to the truth. The Buddhas light returned to him and, after encircling him three times, entered his head. It then reissued in seven colors from his brow, entering Nana-Deva’s head. When the Buddha light penetrated his head, Nana Deva displayed an enormous body like Mt. Sumeru. His facial expression alternated between terrifying anger and a broad smile. He had a thousand arms, and he was holding a skull (7) and numerous weapons. He was handsomely adorned with a tiger skin robe and skulls. [Mightily Strong] He emanated blazing light and terrifying strength. When Nana Deva displayed this divine body, the great earth shook, and all who beheld him were terrified.

Both Nana and Nezha share the same residence of Vaisravana’s palace, are known dragon tamers, and both were known to use belts. The Supreme Secrets of Nana Deva predate all known connections between Nezha and dragons, perhaps lending to Nezha many more elements than initially believed.

Though without concrete evidence stating one way or another, I can only present this information speculatively - especially as it seems difficult for some to understand that Nezha does enjoy a known adult and child form. This answer has already become quite long, so if there’s still confusion regarding this please feel free to ask for more details.

Bibliography:

(1) Goldman, “Fathers, Sons and Gurus,” pp.350, 364; Masson, “Childhood of Krsna”; Ramanujan, “The Indian ‘Oedipus’”; Silk, Riven by Lust, pp. 164-170.

(2) Harley, “Krishna’s Cosmic Victories”; Matchett, “Taming of Kaliya”.

(3) It’s worth comparing Matchett’s “Taming of Kaliya” p.116 with Canonization of the Gods 12.103. Nezha is five days old within the Ming era Sanjiao yuanliu shengdi fozu sou shen daquan, p. 326.

(4) Luoye is the Chinese term for a garment Indian men tied under the armpit, leaving their right shoulder bare. See Xuanzang, Da Tang Xiyu ji, T. 2087, 51: 876b, and Li Rongxi’s translation, Great Tang Dynasty Record, p.53.

(5) Nanda, Upananda, and Taksaka appear in various Buddhist lists of the eight dragon kings; see Foguang da cidian, pp. 6378,6405.

(6) The rakasas and pisacas are two types of Hindu ogres, who Buddhists demonology incorporated. Both types feed on human flesh. See Foguang da cidian, pp6673-6674 and 3851; Monier-Williams, A Sanskrit-English dictionary, pp. 871 and 628; and Strickman’s survey of Buddhist demonology in his Chinese Magical Medicine, pp. 62-68.

(7) Geboluo appears frequently within the contemporaneous Chinese translation of the Hevajra Tantra (Foshuo dabeikong zhi jin’guang dajiaowang yigui jing), no. 892 volume 18: 587-601.

(8) Zuishang mimi Nana tian jing, no. 1288, 21:358b-c. hi

[kairiscorner]

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

dang it i just got another little drabble

a late call on a stormy night with miggy.

imagine calling miguel in the middle of the night when it's raining, when you should be asleep, when you should be catching up on all the nights you should've been resting when instead all you've done was stay up and carry the multiverse on your shoulders along with him.

you know you should be sleeping, you know your body would thank you so damn much right now for falling asleep, maybe for days on end and just think of nothing. but you're not. you're wide awake because of the thunder clapping in the distance, the flashes of lightning that strike through the sky and evoke for your eyelids to fly open and forget your need to sleep.

rainy nights are wonderful to listen to, but stormy nights are the pits.

you sighed as you rubbed your eyes with your palms, wishing that the overwhelming sounds and sights would vanish as soon as they came; but unfortunately, the weather gave no sign of relenting, and you gave no sign of wanting to sleep any time soon.

you sat up in your bed, feeling like absolute crap since it's been days since your last full cycle of sleep. you ran on nothing but energy bars, instant coffee, and general workaholism. you sighed as you got up and checked your phone for the latest weather forecast, trying to distract yourself from the rain pouring outside your window and from the roaring of thunder outside.

you looked through your messages, nothing new there. but as soon as you were about to close your phone to try and regain some motivation to sleep, you received a notification from your colleague, miguel o'hara. you grumbled as you opened the conversation, hoping with all your might that he wouldn't unreasonably summon you to HQ to handle some technical problems yet again.

as soon as you opened the conversation, all you were greeted with was a singular, "are you up right now?"

you blinked in confusion, but you felt obliged to reply. "ye, wsp?" you messaged. you weren't scared of casually messaging miguel like that, unliked everyone else, you were the only one he had more casual talks with, someone he actually found comfort and fun in talking to, which was incredibly rare for the man since all he thought of was the fate of the multiverse or something.

"can we talk? like, right now." he messaged back. "but arent we talking rn" you were in the middle of typing, when all of a sudden, the screen changed from your messages with him to the screen of a call from him coming on your phone. you nearly jumped at the abrupt transition, but you bore it anyway. you clicked the accept button on the call, and you saw your own face being lit up solely by the blue light being emitted from your phone on your screen, and his end being... just his ceiling.

"uh, did you call me, or did a ghost do it for you?" you joked. "ay, mierda, sorry." miguel said hastily as he soon picked up the phone, and in a flash, you went from looking up at his boring, beige ceiling, to suddenly seeing his sculpted, tanned face; seeing up close his left hazelnut brown eye and a furrowed eyebrow. "guess i accidentally clicked the call button, sorry." he cleared up as he angled the camera to his face properly, a sign he didn't want to end the call right then and there.

you smiled as you saw him. "looking good, o'hara, for a half-asleep mess of a man." you remarked, to which he rolled his eyes, unamused. "haha, thanks." he said as he cracked a small smile as he looked away from the camera for a second. "did you get any sleep?" you asked as the thunder clapped yet again in the distance, causing you to shake a little.

he shook his head. "got too much to think about to sleep." he admitted as he looked at your shaken figure. "you okay?" he asked as he heard the rumbling of the thunder in the distance. "oh, i suppose not." he muttered as he looked at you, who got back into bed and curled up under the covers.

miguel looked at you with some form of sympathy in his eyes. "do you... want me to, oh nevermind." he put down his suggestion as he turned away, about to head back into bed himself and end the call. "to what?" you pressed him as he was about to drop the call. his finger hovered over the end call button, but he soon pulled it back and looked at you for a few seconds before he continued his thought. "would you like me to... talk to you for the night?" he suggested as he looked at you, your eyes looking back at his own, which made him look away for a little to compose himself.

"i, um... i know how much you hate the sound of thunder and the sudden flashes of lightning, i hate them, too." he admitted as he looked away from you still, trying to get to the point of what he was trying to tell you. "and, um... the way i get through them when it rains that bad here is by talking to lyla, but i remembered you don't have anyone like her, so... here i am, talking to you right now, and, uh... yeah." he mumbled.

you slowly smiled at each and every word he uttered, it made you feel like you weren't alone that night, even if you two were worlds apart, and living alone in your own homes. you nodded. "how charming." you said with a slight chuckle as you set up your phone directly across from your face as you snuggled up in your bed as the rain kept pouring and hammering down your windows and roof. "talk to me." you told him in a gentle voice as he looked at you finally and chuckled himself.

"alright..." he began as he initiated some small talk with you, which, as the long hours of the night went on, became long-winded conversations you two had almost all the time when you two were together in person. you two laughed, smiled, frowned a little, and comforted each other as the rain got louder at times, as the thunder clapped, and as the lightning striked.

"i'm so glad..." you trailed off as you yawned and miguel smiled a little seeing your yawning face. "...you were the one i could talk to tonight." you admitted to him with a grin on your face. "hey, same here." he said as he looked into your eyes from across the screen. you two didn't end the call there, however, you two kept talking to each other for a longer while throughout the night; seeming as though the night was the only time you two were truly active, truly yourselves.

the morning came not long after, and you woke up, having only remembered a few bits of the conversations you had late at night. it was pretty fuzzy, seeing as how you were sleep deprived for a week and could barely sleep due to the damned storm. you sighed as you sat up in bed, content with having at least a few hours of unbothered rest.

but soon, you jolted up in your bed to hear a guttural snore next to you. you looked around you, of course no one else was next to you physically, your bed was too small for it, plus you lived alone. then who was...? you turned around and found your phone, barely hanging on to its last percentage of battery, with miguel's sleeping face on there; him snoring loudly all the while as he mumbled your name in his sleep.

you chuckled. "good morning, miggy." you greeted him, to which miguel found himself waking up to. "hang on, i wanna talk to y... oh." he said in a groggy voice as he saw your face on his screen, with bed head and a sweet smile. "shit, how long's this been on?" he asked with a chuckle. "probably for hours." you pointed out.

he sat up in bed and turned to look at your face in the screen. "you look... pretty." he remarked as he brought his phone closer to his face. "so do you." you said in a sleepy voice. "can we, um... do what we did last night every night?" he asked in a sleepy, yet hopeful voice. "if you're up for it." you teased. "i'm always up for seeing you the moment i sleep to the moment i wake up." he admitted with a sma blush on his face. "always." he repeated as his face disappeared from your screen, with a black screen replacing him in his wake. you sighed but smiled as well, knowing you'd see him today.

"guess i'm grateful for the thunder and lightning at least once in my life."

a/n: I LOVE HIM SOSOSOSOOSOSSOSOOSO MUCH

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @luvstarrstruck

[jessamine-rose]

⋆ Sunt Lacrimae Rerum ⋆

Of all devils, I didn’t think Lucifer would be the second to inspire his own one-shot. Fun fact, this idea was originally for my next set of WHB headcanons but it expanded into its own fic. Thanks for the brainrot and historical revelations, Lucifer ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Note:: Pre-release Lucifer, dacryphilia

♡ 0.8k words under the cut ♡

As Lucifer’s lover, you are a willing subject to his desires. The taste of your tears, the sight of your crying face, his influence over your body—all of it constitutes his forbidden fruit, one he can never get enough of.

Unfortunately, due to your roles in Hell, the two of you rarely have time for each other. Days can pass in Lucifer’s absence, in the company of other devils, in a haze of longing and insecurity. At times, you wonder: Does he miss you? How can you retain his favor in spirit?

The idea comes in the form of a memory. Once, while browsing the internet, you came across a photo of vintage “tear-catchers.” According to the description, the aesthetic vials were used by mourning Victorians; a few were even found in ancient Greek and Roman tombs. Granted, you’re still alive and your lover prefers fresh tears, but it would be a nice keepsake. A small part of you forever in his possession.

Thus begins your mission to prepare a special gift for Lucifer! First, you ask your friends to help you acquire a tear-catcher. After a few questions and odd looks, Ppyong brings you to the best craftsman in Gehenna. The glass-blower is also confused by your commission, but it doesn’t take long for them to create a personalized tear-catcher.

Next, you have to fill the vial with your own tears. This is achieved by watching sad movies, cutting onions, and following tutorials on how to cry. Now the final step is to present it to your beloved and witness his reaction~

⋆ ✦ ⋆

“Oh, what’s this?”

As expected, the tear-catcher is a perfect fit for Lucifer. Gilt, black enamel, and scarlet beads form a serpentine design. A ruby, sculpted in the shape of a familiar horn, serves as the stopper. Most curious are the contents, a clear liquid of higher viscosity than water.

On his desk rests an opened box and untied ribbons. Carefully, you place the gift in his hands and offer a bright smile.

“Do you like it? It was made just for you!”

He accepts it, eyes alight with curiosity. “This fluid feels familiar. Is this…?”

Your smile widens. “Yup, these are my tears! You’re probably familiar with tear-catchers, right? I commissioned a craftsman to make one, then I used it every time I cried. What do you think?”

A product of your blood, sweat, and tears—minus the blood.

For a few seconds, Lucifer just stares at the gift. Black nails carefully grip the bottle, tilting it ever so slightly to make the tears flow. You remain in front of his desk, shifting your stance.

Finally, he looks up. Gold eyes make contact with yours, bright with amusement.

“It’s pretty,” he comments. “And I can only imagine the effort it took to fill it with your own tears.”

He likes it! “You’re welcome!”

“But I do wonder,” he continues. He sets down the bottle, curiosity overtaking his features. “You do know that tear-catchers are a hoax, yes?”

…What?

He takes your silence as an answer. “No such item existed in the Victorian era or any historical period. In reality, what humans call ‘tear-catchers’ are actually perfume bottles. One of this type would typically be disposed of once empty.”

“I…I see.” Your smile falters, pride giving way to chagrin. “Of course, someone like you would’ve immediately recognized it if they were legit. Ahh now everyone’s reactions make sense.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

A soft laugh interrupts your thoughts.

When you look up, the tear-catcher is off the desk. Lucifer holds it up to the light, a soft smile making its way to his face.

“Nonetheless, I appreciate the gesture,” he tells you. His eyes are blown wide, light against darkness. “And your pride was absolutely delicious, so do remain satisfied with your present. It will be of great comfort to me during our time apart.”

“I…all right!” Your cheeks remain flushed but no longer from embarrassment. “That is good to hear. At least my time wasn’t wasted.”

“Besides.” He rises from his desk, leaning closer to caress your cheek. “I prefer seeing your tears on your face. Won’t you indulge me again, ______?”

⋆ BONUS ⋆

______: SEVEN DAYS!!

Satan: What are they talking about?

Ppyong: It’s not that big of a deal—

Sitri: We wanted to honor your dedication—

______: That’s how long you stood by and watched me cry into a fake antique! Do you know how difficult it was to deposit my tears into such a tiny bottle?!

♡

Still hornii?? Read my other WHB fics <3

To think that I learned the truth of the tear-catcher because of an R18 game….y’all can also thank @diodellet for inspiring this idea during a chat about Genshin *cough* I highly recommend her Lyney fic *cough*

Among the devils we haven’t met yet, Lucifer piqued my interest by virtue of looking so pretty. I can’t wait to learn more about him~

Tag a WHB enjoyer!! @sparkbeast20 @2af-afterdark @pinkaditty @h2o2-and-baking-soda @paradivis @gr0tesquerom4ntica @dobaekki @obeythisass @karinyawhb22 @yanmaresu @jazeswhbvault @devilmen-collector

[muddyorbsblr]

all the right answers

See the full 14 Days Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: You have to ready yourself for a renewal test on one of your certifications and your best friend and roommate Tom wants to prove to you that you're ready with a little game.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k words

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers i better not see you here *shakes fist*); fingering; oral sex (f receiving); implied p in v at the end; technical jargon involving the Java programming language [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: besties to lovers; and they were roommates

Why am I even doing this, it's not like I'm gonna use this certification ever again. I don't even code anymore, you thought derisively to yourself as you went over the review questions of the exam you hadn't thought about since you passed it over five years ago.

The groan that escaped you was hoarse, as if your throat was scratched up from going almost the entire day without any use and without any water. When you leaned back in your chair and stretched your arms above your head, you could swear you heard joints cracking and popping decades before they were even supposed to.

"Isn't this a pretty sight," a playful, unjustly beautiful voice floated into the room, followed by the jarring sensation of large hands grabbing hold of you by your ribs and proceeding to tickle you. Your eyes snapped open and your heart stuttered at the sight of Tom's face hovering so close to yours with a brilliant, devious grin on his face.

"Stoooop!" you pleaded as you broke out into giggles, trying and failing to twist your body out of his hold, your hands weakly pushing at his shoulders as your stomach began to ache from laughing so much.

It was only when your laughter became less audible and began to sound more like your voice was heaving through sandpaper that he let up and pulled you into a warm embrace, lifting you out of the chair and off your feet. "How goes your reviewing?"

You groaned again as you rested your head on his shoulder. "Remind me again why I'm doing this?"

"Don't ask me, love. I'm just as confused as you are. You really don't need to go through this…what is it again? A renewal exam?" You nodded your head from its position on his shoulder. "Our line of work doesn't seem to require that type of certification anyway," he chuckled, and you felt him press a quick kiss to the side of your head, your heart once again jumping in your chest.

"But it looks pretty on my resume under Miscellany," you explained in a playful tone. "Plus the test's still free and next week's the only free time I have to actually go there and take the renewal test. It's either the free test with 20 questions or taking the entire thing from the start. 75 questions, Tom. I don't have the brain power to mentally prepare for 75 questions!"

You froze as you realized that you were still off the ground, in his arms, your comparatively soft body pressed against his sculpted form. Too close. Even if he was your dearest friend, and you'd been living together for the better part of the year.

Actually, especially because he was your dearest friend and you'd been living together for the better part of the year. You two had a good thing going, and there was no sensible reason for you to fuck it up by letting it be known to him that you'd started to develop feelings.

"Erm…you should--probably put me down now." You let out a small squeak as he proceeded to walk further into your bedroom, briefly adjusting his hold on you to secure you in his arms. A few large strides later and he gently sat you down on the edge of your bed, lightly touching your chin before stepping away from you. You made a motion to follow him, make it back to your desk to keep studying, but he held a finger up at your direction, a playful stern look in his eyes as his gaze pinned you where you sat. "What're you up to, BumBum?"

"Firstly, you are never to hang around with Ben for that nickname alone. You're two halves of a whole menace."

"Only half?!" you pouted. "I gotta up my game then."

"And secondly, I'm going to prove to you that you're ready for your exam. I'll give you seven questions. Randomized from this list you've compiled." He waved around the paper you'd been scribbling in for the last three days.

"I know I'm not ready."

"Tell you what, love. You get every question right and I'll take you out to dinner tonight. That Italian place you love."

"Tom, no, that's the one where you get papped every time you even go there to pick up an order. We'll figure something else out. And besides, I'm not gonna get them all right." He rolled his eyes at you. "I'm not kidding, BumBum."

"Dinner. Like I said." He looked over your reviewer one more time, the look of concentration in his eyes as his lips moved in hurried motions, mouthing the words to himself, putting you in a haze. "First question. What's a ternary operator?"

This is a bad idea already I should've stopped him the second I remembered how sexy he made Math sound and now he's out here making me reconsider returning to Java from this alone. You tried to clear your head of any crude thoughts that always seemed to fill your mind whenever you were within the same breathing space as the man. "It's a condensed version of an if-then-else statement. Makes what could have been at least three lines of code into just one."

He nodded, putting the reviewer down and walking towards you, taking your hand and lifting it up to press his lips to your knuckles. "Very good."

"Uhh…what was that?" Your mind was reeling from that little kiss. He'd never done that before; at most he'd kissed your hair or your temples, never anywhere else.

"Making things more interesting," he answered, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "For every correct answer, I give you a reward."

You could feel arousal beginning to pool between your thighs at the implication behind his words. Surely he wasn't suggesting…? No. You were buds. That was all you were, and you'd resigned yourself to that knowledge long ago. In a desperate attempt to lighten up the atmosphere between you two, you commented, "I don't remember agreeing to a kiss as my reward, BumBum."

"Oh no, darling. Your reward comes at the end, if you answer all seven questions correctly. These rewards are for me." He chuckled as your eyes widened at his words, leaning in until his lips were mere inches away from your cheek. "Give me an example of a redundant import."

How is it even possible that the sexy instructor voice got even hotter? you thought as you began to ache even more for him. "Importing a c-class that belongs to the same p-package," you stammered.

He hummed an "mmhmm" before pressing his lips to your cheek in a soft kiss, feeling his hand wrap around the side of your waist as he did to pull you closer to him by the slightest. "Now give me the other one."

How your mind was still able to pull the answer from your stock knowledge was beyond you. "Importing java dot lang. All new classes by default have it as a silent import." You fought against the instinct to melt into his touch when you felt him press a kiss much closer to the corner of your mouth. "So that's three down--"

"No. Two." He pulled you closer against him as he brought his free hand up to lightly hold your chin and turn your head to face him. "I said every correct answer, not every question answered correctly. And at the moment I will cling to those semantics because I wanted an excuse to kiss you again."

He leaned in closer, his lips so close to yours you could feel the warm breath of his exhales on your skin. "Tom, what are you doing?"

"I believe the internet would call it 'ruining the friendship'." A sound got caught in your throat at his admission. "But personally I don't see this as ruining. Perhaps…augmenting. Making something already great…even better. If that's what you want, too." He touched his nose to yours. "If it is, then you answer this correctly. If not, then answer wrong, we stop this, and forget it happened."

Holy mother of fuck. This can't be happening. Is he actually telling me he feels the same?! "Next question, then," you murmured, fighting the urge to just skip everything and close the distance between you two.

"What is the term for freeing memory on the heap by deleting--"

"Garbage collection." His gaze met yours, the intensity in them increasing your ache for him as a devilish grin formed on his face. "Don't bother making me wait I know I'm right--"

Your words were silenced as he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his hand moving from your chin to cup the back of your head. You whimpered against him as his lips moved against yours, his hands moving so that they were on either side of your waist, maneuvering you so that you were straddling his lap. "Next question?"

"Fucking hell you wanna keep going after you just kissed me breathless?"

He only answered you with a chuckle as his hands began to roam your sides, moving his head to hover his lips close to your neck. "I'm still proving that you're ready, love." He lightly traced along the column of your neck with his nose as his hands worked their way down to the hem of your sundress. "Why do you need both the development kit and the runtime environment?"

The thoughts began to fog in your head as his hands slid under your dress and caressed the skin of your thighs, working their way to the waistband of your panties. You tried to form words, but it all came out in unintelligible whimpers.

"Come on, Y/N, answer the question because I really want to kiss you again."

"Just kiss me, then," you hissed. "Please, I want this, too. Kiss me whenever, wherever, and  however you want just please--"

The words left your mouth as he flipped you over to your back on the bed, your back landing against the mattress with a soft thud and a little squeak escaping your lips. "Tempting as that is, I really do want you to succeed in this exam of yours, so please don't make anything harder than it already is." He emphasized his point by rolling his hips into yours, the feel of his covered erection rubbing against your clothed and aching slit causing you to let out an obscene moan of his name. "Please. So that we could start working on our…something better."

You took a steadying breath and composed your answer. "So that you could see not only if the code compiles, but you can see how it runs as intended or if there would be any runtime errors that won't be caught if you just have the development kit."

"Good girl," he groaned, leaning down and bringing his lips to the point between your neck and shoulder, lightly sucking on the skin and letting out a sound that resembled a mix of a sigh and a hum, the vibrations against you making a beeline for your aching, throbbing clit.

He kept his lips on you as his hands began to hike up your dress up your thighs, bunching the fabric around your waist.

"I can't believe you memorized that entire reviewer," you blurted out, your mind still a haze with what had just transpired over the last few minutes, and yet also reeling with the possibilities of what else he had in store with his three remaining questions.

"I've memorized pages worth of Shakespearean dialogue, my love, this is nowhere near as difficult--"

"Your love?" you cut him off, the endearment making your heart pound in your chest.

He pulled away from you just enough to look at you, his steel blue eyes shining brilliantly with so much emotion you felt as if you were drowning in them. "Yes," he murmured. "I've loved you for quite some time. And these last few months have felt like the world was taunting me with what a life with you could be like if I could just stop being a coward and tell you how I felt. I didn't want to rush into it. I was willing to go as slow as you wanted for fear of scaring you off--"

"I love you, too." The smile that broke out on his face was so blindingly beautiful it tugged on your heartstrings. "I never told you because I thought there was no way in this world you'd feel the same so I friend zoned myself on your behalf. That way I'd never have to live through the pain of having you do it."

"We're fools," he huffed out, breaking into relieved chuckles.

"Guess you could say we're two halves of a whole idiot."

A devious grin overtook his features as he leaned down, his lips hovering over yours again. "Then we should finish this session of ours. So that we may make up for lost time." He surprised you by pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "Question Five?"

You nodded, your breathing growing heavy as his hands returned to the waistband of your panties, his lips ghosting over your skin as he made his descent downward, stopping at the side of your lower stomach, fingers hooking under your waistband. "Answer this one correctly and I'm going to take these off. Is that alright?"

"Yes!" you nearly shouted, desperate for this little game to be over so that you could get to that 'making up for lost time' that he mentioned. "Ask me already. I need you," you whined.

"What happens to the value of a literal when you put an underscore?"

You scrambled inside your brain for the answer. Fuck, you could have sworn you just looked at that page. "N-Nothing," you answered, a relieved smile across your face. "The underscores are just for the readability and for the benefit of other developers who would have to move within that code in the future."

"My beautiful little genius," he breathed against your skin, pressing his lips to the side of your hip as his hands made quick work of tugging your cheeky underwear down your legs, discarding it on the floor with a little flick of his wrist, all the while kissing and sucking at the spot by your hip it was sure to leave a mark. "This next one has four answers, my love."

Your eyes widened as he sank to the floor, placing the backs of your knees on his shoulders, lips hovering by the inside of your thigh. "So…four kisses?"

He lightly ran the tip of his nose along the soft skin, making you shudder at the sensual tenderness of it all. "Yes, darling. Now tell me…Where can you not place an underscore in your literals?"

You bit your lip as you anticipated his lips on your skin. "The beginning and the end of the literal…" A soft whimper escaped you as he placed a soft kiss on the lower half of your inner thigh, followed by another kiss on the opposite leg. Then he carefully moved your body further down on the edge of the bed, the backs of your thighs now resting on his broad shoulders. "Before and after a decimal point."

"Sweetheart," he groaned, pressing a kiss higher up on your inner thigh, so tantalizingly close to where you were desperate for him. "You're so gorgeously drenched for me." He placed the fourth kiss on the opposite thigh before facing your sex with eyes that you could only describe as ravenous, his pupils almost completely blown out and darkening his eyes with his now obvious intent. "I think you know where the next one will be."

The ability to form words had all but left your brain, the only coherent one left being a barely audible, "Fuck…"

"No, my darling. That's for after your reward." You hid your head in the crook of your elbow at the sound of his low chuckle, undoubtedly seeing how your core clenched around air at his words.  "Final question?" You shuddered as you felt his fingers trace along your folds and teasingly circle around your clit.

"Yes. F-fuck please just ask me I can't take any more."

"We need to work on your endurance then," he murmured, making you shudder and clench around nothing again. "But I can't wait anymore, either. So final question. How do you compare two strings against one another and why?"

You sighed in relief, hearing a question that you'd rehearsed time and time again since you graduated college. "Dot equals method. Because if you use double equals the way you compare literals it will compare the object's address within the heap, and not the value stored within the String object." The words escaped you as if by muscle memory.

"I told you you're ready, darling," were his last words before he once again pulled your body closer to him and your hips left the bed as his lips closed around the throbbing bundle of nerves above your entrance and two sinfully long fingers easily slipped inside your drenched heat.

The world began to blur into nothing as you drowned in the sensation of him licking and sucking at your clit, your words reducing to nothing but whimpers of his name and babbled pleas of more. When his fingers curled up and began to relentlessly stroke at that spot inside you that had you seeing stars in the back of your eyes, your hips begun to buck against his mouth. "Tom please," you squeaked, your desperation growing. "I'm--"

"Look at me, darling," he murmured against you, the sensation shooting straight up your spine and into the back of your head. "Look at me while you come."

Your eyes snapped open and met his ardent stare, every limb in your body growing weak at both seeing and feeling his smirk before he began to speed up his ministrations, winking at you before he let out a drawn out moan that pushed you off the edge.

He eased you from your climax in long, slow licks and strokes until your breathing evened out before pulling his mouth away and withdrawing his fingers from you. You braced yourself as you felt him slowly moving up your body. "Last question."

"Are you…fucking…kidding me?" you managed to say between pants, looking up into his near-blackened eyes.

"Indulge me, Y/N. Please?"

"Fine."

You let out a whimper as you began to feel the tip of his cock brush against your folds. "Will you be mine?"

All air left your lungs again as you looked at him, the unmistakable desperation reflected in his own eyes. You nodded your head, quickly feeling your arousal begin to build again as a devilish grin spread across his face, lips shining in the light from your release. "Yes," you breathed out, whimpering weakly how much you loved him as he inched inside of you.

A/N: Was this entirely self-indulgent because I myself am a Java developer with that exact certification and I wanted to use my knowledge for something other than my day job? For sure. Did I pull those review questions out of my own personal notes? Absolutely. Did I have a sinfully hot best friend who helped me review like YN did in this story? Hahahahahaha next question pls nobody touch me 🥲

Also this was the story that won the poll today, but I'm still waiting to see who's gonna win second place because that's what's gonna go up for Day 3 👀🫡

'everything' taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @devilsadvocactus @lokiprompts @sititran @ladyjames78 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @kats72 @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @creationsbyme @coldnique @athalialaufeyson @simplyholl @tallseaweed @sarahscribbles @unlucky-number-13 @ozymdias @maple-seed @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfsmom1 @km-ffluv @psychospore @loopsisloops

[fieldofdaisiies]

Strokes of Fate | pt. 2

paring: Feyre x Rhysand | type: fluff | words: 3,2k words | warnings: none | masterlist

"You?!" Feyre‘s eyes widen in surprise, arms falling to her sides. 

Simultaneously, an expression of utter confusion spreads over Morrigan‘s face, gaze sliding from her friend to her cousin. 

"I am just as surprised as you are." Rhysand’s violet eyes brush over her body, his voice still as polished and sensual as the last time. "But I have to say, I am very delighted to see you again." 

He chuckles, the sound a low, guttural purr. "Or let me rephrase that: I am delighted the big girl could take care of herself and get home safely."

She really, really needs to fight the urge to flip him off. Or to be even a little more immature and slip out if her shoe and toss it at his handsome head, completely ruining his perfect, rich person hairstyle.

"And I am delighted that the rain didn’t ruin your immaculate appearance or heart your ego," Feyre instead fires back, a triumphant grin on her lips now. But it vanishes quickly - the moment Rhys opens his mouth again. 

"Thank you very much for the compliment, I appreciate it a lot. Especially coming from you, an artist who has an eye for beautiful things." Amusement glows so brightly in his eyes, it reminds Feyre of the stars in the night sky. And his smile, nothing but cocky and taunting could -would- make her knees wobble under different circumstances. Not right now. Now, it makes her bristle. 

But if she had met him under—

"You know each other?" Mor asks, her tone a hint incredulous. Her gaze ping-pongs between her cousin and her friend, the papers in her hands long forgotten. 

"Briefly," Rhys comments and then steps aside, revealing the now blank wall behind his office desk. "But not important now. You think you can work your magic there, Feyre?"

A million ideas already spark in Feyre‘s mind but it is a painting that someone commissions so she needs to ask him first what he would like to see. What kind if picture he would like to have. 

"I think I definitely can. But first of all I would like to know what you would like to see? What are you ideas? Wishes? Visions?"

A flicker of impressiveness passes over the CEO's face. 

"Visions," he ponders out loud and rubs his palm over his chin. "Why don’t we sit down together and figure out my visions." He extends his hand, gesturing at the black sofa. "Let me offer you something to drink." Not a question.

Feyre claims a seat on the black couch, crossing one leg over the other. "Just a water, please." 

He grabs a jug from the desk and fills up a glass. With a smile and the tilt of his chin, Morrigan gets her cue, and walks to the glass door. "I‘ll leave you to it then. If you need me, you know where to find me, cousin, Fey."

With wide steps, Rhys strolls to the couch and claims the seat next to her. He gives her a sidelong glance and smiles. She is beautiful - utterly beautiful. Breathtaking. So breathtaking he truly needs a moment to catch himself - no one has ever knocked him of his feet quite like her and that confuses him.

Handing her the glass, Rhysand’s eyes touch hers. "I want something…it‘s difficult. I don’t want something that I connect with work. But something that represents me?"

Feyre almost wants to blurt money, but she keeps calm, nods a little and waits for him to continue. But he doesn’t. Not immediately. Rhysand tips his head back and closes his eyes for a moment. He exhales a deep breath and Feyre watches the heavy rise and fall of his solid, chest - the sculpted muscles are even visible through his white shirt.

Greek god, sparks in her mind - that’s what she would also connect with him. But thank God, her mouth stays closed. Again. Saying that out loud…she would leave and never return.

"It is hard to describe it," he mumbles and folds two fingers over his mouth.

"Think about what makes you happy? What brings you joy? Who brings you joy?"

Rhysand immediately thinks of Az and Cassian - his brothers, not through blood but through what is in their hearts.

But as much as he loves them, having a painting of the three of them in his office…he‘d rather have this at home. Maybe he’ll just ask Feyre again for a painting — it would be a phenomenal chance to see her again and—

A chuckle leaves him - has this young artist already bewitched his heart? After a few minutes of talking to her. That seems impossible. But he can't deny the fact that she intrigues him. Immensely. 

Feyre has noticed the shift in his demeanour, the corners of her lips quirking up. "Do you know it? Do you know what you want?"

When he meets her gaze, he indeed knows it.

"Sometimes I just look at the stars and…listen. I manage to block out everything else - no noises from the city, no bustling crowds, no loud thoughts." He inhales deeply. Feyre’s focus is on him. "I think I want a sky full of stars. A night sky. One that is not touched by city lights, not ruined by them. You think you can do this?"

Feyre nods eagerly. "Of course I can do this." She is excited and loves the idea. "I like concept."

It is wonderful . She had no idea he would be so…so thoughtful and would like something so…simple. 

Rhysand slowly leans back, arms braced on the backrest of the couch. He runs his gaze over once again, silent admiration etched upon his features. 

"Tell me something, darling," he starts, his voice nothing but a purr. "Have you always wanted to be a painter?"

"Yes." The answer comes as quick as a shot. "For as long as I remember, I’ve always wanted to be a painter."

He smiles and it is heartwarming. Feyre reaches for her glass and takes a sip. "What about you? Did you always want to become…an owner of a company?"

He huffs a laugh, the sound bittersweet. "Honestly, no. But I had no choice. My father owned this company and before him his father - my grandfather was the founder of it. I had to take over."

Feyre wants to tell him that there is always a choice and that it is bullshit that he had to do it, but the look in his eyes tells her that if there truly had been another option he would have chosen it.

She wants to ask about his father, but Rhysand is faster.

"So little Feyre was also already a painter? I bet your family refrigerator was covered in your paintings and drawings."

"It was," she hums, recounting the memory of her mother’s eyes lit up each time she drew something for her - one of the few moments were she showed affection for her youngest. But Feyre shakes off these thoughts and instead says, "I remember once being so bored, I painted on the little cupboard my sisters and I had in our room." She chuckles and a look of nostalgia passes over her face. 

"Elain loved it immediately. Nesta was a bit shocked at first but then loved it as well."

Rhysand smiles, loving how her face lights up at the mention of her sisters. 

"So I guess, I‘ll make a few sketches. Then I‘ll send them to you and start painting?"

"No."

"No?"

"I want you to paint here, Feyre."

Feyre’s eyes widen. "In your immaculate office?"

He laughs, the sound rich and amused. "Yes," he says, "in my immaculate office. I have enough space here and it will be much easier than to transport the painting here once it is done."

It makes sense. Somehow it does. But painting with audience? She doesn’t know if she likes that, but she agrees anyway.

And so, Feyre returns the next day, is led into his office by Morrigan whom she chats with a bit. Rhysand is in a meeting and will only get here later. Feyre likes this, knowing she has a bit of time alone.

She unpacks her colours, all her utensils, and with a pencil she starts to outline a sketch on a canvas.

"Good morning, darling." The low rumble brushes her skin like a feather.

"I see, you're already working."

"And I see you have a very good eyesight."

Hand holding a cup of coffee, the other stuffed into the pocket of his pants, Rhys walks to his desk, gaze sweeping over her, halting and then he chuckles. He sits down, brings the cup up to his lips and drinks. His chest warms oddly. Not due to the warm brew, but due to her presence and then hint of teasing in her voice. It is nice having her here, he thinks. 

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Feyre returns a few times in the following days. On Monday to start with the base. On Wednesday to finish the base. And on Thursday to start with the details. And once again on Monday to continue with the details. 

She is focused, sitting crossed-legged, nibbling on her lower lip and there is definitely colour on her nose. Her adorable nose— 

Rhysand shakes his head. What has this female done to him. He breathes a chuckle, the end of his pen between his teeth, watching her over his screen. 

She truly is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen and he has seen many women in his life already. But she is—

"How old are you?"

The sudden and slightly loud and sharp question startles the artist and Feyre meets his gaze with slightly widened eyes. "Twenty-one," she tells him. "Why?"

"Shit," Rhys says, the curse slipping through his lip before he can stop it. "You are incredibly talented for your age." 

"Talent has nothing to do with age, mister." She laughs a little, trying to brush off the compliment but a blush still graces her cheeks.

"How old are you?" 

"Guess." He smirks.

Feyre lifts her brush and tabs the clean end of it against her chin, acting like she is deep in thought. "Hhhm, I would say fifty-five." She grins at him. 

A low growl parts the CEO‘s lips. "Careful, darling." 

But Feyrelaces her face in innocence. "What? Are you not fifty-five? Are you older?"

A guttural laugh that sends a chill down her spine leaves him. "Cruel, wicked thing."

Her answering laugh is hoarse, smokey like a fine whiskey and it not only does things to Rhys‘ heart. His blood heats and his tongue pokes out, licking over his lower lip.

Her eyes follow the movement, but Feyre quickly says, "How old are you then? Really?"

"Thirty-three."

"Well, I was close," she quips and her focus moves back to the painting, starting once again. He has to laugh to himself and also eventually tries to focus on his work. The stress is on tries. Because he fails. Because she -Ms Feyre Archeron- is a huge distraction. But not an unwelcome one. He likes having her here. It is a wonderful distraction in all honesty.

And so the days pass, Feyre returns and keeps being a distraction. Not much work gets done on Rhys' side, but the painting is nearly finished by the end of the second week and the CEO hates this.

Because it means she won’t return here again. He won’t have her sitting in his office anymore, painting and chatting with him. And that thought…it makes him sad and his heart feel somehow cold.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

The last day, the day she finished the painting is inevitable. And Rhys wants time curse all the Gods and the universe for letting him be stuck in meetings the whole day, not getting a single chance to spend at least five minutes with Feyre.

He will only see her again the next day. They will hang up the painting and he will pay her. That is it. 

And there last day together was wasted due to him not being present. Or so he thinks.

"You are still here?“ The tone in his voice reveals his honest astonishment. It is Thursday evening, already past eight, the city outside already entering the night.

Feyre tips her head back, meets his eyes and nods. Then her gaze moves back to the large canvas in front of her. 

"I am adding the very last touches." She smiles. Rhys watches her.

"No boyfriend waiting for you at home who might get worried now?“ 

He has to shoot his shot, Rhysand thinks and casually leans against his desk. He watches her closely, how she reacts, if her body language gives her away. 

"Thank god, I don’t,“ Feyre chuckles, eyes not once leaving the painting. But then she lifts her eyes, a wicked glint in her eyes when she meets his. "Thank god, I no longer have him waiting for me at home."

"Him."

She lifts her hand, brush in-between two fingers, and waves him off. "Not important — or no longer important."

A chuckles escapes the CEO and he crosses his arms in front of his chest. "He sounds like wonderful guy."

Feyre huffs. She dips her brush into a new bowl of paint, and continues with the task at hand. Until—

"Oh god, you want to go home?!"

Not exactly a question, rather an observation. She sits back on her heels, eyes wide open, shame coiling in her gut. Oh god! She is keeping him here and he wanted to leave already and she completely ignored it. 

But Rhysand shakes his head. Feyre ignores it and bounces up on her knees. "I am so sorry. I completely forgot about time and I—"

"Darling." His purr interrupts her rambling. He hasn’t seen her that giddy before which makes him think she must actually feel bad about the keeping him here. Which is, to put it into his words, absolute bullshit. He was working until now anyway. He often stayed in his office until that hour.

Rhysand smiles at her. "Are you hungry?"

She wants to say no, but obviously her traitorous stomach must release the loudest growl on the whole universe in just this moment. 

"I guess that is answer enough," he laughs and looks so delighted and happy in this moment, almost as if having dinner with her sounds like one of the best things to happen to him this evening. Unbeknownst to Feyre, it truly is. 

"If you insist," Feyre smiles and slowly rises to her feet. She stretches her sore limbs from having knelt on the floor for hours and Rhys can't avoid to marvel at her. 

"Pizza?" he quickly asks to distract his brain and finds her eagerly nodding at him. "Then pizza it is."

"Yes!" she silently cheers but he hears her and has to laugh quietly to himself, searching for his phone and dialling the number he, by now, knows by heart. "Any preferences?"

She has already made herself comfortable on the couch, her feet resting on the small table, a contented smile on her lips. "Surprise me."

And he does. He orders what he thinks she might like, or rather hopes and prays she will like. His own favourite pizza. She has to like it.

And when she moans around the first bite, he knows he made exactly the right decision. 

"God!" Feyre expresses, speaking with her mouthful. She doesn't mind and neither does Rhys. "I have never eating anything better. This tastes like…everything."

His heart warms and he smiles around the bite he is currently taking. "I am glad it does."

"Maybe you are not only rich, spoiled… You can't be that bad, if you have such a great taste in pizza." She grins and Rhys really fights the urge to flip her off. He only bites down on his lower lip and gives his head a shake. "I feel honoured about this compliment."

They exchange a few things about their lives, and for quite a while Rhysand talks about Cassian and Azriel which Feyre loves to listen to. Then the topic moves to Amren, who created the former painting for his office. 

"Where do you keep it now? Won't she be disappointed that you took it off?" Feyre asks.

"Nah," Rhys says and closes his pizza box. Feyre does the same, placing it on top of his. "I'll keep it in my guest room in my apartment. The room she often sleeps in when she stays in this part of the city, so all good."

Feyre chuckles and wipes her hands down her thighs. With a sigh, she rises from the couch. "I think the paint should be dry by now."

He watches her as she walks over to the place she has been working at for the past two weeks. 

"Can I see it? The finished painting. Or do I have to wait for the great reveal tomorrow."

"If you're still in no rush to get home you can look at it now?"

"I'm in no rush," he says in his deep, sensual voice, an unreadable emotion passing over his face. 

"No girlfriend waiting for you at home?" Feyre teases, the payback for his earlier question.

His eye gliding over her body, leaving heat in every place they touch. "No, there hasn’t been one in a long time," he finally admits.

Feyre shrugs a shoulder, "Hm."

He ignores her reaction and only looks at her, admiration etched upon his features. She is wonderful, Rhysand thinks.

Mischief sparks in her eyes and she lets her lips curl. "What are you waiting for? You said you wanted to see the painting. I doubt you can see it from where you are standing, Mr CEO."

"Darling," he drawls and grins. "Not only artistically talented but also a smartass." He pushes off the couch and with long strolls walks up to her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants. 

She grins at him and then turns back to her work of art. 

She stands next to the painting, observing it, and has to admit she is very happy with it. A night sky with the moon and a few stars, and one or the other shooting star — nothing special. But for Rhys it is. It is perfect. Better than anything he could have every imagined. 

He moves in closer. So close, the warmth of his body reaches her and his breath fans the back of her neck. 

"Stunning," he mumbles and is not only talking about the painting. It is truly incredible. A pure and star-covered night sky, not ruined by city lights.

"Look at the stars."

"And listen," Feyre answers, her voice breathy, and when she turns to him, there is a fire in his eyes that she has never seen there before. A fire that also ignites something low in her abdomen. 

tags: @girlinglass999 @autumndreaming7 @a-frog-with-a-laptop@honeysuckle-daydreams13 @thelovelymadone @azriels-shadowsinger

[mh-dreamscape]

Fun fact brought to you by a marine biologist/marine affairs major!

Part 3: Creature from the Black Lagoon Edition!

Sooooo I ended up getting her and when I finally got to look at her details up close, I got inspired to do another one of these! Now that I’m graduated, I’ll most likely be taking her out of the box at some point! This will also be a little bit of a review too!

In my previous post, I rated her a 9.7/10 because I was confused by some design choices, like the harpoons in her heels. I feel that would’ve looked better with some type of shoe unless her feet are supposed to be like boots? Anyways, I’ll be going from head to feet with aquatic biology and my feedback!

The Fin Headpiece:

Most fins have multiple lines or filaments like that and tend to start with either a darker color or color that matches their body on the inside. That color starts to fade out the further on the fin we go because the material is a lot thinner. They can appear to have a sheen look sometimes because they can be shiny and reflect light a little!

The Face:

Probably the most informative part, the face has many qualities to it! Makeup? Iconic. Flawless. The only thing I might change about it is maybe a not-as-bright lip color, but I think I feel that way about many designs and might just be a personal preference so I’ll let it slide. Aquatic factors? To. The. MAX!

Unless a fish has a protruding lower jaw, they don’t typically have an upturned smile. Body shape and mouth position can be linked together too. Bottom feeders, like catfish and sturgeon, are usually wider and flatter with an inferior mouth or a mouth that’s toward the bottom of their face or completely under it. Fish with superior mouth types (“a” in the picture and towards the top of the body) and terminal (“b” and towards the middle). As you can see, either way, the fish will have a downturned mouth and I just love that quality on this doll. This follows with her nose as well! Her nose does stick out like a normal monster high doll. It’s flattened a bit and has wider nostril sides which goes along with the snout on fish.

Now, I know most of her design is literally based on the Creature of the Black Lagoon so I’m probably just listing facts about him too, but let’s talk about the sides of her face, the part I highlighted the most in this 3/4 perspective!

Probably the most prominent features on her head sculpt: Gills! They generally follow the rules of anatomy having the the arches and filaments, but she is missing an operculum, which is a protective covering for the gills made by a series of bones. This doesn’t mean she’s entirely inaccurate though as only bony fish have operculums!

The Hands:

While it isn’t related to fish much, I wanted to admire her hands too! On Mattel’s page for her, they mentioned amphibious a couple of times so I thought I should show that. This is a comparison to frogs hind leg and foot (I couldn’t find a good picture of a “hand” or front leg).

The Body/Clothes:

As mentioned above, this piece was called “Pearlescent amphibious body armor” and while it does resemble a frog-like skeleton a bit, I felt it looked more like a fish! The top part that rests on her shoulder reminds me of the head portion of the skeleton.

Now, let’s take a look at her tail/fin which I believe is made of some type of tulle, but please correct me if I’m wrong! I don’t know much about fabrics.

The way the tulle sticks out in the first set of body pictures (middle one) reminds me of a caudal peduncle which as described in the picture above, connects the main body and the caudal (tail). The way the tulle is spread, it looks like it would be a truncate tail. Tail shapes are connected to the maneuverability and speed of a fish and each in the third picture shows how they could work. I know it probably doesn’t lay that way when she’s taken out of the box, but it was a cool design choice!

The Feet/Shoes:

I haven’t taken her out of the box yet, meaning I don’t have any good pictures of her feet or the stand so I’m using the stock photos from Mattel’s site. The fins follow fish biology with them being a lighter or different color and the tops and bottom of her feet/shoes resemble a more amphibious or reptilian nature. Taking a closer look at it, I can now see that the harpoon is attached to a rope that wraps around her ankles! I wish they colored it differently so we could distinguish that (or maybe I was the only one who thought they just stuck harpoons in her heels lol). After finding that out, I don’t have much complaints. I think it’s kind of cool they made the feet into boots!

The Stand:

I adore the stand! I love when stands can add a bit of background or a pop of color to the doll! The kelp/seaweed was a great idea to hold her up and there’s detail on the sea floor as well! My only tiff is that I don’t quite know how stable this will be. With the usual stands, the clamp in the back holds their waist up while the bottom gives their feet something to rest on. It makes it stable in general posing of dolls. These pictures show her feet barely resting on it and I’m sure you could probably stretch her one foot out to land on the higher part of the terrain, but it wouldn’t quite look as good as the stock.

I tried making a quick edit of another way to keep the pose. I originally wanted it to be a harpoon and harpoon gun but I felt that was sort of off brand with Mattel and Monster High so I instead lifted that anchor from the terrain, colored it differently to look like it was covered in algae, and rested it in the seagrass! The only drawback would be that it requires a bit more plastic for each stand and may make it a little more clunky. Like I said, I haven’t taken her out of the box yet so I don’t quite know how stable the original stand is, so this is more so brainstorming!

Overall:

Making this post made me glad I got her and appreciate her design more. I got her about a month before graduating and it seemed fitting for my final doll delivered at college to be one that’s similar to my major (er I guess I should start saying degree now huh 😅)! I know this was such a long post and I’m sorry for it but I figured combining my “Fun Fact” series and an observational review of her in-person would be great! Her rating still stands at a 9.7/10!

What do you guys think? Do you like her design? What’s your favorite or least favorite part? What would you change about her? Should I keep doing this series??

[vee6lolz]

part 3: Krasivaya.

summary; There's a war in her mind, and she's fighting herself. Everything is getting to her, she can't handle it anymore. She's slowly dying inside and no one seems to notice... except one person.

cw!!; +18 content, minors dni!, mini smut scene (not between valley and spencer), angst, emotional reader, mother!reader, toxic relationship, emotional cheating. established name (YOU CAN SELF INSERT!), cheating on reader implied, slow burn, implied protective spence, implied overstimulation + stress . </3

we love u valley we scream out in unison

a/n: this is part 3 of the hidden valley series ! you can find the official masterlist here. --

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE !

- DONT FORGET TO LIKE + REBLOG PLS ! + REQ OPEN

w/c: 6.7k ( ill NEVER give yall short fics i love yall tm)

His lips felt so rushed, it overwhelmed her. His breathing had become more ridged; his muscles tensed. He clawed at her hips as if he was drowning and she was the life line, sweet nothings being whispered through the air.

His mind went blank, only being filled with intense ecstasy.

While her mind was only filled with thoughts of her colleague.

She was being thrusted into by her boyfriend of almost 16 months and all she could think about was a man who she's interacted with once -- cliche. It was like a really bad porno.

Every chance she got to look down at Nick, all she could see was Spencer. His voice, calling out for her in a fit of pornographic moans. His perfectly sculpted jaw. Brown doe eyes staring back at her as he consumed her tits; licking up and down her buds.

She imagined his fingers dripping towards her most sensitive, teasing her body as he hesitantly rubbed. He would make sure that she felt pleasure with even the lightest touch; if she didn't, he wasn't doing it right. Her back would arch, and he would dip his neck to kiss in between her breasts, leaving soft kisses to her intermammary line to sooth her.

Her breathe hitched with his every thrust almost in a rhythm, her walls clenching around his sex.

“I can't--” She would moan out, throwing her head forward, finding peace in the crevice of his neck, digging her nails deep into him to the point of pain.

“You will.”. He would, almost beggingly. He would need her to finish on him, he wouldn't be able to feel complete without it. He would've been in look. The pit started to boil within her lower stomach. Looking down at how full she was, full of him at that would've sent her over the edge. “Agh, Mm...” She'd moan out as the feeling began to rise.

“Yeah, you gonna come?” Was asked. Yet, it wasn't Spencer's voice. It wasn't the soft, begging and welcoming voice she fantasied of. It was Nick's.

Just like that; Pit came crashing down, and not in a good way.

Realizing what she had been doing, she thought quickly. His hands wrapped around her waist and she nodded quickly, “Yes, Nick, fuck.”, She lied. Fake mewls and mumbles flew through her mouth as she forced a clench around him, which sent him over the edge. His face flew in between her breasts and his nose hit her chest, causing a wince of pain. He showed no care. Nick pulled out of her warmth and emptied himself onto her stomach, gasping out for air as she reached to kiss him and he dodged it,

“You know I don't--” “Right,” She acknowledged. He doesn't kiss her after she gives him head. He sat up on the bed and threw her her shirt, groaning as he walked towards the bathroom to go shower. She sat there frustrated, and edged. And usually, she'd be into that type of thing if it were voluntary. Most of all -- she was confused. She denied that it was Spencer, she thought of. She convinced herself that she was getting people mixed up. Maybe she wasn't thinking of anyone at all, because she had Nick.

She couldn't think of anyone at all. She would never hurt Nick like that, and Nick would never ever even think of hurting her like that.

She pushed any guilt she had incredibly far down, essentially gaslighting herself.

It was a weekend off for the team, and the more she thought about it the more frustrating it became.

**buzz buzz**

She stared blankly at the text message, breathing out through her nose as she shut her eyes; she figured if she ignore it -- it would go away. And when her eyes opened again, it was still there. A groan fell from her lips, probably the first real one all night.

Valley struts into the D.C Station after and forty-nine minute drive, being met with the faces of Jennifer, Aaron.

"SSA Aaron, SSA Valley, Vic Barnes." The blonde spoke, she gave a soft nod. He reached his hand for a handshake; she waved instead.

Looking at the bulletin board, Valley's eyes move quickly around the notes and pictures. She notices the hesitation marks on the second victim, "He isn't sure he wants to be killing." She speaks out,

"He's asking police to find him," Hotch adds. "Matches your kid," he speaks behind Valley to which she turns around and is met to face with Dr. Reid. Her eyes meet with his not for long, before his inlock with Hotch's. His eyebags are heavy, his hair is messy, and he looks like he's on his third cup of caffeine. Spencer didn't get any rest, and she can tell. If he could he probably wouldn't let himself blink.

As she looks down at his hands gripping the coffee mug, her thoughts wander back to her early morning rendezvous. The way his hands fit perfectly around her neck, the prettiest necklace she ever wore. She snapped out of it when she heard him speak, her mind racing with confusion and frustration once again. She didn't get her rocks off, and right now really wasn't the time to think about it. Not while they're discussing a trail of prostitutes getting left on the streets.

"I let him go, I'm sorry." He said, genuine disappointment evident in his voice. It was obvious he was beating himself up about it, and if he could without being written off as crazy -- he'd do it in a literal sense.

"We'll catch him," Hotch added.

Around two or three hours later, Gideon and Spencer sought out the unsub for his arrest.

Valley sat at the department, zoned out while sipping on bad coffee, and it felt way more overwhelmed then usual. She felt like he had been making no progress with the team, she had done nothing to help, the officers are desperate to spark up conversation with the team.

Everything is going profoundly wrong. Not to mention, she was about to experience the best orgasm of her life before the sound of her boyfriends voice ruined it.

And in the midst of all of this, Valley had been experiencing incredibly bad flashbacks.

It's the same thing, over, and over again. She's stuck in the same position as blood drips from the rounded oak table to her feet.

The assailants were faceless, like wraiths in the night, their identities shrouded in mystery. They moved with an eerie grace, their bodies gliding across the room as they ransacked the house.

One of them turned towards her hiding spot, his eyes glowing like twin embers in the darkness. You could almost make his eyes out his appearance effortlessly; if it wasn't for the mask he wore.

He was a brunette with long greasy thin hair, his eyes where a soulless dirty blue which were surrounded by a black eyeshadow. A shudder of terror coursed through her as he moved towards her, his steps echoing ominously in the silence.

She exhaled through her nose, thinking of ways to focus. But she couldn't. She didn't know why, her mind was telling her to do one thing while her body was doing three others.

'Should I put the cup down? No, pick the marker up. Don't forget to highlight important details within the case--'. The voices inside her head were so continuous, vexing, and loud.

"Uh, okay okay..." She said under her breathe while squeezing her eyes shut, repeating everything she had to do out loud while scrambling all over the place. It didn't help when Morgan walked through the door, another presence she had to deal with.

Her iris met with his and all she could do was roll them, not purposefully but it was defintely noticeable. And it defintely concerned Morgan to the highest extent. "Baby," He spoke. She ignored him, and continued to scramble around.

Smile.

She smiled.

The inner monologue got even louder, don't forget... no wait... you need to--- she was trying so hard to breathe in and out. She was trying so hard to calm down. But she couldn't, so how she reacted wasn't ideal. She didn't want to be touched, she didn't mean to she just didn't want to be touched. But she thought Morgan put a hand on her shoulder, and,

"Can you fucking move?" She blurted between her grated teeth, nostrils flared and her hands in the air. Her face dropped quickly after she realized what she just said. Her expressions softened, and Derek looked at her. Not normally, not concerned. He didn't look at her like he knew something was wrong with her, or like he knew she needed space. He felt bad for her. He pitied her.

And that only set her off more. "Don't give me that look, please. Not you Derek out of all people do not give me that look." She pleaded with him, her head rocking back and forth. "Look, I'm sorry there's just-- I need you to back away from me. For a moment, please. I need you, to back away. Anything you need to said can be said without touching me.". And that's when he looked at her with even more pity,

"Val."

"No, Morgan. I'm serious. I'm not made of braille you can understand me without having to touch me,"

"Val--" She cut him off, clearly agitated. "Anything you need you can say from--" "Valley,"

"What?" She asked aggressively, turning her head once again. No one was there.

"I'm standing over here.". She looked across the room Morgan never made it in. He had been at the entry way this whole time, alongside Gideon.

Alongside Spencer. She never felt more a fool in her life, her eyes shot back and forth between Gideon and Derek. They didn't betray her, they didn't think of locking with Spencer. She was so, humiliated, so how could they? She looked down once again, shaking her head out of pure embarrassment.

"I could've sworn you were right here. I thought,". At lost for words, she refused to make any further eye contact. "I apologize." she blurted out.  

"Brown," Gideon called. "Sir?" - "Morgan will take over on the profile building,". Her head shot up, and before any refusal could be made, she was interrupted. "I want you to take a walk.". Her nostrils flared once again, "I don't need a walk, Gideon."

Hearing his name being said in such a manner, he glared at her. "Yes, you do.". Valley nodded softly, not wanting to make a bigger deal of things than she already has. She walked towards the shining glass doors, her presence causing both Morgan and Reid to make way. Incoherent mumbles escaping through her lips. She had no clue where she was going to go, but she wanted to go somewhere were she couldn't be bothered. That was going to be insanely hard to do, seeing as even the slightest breeze of wing could very much bother her at this point. She wasn't going to let that stop her though.

It took her fifteen minutes to find a park, where no one was. She could be alone with her thoughts, ones that were free of any task that sent them into overdrive. She didn't know what kept her mind captative, she couldn't pinpoint what her problem was, she couldn't even pin point what her main problem was. Her mind was constantly on go, and she felt like an idiot because she couldn't keep up with it. It was frustrating and it made her feel stupid. And she never feels stupid. She stared into the water fountain, watching as the Koi fish swam in sync with one another. So free, so beautiful.

One reflection became two, and she was greeted with a familiar face. Her eyes felt like they could pop out of her head, and her cheeks stung so badly once she noticed his presence.

 “You know, PTSD can cause intense emotional outbursts, like anger or irritability, due to an overactive stress response system. This reaction happens when the brain's amygdala becomes overactive, especially when triggered by reminders of past trauma.” Spencer spoke, trying his hardest to do whatever it takes to make sure she felt more sane, she was craving silence, believing it would bring her the solace she needed. Yet, despite her desire for quiet, his voice proved to be a greater comfort than any peace could offer. His words reached her in a way that silence never could, filling the void with a warmth and reassurance that transcended mere tranquility. 

 “Statistics show that about 7-8% of people will experience PTSD, and a significant portion, around 51% of veterans, report significant anger issues. These outbursts can strain relationships and affect overall well-being.”, she laughed, unable to hold back the sound. All she could manage was a laugh as she asked, “So, you’re saying you think my friendship with Derek is doomed?”. Spencer shook his head and smiled. “I think that if you try to hide how you feel from someone you care about, it already is, Krasivaya.”. Her ears peaked up, his eyes averted her gaze. "Valley. It means Valley in Russian.".  Valley stared up at him, the sun casting a warm shadow over the two. She stared at him with longing; he stared at her with compassion. “You were not spiraling. You were overstimulated,” he reassures her. “I uh- I know how it feels.”. He added, fixing the glasses that sat perfectly on his face. Perfectly on the bridge of his nose. His hazel eyes glistened, his hands in his jacket pockets and his scarf almost hiding his defined jaw, leaving everything to the imagination. And that only lead her back to this morning. The morning where she felt herself most calmed. The morning where she felt herself unravel, she felt herself release all build up she had. And the worst part is, she feels so terrible about it.

“Do you ever feel like, your trapped in your mind? Like your thoughts are clawing at you from the inside and you're scared that one day, you're gonna be to tired to fight them. And you're going to give in?”

“Am I scared of my own mind?”. She nods in response to his question, her feet moving away from the fountain as she makes her way towards the gateway of the park. 

“How could I not be,” He simply replies. They walked in silence for a while, just allowing each others presence to speak more than words ever possibly could. She begun to profile spencer quite a bit, looking up at him for a moment and letting that mental image do the work.

“Krasivaya,” she whispers softly. Spencer refuses to look down at her, just hummed in response. “What does it really mean,”, now he looked down at her. He thought for a little and just shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno,”

“You can't lie to a profiler,” she joked while giggling. “I mean it took you approximately 5 minutes to figure out I did, so I'm pretty sure I can,”. Valley shook her head, nudging him softly.

The park is enveloped in a serene stillness. Streetlights cast pools of warm, golden light on the deserted paths, their glow creating long shadows on the dewy grass. The trees, heavy with leaves rustling in the light breeze, stand as silent sentinels in the dimness.

The two walk along a winding path, their footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath them. The air is crisp, tinged with the faint scent of pine and damp soil. The occasional chirp of a distant cricket is the only sound that punctuates the quiet.

The park’s fountain, dormant for the season, is surrounded by a ring of frost-covered benches, their once-vibrant colors muted. A nearby playground, with its swings swaying gently, adds a ghostly touch to the scene, the metal structures gleaming faintly.

As Valley walked beside Spencer, the vibrant hues of autumn leaves danced in the gentle breeze around them. She focused on the rhythmic crinkle beneath her boots, each step a small distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her mind. The air was crisp, smelling faintly of earth and decay, but it felt alive, contrasting sharply with the heaviness she felt inside.

She cast her gaze away, attempting to push aside the memory of her outburst, the way her voice had shaken with raw emotions she thought she had under control. Instead, she silently watched the squirrels scurry about, busying themselves with acorns and nuts, seemingly oblivious to the world’s chaos. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of her mouth; even the wildlife was thriving, while she felt as if she was struggling just to keep her head above water.

Spencer walked beside her, his presence a steady, calming force amidst her inner turbulence. There was something reassuring about his quiet demeanor, his gentle intelligence that always seemed to shine through in moments of uncertainty. Yet, Valley’s mind flickered constantly, wrangling with self-doubt and guilt. How could she have lost control like that? She had promised herself she wouldn’t let her emotions overwhelm her again, not after everything.

The park was alive, but she felt strangely detached, as if she were watching it all unfold through a glass window. Laughter from nearby children echoed in the backdrop, but it felt distant—like a sound meant for someone else, not for her. Valley glanced sideways at Spencer, who was quietly observing her, his brow slightly furrowed in concern. Even in her turmoil, his eyes were warm and inviting, an anchor she didn’t know she desperately needed.

A few minutes passed in amiable silence, the peaceful sounds of the park mingling with their footsteps. Valley felt a twinge of warmth at the thought of Spencer simply being here. It was absurd how much his presence meant; he had a way of making her feel seen without pressuring her to share what she wasn’t ready to reveal.

After an eternity wrapped in minutes, she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry for earlier…” The words escaped her and hung in the air between them like a delicate thread.

Spencer shrugged lightly, the corners of his mouth curving into a soft smile—one that spoke volumes, reassuring her without the need for excessive words. “It’s okay to have feelings, Valley. You don’t have to apologize for being human.”

His words wrapped around her heart, easing the grip of anxiety that had tightened within. As they continued walking, a warmth blossomed in her chest, melting away the initial chill of shame. Maybe it was okay to let her guard down occasionally, to accept that everyone wrestles with their emotions.

Spencer glanced over at her and suggested, “How about we grab some coffee?” His eyes sparkled with a gentleness that felt like an invitation to take a break from her thoughts. “I can really go for some caffeine right now. What do you say?”

Valley nodded slowly, the idea of a warm cup in her hands appealing like a cozy blanket against the chill of her lingering worries. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

As they walked towards the nearby café, her heart felt a little lighter. Each passing moment was no longer overshadowed by her earlier despair. Instead, it was filled with the promise of a cozy corner, the rich aroma of coffee, and the comfort of shared silence alongside Spencer.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped them as they entered the café, the warmth of the space wrapping around Valley like a comforting embrace. She took a moment to soak in the vibrant chatter and soft music filling the room while Spencer sauntered to the counter, casually scanning the menu with a focused look. It was both comforting and chaotic—a stark contrast to her tangled thoughts, which felt more like a storm raging within.

She chose a cozy corner table, watching as Spencer interacted with the barista, his genuine smile easily disarming. There was an odd comfort in seeing him in this setting, the slight frizz of his hair from the morning breeze framing his face perfectly. It was a breath of fresh air, a welcome distraction, but as soon as she allowed herself to relax, the weight of her earlier outburst crept back in, wrapping around her shoulders like a heavy cloak.

When Spencer returned, two steaming cups in hand, he slid one across the table. “I hope you like vanilla lattes,” he said, his eyes intent on hers, as if he were searching for something deeper in her gaze.

“Yeah, they’re great,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. She wrapped her fingers around the warmth of the cup, although the heat couldn’t quite shake the chill burdening her heart. “Thanks for getting this.”

Silence fell comfortably between them for a moment as both took sips, but Valley could feel the words swirling inside her, fighting to escape. How to explain the mess of emotions she was grappling with? The looming shadows of guilt and confusion felt too heavy to put into words. She looked down, playing with the rim of her cup, hesitating as the tension within her began to swell again.

The café bustled around them, but it felt like they were in their own little world. She gathered her resolve and steered the conversation back into a more palatable territory. “It’s… been a rough few days,” Valley confessed, gaze flickering up to meet Spencer's. “Probably more than I realized.”

Spencer nodded, his expression softening in understanding. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he said, sipping thoughtfully. But his sincerity nudged her, inviting her to share more.

“I just… I don’t know,” she continued, the words spilling out before she had the chance to stop herself. “Everything feels so overwhelming all the time. Like I’m this awful monster for feeling everything that I do.” Her voice was pained, thick with restraint. She felt like she was ripping open old wounds, exposing her vulnerability, but somehow she needed to say it. “I’m not supposed to feel this way.”

She met his gaze again, hoping to gauge his response. The kindness on his face was palpable, and it spurred her to dig deeper. “I shouldn’t be feeling…” She faltered, grasping for the right words, knowing she couldn’t bare her entire story—not yet, anyway.

Spencer leaned back in his chair, observing her with an intensity that lent the moment heavy significance. “Yes, you are,” he replied, his tone thoughtful yet firm. “You’re feeling that way because you’re human, Valley. You just don’t want to let yourself experience it.”

The earnestness in his voice struck her, and she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of uncertainty. Was he right? She felt so isolated in her struggle; had she been avoiding the very emotions that needed to surface?

“It’s tough, especially when you’ve been on your own for so long,” he continued, setting his cup down and resting his hands on the table. “When you finally start to feel things, it can be… disorienting. You want to shut it all down because you’re not used to having anyone around to help you carry that load.”

Valley felt her chest tighten. What did he know of her struggles? But as she listened, there was a sincerity in his words that struck a different chord. Spencer continued, his voice gentle yet steady. “You have people around you who care. Hotch, Derek, Penelope…” He paused, his gaze softening. “And me.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine—both surprising and warming at the same time. It felt so odd to hear someone like him, a guy she barely knew, quietly affirm her place within their team. Yet, the reality of those connections started to settle within her like a cup of warm cocoa—comforting yet rich, with the potential to carry the burden of her emotions.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you along, Valley,” he added softly, his eyes earnest. “It’s okay to let it in—whatever it is you’re feeling.”

In that moment, amidst the bustle of the café, Valley felt a flicker of hope forming—a fragile yet resilient flame in the face of her emotional storm. Maybe the world wouldn’t fall apart if she let herself feel, if she allowed the warmth of connections to seep through her guarded armor. She offered him a small, hesitant smile, recognition blooming within.

The ambiance of the café buzzed with laughter and the comforting sound of clinking dishes. Valley and Spencer shared a cozy corner table, their conversation flowing effortlessly as they recounted humorous stories from previous cases and slight mishaps on the team. She felt lighter, their laughter weaving a temporary escape from her tangled thoughts.

After sipping her vanilla latte, Valley leaned back in her chair, a grin spreading across her face. “Okay, but can we seriously talk about the time Derek tried to impress JJ by cooking?” she chuckled, barely able to contain her laughter.

“It was a terrible idea,” Spencer replied, shaking his head, his voice a mix of amusement and disbelief. “I think he almost started a small fire in the kitchen.”

“Exactly! And it took weeks for him to live that down,” Valley said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. The joy between them felt palpable, a warm moment that contrasted starkly with the confusion that had plagued her mind for days.

But soon, the laughter dwindled, and Valley felt a sudden wave of necessity. “I’ll be right back,” she said, rising from her seat. “Just need to use the bathroom.” As she excused herself and made her way to the back of the café, she absentmindedly left her phone on the table.

Spencer, still caught up in the lightness of their moment, momentarily lost track of time. He glanced around the bustling café, appreciating the ambiance. But soon, his gaze fell on Valley’s phone. The screen lit up with a notification, its buzz cutting through the festive noise.

Curiosity piqued, he hesitated for just a moment before reaching over to glance at her phone. The text message illuminated the screen, revealing a message from her boyfriend.

He read aloud in a low voice, a puzzled expression crossing his features. That phrase hung in the air, gnawing at him with an unsettling feeling. he muttered under his breath, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. The tone felt dismissive, almost rehearsed, like the words of someone trying to calm a storm they weren't willing to acknowledge.

Valley's absence seemed extended just then, and as the message sunk in, Spencer knew something wasn't right. As she approached, he quickly put her phone in the exact position it was in.

He returned to the light-hearted banter they had been sharing, trying to keep the atmosphere relaxed. As she slid back into her seat, a wave of warmth washed over him, grateful for the moments of laughter they had shared.

Valley glanced at her phone, her brow furrowing slightly as she noticed the notification still glowing on the screen. She quickly unlocked it, her heart dropping as she read her boyfriend’s message again. The words echoed in her mind, a reminder of the tension gnawing at the edges of her contentment.

Spencer, sensing the change in her demeanor, leaned in just a bit closer. “Hey, is something wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with genuine concern.

Her gaze flicked up from the screen, and just for a moment, vulnerability flickered in her eyes. “No, it’s fine,” she replied, her smile strained. It was a lie, but one she hoped would suffice for the moment.

The words might’ve come out easily enough, a practiced response she had become accustomed to giving. After all, she didn’t want to burden him with the complications of her life, especially when they had just managed to find this brief oasis of joy amidst their busy lives.

But underneath that response, the truth lingered— got caught up at work?

He works from home.

Spencer studied her closely, noting the way her eyes darted back to her phone as if it wielded some kind of gravitational pull, making it difficult to shake off the worry tightening around her chest.

“Okay, but if anything’s bothering you…” he started, wanting her to know he was there for her, regardless of whether she elected to share her feelings or not.

“Really, I’m fine!” she insisted, her tone almost too bright. A tiny part of her wished it was true, wished she could brush off the unease that lurked just beneath the surface.

The moment hung between them, a fragile facade of normalcy masking the swirling storm of confusion and doubt that had settled into her heart. Spencer nodded, not entirely convinced, but willing to let it go, sensing that she’d reveal more when she was ready.

Moments later, Valley glanced at her watch. “Ugh, look at the time! I can’t believe how long we’ve been here,” she said, her heart lightening as she gathered her things. “Should we head out?”

“Sure, let me grab the check,” Spencer said, rising from his chair.

Once outside, the evening sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow across the bustling street. Valley shivered slightly as a cool breeze brushed past, the air hinting at the rain that was forecasted to arrive later.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Spencer asked, gesturing toward his car parked nearby. “I wouldn’t want you out in the rain.”

She hesitated for a moment. It felt nice, being with him, yet there was a wariness that tugged at her. “Sure, that would be great,” she replied, glancing at the darkening sky.

As they settled into the car, she felt a strange comfort in their shared quiet. The engine hummed to life as Spencer pulled away from the curb, navigating the winding streets back towards Virginia. The flow of traffic seemed heavier than usual, but the atmosphere inside the vehicle was relaxed. They exchanged playful remarks and laughed over silly observations about other drivers, the ride becoming a safe foothold for their bubbling connection.

“Did you see that guy?” Spencer laughed, pointing to a driver who seemed to be oblivious to the traffic light change. “He’s been sitting there, just staring off into space!”

“Oh my god,” Valley chuckled. “I love how every once in a while, someone forgets what they’re doing in the middle of traffic.”

“It seriously makes me wanna do things that could cost me my badge and my track record,” Spencer joked, kind of.

The drive stretched forty-nine long minutes, giving them time to share even more laughter, weaving confused anecdotes and moments from their lives. Valley talked about her love for concocting bizarre recipes, recounting an unfortunate incident where she added way too much salt to her mother’s famous macaroni and cheese.

“Your family must’ve loved that,” Spencer teased, turning to her with a grin.

“Oh, they were not pleased,” she said, feigning an offended tone. “I practically made everyone drink, like, three gallons of water afterward!”

Spencer laughed heartily, and a surge of warmth washed over her. A part of her wished the drive would never end, that they’d just keep talking in this easy, flowing manner. As they crossed the Potomac River into Virginia, the distant rumble of thunder echoed through the air, and the first few raindrops began to patter softly against the windshield.

Valley’s heart sank a little as the cityscape turned into the suburban familiarity of her neighborhood. The conversation had been so refreshing, and she dreaded the impending silence that would come with parting ways. It struck her that she was hesitant about the moment they would reach her driveway—the reality of the rain and the fact that they were both about to step back into their individual lives.

Spencer pulled up to her house, the comforting glow of the lights illuminating her porch. Raindrops began to fall more steadily, sending rhythmic whispers against the rooftop. As she sat in the passenger seat, she debated inviting him in. The stormy weather was a perfect excuse; it could lead to shared warmth and strolls through further conversations.

But deep down, she knew inviting him inside could complicate things further, layering the confusion that had already begun to unfurl. She didn’t want to cross a line she wasn’t ready for, nor did she want to engage in a conversation that seemed inevitable. Instead, she felt the tugging lingering doubt in her mind.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Of course,” he replied, glancing at her with those kind, patient eyes that had been listening so earnestly. “It was really good to see you today. I had fun.”

“Me too,” she said, letting a brief smile curl her lips. In that moment, their gazes locked, and she could feel an unspoken connection crackle between them, a delicate tension layered with possibility.

“Okay, well…” she hesitated, the instinct to invite him in nearly slipping out. But instead, she swallowed her feelings down, deciding on caution instead of impulse. “Get home safe, alright?”

Spencer’s brow raised slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “You too, Valley.”

“Definitely,” she said, and in that moment, part of her didn’t want to look away. But she broke the tension, unbuckling her seatbelt and grabbing her bag. The rain began to pour, cascading down in thick sheets, but she felt compelled to keep her composure as she opened the door.

“See you soon!” she managed to call over the sound of the rain before stepping out into the downpour.

“See you!” Spencer replied, his voice steady as she closed the door. He watched her squeeze her bag to her chest, her hurried footsteps splashing through puddles as she darted toward the porch.

Valley turned back briefly, giving him a fleeting smile that felt heavy with meaning, but then she pushed forward into her home, shutting the door with a soft click. Inside her house, Valley felt the familiar warmth embrace her as she closed the door against the storm outside. The murmurs of rain against the roof became a comforting backdrop, displacing the weight of the day with a snug sense of home. She stepped into the cozy living room, where her sister, Jess, sat on the couch, flipping through a magazine. Kahalani, her daughter, had already fallen asleep, curled up in a blanket, the soft rise and fall of her little chest bringing a smile to Valley’s face.

As the gentle light from the lamp nearby cast a golden hue over the room, Valley felt grateful that Jess had stepped in to help. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her,” she said softly, glancing at her sleeping daughter.

“Of course,” Jess replied, offering a warm smile. “I’ll always be here when you need a break. Plus, it was nice to have some quiet time with her.”

Valley joined her sister on the couch, and they shared a moment of quiet camaraderie. Valley sipped the lukewarm cup of coffee left over from earlier, staring thoughtfully at the wall where photos of Kahalani’s milestones hung. Each image captured a moment in time—the first steps, her first day of school, silly faces between smiles. Each picture was a reminder of the fleeting nature of life and how quickly these moments could pass.

"I should really get my act together," Valley murmured after a beat, her gaze focused on the images.

“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself,” Jess said, sensing her sister’s underlying tension. “You’re doing an amazing job balancing everything. Work, Kahalani, life… Dick,” “Nick?”

“We both know he's only Dick,” Valley stared at her. Hard, mostly because she knew she was right -- so she let it slide.

“Maybe I’m just feeling a little lost lately,” Valley confessed. “It seems like everything keeps changing, and I’m just trying to keep up.”

“You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed mama,” Jess reassured her. “Just take it one day at a time. It’s okay to need help sometimes.”

As the rain drummed softly on the roof, Jess and Valley cleaned up the remnants of Kahalani’s earlier craft session. They stacked colored paper and crayons, each item a testament to the creativity and chaos of childhood. After a while, Jess glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to run,” she said, gathering her things. “But I’ll check in later this week, okay? If you need me tomorrow you just call me.”

“Sounds perfect,” Valley replied, grateful for Jess’s support. She watched as her sister waved goodbye and slipped out into the rain, leaving Valley alone in the hushed home.

Once the door closed behind Jess, the stillness enveloped her. Kahalani was peacefully asleep, her small body cocooned in the blanket on the couch. Valley tiptoed over, brushing a stray hair from Kahalani’s face, and felt a familiar rush of love wash over her. She couldn’t help but smile; moments like these were what made everything worthwhile.

Deciding she needed to wash away the remnants of the day, she moved to her bathroom, the cool tiles underfoot a stark contrast to the warmth of her earlier laughter with Jess. She turned on the shower, and the sound of running water blended with the rain outside, creating a soothing melody that eased her mind.

The warmth enveloped her as she stepped under the cascading water, the droplets feeling like tiny kisses against her skin. The sensation was intoxicating, a silky embrace washing over her shoulders and trickling down her back. Valley closed her eyes, letting the water envelop her in a cloud of warmth. It washed away the heaviness of the day, releasing the stress that had built up like a barricade around her heart.

She took a moment to breathe deeply, inhaling the scent of the lavender body wash that filled the air before pouring a generous amount into her palm. As she lathered it across her skin, the rich foam glided over her arms and legs, each stroke a soothing caress that melted away her unease. The heat of the water against her skin was an intoxicating balm, washing away the day’s tensions and fears. She felt herself slip deeper into a state of relaxation, the world outside fading away.

Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, allowing the water to cascade over her hair and down her back. The warmth seeped into her muscles, loosening the knots that had formed throughout the day. She felt a sense of peace wrap around her, cocooning her in tranquility as the water ran down her body, pooling around her feet.

After several blissful minutes, she turned off the faucet, shaking her hair slightly before reaching for a fluffy towel. The soft fabric felt divine against her skin as she dried off, the warmth lingering even when the water was gone.

Stepping into her room, Valley switched on the bedside lamp, the soft glow illuminating the space around her. She took a moment to appreciate the quiet, stillness wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. The rain continued its gentle rhythm outside, creating a sense of serenity that contrasted with her thoughts swirling through her mind.

She crawled into bed, adjusting the pillows and sinking into the comfort of the sheets. The familiar feeling enveloped her as she rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling and letting her thoughts drift. She replayed the evening’s moments, from Jess’s laughter to Kahalani’s sleepy smile. As she lay there, however, her thoughts turned toward Spencer.

Just as she settled into the tranquility of the night, she felt something unusual against the surface of the pillow on Nick's side—the pillow he usually occupied when he stayed over. Curiosity hitting her like a flash, she turned toward it, reaching out instinctively.

As her fingers grazed the fabric, she froze. A cold rush flooded her as she pulled the item free.

It was a bra—definitely not hers.

[edynsgarden]

The Orchid

Chapter 2

There had been whispers of an American Jujutsu sorcerer with a cursed technique that rendered them unstoppable. No one could identify this sorcerer by face, but they were recognizable by photos of each cursed spirit with an orchid beside it. Typically, gossip about foreign sorcerers did not carry across the ocean to Japan, the pillar of Jujutsu, but it seemed that this American sorcerer dubbed “the orchid” was the only topic of conversation in the Jujutsu world. While many higher ups and special grade sorcerers feared the arrival of The Orchid, Satoru Gojo was excited. Finally, a rival, an equal, or maybe… a lover.

Story Warnings: heavy smut, breeding kink, spanking, spitting, violence, mentions of abuse, blood

Chapter Warnings: none <3 (no smut this chapter)

Author's note: Sorry for all of the filler :/ I want to establish to storyline a little bit before we get into the nitty gritty

Chapter 0.5 - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 2

“Ryomen Sukuna!?” the girl said aghast.

The Jujutsu community in America is fairly small, but names such as Satoru Gojo and Ryomen Sukuna are powerful enough to traverse the ocean. In America, Sukuna was known for the trail of bodies he left before his separation into the 20 fingers. 

“Mhm, but don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. With you working with me, he should be an easy kill.” Satoru stated. “Oh by the way, I don’t remember you telling me your name girl.” reaching out his long slender fingers to shake your hand. 

The Orchid froze. She had never seen Gojo anywhere in the press, not expecting such a muscular, yet lean figure and sculpted face. But, she did wonder what his eyes looked like under that thick blindfold of his. *The strongest? More like the hottest* she thought to herself. 

“Ehem” Masamichi cleared his throat, signaling for her to shake Satoru’s outstretched hand.

“My name is Shiloh Fields, but you can just call me Shy.” Shiloh said strongly, firmly gripping Gojo’s cold hand, an attempt to distract from how her heart was racing at the right of him. Something about him made her not want to let go, and neither did he. However, their trance was broken by Masamichi also extending his hand for a handshake.

“Nice to meet you Ms. Fields, we are grateful to have you as an asset to our team.” said Masamichi. The two shook hands briefly, a noticeable difference between the handshake she previously held with Gojo. Something about it was different, almost as if there was a familiarity to the touch, a spark igniting a lost flame. 

“Alright, well I think we should probably try to train together sometime.” Gojo mentioned. a good point because Shiloh and him were going to be working in combat together now. 

“Yeah sure, but first where do I move in?” Shiloh asked.

“Oh– well, there is one faculty living space open.” Masamichi answered, sharing a short, yet unmissable look with Gojo.

“Great!” Shiloh replied, slightly confused by the glace the men shared.

“I’m sure Gojo wouldn’t mind escorting you to your living quarters. He is very familiar with the room” Masamichi mentioned with a slight smirk. 

Gojo’s attitude was different now. For some reason, he was not the playful Gojo that was just trying to get closer to Shy. He didn’t seem angry, or sad, but he almost looked annoyed? Not at you, but at Masamichi. One thing about Shiloh is that she hates conflict, so even this slight tension in the air made her uncomfortable. 

“So… we might as well get going!” Shiloh said, attempting to lighten up the mood. 

“Sure.” Gojo stated boredly, “but where is your stuff?”

Shiloh’s face fell into a ‘are you serious’ type of face. Speaking no words she conjured a suitcase out of thin air with her cursed technique simply to prove her unspoken point. 

“No need to get all sassy on me Ms. Fields, I don’t appreciate the attitude.” Gojo said, his eyes rolling in an unenthused manner. “Follow me.”

And with that, the Orchid and the strongest were perusing through the halls of Jujutsu high, only to stop at one of the faculty dorms. 

“This is it!” Gojo sarcastically exclaimed, Shiloh couldn’t help but wonder why he was so unhappy with your rooming situation. But that curiosity was soon answered when Gojo slid the door of the dorm open. Clothes riddled the floor along with other uncleanly items, if it wasn’t for the many photos pinned of Gojo and friends Shiloh would have thought the room belonged to a homeless person. 

“Uhm, I think this is your room Gojo. Where is mine?” Shiloh asked uneasily.

“Nope, this is right roomie.”

“Where is my bed?”

“Oh, my bad” Gojo quickly moved a pile of clothing to reveal a twin sized bed in the opposite corner of the room.

[hyprfixate]

hold on tight ↝ [L.F.] :: part one

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: you're unhappy. you're almost certain that there isn't anything in this world that can make you happier, and you're right. what you don't account for, however, is something otherworldly flipping your life on its head. or, should you say someone

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: lee felix x (she/her) reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 3.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags: angst, non idol au, fantasy au kind of, felix is an angel literally and figuratively, mentions of suicidal thoughts without going into detail, reader is depressed, she/her pronouns used for the reader, slowburn, strangers to lovers, putting angst again bc thats how much angst there is.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author’s note: i wanted to post the whole fic at once but college + adhd + eds = no writing time :(. so here’s part one! i hope you guys enjoy it <3

(ignore formatting mistakes i beg </3)

-

You open your eyes to find yourself, of all places, in an elevator.

You’re not exactly sure where you expected to be, but an elevator was definitely not in the realm of possibilities.

“Um… hello?”

As expected, no one answers you.

The elevator is moving, though, and it dings with each floor that it passes. Your eyes nearly bulge from your head when you see there are 4,000 floors this elevator can go to, and you’re only on the fourth at the moment. With a sigh, you slump against the wall and prepare for the long ride ahead of you.

“Great,” you mumble to yourself. “Just another place to be stuck in.”

Your pessimism is one of your worst qualities, you think. While there is very little about you that you would deem “good”, your pessimism seemed to be the overarching issue, not only for you but for those around you.

The dinging of the elevator grows bleary, and as you pull up to the 10th floor, the ding sounds more like the low groan of a dying man. The doors part slowly, and you come face to face with what looks like a waiting room.

Is this some kind of joke?

A plaque on the wall reads “Purgatory”, and just under that plaque is a plentiful head of sandy brown hair. The owner of the head looks up with a grin, and you’re nearly mesmerized by his beauty. Perfectly sculpted features on the most symmetrical face you’ve ever seen, with freckles littering his face and cheeks like flecks of gold in the sand. To add to his otherworldly good looks, his body is outlined in a pale gold, flickering like the flame of a candle. Your eyes roam his body for identification, but the name tag on his shirt is too far for you to read. You continue to hold his gaze as the grin on his face falters.

“Um. Hi?”

Collecting himself, he clears his throat, shuffling with papers on his desk. “Hi,” he manages out. “My name is Felix, welcome to purgatory. Can I get your name please?”

Your name comes out in a voice just above a whisper, and he hurriedly types it into his computer. The room is silent while you wait,and you notice he’s purposefully avoiding your gaze. The awkward energy in the room comes to its peak when after a moment, his thick eyebrows mesh together in confusion.

“Sorry, could you repeat your name for me? I may have misheard you.”

You nod, repeating and even taking the time to spell it out, letter by letter. Felix’s face is still scrunched in confusion as he mutters the letters back to himself under his breath. Moments pass, and the confused look does not leave his face.

“Do you… have another name by chance? A birth name?”

“No,” you say carefully. “I’m not adopted or anything.”

“That’s.. weird,” he mutters. “Your name isn’t coming up in the system for some reason.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “What do you mean?”

Felix reaches over to the front of the desk, grabbing the phone off of the receiver and holding it between his ear and shoulder. “Everyone gets a death report,” he explains as he punches in some numbers. “It details which part of the building you go to, how long you have to stay in this department, the people you left behind— all the technical stuff. For some reason yours isn’t coming up.”

He holds up one finger as the person on the other line answers, turning away and talking in harsh whispers.

There’s a feeling of anxiety brewing in your stomach as he talks, and you feel like you could throw up.

Felix’s conversation wraps up quickly, with a satisfying clack once he puts the phone back on the receiver. “Guy will be down in a second,” he says. The soft smile is back on his face as he gestures to a plastic chair nearby. “Please, have a seat.”

You nod wordlessly as you make your way to the decrepit looking chair. There’s a sneaking suspicion in your brain as to why your report won't come up, and you hope to all powers above that you’re wrong.

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your pounding heart as you wait for Guy to come down here and explain what’s going on. From the corner of your eye you see Felix sneaking glances at you, scribbling furiously in a notebook as he does. The glow around his body is growing brighter, almost blinding you. You’re about to mention it when the ding of the elevator catches your attention.

Both of you turn your attention to the entrance of the office, watching as a couple walks in, hand and hand. They smell like fire and burning rubber, and judging from the bright red mark across the girl’s throat, a car accident did them in. Felix sneaks one more glance at you before putting away his pen and turning back on his customer-service smile, asking the couple the same questions he asked you a moment before.

Unsurprisingly, their reports show up as expected. Felix prints them out and says comforting words to the couple, sliding a box of tissues to them when the girl starts to weep. He points them in the direction of a grand staircase before wishing them well. As they disappear up the stairs, you notice a pair of feet coming in the opposite direction.

“Oh! There’s Guy. He’ll sort this all out.” Felix’s customer service grin is back on his face, but you notice apprehension and questioning in his eyes.

Guy steps into the room, and you’re immediately overwhelmed by his presence. He’s absolutely massive, and his face glows so bright you can barely make out his features. All you see are his eyebrows, mouth, and nose. He rests the file folder he was holding on the front desk, leaning forward with ease.

“Hey,” he says. “You called, Lixie?”

The brunette nods, gesturing in your direction and introducing you. “Uh, she came in earlier, I took her name, but nothing came up. I think something’s wrong with the computer.”

“That’s… interesting.” Guy turns towards you, eyebrows raised. “Hey there. Can I get your name?”

You tell him your name, spelling it out for him the same way you did for Felix. He nods quietly and opens the file folder, flipping through documents quickly. The anxious pit in your stomach grows with each passing second, and it’s taking everything in you not to throw up right then and there.

He reaches the end of the folder, confusion appearing on his otherwise blank face. He leans over the counter and turns the computer monitor towards himself, typing in your name and clicking around several times.

“See,” Felix says, his large eyes peering up at Guy. “Nothing.”

Guy stands up to his full height, placing his hands on his hips and sighing. He shakes his head and lets out a huff of air that sounds almost like a laugh. Felix’s big brown eyes never leave his face, even when Guy picks up his manilla folder and tilts his head in the direction of the staircase.

“You two, please follow me.”

-

It’s obvious from the way his eyes go wide and sparkly that Felix has never been in Guy’s office before. He bubbles with childlike curiosity as he looks at the books on the shelves, taking time to read their titles and inspect their binding while Guy scours through his desk for– well, you’re not sure what he’s looking for. You assume it’s important though, as he’s mumbling to himself as he searches (you swear you hear a few expletives come from his mouth as he does). After a minute or two, he produces a much older looking manilla folder. This one is stained with who-knows-what, and it’s covered in dust particles and stray pen scribbles. He tosses the folder onto his desk with an exasperated sigh.

Seemingly only now remembering that you two are there, Guy gestures to the loveseat next to his desk. “Sorry! Please, take a seat.”

The two of you shuffle over silently. Felix sits at the edge of the couch, hugging a throw pillow to his chest.

You tuck your hands between your knees, seeking warmth and comfort. You’re tired and extremely confused– for the most part. Though you’re almost certain why you’re here, you still have a lot of questions about what the front desk worker, Felix, has to do with any of this.

Guy looks over at the two of you, and you can see his lips are curled into a small, soft smile. “There is really no easy way for me to explain this,” he starts. He reaches a hand up, and you assume he’s running it through his hair. “I guess I’ll start from the end and go backwards. You two can’t stay here.”

Your eyebrow quips upwards, but Felix makes a face that looks like he’s just been kicked out onto the street. You suppose that really is the case.

The brunet next to you stutters and his voice shakes. He’s confused, rightfully so, but you keep your eyes pinned to the floor in front of you. Guy simply holds up a hand and pleads with Felix to let him finish.

“Felix,” he continues. “Have you ever noticed that you’re surrounded by a–”

“Gold outline?”

They finish their sentences at the same time, and Guy nods. “It’s a rare phenomenon. Extremely rare. I’m sure before today you’ve never seen anyone else with one.”

Your attention peaks at that, and you glance up. You’re about to ask who else has one, when you catch sight of yourself in the reflection of the window behind Guy’s desk. You look the same way you remember, but you’re surrounded by bright, flickering gold light. It shines around you like sparklers on the fourth of July, the same way you noticed Felix’s did when you were downstairs in the lobby.

Felix meets your gaze in the window and nods. “What does it mean?”

“Well… For you–” Guy’s attention shifts to your direction, “- for you it’s a sign that you’re here before your time. You shouldn’t be here yet. You shouldn’t be dead yet.”

The anxious pit in your stomach widens and swallows you whole.

You barely register Guy’s explanation to Felix of what he means. Panic engulfs your senses and you’re trying your hardest to hold it together. You don’t want to cry in the afterlife (betweenlife?), you did enough of that when you were fully living.

Of course, you think. Of course you’re here before you need to be. That would just be your luck right? Despite the months it took to gather the courage to take that final plunge into darkness, you’ve still somehow made a mistake– one that seems to take more than just a quick fix.

You notice, through your spiraling thoughts, that the voices around you have stopped talking. You lookup and notice Felix’s eyes are on you. His expression reads pity, and you scowl, annoyed by the thoughts you think are running through his mind. You turn your attention back to Guy, and you’re grateful that you can’t make out his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

You nod. “Sorry. I must have zoned out.”

Guy nods slightly, knowingly, but he chooses to continue with his speech rather than to dwell on it. You dig your nails into the palm of your hand and force yourself to keep focused. Felix swallows thickly and decides to turn his attention away from you.

“Where was I?” He rubs his hands together in thought, clapping softly when he gets back on track. “Right. Now, while that might be the case for her and for other people, you glow for a different reason, Felix. Almost the opposite, actually.”

It’s Felix’s turn to look confused and anxious. He rubs his hands against his thighs. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

Guy slides the dusty old folder to the edge of his desk as an invitation for Felix to take it. He reaches over for it, and with wide eyes he notices his name stamped on the top right corner.

“You’re very special, Felix,” Guy continues. “Everyone who works here was alive at some point, except for you. You’re what we call a wandering spirit.”

You glance over at Felix, who’s brown eyes are vacant as he peels through the file. “What… what does that mean?”

“It means that you have a purpose, a very specific purpose on Earth, but your spirit was born before its time. That’s why you’ve been here for so long. Your job here at purgatory was busy work, just a time passer until the day you’re needed on Earth. And it seems like that day is today.”

Guy lets out a long, watery breath. “Felix Lee, I would like to formally introduce you to your guardian angel assignment.”

“Guardian angel?”

You blink curiously. “I’m confused.”

“Well. His job is to watch over you, protect you, keep you out of harm’s way.”

“I get that,” you mumble. “But why does all of that matter if…”

You trail off in the middle of your sentence. Realization rears its ugly head like an unwanted pimple, and you freeze on the spot.

Guy doesn’t even get the first letter of your name out of his mouth before you’re disagreeing, anger and fear taking over your actions like a wounded stray animal. You’ve managed to propel yourself halfway across the room before you even realize what’s going on.

“I’m not going back,” you cry, anxious hands wringing together feverishly. You avoid Felix’s gaze, trying to keep your focus on the massive man seated behind the desk. His mostly featureless face looks surprised at your outburst.

“Wait, what? What’s going on?” Felix quips. His big brown eyes shift between you and Guy as though he’s watching a ping-pong match.

Guy sighs. “Felix, your assignment is to go to Earth and watch over her. Make sure that she doesn’t…”

“Doesn’t… what?”

“Kill myself,” you deadpan. He whips his head in your direction. “You’re coming to Earth to make sure I don’t kill myself.”

Said “guardian angel” drops the folder in his hands, sheets of paper fluttering down to the floor. His ears are beginning to grow red, and he mumbles apologies as he makes quick work of gathering what’s fallen to the floor. When he sits up again, he looks directly at you. His eyes are wide and his lips have flattened into a thin line. Felix stares holes into your face, a myriad of questions swimming in the back of his mind. He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but he closes it again.

“I’m sorry,” Guy says. You can’t tell who he’s talking to. “I know this is sudden, I know that this isn’t what you, either of you, expected or even wanted.” His gaze settles on you before he continues. “But you don’t belong here. Not yet. There’s so much more for you to learn about and discover.”

You shake your head furiously. “No.” Your voice comes out stronger than it feels. “No, I can’t go back. I don’t want to.”

There’s sympathy on Guy’s face, but he isn’t wavering. “I’m sorry.”

Felix has remained silent, staring at the ground in front of him with an alarming amount of focus. His hands are clasped together over the folder in his lap, but his leg is bouncing at an incredible speed. For a moment, you imagine the panic going through his mind: he’s being forced to leave the only home he’s ever known to play babysitter to someone who doesn’t even want to be alive. His problems take a back seat in your mind as you mull over that last part.

Someone who doesn’t even want to be alive.

Guy is speaking again, this time to Felix. You can’t find it in you to listen, or even pretend to be listening. Your mind is swimming with thoughts, memories of your life and everything that led up to this moment. You’re shaking, knees wobbly and trembling as you realize that you’re once again destined to be stuck in a situation you don’t want to be in. Your eyes dart around the room and you begin looking for an out; a window, an air vent— if it came to it you’d close your eyes and pretend that you weren’t even there.

Guy stands up and begins walking in your direction. You inch closer and closer to the corner, only for him to walk right past you. You notice that there’s a small, unassuming door in the wall behind you.

“There’s really no time for any more questions,” he murmurs. “I have to get you two back to Earth where you belong.”

“Wait…”

Felix’s voice is hoarse with trepidation. He’s still staring at the ground, body slightly trembling as he gathers up all his fleeting thoughts in attempts to make a coherent sentence. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Everything you need is in that folder, Felix.” Guy’s booming voice has an edge of softness to it, the kind of fondness only achievable by a parent. “I know you can do this. Both of you. Everything is going to be okay.”

Guy reaches a massive hand towards the doorknob. He’s shaking a bit himself, and you imagine he’s feeling nervous about sending Felix away from the only home he’s ever known. From what you’ve gathered, Felix is the only one who’s been here as long as he has. He must feel like a son to Guy, and now he has to watch his son leave the safety of their home for the first time.

The door in the wall opens, and a bright light floods your senses. You squint from the corner you’re huddled in. There are tears streaming down your face, and it is taking every ounce of your control not to begin screaming and throwing yourself around on the floor. Guy turns around, motioning for you and Felix to come to the door.

“This passageway will take you back in time by a few days,” he says. “From there, it’s all in your hands.”

He looks over at you, calling your name softly. “It’s okay,” he says. “You can do this. You can go back. You won’t be alone.”

Against your better judgement, you look over at Felix, whose freckled face is also littered with tears. His big, brown eyes are still downcast, but sensing your gaze he glances up and gives you the smallest smile. He scrubs his cheeks with the back of his hand before he reaches out to you. “We can do it,” he whispers.

There’s desperation in his voice the next time he speaks. “Please. Let me do this.”

Only hesitating slightly, you uncurl yourself from the corner of the room and take a step towards Felix. He closes the gap between you two, slipping his long, slender fingers in your grasp. He gives your hand a squeeze, then looks up at Guy. They stare at each other for a moment before Guy steps out of the way, allowing space for you and Felix to walk through the door.

Felix takes the first step, letting the hand connected to yours stay behind him. Your feet feel heavy, but you allow yourself to get pulled a bit. With one final watery sigh, you follow him into the white light. It swallows both of you whole, and you feel both weightless and weighed down at the same time. Felix’s hand seems to disappear from your grasp, and before you can fully register it, you feel yourself falling from a great height.

[mortal-kombat-1]

How hard is it to mod the game? I'm very new to modding and I want to learn, but it all looks so confusing. With the Johnny Cage shirtless mod, are you just erasing the textures? If you don't want to answer that's fine.

You're good! And I don't mind explaining. Under the cut because longish reply. Also, if this doesn't answer anything or if you have any other questions you're more than welcome to come off anon and we'll continue the convo privately c:

Ok, since you mentioned my shirtless mod, we'll use that one.

First, you gotta extract the meshes themselves from the game. All models in MK1 have a base template, that includes materials.

(I also extract the face and hair meshes.)

This is what it should look like once you've imported it all into Blender. As you can see, I've not only the template mesh, I've also got the face and hair meshes in there.

Reason being: So I can sculpt that neck gap to line up with the head because editing or sculpting the head mesh itself will cause the game to crash. Also bald Johnny makes me giggle uncontrollably so reason for the hair, lol.

Select the template mesh, go into edit mode and select the head material to delete the vertices, because we're not gonna touch anything face/head mesh related, we're removing it from the body template only.

Finally, you can freely sculpt away on the body mesh to fill the gap the best you can; it's not going to be perfect no matter how much time you spend on it. Once you're happy with your sculpting, import the skin you're replacing. Join the template mesh with said skin, go into edit mode once more, select the materials, delete the materials from the skin you're replacing and assign the new materials from shirtless mesh (hopefully you've got a bottom mesh to give 'em so pants or whatever, anything else I'm not going over on dfghjkl) in the place of the skin material you just deleted. Once you've done that, and if you're not adding new textures (UV editing) delete the other meshes, save your modded skin (mesh) as Armature and the file type .fbx

Everything else involves placing everything where it goes via Unreal Editor. The Johnny tattoo I added myself because he doesn't have that in this game.

[anemptygun]

“because for the last couple years, i’ve been at war in my body / i tried to starve myself thinner, and then i gained all the weight back”

i’m in a constant state of turmoil and confusion when it comes to my body.

how do i treat her right? she’s separate from me, a different entity, almost like my baby, and i promised i’d never hurt her again, but i can’t get it right. we wax and wane together, just like the moon we adore.

my feelings change every moment of the day. i’m scared of cameras, i’m scared of the scale. i look in the mirror and see pure beauty, but modern technology doesn’t reflect that back to me. who am i to everyone else? does it match what i see?

“dear diary, i feel cool in the mirror, but i look dumb in pictures. see you tomorrow, me.”

i have the sickest secret fantasies, ones that catch me in a daze on the common day. in a perfect world, it would be the dead of winter. and no one would be home. i’d take craft scissors from my childhood, the ones that have been sitting in a jar in a cabinet untouched for years. and i stand alone, naked in my kitchen with the midday white winter light, and i cut off my parts: my breasts, my belly, my nose.

“i cut off my nose just to spite my face, and then i hate my reflection for years and years.”

it’s pure white and red. i bleed, and it feels euphoric, and i slip away. no one finds me. no one can hurt me for the innocent anatomy of my body, the parts men dream of indulging in, like spit covered teeth gnawing into a harvest apple. i didn’t ask for this. but it’s been out of my control as long as i can remember.

in the eyes of someone else, i want to be pretty. i want to be the most beautiful girl in the world: not out of convenience, not the kind of pretty where anyone can still look elsewhere. but simply because i am, and that’s more than enough to them.

but then i dream of her, of my summer self, surrounded by soft sunbeams, and i think of how beautiful my eyes must be in the glaring light. my ancient goddesses have bellies and soft arms such as mine and i’m reminded they’re the epitome of beauty and strength… and it’s not so hard to remind myself i am, too.

after a whole life of feeling alienated because i can’t find anyone that looks like me, i realize my body type is found in the louvre. goddesses and beautiful women have been muses, encapsulating pure wonder, so much so to be sculpted in marble by the tortured artist who molds women with his bare hands and captures the soft essence of who they are: strong. and pretty.

my body is an eroded sculpture, left behind on a sunlit shoreline, after an eternity in the depths of a weathered sea. she exists in famous museums, ones where passersby and visitors stop and stare in awe, and others simply pass by. for at the end of the day, it is still art to someone. and it’s the most beautiful kind of art to me.

and i think she’s beautiful. beautiful enough to not look elsewhere.

[chocopuchino]

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI – “IS THAT MY SHIRT?”

“It looks what?” you breathe out, suddenly turning back to see him, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

“it looks good on you.” he says, suddenly getting closer to your face.

cw: ushijima wakatoshi. lightly suggestive, reader is smaller. reader has boobs. you’re funny.

wc: 1k+

a/n: i love him so much, soso much, hes a small n silly n adorable little guy :(((

it’s a sunny day. your wonderful boyfriend decided to take a break and not go to practice! (correction, you obliged him to take a fucking break) he’s in the shower, and as a wonderful partner, you decide to make some pancakes for breakfast!

You’re excited, finding an amazing pancake recipe online, and he doesn't have a clue that you're making them or what it even is. mixing the batter— oh no, it spills onto your t-shirt! oopsie daisy, you’re so clumsy at times, hehe. hot girls dont wear aprons, remember? with pancake mix all over your t-shirt, what’re you supposed to do now? of course, the one and only right answer, to wear one of your boyfriend’s shirt!

humming down the hallways, making your way towards his overly big wardrobe, you realize you should probably take this rich man shopping. two pants, three pair of jeans, all of his underwear folded in a drawer, pajamas, a luxury branded robe he never uses, neat shirts of all types, blazer, coats, and of course, millions of shorts, leggings, running jackets, compression shirts, and any other type of athletic clothing. you sigh, ugh so unfashionable.

but, one thing catches your attention. neatly folded and hanging, you spot his beautiful jersey. schweiden adlers, his name written on the back, the dark blue collar, number 11 written widely front and back, the little logo on the right, the gold ombre below going up- fuck he should be coming any minute now! still, even if he’s currently playing for Japan’s men national volleyball team, this jersey was always your favourite. bingo, you think, immediately snatching it (with lots of care, of course) and placing it down on the floor.

taking off your messy t-shirt and throwing it away, knowing how eventually he’s gonna be the one to pick it up and place it in the washing machine- you put it on.

his fresh and manly scent immediately invades your nostrils, and oh god is it big. just like his d-

he’s big. its obvious. he’s tall, and you’re not at his height either, so there’s a difference. his jersey reaches below your pelvis, while on him it used to reach just before reaching his hip. jerseys for athletes are usually tighter, meaning that this might be a tiny bit smaller for him. the sleeves reach your biceps, and your collarbone is almost exposed. you’re surprised though, its quite thin and flexible. you thought that it might be a bit felty or something, but it’s light!

making your way towards the kitchen, you go back to the counter again to actually start the pancakes- and you finally hear the loud creak you’ve been waiting for. a few creaks coming in your direction, it suddenly stops, and you turn around just to face a—

tall. wet. and a freshly from the shower wakatoshi. ah, his body is like a work of art, like a greek god, sculpted to perfection, and, with only a beige towel wrapped around his hips- wait a minute, that’s the same colour of that branded robe inside his closet, are they maybe from a set?—

“love.” he breathes out, his deep voice hitting you suddenly, interrupting your thoughts, and your cheeks flush.

“yeah? what’s wrong, toshi? something the matter?” fluttering your eyes at him, speaking in a tone so oblivious.

“Is that … my jersey?” he questions, cocking an eyebrow.

“no, it’s not. it’s my boyfriend’s. isnt it, like, so cool? i swear he’s so cool, you should prolly meet him y’know.” you answer sheepishly, facing your back to him, showing off the name written widely on the back.

“Ah… I see. It looks …” if it wasn't for you, he wouldn't quite get your sarcasm and would stand there confused. deciding not to answer, he simply observes you. seeing where it reaches till, sleeves reaching your biceps, and the way your curves are hidden under it— but seeing the curve of your breasts, the jersey flowing down from there, makes him blush a little.

“It looks what?” you breathe out, suddenly turning back to see him, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

“it looks good on you.” he says, suddenly getting closer to your face.

your eyes widen slightly, cheeks heating up softly. leaning back, you scoff, prepping the stove now.

“i-i know, of course it does. why wouldn't it?” you answer after a moment,

“you're right, really. it's very big on you. why are you wearing it, honey?” he asks, now suddenly feeling big hands on your waist, your back flush against his firm, broad, and bare chest.

“because, you know-”

“no, I do not know.”

“Toshi!!" You whine his name out, frowning with a scoff.

"it's because while I was making the batter, I spilled a lot on my t-shirt, so, it got dirty, and I wanted to … “

your voice gets quieter after each word, and he notices, his hands now going from your waist, to now caressing your sides.

“to what?” he asks so normally, gosh it makes you mad.

“to … wear… your, shirt. or t-shirt. or jersey. I just wanted to wear something of yours, y-you know, to take in your warmth and to feel comfy and nice. I missed you, y'know? s-so I thought...” you explain, tone quiet.

“I see. Doesn't making love count as the same thing though? If you're missing me so much, I should take more break days. No, why don't we have it today? tonight? now?”

“W-what?! Toshi- you should definitely take more break days but you can't just squeeze that in like that, that's too sudden!-” you squeak, surprised by the sudden change in topic, cheeks heating up impossibly as you look up to see his face. he looks so calm and stern.

“Tonight we’re going to have dinner at your favourite restaurant. we’ll have some wine, a three course meal, and then I'll have my dessert later.”

he states with a nonchalant tone, pecking your cheek from behind before walking off, leaving you ultimately flustered.

safe to say you got a three course meal and wine from your fav restaurant, in change he didn't get your pancakes but did get his dessert!! now you're unable to walk lolol

© chocopuchino : all of the works that are written on my blog belong to me. please refrain from copying, translating, plagiarizing, and/or altering my works. (that includes doing so on other websites and platforms as well). credits to original authors for characters and artwork. all rights reserved, 2023, and however that shit goes. notes are appreciated! <3

[2-fast-2-curious]

Christine honey, do you take writing request too?? If you do, can i req Pierre x reader where the reader wearing his tight long sleeved racing shirt and kinda distracted during his media interview bcoz of it.. idk, i really wanna wear that 😆😆..

Nonnie, you must know how the white fireproofs make me feel...

There's a line from this audio that inspired me

Warnings: I have no idea what happens after races and stuff

Just gonna tack on that I'm gonna write this for the plus-sized girls because I'm tired of fics where his clothes are huge and hang off your body. Like Missy Elliot raps in Lizzo's Tempo: all the thick girls need to get on the floor

Pierre just finished his race and the two of you did your typical post-race ritual of kisses and you telling him how proud you were of him and him telling you how he couldn't have done it without you. Even though you know he totally could've.

You slipped away quietly so he could celebrate with the rest of the team. It was a night race in the desert. While you loved seeing the city lit up in the distance, the temperature had dropped swiftly and your bare arms were now uncomfortably cold.

You broke away from the crowd to walk back to Pierre's driver's room. You were hoping he might have an extra sweater in there to warm you up. Pierre knew sometimes the crowds could get overwhelming for you so you weren't too worried about him looking for you.

The room was pretty empty and you could see right away that there was no sweater of his you could steal. The only clothing you could see was the neatly folded stack of Pierre's fireproof underwear. You grabbed a top and held it against your body, the clothing was supposed to fit tightly on Pierre's impressively sculpted physique and you could already tell it would be snug on you as well, especially around your bust. You pulled it over your head and it was surprisingly soft but most importantly the insulating fabric kept you warm. You smoothed the material over your tummy and went back to find Pierre.

You saw some of the drivers and PR staff in the media pen doing interviews and you stood off to the side to wait until Pierre was finished. You may have taken a sneaky picture or two as he spoke animatedly to the interviewer, his eyes full of mischief. When he finally spotted you, his expression darkened. You were confused, he seemed so happy to see you just moments ago when you were on the other side of the barricades. When he was done with his interviews, Pierre came over to you and wordlessly grabbed your hand, walking over to an area that was less crowded.

"What are you wearing?" Pierre never told you what you could and couldn't wear, in fact, it was quite the opposite. He hated when you claimed you couldn't wear the clothes that you wanted because they weren't made for your body type or didn't come in your size. In fact, you had discovered so many clothing brands that were stylish and size-inclusive thanks to Pierre sending you all the different accounts he saw while he was double tapping his way through Instagram.

"Your fireproofs?" You felt anxiety building up in your stomach and nervousness at what Pierre wanted to tell you. You caught the briefest glimpses of yourself off a reflective surface in the distance. Maybe it was your body dysmorphia but you swore you could see that the tight white material was making the soft flesh of your body bulge in a manner that wasn't flattering.

"I know what my fireproofs look like but you cannot wear that here." Pierre gave you his signature smirk but it did nothing to put you at ease. You felt like a joke. You swallowed thickly imagining how disgusted Pierre must be at how you looked in his clothes that he brought you over here so you didn't embarrass him anymore.

Pierre's smirk left his face as he noticed your bottom lip wobbling and tears welling up in your eyes. "What's wrong?"

You sighed. "I was really cold so I put it on because it was the first thing I saw. I wasn't even thinking about how it would look and now I'm sad because I'll never be one of those girls who look cute in their boyfriend's clothes because...well because of this." Pierre's brows furrowed as you gestured to your torso with your hands.

He pulled you close and gently rubbed your back in soft patterns. "I think you misunderstood me. You look more than cute in my fireproofs."

You pulled away from Pierre with a look of confusion on your face. "Then why can't I wear them?"

Pierre's hands brushed along your sides following the material which was hugging the curve of your waist. He leaned in so you could feel his breath against your cheek. "Because seeing you in them makes me want to fuck you.

He slotted his thigh between your legs and you could feel his hard-on underneath his race suit. You gasped at both his actions and his bluntness. His accent already made everything sound so sensual but when he was actually talking dirty it was something else entirely.

"You know we don't wear anything under this..." Pierre gently tugged on the white material and let go so it snapped against your skin.

"When I see you wearing it I can't help but imagine you with nothing underneath too." He licked his lips imagining how sheer the fabric would be stretched over your tits, whether he would be able to see the outline of your nipples through the fireproofs. Pierre's hands inched up to rest on your ribcage his thumbs rubbing circles against your breasts. Even through your layers, you could tell he could feel how hard your nipples were. "I don't think this is just because of the cold."

Your heated embrace was interrupted by a handler looking for Pierre and he reluctantly let you go.

"Get back to the room. When I get there you better wear them properly...or else I might have to punish you." With one last kiss and a hard squeeze and smack to your ass, Pierre let you scurry off, licking his lips as he watched the way your hips swayed.