#i could maybe form sentences if i took my time. my brain does not work that fast.

[fras-redacted-shapes]

Early drafts/unused content in other languages

redditor AloysHellsalem posted about certain text strings that exist in localized files but are missing from English ones. So I took a look at the Spanish string table and tried translating them - these are machine translations, so they are bad and also funny (sometimes).

All of these seem to be some sort of very, very early draft given the number at the end of the speaker's name and because they don't even have corresponding text-to-speech files unlike files from demos/proof of concept.

More of a fun thing than anything else.

Most of them are from Saga's side of the story.

AMBIENT DIALOGUE - RETURN 2

CASEY_4585: I found more of those knit ornaments near [Witch’s] Ladle. The cult has been around here. SAGA_4586: Do you think they’re the ones behind all this? Dead people coming back to life certainly sounds like cult material. CASEY_4587: It feels like they’re connected. We need more evidence. CASEY_4588: Do you really think a ritual will do something? SAGA_4589: My rational brain says no, but maybe it’s time I leave it on the backseat. CASEY_4590: I’ve certainly had cases that made sanity look like a sick joke. SAGA_4591: I can’t believe you knew what Ikea was. CASEY_4592: What? A guy like me can’t have affordable furniture?

Original text:

PROFILING CASEY - RETURN 6

SAGA_4984: What’s happening to Casey? CASEY_4985: I can’t turn into one of them. I won’t. Fuck it. I’ll go to hell before I turn into one of those soulless demons. CASEY_4986: Well, I guess that’s literally what they are: demons.

That last sentence may be a weird translation on my part. I'm not sure how to make it make sense.

Original text:

Leaving the full string here, Saga profiling Casey about him feeling like a fictional character?:

MP_RE06_CASEY_FICTIONAL_SAGA_4987: being a fictional character. MP_RE06_CASEY_FICTIONAL_CASEY_4988: Was I even who I thought I was, or just an average detective torn from the pages of a bunch of mediocre crime novels? Did I exist in printing ink like I did in real life?, and vice versa? The thought always bothered me. The jokes. The similarities. The constant feeling that no amount of coffee could drown.

Original text:

There're lines that look like bullet points or just rough ideas, like the last one here:

SAGA_6910: What’s happening to Casey? CASEY_6911: Casey is turning into a taken, blame Alan Wake for it WAKE_SAGA_6912: Wake WAKE_CASEY_6913: Casey never liked Wake, even before all this. References to cult case in New York

Original text:

PROFILING ESTEVEZ RETURN 6

This looks like a very early draft of Kiran having a girl crush deputizing Saga into the FBC.

SAGA_4989: The FBC. ESTEVEZ_4990: Saga Anderson, she’d be a great FBC agent. She clearly has what it takes: wit, guts and drive. And she’s not backing down from a paranatural fight. I can appreciate that. ESTEVEZ_4991: I should give her the recruitment (draft?) pitch. She’d be a great asset. SAGA_4992: I guess I should be flattered.

Original text:

SAGA_4993: What’s this “AWE”? ESTEVEZ_4994: What reactivated the AWE in Bright Falls? Does the threshold below the lake work in cycles or does it have a trigger? ESTEVEZ_4995: Whatever it is, it seemed more powerful than ever. SAGA_4996: The “threshold” in Cauldron Lake. That’s where I have to go.

Original text:

The following one is nearly incomprehensible

SAGA_6914: Parautilitarians ESTEVEZ_6915: Estevez relives a trauma, says the area of parautilitarians susceptible to supernatural forces (???)

SAGA_6916: doesn’t wake up ESTEVEZ_6917: They told Estevez the Dark Presence can steal forms, making it difficult to know who to trust SAGA_6918: Dark Place ESTEVEZ_6919: Estevez doesn’t know much, other than those who go there generally don’t come back.

PROFILING TOR AND ODIN - RETURN 5

Lots of fun tidbits

SAGA_3003: Where is Tor? TOR_3004:... Polaris ... in a web of hypocrisy. ODIN_3005: Take ... Control. duh duh duhuhuh. Take ... Control ... TOR_3006: Take ... Control. duh duh duhuhuh. Take ... Control …

SAGA_3012: The girl in the painting. ODIN_3013: I won’t remove it. That’s our family. Your (his?) daughter. TOR_3014: She left us! She took Saga and fucked off! So take that damn thing! I don’t wanna see her face!

MP_RE05_TOR_MOTHER_SAGA_3069: My mother. TOR_3070: But I wasn’t made to be a dad. I’m a god of rock! I can take the sky, rock stadiums but can’t change a diaper! TOR_3071: My life is a fucking storm. Freya deserved better. TOR_3072: It broke my heart, but I was proud of her for leaving. She could take care of herself. And her little girl. Saga will be a fucking star. I saw it the day she was born.

SAGA_3074: My dad. TOR_3075: …If she goes with you, she can never come back! It’s a one way trip for her. And I’m not letting a punk take me (?)! UNKNOWN_3076: (STATIC) TOR_3077: Freya isn’t ready for a nursing home. We kept it hidden for a reason! If you try this, I’ll hit you so hard with my hammer there won’t be any door left to open!

PROFILING TOR AND ODIN - RETURN 9

Now, these are super interesting :)

SAGA_5287: Mr. Door. TOR_5288: Freya couldn’t trust that bastard! He wouldn’t have stayed anyways! It’s not in his nature! We had to go! ROSE_5289: Tor, you’re scaring the other residents. I need you to put down that hammer. TOR_5290: A father needs to protect his kids, dammit! The door is a fucking spider and I’ll be damned if I was going to let my little girl get caught on its fucking web.

MP_RE09_ODIN_01_DOOR_SAGA_5293: Mr Door. ODIN_5294: I just can’t let you play with her heart. It’s nothing personal. DOOR_5295: Do you realize Freya will never forgive either of you for this? ODIN_5296: You’re not wrong, but… neither is my brother. Today you’re here, you’re Martin’s door, but eventually you’ll leave it behind and she won’t know why. Better she hate us than she hates herself. DOOR_5297: Then let’s see what you and your drunk brother can do.

Weird translation that last one.

The text for "I can't let you play with her heart" can be translated more literally to "I simply can't make you play with her heart." Which doesn't make sense, at least not without more context.

The line about Martin was probably meant to say "You're Martin Door".

There're a few other tidbits but none as interesting (in my opinion) as these ones.

[sciderman]

Sci you speak any other languages?

i speak a little bit of arabic from childhood! but i can't do much other than hold a conversation with a child and vaguely understand what people are talking about around me

[jedidryad]

Six Sentence Sunday: Conversations that should have happened.

I don't do this particular tradition much. I have enough trouble managing WIP Wednesdays, and I'm pretty sure this segment is more than six sentences so I'm messing with the tradition as I attempt it which might be poor form.

While working on this Mara memoir, I have sometimes found my brain wants the story to go in a different direction than canon allows. Some of these imagined sequences can turn into other "Luke and Mara get together stories" and some of them don't really merit that but still demand to be typed into a doc in black and white so I can stare at them and think of how different canon would have gone if the conversation had happened. This one is a brief snippet from a far more rambling discussion that might have happened if, instead of scolding and abandoning Mara after Kyp stole her ship on her first night at the academy, Luke had the insight to pull back after his outburst and ask Corran to escort Mara to his office and get her a cup of tea. If he had promised to meet her there after he calms the students and does post-Kyp damage control.

Maybe something like this could have happened...

Mara glanced up from the cup of elba she’d been holding in a death grip.

Luke stood in the doorway, robe hanging off his shoulders. His white sleep clothes made him look less imposing but also reminded Mara of just how good he had looked in an undertunic on Myrkr

He hesitated at her baleful expression but didn’t let her continued silence deter him. He entered his office, and sat down in the chair next to hers rather than circling around to his desk.

“I thought when I sensed your emotions that it was a…” he paused, clearly choosing his words carefully, “more the sort of danger that meant everyone needed to evacuate,  instead of something more personal.”

“So you sounded the alarm.”

“Yeah. and then I had to come up with some sort of explanation…”

“I embarrassed you.”

“I embarrassed me, Mara.” He sighed, “I’ve been doing that a lot lately. I’m not really feeling much like a confident Jedi these days.”

“Great,” she muttered, “Karrde sent me here because he thought a confident Jedi could help  me with my mess. Now what’ll I do?”

Luke’s gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders drooping. He seemed  to fold in on himself.

Mara grimaced and set her mug on the small table between them: “Okay, not funny then.”

He glanced up at her, clearly trying to read her gaze from under the hair that was now falling into his eyes.

“You were trying to be funny?”

“I’m not my best self right now, Skywalker.”

“Neither am I.”

“Great."

“The whole galaxy knows what’s wrong with me. What’s up with you?”

“They don’t." She picked up her mug again and tried to let the warmth soak into her, "they really don’t. No one who didn’t sense you had any idea.”

“You sensed it?”

She nodded: “You and Kyle took a dip at the same time. I was with him. I sensed you.”

“I wish you hadn’t.”

“Why is that? You want to be some all-powerful master?”

He snorted ruefully.

“No, but I didn't particularly want to lose your respect.”

“Skywalker, I served a Sith Master for my entire childhood. Do you think slipping for a little while would be enough to lose my respect?”

“I wasn’t sure. Master Yoda said ‘if once you start down that dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny’.”

"And he never did anything wrong?"

He smiled. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“You are?”

“I meant it when I said it earlier.”

Mara took a deep breath, “I don’t think I’m in any state to train to become a Jedi.”

He looked at her for a moment.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“Sure, it’s not like we can fly anywhere.”

[agirlandherquill]

your novels look so interesting.. i wish i could write a whole novel without getting all distracted but ADHD is NOT fair to me unless its 4am and i've got coffee dbehbeudhb. do you have any tips for how to pace yourself and write more than a oneshot before getting bored and/or annoyed with the work? i want to write more than oneshots but it's difficult T T

this is such a good question, thank you for asking it!

okay i'll tackle this in two parts, first, pacing - it's taken me a long time to understand how my brain works, so believe me when i say i've tried many different things to help with pacing (I've had days where I've written nothing at all, or 8,000 words in one day (my personal record, god knows how)), but here's a few things that help me pace my writing:

this may be a little too obvious, but music, anything and everything, try something that fits your mood or the mood of what you're wanting to write and let it be the background to you while you work

write little bits at a time - i call these snippets, and over time the snippets i have for a scene/chapter build up until i have something I'm fairly happy using and then I work to join them together; some days are purely snippet days, or purely snippet hours, where i write until my attention-span or interest in that specific scene/chapter wears out, it often varies, but little bits build up, they are just as equally important to the story/novel/whatever it is that you want to write, so remember that

if you find yourself with a spare moment, or you're struggling to write something - try to plan it instead, make a bullet point list of what you want to happen, even if its just a conversation between characters, a small scene, literally whatever it is that you're doing - forming some kind of structure helps MASSIVELY (it took me forever to realise this, so if the idea of planning is daunting at first - trust me, I know - i've always been torn between being a planner and a pantser when it comes to writing)

movies. pace yourself when writing, take breaks, and watch MOVIES. it's surprised me how many times i've been watching something and been inspired to write, so the second the movie's over i get to work, or i make notes on my laptop/phone/whatever while i'm watching something to deal with it later on

okay now for the next part, writing more than a one shot before getting bored or annoyed with the work - i think every writer has their moments where words anger them, a certain scene, the way something plays out, bugs them, so i wouldn't worry about getting annoyed too much, it happens to us all; as for being bored - I'd say open a second document or something, split the screen between the bit of writing that's boring you, and try to rewrite it, do that until you have something you're fairly happy with (it sounds tedious, i know, but sometimes it really does help - or even switching a scene to a different character's POV)

as for the one-shot part of the question - i tend to treat the chapters of my novel as sort-of one shots within a wider story, each one follows the other in tandem (or if you're up for challenging yourself, separate timelines (I only WISH I had the courage to undertake something like that, maybe I will one day)) so if you know where you want the story to go, treat each chapter as though it is a one-shot if that's what you're comfortable/used to writing, and follow the story and its structure through, piece by piece, sentence by sentence; writing is beautifully challenging and so, so worth it, and you're right, it is difficult - but if you find a way to make the story flow right for your brain, it gets easier over time and you can create a much larger, more detailed, even more eventful story - aka, a novel, or at least what my personal perception of a novel is - of course it varies, and that's what is so wonderful about stories, they're yours, and only you can tell them - so remember that, always - that's what gets me through the roughest patches when i'm struggling with writing,

(emphasis on much larger for me - my current draft is sitting at 212k words and counting, i shock myself every time i open the doc, but that's just how my story ended up growing - it took a long, long time to get where it is now)

i hope this answer helps you, even a little, and if you have any more questions please ask away - this made me think and consider my own writing process, which is super helpful!

p. s. i know you're anonymous, whoever you are, but if you ever want someone to read anything you're writing, anything at all, let me know! i love getting to see what other people write - it also inspires me to write more, and share more of my work too!

once again, thank you so much for asking, I've really enjoyed writing this letter (cough, post, whatever you like to call it, i like the idea of a letter, but that's just me)

~ A Girl And Her Quill

[lixenn]

For your khr 3.0 questions!! ⚙️, 👻, 🦟 and lastly 🎁!

How late am I to answer my own fucking questions?

Yes.

As you might have guessed I did not prepare answers for my ask game in advance, so this took me ages to get to OTL

Thank you for your patience Momo, have my take on my silly questions:

⚙️You somehow, in some way ended up as a Vongola guardian. Now, what form does your Vongola gear take?

Why me? Why did Reborn drag me into his recruitment scheme 😭😭 I’m just some guy, an innocent lil bean that has done no wrong. Ignore those schmucks chilling in the ditch, they are just taking a nap. …. What? Blood? Nah that’s just ketchup, don’t worry about it, they are fineeee~

Aehm…

Now that I have delivered some nonsense let’s get to the actual questions:

I’m really not a jewellery person, I do have various bracelets, necklaces and some rings but the only jewellery I really wear on a day to day basis are my earrings. I mostly stick to my two trusty hoops and leave the other two holes alone simply because the hoops are the only ones that won’t bug me when I sleep.

So, my Vongola gear will most likely take the form of earrings and since I’m a Cloud (because I wanna be one lmao) I’d say I would have dangling knife earrings, where I can easily take off the knife part (maybe some magnetic mechanism? or simply Vongola gear bullshittery) resize the weapons and then dual wield them in battle. Or if I wanna go distance just throw them at the enemy over and over again because the Propagation property just allows me to duplicate my weapons for as long as I feed them my flames.

(Disclaimer: I have not reread the shimon arc in years and I really don’t have the energy for a research dive rn so I’m taking artistic liberties for how a Vongola gear works)

👻Which KHR character is your spirit animal?

This is an easy one! It’s Fuuta! Simply because I resonate so much with these panels, they speak to my soul:

While I don’t really mind the rain unless it’s storming and I need to go places, the wonky part… I know it’s just a translation but I use “my brain is wonky” so much… Fuuta and I… two sides of the same coin…

As for this one… that line is so fucking accurate. I often get ideas either late at night when I want to sleep, when I’m outside on a walk or even when I meditated recently. And by god if I don’t write the exact sentence down at the moment it comes to me, it will be lost to the void. I might be able to remember the basic premise (which is less likely when I have an idea while half asleep) but the phrasing will be gone unless I note it down. It has caused me much frustration and it’s the reason why I write notes on my walks or sacrifice my sleep at times.

So have this quote from my khr reread: “Fuuta is my spirit animal, my soulmate, my darling babyboy.”

🦟 There's been an "accident" and one of Shamal's mosquitos got you good. What deadly disease are you infected with?

Need… to draw… need… need to write…

Creation so near but yet so far. The longing so overwhelming it borders on obsession, alas no words bring joy, no art brings peace. For I have been struck down with maniac creative block, which compels you into wanting to create with your entire being while at the same time preventing any creation from happening via intense burnout and extreme self-doubt. Thus, eventually leading me into a pit of despair which I won’t be able to dig myself out of. RIP me 😔

🎁 bonk "Fuck!" A box has fallen into your lap. It seems like it can be opened via flames. It could be anything: a weapon, a box animal, random junk or radioactive waste some dipshit sealed away for shit and giggles. It's a ✨ mystery box ✨ What will you do with it?

I stare at the box.

The box doesn’t stare back but that was more based on the lack of eyes than anything else.

It appeared out of nowhere, hitting my head with particular viciousness like spiteful God chucked it into the mortal realm in a rage. One wouldn’t expect that a thing that small could do this much damage but the throbbing pain at the top of my skull suggests otherwise.

Now what to do with a mystery box…

Curiosity gnaws at me.

A normal person would throw this thing into the trash. They would get rid of it and move on with their life. Common sense would tell them to not interact with the box that could contain who knows what and might possibly be cursed.

However, I’m a scientist. I’m a scientist that has been handed a funky new thing, which holds countless possible outcomes in its tiny square body.

Naturally, self-preservation is yeeted out of the nearest window and I’m reaching for my notebook, phone and toolbox.

Time to pick the mystery apart.  

Khr ask game 3.0

[starssunsoftheinfinite]

Hi hi!!!!!! :3

I wondered if you had any time to write and I don’t mean to disturb you, but I want to request a story where its Loki x Latino trans male reader?? Also where the reader is a demigod as well?? (Like son of Aphrodite or something if you want to include that as well)

Maybe where it takes place in 2012 and Loki attacks New York and it goes on to where Loki is imprisoned in SHEILD’s airship, and the reader is an agent there who’s tough but cracks sort of under pressure. Like he listens to scene kid music (i.e artists such as Millionaires, Ghost Town, MCR, Falling in Reverse, Flyleaf, Attack Attack!, etc) that he listens to when he’s at work. Also, have the reader with top surgery please. Oh and could you also include some Spanish words that the reader says once in a while? And with the scene kid music, maybe you could add onto that sort of thing lyke where Loki eavesdrops on the songs or sumthing? X3

And when the reader meets Loki, Loki teases him and yknow, does the same with how he did with Natasha, but this time the reader feels a weird connection to Loki and gets out as soon as he can. Time passes on, and it gets to the scene where Loki and Tony converse but instead of Tony, its the reader who talks with him. (Also I’m not sure if you’re comfortable writing smut, and you totes dont have to, but if you can, could you lyke……write one with sub reader in this scene?? And if not, thats totes fine, maybe have Loki keep calling him pet names yknow?)

I think that's all but if you want to add more, lyke yer own inspo n whatnot, feel free!! also srry this was kinda long XD

LOKI x Latino!transman!demi-god!READER

Hi! Sorry, this took so long, I had writer's block for a little while but this really helped get my brain working again. and I do not speak Spanish so while I did include Spanish words and sentences I did have to use google translate so just in case they got horribly butchered There is a key at the bottom of the fic that has what each of those words was supposed to be dfuihgiugt

warnings : Sexual content (Hand job performed on the reader), mention of top surgery scars (they are touched), implied but not stated lack of bottom surgery.

Names used : Y/N, 'darling', 'pet', 'little one' Request specific aspects : Reader is a transman, the reader is Latino, the reader is a Demi-God, reader listens to scene kid music, reader speaks Spanish on occasion

Read over by me and corrected with the help of an app.

2,321 words

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Look at you. Little Demi-God." A voice called, silky and alluring. Everything was dark, you couldn't feel yourself. It was like you were nothing in a pool of nothing, only there to listen to the voice. "Does it bother you? That you are not one or the other? That you are stronger than your human companions yet you cannot even imagine what I, a God, could do?" The voice spat with a laugh that echoed through the nothing. If you were something you'd shiver. For a moment you felt somewhat there, you had a form again if only for a moment. "What I could do to you?" The voice whispered in your ear and it felt as though the only reason you had a body was so it could whisper to you. Another voice echoed through the emptiness, a voice that was much more familiar to you. "Y/N?" the second voice called and you felt a light touch on your shoulder. The first voice, the alluring one laughed and then it was gone. As was the nothing.

Your head jolted up and you looked around frantically. "Hey, Y/N. It's just us. You dozed off." Steve spoke and you took a deep breath, pulling the headphones still playing My Chemical Romance off of your head and settling them on your neck. "mierda- Yeah sorry.." You pushed out quickly, shaking your head quickly and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Steve nodded and gave an understanding smile "No, it's alright. You have been working quite hard lately. I'm not surprised you needed a rest" He chuckled, gently patting your shoulder. "Right right.." You chuckle and Tony's voice rings throughout the room like he has a microphone, he was always good at making people aware he was there. "Ah, Sleeping beauty's awake. Just in time too." He hummed and you raised your eyebrow, sitting up a little in your seat. "Oh?" You questioned and Steve picked up where Tony left off. "While you were resting Loki was apprehended. We have him in a holding cell currently but… We need some to talk to him." Steve explains as he gestures to you. You sigh "and you want me to do it?" Thor nods and gestures to himself "As much as I'd like to he isn't going to talk with me and if he does he will likely just get aggravated. But you are not only very intelligent and resilient but you are a Demi-god. To Loki they are all 'mere mortals' but you? You may not be a full God but you're close. He may be more willing to speak if you aren't mortal."

You could understand that. It would make sense that he'd want to talk with someone more like him in that aspect, especially given how he seems to treat humans. You thought for a moment and then nodded. "I'll do it but I can't promise I'll be able to get anything from him. "You say, setting your phone and headphones on the table and getting up from your chair. Natasha furrowed her eyebrows and crossed her arms "Be careful down there. Don't let him get in your head." Natasha says in a way that to most would sound like a command but you knew it was concern. "Don't worry, viuda. I'll be just fine." You say, giving a firm and reassuring rub to her arm accompanied by a small smile. Natasha flashed one back.

It didn't take long to get to the room Loki was held in, though it was a bit tedious. So many doors requiring palm scans or badges. It's understandable security but such a hassle. You approached the pair of doors and pressed your palm to the scanner, thankfully for the final time, and finally entered the room. You took a quick glance around, getting a feeling for your surroundings before your eyes landed on the cell. You said nothing and raised your eyebrow. Loki stood with his hands behind his back and stared at the wall. You couldn't see his face though you had a strange feeling that he was grinning. You made your way closer and with each step, you felt the world around you become less of a concern like your mind was purely fixated on the God before you. Loki chuckled and you froze. He turned to look at you and it seemed he planned to say something but stopped, instead tilting his head and giving you a curious look. "You seemed so confident walking in. What's wrong, pet?" Loki cooed and you felt your back straighten out and your mouth goes dry. "I-" For the first time in a very, very long time, you were completely lost for words.

You formed so many sentences in your head but none would leave your mouth, 'Lord you're pretty', 'Kiss me' 'who do you think you are? Calling me pet?', 'fuck m-', maybe you should stop there. You blinked repeatedly and took a deep breath "Look. I'm not going to- " Loki cuts you off. "You may want to keep your thoughts in check, little thing. Wouldnt want anyone to find out what goes through that pretty head of yours, now would we?" Loki whispers with a sly smile. Your eyes go wide and he laughs softly "Yes, pet. I see everything going through your mind. I weaseled my way in long before you came here for me. Don't you remember? That dream you had? It was so difficult getting you to doze long enough to get in with that music in your ears. What was it? My Chemical- oh what does it matter." Loki spoke and with each word he got closer to the glass and seemingly without even realising, so did you. You stared into his eyes, enamored with his beauty, and yet with every second that passed your breathing got quicker and quicker and quicker until- "Sshh… breath." Loki whispered to you and your body relaxed like its only want was to do as the God said. "Thats it.. Good boy."

You felt so enamored by Loki, he was so alluring. He was so beautiful, so incredibly beautiful and his voice settled deep within you whenever he spoke. God, he was so perfect- no. You cut your thoughts off, managing to slip from the mental grasp he had for a moment. "Stop that- I" You spit stepping away from the glass "Get out of my head get-" It felt like no matter how hard you tried you couldn't finish a sentence. "Oh but pet… It's so nice in there. So many thoughts. " Loki cooed, tilting his head. You stumble backward, landing on the floor where you sit for a moment. "Careful, pet. " Loki mocks but before he can say anything more you scramble towards the door and leave, his laughter echoing through your head.

Quite a lot of time had passed since that interaction and you hadn't seen Loki since. You had made sure of that. you did all of your work from behind the scenes, not daring to go out in the field again after what had happened. You still dream of him sometimes. You kept your work away from the fight, up until now that is. The fight was ruthless and worse than anyone could have planned for and they needed you. Unfortunately, they needed you here, in Stark tower, alone with him.

You stare at Loki with stern eyes, spinning a butterfly knife in your right hand and holding a gun in your left. "Long time no see, Pet." Loki hummed and you almost toppled, almost. You clenched your jaw. While those dreams were slightly annoying, they did allow you to get accustomed to Loki's ways. "Te voy a destrozar, Serpiente" You snapped, managing to push down the urge to allow him to bend you to his every whim. Loki tilted his head and smiled like a challenge. He stepped closer and you stepped back. This little game went on until your lower back pressed against the bar and in response you raised your knife and pointed it toward Loki, keeping him at a distance.

The space was only kept for a moment. Loki lifted his scepter and gently guided the knife down, stepping closer to you. "Now now, little one. Calm yourself. "He's so close you can almost feel his breath against your face. He stares down at you and moves his spare hand to the knife. "Drop it." He commands and without thinking you drop both the gun and the knife. "Oh good boy, I didn't even have to ask for both. So good for me" Loki whispered, reaching up to hold your face. "Look at you. So desperate. " Loki gently turns your face in various directions, as if inspecting his food. You feel heat begin to pool in your stomach and your face goes red. What would everyone think of you? If they saw this? Saw what Loki could do to you? Loki slowly pushed his knee between your legs and you gasped, your hands gripping the edge of the counter. "So needy." You feel his breath close in on your neck and his hand tilts your head back but before you feel contact he speaks. "Tell me you want this." Loki commands and your breath hitches.

You are silent for a moment. You have never wanted something more and yet you falter. You consider it for a moment, fearing what others may think if they ever found out. Loki sensed your worry, bringing his mouth to your ear "No one will know. It will be our pretty little secret. " He reassures and you hesitate for a moment before nodding as much as you could in his grasp. Loki only chuckles. "No, Darling. I said tell me. Say it. I want to hear you." Loki purred, you could hear the smile in his voice. "Please." You manage to say, unable to look him in the eye. "Look at me." He demands but you do not comply. His knee presses firmer to your crotch and your eyes dart towards him "Good boy. now speak up. Use your words." He always knew just the right things to say, didn't he? "Please, I want you- please" You begged, your words divulging into soft moans as Lokis knee moved against you.

Lokis scepter now leaned against the counter, leaving his hands free to roam. And roam they did. His hands slid up your shirt and you shivered at the frigid touch, Lokis fingers barely brushing against the skin. He traced your sides and up to your top surgery scars, dragging his fingers along them. "such pretty skin, so perfect" he whispered as he pressed kisses to your neck. His left hand kept tracing your scars whereas the other rose a small bit to toy with your nipple. You gasp, the combination of your neck getting marked, your nipples being touched and Lokis knee against your crotch all combining to create a wonderful sense of pleasure.

Loki continues this for a few seconds more before chuckling. "I know what you want, pet. I know what you need." Loki whispers, nibbling at the shell of your ear. The hand tracing your scars slides down, stopping just below the band of your trousers. Loki looks to you for confirmation and you nod profusely. He slides his hand under the band and into your boxers, getting close to your cock but pulling away, teasing you. You whine " por favor te necesito" you pant and he chuckles. Two of his fingers slide down to your cock and begin to rub at an agonisingly slow pace. His mouth pulls away from your neck and Loki stares at your lips as he strokes at your cock. "Kiss me." You say and for the first time, Loki seems a little shocked. "Kiss me niño bonito" you hum, the visible shock giving you confidence. A wicked smile crossed Lokis face and within seconds his lips were pressed to yours, his tongue finding its way into your mouth rather quickly. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers sped up, your hands moving to find their place in his hair, gripping it tightly. The actions pulled a small moan from Loki and you smiled into the kiss, giving his hair a small tug in response. "You are getting confident pet" He pulls away from the kiss momentarily to speak before immediately pressing your lips together once more. Your hips buck slightly and your moans get louder and less controlled, one hand in Lokis hair and the other trailing down his back. "And you are getting close too. I can feel it." He chuckled. Lokis fingers sped up once more, keeping the new speed consistent and moving from your mouth to your neck. Your neck was already riddled with bruises and Loki planned to add many more. "That's it, closer, pet. Get closer for me." Loki said, practically pleading. You gasp and moan, feeling heat pool in your stomach "Yes, Good boy, cum. Cum for me, pet" Loki panted as though he was just as excited about your climax as you were. "That's it, be a good boy and cum" Your head flings back and your knees feel weak. You feel Lokis arm snake around your waist and his fingers leave your cock. You can't help but close your eyes. "Good, so good for me. You did so well." He praised and you smiled weakly. "Such a pretty smile. " he cooed. "I know you're tired. The pleasure from a God, even to a demi-god such as yourself, feels quite stronger than from a human. " Loki chuckled and you simply nodded. "eso fue increíble.." You mumble and you feel yourself being lifted into Lokis arms. "Rest, pet. Sleep." He says and you do just that. You allow darkness to overtake you and the best sleep of your life.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Spanish Key :

That was amazing - eso fue increíble

pretty boy - niño bonito

please I need you - por favor te necesito

I'm going to tear you apart, Snake - Te voy a destrozar, Serpiente

widow - viuda

shit - mierda

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

check out my pinned post for some guidance on how to request one shots or story ideas <3

[thasmin13]

Here's the 3rd chapter of my fanfic, sorry it took so long to finish writing, but better late than never, right?

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"Huh, I haven't done that in a while." The Doctor claimed after she and Yaz had got their breath back. They lay back on the picnic blanket, Yaz's head resting on The Doctor's chest, the blonde playing with the human's brunette hair.

"That was the first time I have properly kissed someone, I mean, I had a crush on Danny Biswas when I was 13 and kissed him once but we could never have been a couple, he was too much of a jerk. Like most humans. Like most men." Yaz scoffed.

The Doctor continued to wrap the brunette's hair round her fingers. "Oi, I used to be a man!" She exclaimed.

Yaz smiled. A question that had been burning in the back of her mind ever since she met the timelord suddenly started to quickly crawl quickly up her throat. "How does that work, how were you a man, then a woman?"

"Do you remember I told you that I could regenerate?" Yaz nodded, listening closely. "Well, when a timelord regenerates, every cell in their body...changes. Reshapes, reforms, it changes in every way possible. Everything; including the timelord's gender, appearance, personality, everything. Even the accent. Before, I regenerated into this form, I was a grumpy scottish man."

Yaz laughed, "Really?!" She sat up, looking at the blonde short haired woman, trying and failing to picture a scottish man in replace of the blonde lying beside her. "Oh yeah, and now I'm the complete opposite; a woman with a huddersfield accent." The Doctor sighed. Yaz lay back down on the blonde's chest.

"I don't know, I think it's sexy..." Yaz tilted her head to look up at the blonde "...and quiet cute." Yaz smirked earning a light chuckle from the blonde's chest beneath her. "What do you mean "quiet" I think you mean "very cute"." The Doctor put on a tone as if she was a teacher correcting a student. She was so needy, it was so stupid and cute and perfect.

The Doctor smiled and reached her hand down so it was hoovering over the human's brown one. Yaz looked at it and smiled, holding on to it, never wanting to let go. Right there in that moment, holding her girlfriend's hand, her and The Docor's feelings finally free, Yasmin Khan thanked the stars and whoever was in charge up there. Maybe, if the stars where in the right place, and if it was in a good mood, the universe could be kind. She thought as she stared out at the starry red sky; this planet sure was beautiful. She lay there wondering how many other lucky couples had got to enjoy such a rare miracle.

And the rare miracle that Yaz had just been admiring had started to darken. Like dramatically darken. The redness of the sky above them had suddenly gotten several shades darken in seconds. Yaz sat up, letting go of The Doctor's hand, tilting her head back, inspecting the view, trying to work out if she had been imagaing it or not.

She turned back to The Doctor who had the same worried expression on her face as the human did. "I'm not imaging it, am I?" Yaz questioned quietly as she watched the blonde, hearing her brain tick away while it worked through all of the possible causes of the strange event.

"No." She replied soon after. "No, I don't think you are." She sat up matching the brunette.

Yaz watched The Doctor expectantly, waiting for an explanation to what was happening.

"Well, what are you thinking?" She rolled her eyes seeing that The Doctor had just ignored her and went back to watching the changing sky.

She then answered afew monets later, turning her body around so it faced Yaz, a playful smile on her face. "Well, I was thinking, we could see what is happening, I could use the sonic to scan the area for any potenial threats, or..." She moved her hand so it was playing with Yaz's." "We could stay here and make out, you know, we could just..."

Yaz smiled, finishing her sentence for her, "Ignore it." The Doctor smiled at her looking hopeful for a moment. Yaz hit her arm lightly. "Seriously, you're The Doctor, your job is to go arouind saving people and solving mysteries, like skies that suddenly change colour..." She tapper her on the nose, "It is not to flirt and make out with random humans!"

"It could be." The Doctor replied casually. Yaz laughed at the mischievious smile on her face. "But you're not a normal human, are you? You're amazing, smart, beautiful and I am so lucky to have met you. And might I just say, I love flirting and making out with you." The Doctor smiled, tapping Yaz on the nose just as the human had done to her. The Doctor looking directly into the brunette's dark brown eyes. Yaz could feel her cheeks blush as she smiled back gently, leaned in and kissed the alien again softly.

When they pulled apart, The Doctor looked at the human, her face softening into her usual goofy smile. "OK, OK, I know, we probably should go check it out." She admitted standing up.

She held her hand out for Yaz. It was just like that time on the ship when she had asked Yaz to come with her. At that time, her and Yaz had both went into the danger together, and this time was the exact same, bar the convienent absence of sea devils.

Yaz smiled and took her hand gratefully, letting The Doctor take her weight for afew seconds. She seen The Doctor's t-shirt, staring particularly at the rainbow, wondering if it had been a complete coincidence that The Doctor had chosen the rainbow t-shirt, afew years later dating a girl.

The Doctor tightened her grip on Yaz's hand as they stood up, both looking around at the scenery, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. For the first few minutes, it was fine, nothing else out of the ordinary happened.

The timelord took her sonic out and pointed the device in diiferent directions as it buzzed loudly. She took a good 5 minutes, walking off in a random direction for afew seconds, then repeating the action walking off in a different direction until she stopped, her eyesbrows frowned, the sonic held up to her face.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" The human beside her quizzed curiously. "No, nothing, but it's picking up small stray traces of a mix of atron and vortex energy."

Yaz looked at the blonde, hoping it was nothing to worry about. "From the TARDIS." She checked, keeping her voice calm. "No, it shouldn't be, I cloaked it's signal so no one could track us while we were here."

Great. Yaz took a deep breath, she wasn't going to panic, her police training and the time she had spent with The Doctor had taught her well. She stepped over to The Doctor. "So...not ours then?"

The Doctor breathed beside her. "Nope." They both were looking straight out, waiting for something to jump out, something to happen. "So, someone else was here, or is here, possibily one with a TARDIS?" She asked slowly like is was no big deal.

The Doctor gulped from beside her. "Yeah?" She replied, her voice higher than usual. Yaz turned her head to look at her. "Well..." The Doctor turned to face her, her eyes wide in wonder. "Guess we better check out what it is, huh?" Yaz smiled, the exact smile that only Yasmin Khan was capable of, the one that restored faith in a person, in an alien. The one that brought confident out of the shyest of people. The one that could brighten up anyone's day.

That's why The Doctor loved Yaz, because of the incredible person she was to eveyone she crossed paths with. She was perfect in every way, from her appearance to her enthuasm and positive attitude. The Doctor knew that she had been so lucky to meet the human, from her thousands of years of experience, she had learnt that there aren't enough Yaz's on Earth, even in the whole universe.

She had planned to tell Yaz all of this, why she loved her and what she thought of the human, and she had recently realised that Yaz must be confused becasue from their lasy conversation, The Doctor had said that they couldn't be together because of how "she knew sooner or later it'll hurt." Then afew hours later kissed her.

She atleast deserved to hear why she said what she said and how she wasn't scared anymore.

But, now was not the time, The Doctor could feel in her gut that something was wrong, either with the planet or on the planet and she was determined to find out what. The universe seemed to hear her thoughts because the planet started to shake violently.

Yaz and The Doctor gasped as the blades of grass shook beneath them. "Doctor...?" Yaz said, now acknowling the fact that something was definetly wrong. The Doctor remianed quiet, like she was waiting to hear something to prove her suspicions right.

And, as if on cue, the planet roared, louder than anything Yaz had ever heard. The Doctor grabbed Yaz by the arm, tugging her away from the dreadfull cry. "That bad?" Yaz shouted over the noise, the two of them now running full speed in the direction of the blue box.

They should've reached it by now, The Doctor thought, as her and Yaz ran, her hearts racing, slowly getting more and more worried that this situation they were currnently in the middle of was way more serious than some colour changing sky.

"We need to get out of here now!" She yelled deseperately. She heard Yaz gasp behind her, indicating that she had just realised the same thing about the dissaperence of the TARDIS. "Oh no." She gasped as she forced her legs to keep running, she had to keep up with the blonde ahead of her. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, her lungs screamed in protest. But she had to keep going.

Then it stopped. The roaring, the shaking, all of it. It just stopped. The Doctor slowed down and stopped, looking around, Yaz copying her. "Ah...." Yaz started, confussed. "I don't know." The Doctor replied, already sonicing the area. She shoke her head afew moments later. "There's still traces of atron and vortex energy. What ever happened..."

"...is still happening." Yaz finished her sentence for her, turning on the spot slowly, taking in everything, looking for something out of the ordinary, something that shouldn't be there. She squinted her eyes, and for a moment she thought she saw something afew meters away, it looked like bright green lights swirling around in a circle, just above the ground. Like the start of a tornado. But it dissapeared as quickly as it had appeared. "Ah, Doctor?" She asked, again forcing herself to remain calm.

Before the blonde, who was examining a piece of grass she had picked from the ground, could reply, the ground started to shake violently, an earth quake making the two of them lose balance and fall over.

But instead of them hitting the fresh, bright green grass that had been covering the planet when they arrived, they landed on a rough, scorched surface. The Doctor coughed as she inhaled the dust from the burnt ground, it tickling her throat.

When the vigorous shaking had stopped, the timelord looked around and gasped at the change of the scenery. "What?" Yaz questioned as she and The Doctor got up off of the ground. Taking out her sonic, The Doctor scanned the area.

"It's still the same planet, the sonics picking up the same amount of atron and vortex energy as before." She sighed, putting her sonic away, a concentrated frown on her face.

Yaz turned and looked around them. It was all the same burnt layout. The sky above that used to be a rainbow of changing colours was now a dark, stark sight. The whole planet just felt...dead. It felt and looked they gone back in time, or amybe even forward, to a time of a war that had took place here, a war of flame and fire, death and destruction.

The brunette returned her gaze back to The Doctor, whose eyes were darting about the place, taking it all in, her eys searching, scanning the view for clues and answers. She looked back at Yaz who had been watching her, "Somethings very wrong here, Yaz. I just don't know what." She sighed dissively and ran her hand through her hand.

"We need to get off this planet." She said, her sonic making another appearance. She smiled as she continued scanning, "So much for our date, huh?" Yaz grinned back at her, but couldn't help but still feel neverous; nervous, no, anxious, that something was going to happen, that something, or someone was gonna jump out and they'd be forced into another adventure. Why couldn't they just have a normal date? But of course, how could she expect such a thing, she knew that life with The Doctor was never going to be that easy, that fair, but she was OK with that, as long as she was with The Doctor, it would be okay.

Yaz continued to stare at the alien, who was bitting her tongue in concentration, her eyes brows frowned, her eyes slighly squinted, on the hunt for detail. Yaz may or may not have found it attractive or cute or anything like that. Nope, don't know what you're talking about.

The both of them, however, quickly got snapped out of what they were doing at the sound of a loud bang behind them. That's when they both looked at eachother, exchanging looks of worry and curiosity. And as if on cue, the both of them, perfectly in sync, spun around at the same time, their faces set, not knowing what to expect but the both of them feeling ready for anything.

And surely enough, what they saw next was the thing that the both of them had expected the very least out of everything that could've appeared out of thin air right behind them.

[peachycoreroo]

i was thinking, what about boys from haikyuu losing game and taking their anger on their s/o in bed to the point s/o is saying safe word, crying? if that's too much, just make them really angry, hurting s/o with words.

i was thinking about Suna, Kita and maybe Shirabu?

characters: suna rintarou, kita shinsuke, shirabu kenjirou

genre: smut, slight angst, fluff at the end

word count: 1.8k

warnings: fem!reader, angry boys, established relationships, spanking, one (1) face slap, choking, vaginal penetration, oral m!receiving, usage of ‘whore’, ‘bitch’ and ‘slut’, heavy degradation, semi-public sex, pretty harsh words are said, safe word is used

authors note: uuu this is my first darker piece for hq, but it does end in fluff!! i tweaked it so it fits the timeskip, but just a friendly reminder that this is pure fiction, your favs love you and would never hurt you<3 here's a link to my masterlist

pt.2: kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru, tsukishima kei

suna rintarou:

it wasn’t often that your boyfriend resorted to pounding the living shit out of you immediately when you had sex, usually opting for teasing you till you couldn’t take it anymore and begged him to fuck you or took the reins in your own hands and rode him till you were both shaking from overstimulation.

this time, was bad though.

the japanese national volleyball team just lost the finale of the olympics, resulting in them only getting the silver medal. no matter how amazing the second-place sounded, it still hit hard to miss the big gold by a hair.

just like how hard suna was currently hitting your ass, as he fucked into you in the empty changing room of the team. you only wanted to check on him when you saw how dejected he looked as he left the field with the team, when the tall brunet just ripped down your clothes and bent you over, fury dancing in his greenish eyes.

you knew how hard rintarou and his teammates worked for this. it was only natural they couldn’t celebrate. losing is still losing, no matter if you’re getting a medal.

“f-fuck, rin, it hurts”, you wailed, tears already streaming down your face from the full-force slaps that were delivered to your sore ass cheeks. being bent over with only the locker in front of you and sunas’ hands on your hips as a leverage to not fall face first on the floor, slowly took a troll on your tired body. it also didn’t help that your legs were barely able to keep you up with how powerful his thrusts were.

“shut the fuck up and take it, worthless whore”, he growled furiously, thrusts only increasing in speed, and a hand sneaking to your front, wrapping itself around your neck. the cruel comments that usually caused your cunt to flutter and eyes roll back, suddenly made your heart sink.

you knew he was angry at being defeated by the opposing team and not at you, but you couldn’t stop the heavy feeling in your chest, or the tears that seemed to multiply at his cold remark.

when the adjustment of his hips caused him to hammer his fat tip painfully against your cervix and his hand tightened harshly around your throat, your knees gave out and you tried to scream only for nothing to come out of your mouth.

“useless, fucking bitch, can’t even stand upright. why do i even keep you around?” he aggressively huffed, not paying any attention to your comfort. you couldn’t take this anymore.

your body went completely limp, as you whispered a small, choked ‘silk’, not even being sure if he heard, when his mind was so clouded by rage.

but he did. and his heart painfully clenched when he recognized the hurt tone in your voice, instantly letting go of your bruised throat and ceasing his thrusts.

guilt filled him as he pulled out and finally looked at you to see you sobbing uncontrollably, arms wrapping protectively around your form as if you were afraid of him hurting you.

“hey… hey, y/n, sweetie, look at me.” suna’s gentle tone had you looking up at him, your vision blurry as your pained expression met his tender one.

“’m s-sorry i couldn’t help you, r-rin’. ‘m sorry y-you lost”, you stuttered out helplessly.

here you were, crying and in pain, but still thinking about him. the brunet was sure he didn’t deserve you.

“no, i’m sorry, pretty. i got carried away”, the tall volleyball player whispered softly, his large palms cupping your cheeks, “i love you and i never want to hurt you. please, forgive me.”

the guilt etched into his handsome face showed you just how bad he really felt, your lips lifting in a small smile. “’s ok, rin’. i love you too.”

the tall male breathed out a sigh of relief as he embraced you tightly and kissed your forehead. suna rintarou would never get carried away like this again. that, he promised himself.

kita shinsuke:

when kita got home, all dejected and upset because some assholes decided to trash grandma yumie’s precious crops in the darkness of the night, you opened your arms with love and understanding. what you didn’t expect however, as you asked how you could help, was to end up on your knees with your boyfriend abusing your throat for what felt like hours.

your knees were aching from the uncomfortable position on the hardwood floor, throat painfully contracting around his thick length as he pounded your mouth as if it were your cunt, jaw hurting from holding it open for so long.

you felt like you would pass out any minute, and while normally kita would immediately sense any of your slightest mood shifts when you were being intimate, he didn’t this time.

where there was usually a caring boyfriend who wouldn’t take his gaze of your face and always asked if you’re doing okay, was a guy who had a far away look on his frowning face, only using you as an outlet for his anger.

the white-black haired male was almost scarily quiet, only occasional grunts and growls escaping his lips. your gurgling and gagging sounds as he hit the back of your throat with every forceful thrust were painful to listen to, and you couldn’t wrap your head around your boyfriend not realizing what he was doing to you.

as tears streamed down your numb face, you weren’t able to stop your teeth from grazing his fat cock, your throbbing jaw not cooperating with your brain anymore.

kita let out an animalistic growl as he pulled out of your wet mouth at once, a sudden slap to your tender cheek startling you.

“you asked how to help and you’re doing exactly that, but can’t even do that for me, huh?”, he spat almost hostilely.

the hurtful words, the harsh slap and the rage painted on his usually calm and kind face made your heart ache, as you sobbed out a ‘peach! shin’, please! peach!’

kita suddenly felt as if he awoke from a hypnosis, when he heard you cry out your safe word. as his -now clear- gaze fell on you, he couldn’t help his chest from painfully tightening. you only offered to help, and he’s gone and hurt you like never before.

falling on his knees in front of you, he pulled you into his strong arms, rocking you both side to side as he apologetically murmured ‘i’m so sorry, angel’ and ‘i love you’ over and over again into your messy hair.

“m’ okay, shinsuke. just wanted to help", you sniffled against his chest, making kita close his eyes out of pure shame that he did that to you.

“let’s get you into the bathtub and i’ll cook your favorite, how does that sound love?”, he whispered softly, as if afraid that any of his next movements would make you break.

the next few weeks you barely got to do anything, kita shinsuke always glued to your side and immediately taking over any task that was thrown at you.

shirabu kenjirou:

being a med student was fucking exhausting. shirabu had spent months writing a very important thesis about certain brain tumors on newborns, only for his professor to give him a c. something about it not being detailed enough.

“fuck you”, shirabu spat as he was sitting in front of the fire place in your shared apartment, throwing all 80 pages of the “not detailed” dissertation into the fire.

“ken’? what are you doing?”

“burning this fucking nightmare. ’m gonna drop out, fuck this shit”, he almost growled furiously. coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, leaning down to ask lowly: “you want a better way to deal with your anger?”

that’s how you found yourself bent over his lap with your panties dangling at your ankles. the spanking wasn’t new, your boyfriend being super pissed while doing so, was.

the first few slaps went as usual with you clenching around nothing and enjoying the rubs to the tender flesh shirabu hit a few seconds prior. after, it suddenly went downhill.

all at once, the soft caresses ceased to a stop, his calloused palm from years of playing volleyball coming down on your ass with full force and the copper-haired man spewing some of the most degrading stuff you’ve ever heard.

“fucking slut, getting off to this. you like it when i use you to let out my anger? i’m having a hard time while you’re just being a horny, selfish fucktoy”.

at the last sentence, you froze. did he really think you were using him? you only wanted to help, but his cold words continued. “gonna beat your ass till it’s sore and aching, you won’t be able to sit without remembering what a useless fucking girlfriend you were while i needed support.”

the logical part of your brain knew, that your boyfriend didn’t mean it. the anger got the best of him, and he just threw around accusations like he wished he could do at his asshole of a prof.

but the bigger, sensitive part of your brain convinced you that he meant every single hurtful word. you weren’t even hearing what derogatory stuff was spilling from his lips anymore, vision blurry and ears ringing from the pain you felt in your chest as well as your ass cheeks.

was this your fault? was it wrong to try and help? maybe you should’ve given him some space.

a particularly hard spank brought you back to reality, suddenly tasting the salty wetness of your tears seeping into your mouth as you cried out a loud ‘pumpkin!”, trying to push yourself out of his lap and landing on the floor with a loud ‘thud’ as his hands instantly let you go.

shirabu could only look at you wide-eyed when he saw how you were choking on your sobs and crawling backwards, just to get away from him.

“please don’t hit me anymore!”, were the words, that would haunt kenjirou for the rest of his life. he could feel himself tear up when it hit him what he did to you, his precious girlfriend, just because he was angry at a prof.

“baby, i- please i would never hit you like that on purpose, i- “, the male felt his throat tighten up and with a quiet sniffle he embraced you tightly, craving the warmth of your body. “forgive me, i love you so much, please don’t go.”

as you started to calm down, your arms wrapped themselves around him, wanting to be close to him as well, because no matter what, he was your biggest comfort and you still loved him.

“’m not going anywhere, kenji’. just… please don’t do that ever again”, you murmured against his temple.

“never.”

[kward-the-local-cryptid]

Bard Beginnings

Mighty Nien Meet Child!Reader, Who is a Bard. 

a/n: Hey all! So I got super inspired to write some child!reader fanfic after reading @peach-the-owl and @cornbake stuff. (Seriously go check them out, I love their works!) This is my first attempt at a reader insert fic, but I hope you enjoy none the less.  Trigger warnings: This fic contains child neglect and child abuse (hitting no blood). 

With a deep breath and a strum of your lute you start to feel the magic within you stir. Pin pricks turn into tingling as you belt out the final chorus. Your magic swelling as faster notes are strummed. The crowd cheers you on as your magic forms into prestidigitation, sending colored sparks just behind your back. Cheering continues as you take a dramatic bow and let the last of the patrons toss in their coin. Zadash was decently kind to your coin purse each time you came. You had learned the tricks to getting the most coin quickly. Simply start with an upbeat tune, then move onto a classic Dwendalian song (one where the crowd could sing along), then somber, then upbeat, and keep that going until the guards start to linger for just a little too long. Though thanks to the harvest close festival, the guards seemed to tolerate you for much longer than normal. 

 Another bow and a wave as the crowd disperses, you pick up the small hat now filled with coin. Part of your attention is brought to the odd group standing just to the side who had yet to leave. Two Tieflings, a half orc, two humans, a large woman, and a small creature are chatting amicably. An odd group no doubt but you think you saw the blue one put something in your hat, so they can’t be all that bad. You tilt your head towards the smaller creature. Their porcelain mask somewhat unnerving and the high-pitched voice does not match a child’s, odd indeed. When your eyes flick back up, both humans are staring at you intently. Smiling you give them both a small wave.

“Oi Runt!” A slurred voice calls from the alleyway behind you, “where da hells the money?” Your body tenses as you hear your caretaker drunkenly yelling for you. Practiced hand allows you to stuff a quick handful of coins into your pocket before walking towards the alley. As you step into the shadow, you miss the way the group continues to watch you as you retreat. 

“Bah! Took ya long enough!” Your caretaker sways and snatches the coin filled hat, “Hpmhf, barely enough in here to get drunk. Yer lucky I’m in a good mood.” The threat at the end of that sentence is not lost on you as you watch the man stumble back into the street. “Find yerself somewhere to sleep tonight, we leave in da mornin.” Biting back a sarcastic comment about his so-called good mood, you go deeper into the alley. Between the smell of candied apples and the silk banners floating above the rooftops you can’t help the smile. It won’t be so bad sleeping in the street tonight, maybe there will even be discarded festival food around. Food brings awareness to the uncomfortable emptiness in your stomach. Two days without anything to eat brings a sigh from you as you jingle the handful of coins you managed to get. Clutched in your hand you find some copper and even a silver piece! Though what catches your eye the most is a crumbled piece of parchment. 

Stepping to the side of an oncoming group of festival goers as you enter a new street, you pull apart the paper. Written in very neat calligraphy reads, “The Traveler”. It’s some sort of religion? The few pages talk about pranks and are filled with little drawings that make you giggle. You especially like the mage hand giving a wedgie to someone. You read through the pamphlet a few more times before safely tucking it away in your pocket. Mixing into a crowd this large is easy and before you know it you are munching on some festival food. A large part of you wants to inhale the skewered meat you bought but that small rational part of your brain keeps you from doing so. You eat one stick with much gusto but save the second stick in your pouch. It would be a good breakfast, after all. Between the rousing games and chatter and songs and peddlers, you loose track of the dusk until it is late into the night. Loud drinking and even more singing keeps you on your toes and helps to keep you out of sight. Nights like these are your favorites. Nights where you don’t have to worry about where to stay, or how to eat or what your caretaker will do to you. For a few blessed hours, you get to just enjoy being alive.  

Yet before you know it the crowds begin to disperse. Drunks are wobbling their way home, the bards are packing up, and the vendors are cleaning out the last of their stalls. With a stealthy foot and a cautious eye, you manage to find an alleyway tucked away in just the right spot. The Guards pass by without giving it a second look but there is enough room to spread your legs out and lean against the grimy stone wall. A shiver runs up your spine as you huddle into yourself. Harvest close meant it was turning to late fall now. Snow would be in the winds soon and having this pleasant of a night will be a distant dream. Star dotted skies and food in your belly help lull you into a stiff sleep. A smile on your face as you think of the wonderful festival day. 

You startle awake, immediately with your hand clutched on the small dagger in your shoe. Though blinking the sleep from your eye leaves you staring down at your legs. A striped cat looks up at you from its perch on your knees. After you blink at the cat for a moment or two, it sticks it tongue out and you can’t but giggle. With more caution than strictly necessary, you present your hand to the creature. Nuzzling and purring makes your smile widen as the cat happily accepts scritches from you. For a few moments the cat simply enjoys your attention before it scampers off towards the opening of the alleyway. With a sigh you snuggle back into yourself. It’s still dark out, and now its cold enough to see your breath. Before you can close your eyes again, a meow sounds off at the end of the alleyway. The cat is sitting, staring at you. Slowly you untangle yourself and step towards the cat. They bound up and begin to walk in front of you, only a few paces ahead, constantly checking to make sure you are still following. 

Shivering but with a small grin you follow the cat to a small inn close to the pentamarket. The door is slightly cracked open and the cat slips in. In for a copper, you think as you press yourself into the warm building. The smell of ale and chicken hit your nose as you let out a relieved sigh. You had not realized how cold you were until you can feel the heat slowly melting the freezing temperature from your bones. There are seven patrons left in otherwise empty bar. Looking over the faces you recognize them as the odd group from your performance. They all pause in their conversation and turn to look at you. Except for the human women in blue, who is currently face down on the table with a bleeding head wound.

“Frumpkin, I asked you to find a healer.” A man with copper colored hair and a dirt covered face addresses the cat before bringing his eyes back to you. For a moment, you are lost in the sensation of familiarity in those blue eyes. Haunted. Much like your own eyes.

“UUUhhhhnnnnnn” the sitting woman moans against the table. The head wound still gently oozing blood.

“Hair of the dog that bit her?” You ask to the group with a knowing smile, your caretaker is much the same after a night of drinking. Barfights typically the only thing ending his nights in the tavern. You pull out your lute and begin a soft soothing tune. Almost like a lullaby, its tones melt into a soothing melody. Once the last cord is struck, you gently touch her shoulder and can feel the tension leave her body. The wound on her forehead sealing shut and some of the swelling going down. The woman pushes herself up off the table and blinks for a moment.

“Holy fuck that’s better.” She grunts and you can’t help the smile.

 “You may feel better, but no more drinking tonight, okay? You need to rest.” You keep smiling at her even as she leans away from you with a confused look. 

“Who the shit brought the gnome?” You snort at her abrasive tone. 

“Not a gnome ma’am, just a kid following a cat.” You look down and wiggle your fingers at Frumpkin, and the cat happily attacks your fingers and purrs when you scratch their head. “Though next time you need a healer just go to the hospital, silly little friend.” With a final giggle you look back up to the adults now all staring at you. Thankfully the tiny creature in the porcelain mask breaks the silence when they look up to the blue Tiefling. 

“I thought you were a cleric, why couldn’t you do that?” Based on how the half orc leans away the loud response was expected. 

“Well it’s not my fault I’m traveling with a bunch of people that keep getting hurt and stuff! The Traveler can only do so much in a day!”  

“The Traveler?” You pull out the pamphlet from your pocket, “You mean like this one?” Immediately the blue Tieflings eyes light up brilliantly as she hops up and down. 

“You read my pamphlet for the Traveler? Isn’t he the coolest, and he can do so many things! He’s honestly like the best God ever.” The blue Tiefling is speaking so fast you can barely keep up but the excited tone has you smiling up at her, “Did you like it? The pamphlet I mean, because obviously you like the Traveler now.” Another giggle escapes your chest, you’ve been doing that a lot more today than any other time the past year. 

“I really liked the pamphlet,” you say and somehow the blue Tiefling smile brightens, “but this drawing of mage hand giving this person a wedgie is my favorite.” Both of you break out into small laughter. 

“Oh! We haven’t introduced ourselves! We are the Mighty Nien! I’m Jester! That’s Fjord, Nott, Molly, Yasha, Caleb, Frumpkin, and the one at the table is Beau.” 

“It’s a pleasure to make you acquaintance.” You give an exaggerated bow towards the group. When you return to standing, Jester is smiling at you, while Molly and Yasha exchange a look. Fjord, Nott, Caleb, and Beau have a similar expression of confusion and something else you can’t place. 

 “What’s your name squirt?” Beau asks as she folds her arms over her chest. There is a rise of panic in your chest. When was the last time anyone asked your name? When was the last time you ever used your name? What the hell was your name?             

“Er…um..w-well,” your stammering buys you a little time to catch a breath and calm a bit before plastering on a smile, “I c-can’t give away all my secrets now can I? A kids gotta stay on their toes, ya know?” Even your well-trained smile doesn’t crack the expression on Beau’s face, her eyes piercing into you. 

“Where are your mama and dad? Won’t they be worried if you’re out this late at night? Should we go look for them? Are you lost?” Jester’s face gets closer and closer to yours with each question you ask and you can’t help the stiff panic that overtakes you. Adults that get that close to you can mean a lot of pain. 

“Jester,” the dirty man, Caleb gently says, “maybe ve ought to not badger them, ja?” Relief washes over you as Jester backs up a bit, still giddy but now not next to your face. The way your shoulders sag when you have space again does not go unnoticed by most of the group.   

“Whoever the fuck you are,” Bea grunts as she stands, “thanks kid. I owe ya.” 

“Just promise you won’t get into another bar fight for at least…three more hours and we’ll call it even.” Beau’s lip twitches ever so slightly at your sly smirk. 

“Well, were not a group to leave our debts unpaid.” The purple Tiefling, Molly says, though that statement is met with many scoffs, “How about we treat you to a meal kid, to say thanks for healing our trash person.” Just as you are about to deny, to excuse yourself back to your alleyway, your stomach gives a loud rumble. Molly and Jester laugh, and you smile sheepishly. When a hand grasps your shoulder, you can’t help but jump and spin on your heel. Your hand positioned to start casting a spell. Fjord is standing behind you, hand still raised but his face now fully that emotion you can’t place. 

“Didn’t mean ta startle ya, just thought maybe we could all find a place to sit.” There is a gentle nature to the half-orcs tone that eases your nerves. But not so much that you stow away your lute fully. The group shuffles over to a bigger table and sits while Molly and Yasha go to the bar ordering food and one last round of drinks. 

“That was a complicated spell for one so young, vere did you learn?” Caleb chose a seat a few away from yours, making it easy to look at the man as he speaks. Though Frumpkin jumping into your lap pulls your attention away from his gaze. 

“Magic is a new thing for me Mr. Caleb.” Petting Frumpkin as they purr in your lap, “I’ve been playing music for a while and one day I was watching a performer. They made all these crazy images and sparks and even made this fake dragon, and it was so cool! I decided I wanted to try so I started watching magic more carefully, ya know? Like how plucking a string or the rise of your voice can change how you make the magic flow!”  When you look up Mr. Caleb has a ghost of a smile on his lips and the others are staring at you fully. “’M sorry for talking so much.” You hunch your shoulders and bring Frumpkin closer to cover your face. 

“None of that darling,” Molly places a bowl with hunk of bread and some soup in front of you, “we asked a question, you answered. No shame in that.” He gives you a wink and starts handing out the drinks to everyone. Except for Beau who grumbles something about a meddling brat under her breath. When side conversations and drinking start, you feel safe enough to inhale the food. Forgetting how wonderful it was to have more than scraps or finger foods. You don’t slurp your soup, but you do eat it with the ravenous hunger that has been gnawing at you. Little strips of meat don’t compare to homemade soup and bread. After you finish, the group is engaged with different conversations, and you happily sit and listen.

“So anyway, Caleb asked about your magic. Did you really teach yourself? How did you learn? Is it different than other magic?” Jester is looking at you, leaning in on her hands as she smiles. There is something so disarming about her smile that you can’t help but answer. 

“I’m self-taught, mostly from watching other bards use magic.” You say, absently rubbing Frumpkin who has nestled into your lap. “As for it being more different than other magic, um, well it depends on the type of magic I guess.” 

“What about Caleb’s magic,” Nott perks up, “he’s so skilled and powerful, how is yours different than his?”

 “What kind of magic do you do Mr. Caleb?” Caleb is decidedly not looking up from his cup. 

“I-ah do transmutation.” Caleb eyes dart around the wood of the table. You know that school of arcane! You’ve seen students from Rexentrum cast all the time when you are in the city. 

“Oh okay, I think I can show you then.” Digging through your pack, you pull out your notebook. It’s a frail thing, barely having any seem left but the pages are still mostly attached to the binding. 

“Here, so one of the cantrips in transmutation is prestidigitation. When Mr. Caleb casts it, he uses this spell structure.” With a practiced hand you draw out the cantrip. Making sure the semi circle and runes are placed just so. “Then he would have to use hand motions to copy the marks to make the magic happen.” You happily turn your journal out towards the group so they can see and wiggle your fingers in a similar pattern to show them what you mean. 

“For bards though the spell is cast through our music but it’s not a one for one thing, ya know? This semi-circle doesn’t equal a c sharp, though it would be much easier if it did work like that.” You chuckle to yourself and pull out your hand drum and give it a tap with the drumstick. 

“Depending on the instrument the spell can change. Drum, for instance, follows a similar pattern as the spell. So I drag my stick across the surface than hit the places where the runes are.” You follow the pattern and cast the spell, create a small blue spark that dances on the center of the table. “But other instruments can get more trickier, see with the lute, its not notes for runes. It’s more about the…ummm…how do I say this…I guess it’s more about letting the magic feel it’s way out than based on structure? When I see a new spell, I try to feel for the energy. Then I focus on the patterns while I play. It takes some time to learn magic that way but it’s the easiest for me.” As you stash your drum back in its place, you can feel the nien staring at you. Even as you pack your journal away and look from side to side. 

Caleb has his eyebrows raised and his hand on his chin, deep in thought as he stares at you. Nott is pushing a piece of paper in front of him but not looking away from where you put your journal. Molly, Beau, and Yasha are just sort of starting with their mouths open. Fjord’s gaze is on you but not focused, as he taps the handle of his sword. Jester has a look of wonderment on her face. The amount of attention is odd, though you are used to preforming, so it doesn’t cause you much stress. 

“Um…did I talk to much?” You ask, trying to break some of the awkward quiet.  

“Damn that’s impressive for kid so small as you. How old are ya?” Molly has a half cocked grin as the rest of the nien shake themselves out of staring. 

“Oh, I’m seven sir. Well, seven and three quarters. My birthday is on the day of the new year.” You reply with a smile. Much of who you are and where you came from is gone. All you can really remember is your time with your caretaker. He told you your birthday was on the new year, and you didn’t have any way to question it, so you agreed. There had never been a celebration of course, but it was still nice to keep track. 

“You, ah, must be very smart then.” The tall women, Yashsha, manages out. Much like Caleb she doesn’t like keeping eye contact. So you don’t try to force her. 

“Not really,” You say as you boop Frumpkin on the nose, “I just like learning songs and magic.” There are a few hums and then smaller conversations break out once more. You laugh when Molly starts telling a story from his days in the circus. And every now and again you try to peek at what Caleb is writing but Nott starts showing you her small collection of buttons and rocks to distract you. Time passes in the warmth and comfort of company and soon your day starts catching up to you. Between the soup in your belly and the warmth of the tavern you can feel your eyes beginning to droop. It’s bad to be so vulnerable around so many strangers but with these folks, it just feels nice.

“I think I’ve had enough ass kicking for one night, let’s call it.” Beau stands up and stretches out her back. The rest of the group begins to follow her lead and start collecting themselves. You bundle your thin clothes as much as you can and take a deep breath. Preparing yourself for the cold.  

“Vere is your coat?” You turn and blink at the question from Caleb, the rest of the nien are looking at you, varying degrees of that emotion again you are not really sure what it is yet.

“Oh-erm,” pulling your shirt closer together, “I wasn’t wearing one when Frumpkin found me.” Sheepishly you play with a button on your shirt before you can force a smile, “I was just out for some stargazing, but my caretaker isn’t far from here, I’ll be fine until I can get to him.” Some looks are exchanged between the adults, and you take that as your cue. 

“Thanks for the soup! And remember Ms. Beau, not fighting for at least another…twenty-three minutes.” Beau groans loudly as you give her a smile then wave to the rest of the group, making your way from the inn. There are not so hushed voices as you leave, but you ignore what is being said and start back towards your alleyway. Cold was much more shocking now, your breath clinging to the air. Morning was still a few hours away, so a quick nap before searching for your caretaker is the best bet. He probably won’t rouse until early afternoon anyways. Shivering you stretch back out into your spot once again. 

It feels like you just took a blink when you wake again. Your nose is runny and body stiff with freezing cold as you listen to the growing chatter of the town. Daylight brings some comfort of warmth as you manage to stretch your limbs back into place. Strolling into the day, you pull out the skewer of meat and much on it. There’s no way for you to find your caretaker so you mill about for a few hours. Morning turns into afternoon as you traverse Zadash and all its’ backstreets. Between inns and taverns, you don’t make much progress until you see a snoring crumpled form propped up against some crates. The stench of ale and piss hit you. Yup, that’s your caretaker alright. Heaving a sigh you pull your flute from your ragged pack. A quick upbeat tune begins as you let your magic ease and flow with the short notes. With a final little hop you let your magic wash over your caretaker. 

You had picked a non-touch spell, hoping that would be enough, that the distance would be too much of an effort, but this was not the case. A large meaty hand smacks you hard in the face and you tumble to the ground into the street. The throbbing in your face means you will be sporting a bruise come night fall. Your caretaker staggers out of the alley way and looms over you. Instinctually you curl into a tight ball with your arms over your head waiting for the worst of it. Yet it never comes, instead you hear a strangled choking noise. Summoning all your courage you peak up from your covered form and look up. Your caretaker stands pale and wide eyed at something behind you. Turning you see the might nien with weapons and spells drawn. 

“Guten Tag.” Caleb says with a fierce look in his eyes, a fire spell held in his palm.

“I think it’s in your best interest to walk away, friend.” Fjord has his weapon out, the heavy accent thicker than last night. Your caretaker looks at each one of the faces then his beety eyes look down at you. 

“Get up runt, we’re leaving.” He grumbles. You untangle your limbs and hurriedly stand but are stopped by a gentle hand taking some of your fingers. The flinch that goes through you does not deter the hand. Nott is standing at your side, gripping on to you tightly. A crossbow pointed at your now stammering caretaker. 

“Back the fuck up before I shoot your eye out.” The high snarl and seeing the skin clearly, Nott is a goblin. Part of you should be concerned about that but at least the mask makes a bit more sense now. Your caretaker huffs.

“Take the runt, they’re not worth the space they take up.” grumbling your caretaker spins on their heel and bolts down the alleyway. Just like that, you no longer have a caretaker. He just left you. A deep sense of shock overtakes you, he just left you here with a group of people he has never met. Your caretaker never cared about you. There was a part of you that always knew but now it was slapping you in the face. Absently you squeeze the hand that is still wrapped around yours. 

“Hey,” Jesters’ voice is soft and sweet, “would you like me to heal that for you?” Her hands are outstretched so you can see them, she is still a safe distance away, waiting for you to consent. With a small nod you keep your body stiff as she gets closer. With a gentle touch and a soft hum of green light that smells like cinnamon, the hurt in your cheek fades. The hands don’t leave your cheeks. 

“It’s okay, you don’t need that prick. You have us now.” Her voice is so sweet, her touch is so gentle as she holds your face. You look into her soft and wet eyes and realize you are crying. Seven is too old to cry, your caretaker had told you that. But the soft quiet tears keep coming as you stare at this Tiefling. It has been years since you have been held so gently. Without a second thought you throw your free arm around Jesters’ neck. Soon there are two arms wrapped around you and lifting you up. Cradling you against her neck. Jester holds you close, letting the pain and loneliness of your life ease out through your tears. You have never felt so safe before, you have never felt this kind of comfort before. 

[cherryatiny]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭

GIFs are not mine, credit goes to their respective owner

❁ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

It was no secret that your sugar daddy Hongjoong is a born aristocrat, as his rich taste in everything showed up a lot. Ever since a young age, he was taught to love art in all its forms. When his grandparents passed away sadly, he was the chosen one to inherit the prestigious art gallery their family ran for more than 7 decades.

Although he wasn't an artist of the top level, his love to express himself through art never died. So the very first day he took over the gallery, the first thing he ordered his subordinates to do, was to clear out the smaller room in the back of the director's office.

Soon after, he designed the space to an art studio of his liking, where he could freely spend his free time painting, reconstructing clothes, or just rest while stimulating his brain to function more creatively.

Soon after he met you and you two got into the sugar daddy relationship, he found his muse in you. At first, it started by him just taking pics of you at the moments he deemed to be artsy, not long after that he however started calling you to his little studio in the gallery he ran. Always making you sit or lay down on the old valuable settee, that looked like the ones from Renaissance paintings.

Taking you by your hand, he showed you the paintings of the new exhibition he was preparing. The paintings harmonized well, all of them tuned in a dark abstract setting. Loosening your hand out of his grip, you grasped his wrist the same he did with your often, dragging him to the office. He was slightly taken by surprise as he did not expect you to drag him there since you haven't agreed on him painting you today. „Lay down, for today, you'll be my muse Joongie.“

He was laying on the settee, looking up at the ceiling, so his side-profile was fully visible to you, as you painted him on the canvas. Mixing colours to your liking, you made the portrait of your Hongjoong look abstract, as it matched the art style he often used.

After hours of painting, when you did the last line with your paintbrush, you sighed out tiredly, wiping the sweat off your forehead as you observed your creation. „My muse, you can come here and admire yourself on the canvas.“ Standing up swiftly, he came over to you, leaning forward, his arm wrapping around the shoulder of your sitting self as he was all eyes on the painting.

„It's... spectacular. I- I'm at a loss of words, why did you never tell me you had a talent for painting my darling? If I added this painting to the exhibition there, I can guarantee you, that this will be the most favoured painting in my gallery.“

❁ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

You don't even know why you applied to become Seonghwa's secretary a few months ago, considering you've never worked in this type of branch. But it was probably the best decision of your life because if you wouldn't have applied for the secretary position, you wouldn't have met your sugar daddy Seonghwa.

At first, the work was a disaster as your relationship with your boss didn't start off very well. He was giving you tons of work to do, the stupidest arrangements that were completely unnecessary to make, or the most boring workshops and meetings to take you to with him.

But after the one night at a business conference in Milan when you two got closer than one would expect you to and got into the sugar daddy relationship, his attitude to you drastically changed.

Your secret relationship also made him give you easier and different tasks to do, he as well deemed you to be more reliable than before, which resulted in him giving you free hand in literally everything. He was actually taken aback by how competent you were at your tasks. Doing everything you were told to do, ten times better than he would have probably done.

One night, as you two were cuddling on the couch in his place while looking out of the large glass wall with the sighting of the whole town, he spoke out, „Y/N why didn't you tell me you had such talent for scheduling, strategic planning and business stuff? I should have made you the director of strategic planning or something like that. But then... I get to be closer to you when you're my secretary, my beautiful baby.“

❁ 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

„Ah, shit! The actress who was supposed to play the walk-on in the hospital scene with Yunho, can't get here as something happened to her. What do we do now?“ yelled the director out of frustration as the actress announced she can't arrive just a few minutes before they were supposed to shoot.

You were just finishing your sugar daddy Yunho's outfit for the shoot as you were the main costumer for this k-drama. Yunho stood up from his seat as you finished his stylist, bending down to plant a kiss on your lips, before going over to the director with a worried look on his usually joyful face.

You were clearing off the stuff you used on him back to where it belonged to. Eyeing Yunho talk with the director from distance, the two of them occasionally flashing looks at you. When they stopped talking, Yunho jogged to you with the beaming smile you knew that well on his face. His puppy-like features always flashed out when he had any good news, giving him the look that was asking him what he wanted to say.

„Get changed. You've got the role of the girl who's missing.“ you raised your eyebrows at what he just said, taken aback as you did not really understand what he was talking about. You and acting? „Come on, get dressed, we don't have much time. Here's the script.“ handing you the bunch of papers and the outfit the girl was supposed to wear, he motioned for you to go to the changing room.

You wiped the sweat off your forehead as you went away from the shooting site. „Wow, ms. Y/N, are you sure you didn't study acting? Although it was supposedly your first time acting, it was so natural. Wow, I'm glad Yunho showed you to me, you are for real like a hidden gem. Would you... maybe be interested in any more acting in future?“ asked the director with a glance of hope in his eyes after you finished shooting the small part in the k-drama your sugar daddy was starred in. Looking at him, wondering what Yunho's opinion was, the proud and encouraging smile on his face hinting that he really wanted you to accept the offer made by his boss.

„I'm so proud of you princess. My little talented actress, I love you.“

❁ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

Groaning softly, you rubbed your eyes as you sat up, looking at the empty spot beside you. You were sleeping at Yeosang's home, but as you could see, he didn't seem to be sleeping. Slipping your feet into the fluffy slippers with rabbit eyes, you wrapped your body tighter in Yeosang's shirt you were sleeping in, as the air was rather cool.

Opening the door of his bedroom, you went down the stairs of his apartment, down to the living room where a small table lamp was lit. Your sleepy sugar daddy sitting by the desk covered in many papers that seemed to be related to his prosecutor work.

Approaching him, you caressed his shoulder, which woke him up from his quick nap, „Mhm, Y/N. You can go back to sleep, I'll be there soon, I just have to finish this.“ You knew well that that wasn't the case and he won't be there soon. Sighing, you wrapped your arms around his neck, sitting down on his lap, his hand caressing your exposed thighs. „What are you working on, Yeo?“

„I'm treading through the case files, but I just can't take the next step. The police want me to indict him of murder, but the defendant is justifying himself saying that it was an accident and that he should be only indicted of manslaughter.“ Taking the case files from his hand, you read through them since your unbiased opinion might be of help to him.

Taking a pen from his desk, you underlined the facts you thought were important in your lay opinion. Handing it to him, he read focused on the underlined sentences, his eyes lighting up in hope. „Oh my god, Y/N. You're the saviour of my life, this is the core issue but it hasn't even struck up to me. I love you so much, my little prosecutor.“

❁ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

„Sannie, could you please tie my swimsuit?“ you held your hair in a ponytail so it did not get into the way as San tied the ribbon on the back of your swimsuit. You smiled at him as a way to say thank you, leaving the hotel suite your sugar daddy San reserved for you two to enjoy your vacation to the fullest.

San took your hand in his, your fingers intertwining as you walked down the hotel's luxurious corridors to the private beach. „Now, what does my beautiful baby plan on doing today?“ questioned san as he pulled you to him as close as possible. „Hm, I don't know, I'll probably do nothing all day long, just lay on the beach and sunbathe.“

„Then I'll keep you company while you do your nothing.“ giggles were leaving you two as you talked more while on the way to the sea. But as you started nearing the beach, loud dance music coming from the speakers. „What's that...?“ As you got to the beach, a group of people was doing dance work-outs there to the rhythm of the music.

„I have no idea what they are doing, but let's try Y/N“ and without giving you a chance to protest, San tugged you there by your wrist, right to the centre of the imaginary dance floor. He started dancing just as the instructor did, gesturing you to do the same.

Soon after you submitted to his nagging, doing the same as him to the rhythm of the energetic music. „Y/N, you're doing so well. Would I have known about your talent to dance, I would have taken you to some studio a long ago.“

❁ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢

After that one ball, you two met together at, you got invited to countless more balls to keep your boss company. Over that many times you two spent together, you get to know each other more and more until eventually, he somehow became your sugar daddy and boyfriend in one.

Tonight was very special, Mingi as the chairman of one of the biggest conglomerates in the country, got invited to the ball held by the president for the most influential people in the country. And when he stopped by your apartment with a beautiful night-robe, a pair of brand-new heels and a golden envelope with the letter of invitation in it, you almost fainted from the delight you felt.

Sometimes he couldn’t help but watch you like a movie on nights like this. Because you seemed so interested in these events, that it truly amazed him how you could act so interested in the talk of the attendants when it bore him to death. You just seemed so natural at attending events like this, you could dance, you knew all the protocol rules, you could pretend interest or know how to answer to the business talk others often held with you. He just couldn’t help but admire the talent you had for the formal events.

Excusing you from their speech, Mingi wrapped his arms around your waist, taking you to the middle of the dance floor as your favourite dance song was playing. Moving slowly, you melted into his touch as you enjoyed each other’s presence dancing the slow dances. „I'm amazed my dear Y/N, I can't bring myself to be interested in talking to these egoistic geezers for more than 5 minutes. Thank god I have you, my talented princess.“

❁ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

When you spent the night at your sugar daddy Wooyoung’s place, you usually weren’t allowed to even be near the kitchen as he insisted “he treats his princess food and she shouldn’t cook, because what if she cuts herself?” so today, as he had to rush to the work early in the morning because of some urgent, leaving you in his immense mansion alone.

And that meant you had a free pass to cook something in his kitchen. But seeing how emptied his fridge was, you opted for something more simple in a form of stir-fried tofu with vegetables. Washing the fresh vegetables thoroughly, you dried them, placing them on the breadboard, to cut them. All of his knives were sharp as Wooyoung was doing his best to keep his kitchen in the best state.

Throwing the tofu cubes onto the pan with a heated droplet of olive oil, you stirred them until they roasted into golden colour, adding the cut vegetables and cooking rice in the meanwhile. Not at all realizing that there was a pair of eyes watching you from the doorframe.

Leaving you like that, Wooyoung in the meanwhile went to change into some sweatpants and a t-shirt, maybe a quick shower. And so when he came back, you were already turning off the stove. „Well, well, well, what do I see? Looks like someone used my kitchen behind my back.“

You jumped in your place lightly, your breathing heavy at how startled you were upon Wooyoung talking to you out of nowhere. „Jung Wooyoung, for how long have you been there?“ he put on a grimace, pretending to be pondering over it. „Probably ever since you added the veggies to eat and started singing to those annoying songs.“

„They’re not annoying, you’re just too old to understand them. Anyway, if you want to nag at me for using your kitchen, do it after you taste my delicious meal. Seems like you were in rush this morning, so you probably haven’t eaten anything“ Placing the plate in front of him, you sat opposite of him, waiting to see what his reaction would be as he had never tasted your cookings before.

„Mhmm, are you sure you’ve cooked it yourself? If so... why have I never let you in my kitchen, when this is so delicious? Gosh, my princess is such a good cook.“ Your smile was full of delight at his compliment as you watched him stuff his mouth full of your food.

❁ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

„Y/N, I’m going to the restroom, you’ll wait for me, right?“ you nodded, watching your sugar daddy Jongho leave the studio. Standing up, you sat down on the now-emptied armchair in front of the PC screens, your eyes scanning the colourful music segments on the screen.

You picked up the sheaf of papers with the notes to his newest song, along with the lyrics he’s written himself. Your eyes ran over the notes and the lyrics and as you were re-reading the text for the 3rd time, you started humming to it, trying to get the right melody Jongho was intending on having in the song.

Opening the door to the studio, Jongho noticed you sitting on the chair, your back turned to him and that resulted in you still being oblivious to his presence. And he didn’t dare to make a move, standing in the door-frame and watching you humming to the song in amazement that you weren’t tone-deaf like most non-musical people were, as you hit all the tones.

„Woah Y/N, are you a trained singer or something? Why didn’t you tell me you were good at music? I would have taken you here long time ago...“

❁ taglist : @galaxteez @gyubaby @bobateastay @tinytinyblogs @ateezinmymind @chososchaos @cvtiehoon @a-soft-hornytiny

[biisexualemma]

crazy. oscar diaz

word count: 1847

warnings: bit of swearing but mainly angsty/fluff

requested: ‘Hey boo could I ask for an imagine with spooky where him and reader fight like crazy with each other like they're friends but they get on each other's nerves a lot and one/both of them realised they actually like the other? And they confess? Idk yhis is dumb I guess but I like the idea of them annoying each other and arguing like crazy before realising they like each other more than they'd like to admit🥺 thank you so much if you go with this!! 💛💛’

plot: best friends / haters / lovers?

masterlist

"suck my dick!"

"gladly!" he shouted back.

your frown deepened when he said this. you groaned with frustration. he always had better comebacks than you did, it drove you crazy in instances like this (which were pretty frequent).

you turned around to leave before the conversation could escalate any further. "you know, you should really watch your mouth, mami," he shouted before you could get to the door, and you couldn't leave it alone.

spinning around, you marched back over to him with a pointed finger. "don't tell me what to do, papi," you poked at his chest as you mimicked his little nickname.

oscars eyes widened for a split second, before regaining his composure. you faltered for a second, unsure of what had just happened. his nostrils flared a little and he closed his eyes for a second. "you're the most annoying hyna i've ever met."

you paused. "so you think i'm pretty?"

he rolled his eyes. "actually, shut up."

you let out a small smile, still kinda annoyed with him, as he was with you. he shoved you away from him, shaking his head and leaving the room.

"yeah, you go to your room mister," you teased. oscar stopped in his tracks and you knew you'd probably teased him one too many times for today. you cracked a proper smile this time, in fear of what was coming. he turned around and saw your face.

he immediately marched over, grabbing your waist as you squealed. he threw you over his shoulder before tossing you onto the couch. you let out a loud laugh as he did. your teasing worked every time, he was so easy.

"asshole," you breathed in between laughs. oscar picked up a pillow and chucked it at you.

"i can't believe it took me so long to realise how much i hate you," he towered over you, you held your hands up in defence.

"no you don't," you cheesed. oscar stared at you for a moment, you held the smile on your face, before picking up the same pillow and hitting you with it again over the head. "hey!"

"get a room, please," both your heads snapped towards the front door where cesar was now standing. he rolled his eyes, dropping his school bag at the door before quickly making his way to his room. "seriously, gross."

"at least i'm not sucking his face off like you with monse!" you shouted as he slammed his bedroom door behind him. "seriously, give the girl a break!" you heard cesar shout something incoherent back which you giggled at.

oscar watched with a smug expression as you interacted with his brother. you might be the biggest pain in his ass but there was something else there. you were the only person that could get away with speaking to oscar the way you do. he kinda liked it.

you averted your attention back to oscar, who you caught staring for a split second before he could realise what he was doing. you furrowed your brows for a split second. you noticed him do this a few times, more and more often.

"whatcha' staring at papi?" you titled your head, wearing a teasing smirk. you did kind of want an answer though.

he shook his head, a tortured smile on his lips when he did. "don't call me that."

"what? you can get away with calling me mami but i can't call you papi?" you sneered. "is it some kind of obscure double standard?"

he shook his head again, ducking. "call me that one more time and see what happens," he stood towering over you. you looked up at him quizzically. you were dying to know just exactly what he would do if you said it again. and you were exactly the kind of person to find out.

"what? papi?" you quirked an eyebrow. oscar rolled his head back, laughing a little.

"don't say i didn't warn you," your eyes widened and before you could protest, he was on top of you. his hands moved to your sides and he begun relentless tickling the life out of you. you squealed, desperately trying to push his hands away in between laughter.

"ok!" you shouted, pleadingly. "ok, ok, ok!" you kicked your feet, knocking oscar off his balance and causing him to crash on top of you. you groaned, the weight of him crushing you. you let out a strained breath. "jesus christ, what do you eat? you weigh a fucking tonne," you teased. oscar choked out a laugh, pushing himself up and off you with his arms either side of you.

he paused, his face hovering just above yours. the smile slowly slipped from your lips, your eyes darting between his as he stopped to look at you. your cheeks were flushed from all the squirming and laughing, your eyes wide and stunned, and your hair was all over the place, falling over your face. oscar pushed the hair out of your face.

you gulped, before whispering. "what're you looking at—" you choked on your words a little when oscar's lips tilted closer to yours. he took this as his cue and kissed you. your eyebrows raised, letting him kiss you for a moment before you retaliated. your hand roamed to his shirt where you balled your hand into a fist around the fabric and pulled him closer.

quickly after you pulled him closer, you came to your senses and pushed him away. you squirmed underneath him, pushing him off you and standing up. oscar sat quietly, mulling over what he'd just done, he wasn't sure whether that was something he should have acted on.

"what— why'd you just kiss me?" you had your back to him, you touched your lips with your fingers. you were breathing pretty heavily. you weren't sure how you felt about it. it felt good at the time, no doubt, but now you weren't so sure it should have happened. it could potentially mess everything up.

"i—" oscar couldn't form a sentence. you spun around to see he was just as baffled as you were. you chewed your lip, trying to think of what to do or say. "i don't know— you just looked at me and i— don't know."

your heart was beating pretty fast.

"i look at you all the time, oscar," the frown on your face softened. this was oscar, your best friend. of course you knew how attractive he was, and of course you were a little bit in love with him. but you never ever considered doing anything about it because you loved your relationship the way it was, and you would never want to ruin that.

he rolled his eyes when you said this. "why do you always have to say something annoying? you were the one looking at me with your stupid brown eyes, it's not my fault i got lost in them—"

"you got lost in my eyes?" you were gaping at him. you couldn't help but tease him, it was how your relationship worked. "jesus christ oscar. we kissed once and you're talking like a— i don't even know— like a taylor swift song."

"you're so dramatic," he rolled his eyes again, gritting his teeth slightly. he hadn't given this much thought until it happened, it wasn't something he thought about too much. he'd always seen you as a friend, nothing more. he kind of had to shut off the part of his brain that thought you were unbelievably attractive because otherwise he'd be kissing you all the time. and he liked you as his friend, so that wouldn't work out. "it was just a kiss. i'm not proposing."

"damn right you won't be," you huffed, calming down a bit now the shock of it had passed through your system. "i just don't know what this means. we're supposed to be friends."

"i don't know—" oscar huffed. "does it have to mean everything? can't i just kiss you and that's that? do we have to talk about it?"

you rolled your eyes this time. "you want to sit on this and never talk about it again like you do with everything else? like that has worked out so well for you already?"

he groaned. "i take back the kiss. you're so annoying."

you were both kinda quiet for a minute as you thought about it. you didn't know how to not mock him constantly, you'd been doing it for years, you didn't know how else to talk to him.

"do you like me?" you tried to be serious for once in your life.

oscar shrugged. "i don't know— maybe. i haven't thought about it," you nodded, accepting his answer. it was pretty similar to how you were feeling. "do you like me?"

you moved to sit next to him on the couch. "i probably would if you kissed me again," you said honestly. "it was a pretty good kiss.”

oscar tried to conceal his smirk, 'cause he knew you'd make some sort of snappy comment if you saw. he hummed. "yeah it was."

you clenched your jaw, glancing at oscar who was staring at you again. your eyes moved down to his lips and back up again. you leaned closer, inches away from his face, and when he didn't pull back, you leant forward and kissed him again.

oscar kissed back almost straight away, his hands touching your waist and pulling you closer. you deepened the kiss, your hands roaming to the back of his neck so you could get as close as possible. you were practically on top of him before you had to pull away for air.

breathing heavily, you retracted your arms and stared at him kind of hopelessly. "yeah that was definitely worth doing again."

oscar couldn't help but let out a soft smile, which you couldn't help but mimic.

"you're actually really pretty when you're not being a pain in the ass," you scoffed at his comment.

"i'm pretty all the time," you nudged his shoulder, jokingly.

he hummed, shrugging. "maybe a little."

"what does this mean?"

he shrugged for a the millionth time. you wanted to shove him and tell him to use his words but you decided against it. what it meant was that he wanted to kiss you again and again, but he didn't feel confident admitting that yet.

"we'll have to find out."

"could you be more vague—"

"alright. so i like you, you like me, we just keep this up and see where it goes."

you nodded hesitantly. he reached, touching your arm gently. "don't overthink it."

you smiled a little, rolling your eyes. "alright fine."

his hand moved to your ass, pulling you over, mumbling come 'ere. which you did, you rolled over, straddling him where he sat. you sat back, watching him take all of you in. you felt like you could get used to this. it was definitely better than a smack in the face with a pillow.

[sunrisefairy]

red cheeks and sunsets

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: George has been pining over Y/N for far too long and Fred decides to give his twin a little push. 

A/N: I love reading about Georgie so I thought I’d get back into writing and write a really fluffy oneshot about my fav. I hope you like it, I’m a bit rusty but if you wanna request anything please do :)) love you all 

“Seriously George, do you realise how creepy you’re being right now. You’ve been staring at the poor gal for 10 minutes.” Fred’s voice brings George out of his trance, okay it might have been the carrot Fred threw which hit George right in the forehead.

“I’m not staring” George mumbles, tearing his eyes away from Y/N reluctantly and at his dinner.

“No of course you’re not” the other twin states with an eye roll.

George can’t help it you see; the staring, the daydreaming, the embarrassing stuttering and nerves he feels whenever she is near or even in the same room as him. The redhead has had an immense crush on Y/N L/N for a year, too scared to say or do anything about it. No that he hasn’t tried to let her know about his feelings but each time he’s stood in front of her he is unable to speak and forgets everything prior to that moment, it’s a wonder he hasn’t passed out during his attempts. As soon as George looks into her eyes, those breath-taking, incredible eyes, nothing else registers in his brain. How can one be expected to think when looking as something so beautiful?

So, George decides it is easier to just admire from afar, to try and salvage whatever is left of his ego. He tells himself he’s fine with Y/N not knowing, he’s okay with sending shy smiles her way and imagining how it would feel to wrap his arms around the girl and kiss those perfect lips. He doesn’t think his heart could take the rejecting because at least this way he can pretend Y/N likes him back.

Fred groans, “mate just tell her” George interrupts him with a laugh. “No I’m serious, just walk up to her and say ‘Y/N I like you’, 4 words. That’s it.”

George stares down at his plate pushing food around with his fork and sighs “Fred, it’s not like I haven’t tried. I end up sounding like a stuttering idiot cos I can’t get the words out; I can’t get any words out. Plus, there’s no way she likes me back, I mean look at her” George’s eyes find their way back to Y/N, who is sitting with her friends, laughing “why in the world would she like someone like me, she’s stunning”

“Yeah you’re right, she’s a straight 10 and you’re a 6 at best” Fred answers with a chuckle.

George gives his twin a little shove with his shoulder, “thanks man, I appreciate the support.”

~~~

Fred has had enough of George’s pining; he can’t seem to get much out of George if Y/N is around. It’s like George gets tunnel vision and all he sees is Y/N and everything else around him fades away. Fred does think its sweet seeing how infatuated his twin is with the girl, he just wishes George would muster up the courage to tell Y/N how he feels. Maybe then George will be able help with the planning of some new pranks.

Fred and George are walking down the hall back to the common room one night when a familiar H/C haired girl turns the corner and walks their way.

George almost trips when he sees her but Fred nudges him upright.

“Hey boys,” Y/N smiles at them, eyes landing on George “hey George.”

Fred smirks, hearing that George got a second greeting, hoping he’ll at least say something.

Y/N is still staring at George hoping for a reply, George doesn’t seem to say much around her. She isn’t sure why. Yeah George is the more ‘quieter’ one of the duo but he still has an outgoing and loud personality. A few times Y/N has caught herself admiring George and a smile would always creep onto her face seeing him joking and laughing with his friends.

“H-hey” George all but whispers back, his cheeks feel like they are on fire and that his whole body might combust under Y/N’s gaze.

Fred wraps his lanky arm around George’s shoulder “Hello dear Y/N, you look very beautiful this fine afternoon, don’t you think Georgie?”

George almost chokes at Fred’s comment “Er- I guess so, I mean-um, y-yeah you do.”

If George wasn’t staring at the floor silently hoping a hole would appear and swallow him up, he might have seen Y/N’s face turn a light tint of pink.

“Oh, well thank you” Y/N giggles, “I guess I should get going. It was nice to see you both, bye George” Y/N waves and continues down the hall with a small skip in her step.

As soon as Y/N is around the corner, George groans into his hands, why is it so difficult for him to form sentences around her.

Fred just laughs, “you truly have it bad bud, but don’t worry, Freddie is here to help.”

George just groans louder; he isn’t sure Fred will be much help.

~~~

George finds himself running up to the astronomy tower later that week, Fred had left a note on his pillow saying to meet him ASAP so they can set up for a prank, it sounded pretty urgent, the note stated if he was even a minute late Fred would spill his secrets to Y/N. So, here George was racing through the halls to try and make it there on time, everyone was at dinner, so the halls were pretty empty which worked in George’s favour. Out of breath, George finally makes it to the astronomy tower stairs, taking 2 steps at a time he jogs up.

“Bloody hell Fred, I swear you just wanna make me-“Georges words disappear into the air as he reaches the top of the stairs.

Y/N is leaning against the railing staring out at the sunset, she turns her head to face George.

“Sorry to disappoint Georgie, but I’m not Fred” she giggles.

Godric, George thinks her giggle is the most magical sound in the world, he’d do anything to hear it again.

“S’ okay…” George trails off, he’s going to kill Fred later.

They stand in silence for a few moments, “Isn’t the sky so beautiful tonight?” Y/N breathes turning to look at the orange painted sky.

George can’t help but stare at this absolute goddess in front of him, the fiery sunset glows against Y/N’s face, he takes a small step closer to her hoping to memorise the way the sun beams against her soft skin. He wonders what it would feel like to caress her cheek, surely all his troubles would wash away the moment he has her delicate face in his hands. He glances down at her lips, he wishes he could just grab her face and kiss her right here, somehow try and show her how much she means to him.

George doesn’t realise words have left his mouth until it’s too late “Merlin, you are beautiful.” Georges eyes widen, did he actually just say that?

Y/N, surprised, turns to face him and it’s like a faucet in his brain has been turned on and he can’t stop the words coming out of his mouth, everything he’s ever wanted to say to Y/N is pouring out before he can control himself.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Not that its not true! Because it is, you’re beautiful, you’re amazing actually. The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. So beautiful in fact, you make me forget how to breath actually. Whenever I’m around you, I get all nervous and don’t know what to say. Like how do you tell the most beautiful girl in the world that you’ve had a crush on them for a year” George takes a breath, Y/N doesn’t say anything, not that she really had time to, George took her millisecond of silence as rejection and kept speaking. “Merlin, I can’t believe I just said that. It’s okay that you don’t feel the same way, I don’t blame you. I’m so sorry, let’s just forget-“

George doesn’t get to finish the end of that sentence, Y/N had grabbed his face and lightly pressed their lips together.

Startled, George doesn’t know what to do, his brain is going wild he thinks he might have a head attack with how fast his heart is beating, surely this is a dream. But when Y/N’s arms snake around his neck it pulls him back to reality. George moves his hands to Y/N’s hips and deepens the kiss.

Y/N tastes of a mixture of pure heaven and cotton candy, George thinks he’s floating away when he feels Y/N play with his hair at the base of his neck, a soft moan escaping from his mouth.

They eventually pull apart and George keeps his eyes closed, worried if he opens them, he’ll find that he’s actually in his bed and this was just an insanely good dream.

“Georgie, open your eyes” Y/N’s hands are back on George’s cheeks.

George slowly opens his eyes and finds his favourite pair staring back at him.

“Wow” is all he manages.

Y/N just giggles, “If you can’t tell, I like you too. Like a lot. Fred actually told me to meet you here, he said you had something important to tell me. I’m glad you finally said something.”

“Me too because I’d really like to kiss you again” Y/N laughs and presses her lips to Georges sweetly.

George smiles, finally gaining the confidence to say a sentence he never thought he’d be able to form around Y/N. “Y/N do you think maybe- I mean would you maybe want to be my girlfriend?”

“Of course, George Weasley, I’d love to” Y/N replies.

“FINALLY!” a voice erupts from the stairs.

“What the hell?” George questions as he turns around to try and find the culprit, his hand not leaving Y/N’s waist. “Fred?”

Fred emerges from the stairs with a goofy grin on his face.

“Have you been hiding there the whole time? Go away you perv!” George chuckles, reaching for his wand.

“Alright, no need for that” Fred holds his hands up in defence “I just needed to make sure my plan worked and it looks like it did so you can thank me later. Maybe at your wedding.” Fred winks.

“Go away!” George shouts. “I’ll hex you if I have to’

“Okay I’m going, I’m going. No funny business up here though” Fred quickly adds before running down the stairs, narrowly avoiding the jinx George sent his way.

“I’m so sorry about him” George says looking back at Y/N.

Y/N smiles “it’s okay, I guess without him I wouldn’t be able to kiss you anytime I want now.”

The redhead laughs, “yeah, I guess I am grateful for that but not that I’m ever going to tell him” George leans down and kisses Y/N once more, unable to control the smile breaking onto his face.

He finally got the girl, his girl.

[storiesforallfandoms]

childhood secrets ~ hannibal lecter;hannibal

word count: 1711

request?: yes!

shady80smusicsingercolor “Hey! Can i request something

Hannibal l x reader

The reader kept her childhood a secret from everyone,until she was watching news about a teen getting bullied,she remembers her childhood and just cries.Hannibal notices and goes run up to her,ask what's wrong.She explain what happen,that her childhood friends used make fun of her,or calling her weirdo.Hannibal comforts her

Hope is okay❤”

description: after hearing the story of a teenager’s tragic passing, unwanted memories are brought back to her

pairing: hannibal lecter x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts, mentions of bullying

masterlist

“Did you hear about the Thompson girl?” Zeller asked as we examined some DNA for a case.

“Who’s the Thompson girl, first and foremost?” I asked.

“She was friends with Abigail Hobbs when she was sent to that psychiatric facility,” Price explained. “They were room neighbors I think.”

“Oh! That Hannah girl! What happened to her?”

“Her parents found her dead in her room. Suicide.”

I was so shocked at the response that I dropped the tool in my hand. Both of them looked at me for a moment as I just looked down at my hands. I was trying to calm the growing PTSD rising in me.

“The poor thing,” I finally managed to say.

“Yeah,” Price said. “I think she was in the facility because of mental illness. Her parents put her in there after her first attempt.”

Zeller shook his head. “Poor thing. They shouldn’t have let her check out so soon. (Y/N), are you okay?”

I was still staring down at my hands. They were shaking and it was getting hard to breathe. I could barley register the fact that Zeller had asked me something. They were both looking at me, expectantly.

“What? Yes, I’m fine,” I responded. “I gotta get some fresh air.”

I threw my coat and gloves on a nearby table and quickly raced for the exit. I had to wait for the elevator to take me to the ground floor, but the wait was antagonizing. My chest and throat felt tight, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

When the elevator door opened, I was faced with Jack Crawford, Will Graham, and Hannibal Lecter.

“(Y/N),” Crawford said. “Are you okay?”

I couldn’t respond this time. I had to get out, I had to be away from there.

The breathe of fresh air in my lungs was just what I needed, but I was still feeling panicked. Flashbacks were running through my head, things I had repressed for all those years coming back all at once, hitting me like a freight train. I sat down on the sidewalk, trying to calm my breathing enough to go back inside.

“Miss. (Y/L/N)?”

I looked up to see Hannibal stood behind me.

“I’m fine, Dr. Lecter,” I told him. “You don’t have to check on me.”

“You’re very obviously not okay. You’re breathing is abnormal and you look as though you’ve been crying.”

I felt my cheek and was shocked to find that Hannibal was right, I had been crying. I hadn’t even realized it before.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, but the crack in my voice gave me away.

Hannibal sat next to me. I tried not to let him see my face, but I knew there was no turning back now. He had seen me in the elevator, he saw how unhappy I was at that moment. Any other person would just think I was overwhelmed from work, or maybe one of our discoveries had upset me, but Hannibal was a talented psychiatrist. He probably already knew what was wrong with me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

I chuckled. “How often does that one work?”

“Enough times to keep me employed.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Zeller and Price were telling me about a girl that used to be friends with Abigail, Hannah Thompson. She...she...”

“I know,” Hannibal finished for me, luckily. Just thinking about having to finish that sentence made my throat tight again. “I wasn’t aware you knew her so well.”

“I didn’t, but I know...the feeling. Like you’re trapped in your own mind and there’s only one way out of it.”

Hannibal was looking at me, waiting for me to continue but not pushing me to go any further than I felt comfortable with. I wouldn’t have to go any further with my explanation if I didn’t want to, I knew he wouldn’t force me. We could’ve dropped it right then and there.

But my mouth moved before my mind could comprehend what I was sating, “I was the weird girl in school. While other girls wanted to be princesses or astronauts, I wanted to be a forensic scientist. I always had a fascination with crime and forensics and such. At first, I was just an outcast with no friends, until a group of girls took me in and added me to their group in high school. They weren’t super popular girls, but they also weren’t my level of outcast or anything, so, understandably, I was excited.”

“I’d assume it wasn’t as ideal of a situation as you were led to believe.”

I shook my head, tears forming in my eyes again. “They only befriended me so I could be their verbal punching bag. It started mild at first, just some friendly jokes that I could throw back at them. Then they started calling me the weird girl, the freak who liked death and murder. They’d make fun of me for reading stuff about unsolved murders, or even just murder mystery novels. They told me I’d probably grow up to be one of the unfound murderers in those stories. They put me down at every chance they got, but they were the only friends I had so I just...I dealt with it. I even gave up the opportunity to shadow at a police department during my senior year because I was afraid of them making fun of me more.”

“What was the tipping point?” Hannibal asked. “Obviously they are no longer around. I assume either you got rid of them or...they left themselves.”

“A bit of both really,” I responded. “One day, their bullying just got too much for me. My parents never liked the group, so I felt like I couldn’t go to them because they’d just tell me ‘I told you so’ - not because that’s how my parents are but because that was my irrational fear - and the teachers and guidance councilors and principals at school were garbage. They did nothing unless they actually witnessed the bullying first hand, and even then it was always a slap on the wrist punishment. So, I thought...I thought I only had one way out.”

I was still half conscious when my parents found me. My mother’s screams were permanently etched in my head, her sobs breaking through the otherwise muffled sounds I was hearing. Even when I blacked out, all I could hear in my head was my mother.

“They sent me to the same hospital Abigail was in,” I continued, skipping over the nasty parts that I couldn’t bare to relive. “My parents said I needed actual, medical help, that they couldn’t ignore my mental health issues anymore. I was there for months. I met people just like me, people who understood what I was going through. I made friends with a lot of them, and they’re all still in my life right now. My high school friend group came to visit me at one point. They seemed genuine enough with their apologies, saying they didn’t realize how much I took their words to heart and how they didn’t know how dark of a place I was in mentally. I don’t know how true any of that was, but they put on a good act. When they finished their groveling, I told them to go fuck themselves and to never contact me again. They were...offended, to say the least. Apparently they spread rumors about me at school, but I finished my senior year at a different school so it didn’t really matter to me. Went off to do forensic science in college and...here I am.”

For a moment, a look of pride passed over Hannibal’s face, as if the end of my story made him feel proud for me. I guess it made me feel proud, too, but sometimes I kicked myself for sticking around with that toxic friend group for far too long.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” I admitted. “Not anyone who didn’t know me at the time, anyways. I tried to keep it repressed, but hearing about Hannah Thompson...it brought all those memories back for me. Maybe I’m not over it like I think I am.”

“Mental trauma when your brain is still developing is not something one can easily get over,” Hannibal said. “It takes years, and even then those painful memories could follow you to your grave.”

I winced at the thought of having to battle with those memories until the day I died. Part of me was still worried that they would be the reason I would eventually die.

“But it is important to know that your old friend group was wrong,” he continued. “There is nothing wrong with being interested in something that the masses aren’t interested in. I’d argue that being interested in murder and police work is much better than wanting to grow up and be a princess or an astronaut. Your job helps the police to find serial killers and to save innocent people from being their victims. There’s nothing weird about that, not in my eyes.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Lecter. I think I just needed to hear that when I was younger and...no one really said it to me before.”

“I’m saying it now,” he said. “If you ever feel overcome with those memories again, please do not hesitate to call me. A beautiful and brilliant mind such as yourself should not be worrying over what irrelevant people have to say about you.”

I felt myself blush, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the reassurance Hannibal was giving me, or if it was from the compliment.

“I want to sit out here for a little while longer,” I told him. “I still need some air, and to come down from what happened back there. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“I don’t have to, but I will,” he decided. “I want to make sure you’re okay before I join my collegues again.”

I smiled at him again. I definitely wasn’t about to fight him on staying there with me. Quite the opposite, actually. If there was anyone I wanted with me in that moment, it was Hannibal.

[infernal-fire]

Love, At First Sight

Warnings: some extreme fluff, strong language/ swearing

Pairing(s): Ransom x you

Summary: Love, at first sight, doesn’t exist. And Ransom has never been proven otherwise.

Word Count: 1600

I was inspired to write this after reading “It Was Only A Kiss” by the Queen of fluff, smut, angst and everything in between: @navybrat817  :)

(This GIF does not belong to me)

Love at first sight. 

That is the most ridiculous thing Ransom had ever heard. And he has heard some bullshit. 

The only thing he could tell from looking at someone for the first time was whether they were of any use to him or not. So when Meg was rambling on about love, that too, at first sight, Ransom scoffed at the idea. He bit into his overpriced biscuit with a roll of his eyes, pausing the conversation that he was unwilling to entertain any longer. 

“You know what Ransom, I’m not surprised you’re dismissing the idea without even hearing it,” Meg challenged.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” he retorted, a bit amused by her slight outburst.

“If your parents bothered with you, maybe you would understand what it’s like to be loved by someone.”

Although he didn’t show it, it struck a chord in him. It wasn’t something he dared to complain about anymore, but there was a time he would have done anything for their affection. 

“Okay then, let’s hear this horseshit you’re spewing,” he replied, not breaking the façade of smugness.

“When you meet someone, your subconscious and unconscious mind pick up patterns in their behaviour, little mannerisms and anything it can get its hands on. Your conscious mind interprets that as vibes. So you get a bad vibe from someone, it’s ‘cause your mind recognizes it from somewhere else, someone you don’t like.” 

“And what does this have to do with love at first sight?” Ransom impatiently tapped his foot. 

“I have a theory that love, at first sight, is possible if you’re in tune with your intuition. You feel good vibes from someone, you ride with it. And there’s a possibility you’ll override the rational part of your brain that tells you that you can’t love someone right after meeting them,” she concluded. “But then again, this only works if you’re capable of loving someone. Otherwise, your brain has no one to reference,” she added. 

Ransom’s jaw clenched before he took in a breath.

“Like I said. Just a bunch of horseshit,” he said, getting up to leave. 

He called it horseshit but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It irked him that no matter how many girls he pulled, not one of them could make him feel the love had Meg described. He concluded that he was incapable of love because, of course,  that was the only plausible explanation.

It was a friend’s birthday. To say the least, he was not looking forward to it. He was in a rare mood to stay home and call it a night instead of getting his dick wet. Unfortunately, his presence was promised - he would rather not hear about this later so he did his future self a favour and got ready. 

His black pants were paired with a maroon sweater that cost a little less than his king-sized bed. A rose-gold watch adorned his wrist and he threw on his signature tan coloured coat. He didn’t want to go but he that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t miss out on the opportunity to advertise his status. 

Walking into the party, he regretted his decision to come at all. The corners were brimming with drunk people, though it had been only 1 hour since the party started. Shrill and irritating voices rung through the air. As usual, girls of no substance clung to every word of the fabricated tales boys told. Despite this, the unsavoury circumstances invited him, called his name even. After all, this was the lifestyle he lived for. 

Taking in the scene before him, he strode down the room. His presence alone demanded respect and attention, both which he got a surplus of at these events.

His stride was abruptly halted when a figure crashed into him, spilling wine down his chest. Sure, it blended in with the sweater, but he was still pissed. Someone didn’t notice him, which caused them to bump into him and that rubbed him the wrong way. 

“Won’t you look where your going, for god fucking sake this is worth more than you,” he snapped at the unsuspecting girl. 

You had a mess of your own to take care of. Wine slipped down your dress, between your cleavage and onto your stomach. You were going to apologize but you heard his comment, paused your sentence to look up at him. 

Laughter echoed in the background and people called Ransom’s name but it was long forgotten when he saw you. 

Love, at first sight.

It didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore. 

The mere sight of you was a harsh contrast to the cruel world he has dealt with his entire life. It was like the universe wrapped and presented you as the embodiment of a second chance for his life. To think that love, at first sight, was ridiculous. 

Your beauty wasn’t something he understood. It wasn’t like the beauty he sought during the lonely hours of night, when he simply required a bedwarmer to ease the ache. It was memorable, almost like a blend of warm vibrancy; a feeling resembling that of the summer’s sun, kissed his skin ever so delicately. 

He thought he was dying for a second. His hands were tingly and would not ease up no matter how much he clenched and unclenched them. His heart dove straight to his stomach, refusing to come up for air as long as he continued to look at you.

You on the other hand, you were conflicted. You were going to give him a piece of your mind for talking to you like that but one look at him and you wanted to run away. It was too intense for you. 

His piercing stare mirrored the moon, melted and poured into the mould that he called eyes. His aura radiated coldness. Yet, you just knew that his hands would be as warm as a bonfire during a snowstorm. Being around him would be like the slight sting that you felt when winter’s breeze grazed your skin. That sting, no matter how painful, is rewarding when you consider his arms that would envelope you as a blanket. 

Momentarily looking into each others eyes, both of you knew. You just knew. You were both thinking the same thing. It felt like eons had passed since the wine spill but logically, you knew it had only been seconds.

“Don’t talk to me like that” you finally blurted. No matter how enamored you were with him, you needed to knock him down a few pegs. 

“I-I… I’m” 

“You’re?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he stuttered. He felt like he would never recover from this embarrassment. 

“I-uhm. It’s okay. I just…” you trailed off, realizing you weren’t even sure what to say. 

“Can we get out of here?” he piped up. 

It took you by surprise because you were thinking the same thing. You considered it too bold a thing to say but here he was. 

You held his wrist and led him out. As soon as you marched out the door, he pulled his arm up, and you assumed he was going to take it out of your grasp. He surprised you though, instead, holding your hand. 

The dress and the sweater became irrelevant; all either of you could focus on was the warm grip you both had on each other’s hands as you strolled through the overly extravagant neighbourhood. 

Part of your mind was screaming at yourself, as was his. He could kill you, you thought. Or do worse. And here you are, walking with a complete stranger through a neighbourhood you don’t even know.

“I thought you felt it too,” he confessed. “That’s why I... really, I don’t ever do this.” 

The old Ransom would have said ‘I know you felt it too.’ It hadn’t been ten minutes since you met him and you were already changing him. 

“I've never done this either. I mean frankly, you could be a murderer and here I am, holding you hand,” you joked. 

“I’m not a murderer,” he chuckled, “But I can’t help but feel a little weird about this.” You looked up at the moon-less night, convinced that it wasn’t a coincidence.

“I know… I-... I don’t even know your name,” you giggled and his heart fluttered around his chest. He couldn’t compare the feeling to butterflies - it was more like hummingbirds, refusing to settle.

“I felt something and it’s weird ‘cause I was so scared. I was scared and overwhelmed by this sort of dread. Dread that was like, what if you didn’t feel the same way?” you rambled, only slightly cautiously. You knew nothing of this man, and you were laying out how you felt in the open?

“My name is Ransom,” he stopped the stroll and faced you, picking up your other arm. 

“Y/N” you meekly responded, having difficulty meeting his eyes. You had never felt such a burn in your cheeks, yet right now, you felt like your face was on fire. 

“Hey, hey” he softly tilted you chin up. “Can we run with this? Whatever this is?” He would get on his knees and plead if he had to. Because you were right; he felt like he would die if you didn’t feel the same way. 

“Please. Let’s run with this. Whatever this is, let’s just run with it,” you agreed and nodded lightly, not breaking out of the stare.

“What is this?” he uttered under his breath and rested his forehead onto yours. 

You closed your eyes and breathed in the same air as him. His warmth and scent reminded you of sugar cookies and pine trees. 

He took in a breath and felt the aroma of vanilla and fresh roses evade his senses.

“I don’t know. But I like it,” you breathed. 

He cupped your face and pulled away to look at your face again. He planted a delicate but firm kiss to your forehead as you encased his waist with your arms, naturally gravitating towards him. He tenderly held your face as he pulled away. One look and you were a goner, but now, you’re utterly floored by the mere thought of him. 

Love, that too, at first sight.

Wasn’t horseshit after all.

Masterlist

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[monaisdark]

Ok ok, just hear me out, I haven’t read any one shot or story with knife play and like, I’m kinda into that shit, no judgment plz, um but for my request I would love a dominant reader who’s a villain, paired with literally anyone, I literally just want femdom with a knife plz 🖤 I really like your content 🖤

FEMDOMS WITH KNIFES FEMDOMS WITH KNIFES THANK YOU !! decided to do some bakugou because yknow what - that man needs to be put in his place by a sexy villain lady goddammit !! also, dw about judgement here ‘cus there is a 90% chance im into it :’) ofc thank u for the ask bc yall’s brains >>> 

➨ paring — Pro Hero! Katsuki Bakugou x Fem! Villain! Reader

➨ warnings —  dubcon, Sub! Bakugou, Dom! Reader, knife play, blood play, begging, handcuffing

Bakugou didn’t know what even led up to this. It was late at night and he was on patrol, he does this all the time! Yet, you got him. He didn’t even have time to react before his gauntlets were knocked out of his hands, cuffs were put on him, and connected the chain attached to the cuffs to a fence in the alleyway.

“You fucking bitch!” He yelled, immediately trying to activate his quirk but it only amounted to a few sparks. “Huh?! —“

“Quirk cancelling cuffs. Crazy the things the black-market sells.” You lifted the hood of your coat, getting a little too close for Bakugou’s comfort. “Dynamight, huh? I was expecting more of a fight for a Pro Hero.” You were taunting him, the sounds of sparks echoing throughout the empty alleyway.

“Y’know, that’s the definition of insanity — doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.” A laugh left your lips, as Bakugou scowled, “You’re the crazy bitch here! What the hell do you want!?” Your tone darkened, grabbing his face. “Stop yelling, I might have to put a gag in your mouth.”

Bakugou couldn’t help but shudder, your touch was cold. And your eyes staring into his didn’t help him stay calm. Bakugou hasn’t felt this vulnerable in a long time. You captured him so easily, how has he never heard of you?

“The smart ones lurk in the shadows. Bet you didn’t even hear me!” You were back to laughing his face, you were able to read him so easily. He growled curses under his breath, thrashing around. “Ah, don’t be like that. I haven’t even done anything to you... yet.” 

“You low-life! Take these cuffs off and fucking fight me!” That was it, you pulled out a scary-looking knife, “A lot of people want you dead, I’m sure you know. If I were someone boring, you’d be lying in your own blood right now.” Bakugou could feel the tip of the knife though the fabric of his hero costume on his chest, his breath hitched. There was nothing he could do. 

“Mhm... even with quirks, I don’t think anything beats a good ol’ knife.” Bakugou could see the blood that stained the knife, you’ve used it before. “I’d rather have some fun with you, y’know? Not everyday you get to capture such a great hero.”  

“What the hell are you talkin — !“ A lick. You licked his collarbone, “Aha! You are so cute.” Bakugou froze up, he wasn’t expecting this. He tried to hold back a gasp when you started palming him. You were crazier than he thought.

“Shit, stop... stop this!” He wanted to move, just enough to kick you in the chest to get you away from him, but the knife was pressed so closely to him. Any more movement and he would have it piercing his chest. And even then, he’s still cuffed and chained, how will he fight you? “Ah, stop? But you’re getting hard, what monster would I be to give you blue balls?” You giggled in his ear.

It wasn’t long before you were crouching before him, the knife moving from his chest to his lower  abdomen, “Get the fuck away from me! I’ll fucking kill you!” Bakugou tried to cling onto his power. He didn’t expect you to listen, but like hell he’d let you get away with this so easily.

A smile spread on your face as you took his semi-hard dick out of his pants. “Such words for someone who’s turned on.” Bakugou’s breath hitched, damn his body for responding to you. “Don’t...don’t do anything — shit!” You were stroking him, bringing your mouth close to his head to give him kitten licks. He cursed as he felt himself grow fully hard now under your touch, much to his dislike.

“I have to say, you’re impressive. Now — “ You pressed the knife down on the exposed skin of his lower abdomen, Bakugou could feel a small blood trickle down from there. “Don’t try to fight back right now. I’d rather not plunge my knife into you right now.” You pushed him onto the cold concrete ground, moving his trapped hands above his head. 

Everything was rushing over Bakugou, he wasn’t one to not fight back. But the knife paired with your quick movements and those damn cuffs, he’s weak. Weaker then he ever imagined himself being around a villain like you. You crawled on top of him, not wasting time on removing your panties and hoisting your skirt up. You sat on his lap, his cock against the fabric of your skirt.

He could still feel the blood from his abdomen trickle down, a wince coming from him as he felt another small slice go with his previous one. “Sorry! Couldn’t help myself.” Your voice was oddly smooth, it was like it was tickling Bakugou’s every being. Maybe it was the blood rushing through his body but he couldn’t deny you were attractive. Bakugou tended to focus on his hero work, he had no time for women even as a Pro Hero. 

Bakugou was becoming puddy in your hands, your gloved hand stroking him as the knife trailed his torso, a small a trail of blood being left behind. He tried to hold his panting, but he couldn’t help it. It made it worse seeing you lift yourself from his lap, not wasting time on plunging yourself on him.

“Ah, aha... A snug fit, right?” Bakugou was fully a mess now, you felt amazing. “No... shit — get... get off! You...you bitch!” He didn’t want you to stop. His pride was getting over him, what if someone saw him? He was a Pro Hero - a damn good one as well - and he let a villain with cuffs and a knife get the best of him? He should hate this, yet his pants and moans were showing otherwise. He was even bucking his hips slightly!

“You’re so mean!” Bakugou winced as he felt stinging again, this time on his upper thigh. You cut him again. “Say sorry.” You demanded, your knife teasing another slice to his thigh. Bakugou stayed quiet, clenching his jaw as he felt you going up and down on him. “Say sorry!” This time you were louder, another stinging pain hit Bakugou, a second cut to match the previous one on his thigh.

Bakugou couldn’t even open his eyes or mouth, how pitiful did he look right now? Say sorry? You’re the one doing this to him! You were making him such a mess, he’s the one that’s supposed to be stronger! 

“How childish. You can’t even say two words yet you’re panting like a dog right now! Let’s see...” Bakugou felt you stop moving and the knife move to his neck, he wanted to curse. You can’t tease him like this. “I wanted this to be fun but you can’t just let your stupid superiority complex go, huh?” Friction, he needed friction desperately. The knife was cold like you, but your cunt was so warm. Please just forget about it and move, wasn’t tying him up enough?

“Fuck... move, just move.” He didn’t want to have to beg, that’ll confirm you have the upperhand. “Mhmn, not until you say sorry —” You stopped for a second, a devious smile forming, “...Actually, if you want me off you so bad...” You lifted yourself off of him slowly, teasing him as he could no longer feel your soft insides around him. 

God, he hated this. He was so hard it hurts, a string of pre-cum was forming at his tip. He was sweaty and red despite the weather being cool. You still sat on him, even without him inside you, he could feel your soaked, warm core that contrasted your body. Your eyes staring down on him like he was a deer and you were a hunter. You wanted him to beg. 

Bakugou struggled to form a sentence, he was out of breath and half lidded. Words that he never would have expected himself to utter came out, “Inside... back inside. I’m sorry! P-Please, please, put it back in!” A tight, warm feeling engulfed around Bakugou’s cock again, he missed it. A smile spreaded on your face, not one of deviance but one of joy, “Ahah, you see? How hard was that?” You removed the knife from his neck and opted to trailing it along his lower stomach. 

You beat him, Bakugou was enjoying this. He didn’t care that you were a villain anymore, or how you had the upper hand in all this. Hell, you could use that knife all you wanted on him! Just bounce on his cock, that’s all he wants.

He could feel you pulling him in every time you thrusted yourself on him and Bakugou was brought to the edge each time. He was beginning to twitch and you seemed to notice too, slowing down to drag out the feeling you gave him. “Do you want to cum inside?” He nodded profusely, “Use your words.” He has to beg to cum? He truly has to give up all his control.

“Please! Ah! Cum inside... let me cum inside!” Bakugou was loud, it was a surprise nobody ventured into the alley with all the sounds of skin slapping and moans. Perks of shitty, small neighborhoods. Nobody gave a fuck. Not that he wanted anyone to see this anyways, this was certainly a way to be ‘defeated’ by a villain.

“Go ahead — you’ve been so good.” You left the knife on his stomach but with the way Bakugou was breathing, the tip of the metal could poke him still. You let him buck his hips into yours, leaning down to grab his head with your free hands to give him a kiss on the forehead. He wasted no time in filling you up, the way you continued to bounce on him despite him cumming already brought him over the edge to another orgasm. 

After what felt like hours of warmth and tightness, Bakugou was a mess. Everything was clouded in his head, he just came in a villain. And he liked it.

He could the weight of your body get off of him, grabbing the knife from his stomach and tucking it in your coat pocket. Bakugou cursed himself for missing your touch, the cold from the air was different from the cold of your body and knife. “Be good and don’t do anything, hm?” You dangled the keys to the cuffs and chain above him. He nodded — not like he would anyways, he was smitten. 

As you uncuffed him, Bakugou didn’t even try to attack you, which was great for you. He didn’t say anything, looking at the ground though his breath was heavy. He felt a piece of fabric fall on his lap, your panties. “Parting gift.” You laughed but Bakugou felt his stomach begin to turn. As you walked away without another word, he could feel panic build up slightly — he still knew nothing about you. 

He wasn’t mad like he should be. He wanted to see you, feel you. All he could do for now was hold the fabric close... the thought of you still fresh in his mind.

[lastxviolet]

Madripoor is for Lovers (Zemo x F!Reader - Ch. 4

Summary: Y/N is a SWORD agent recruited to help Sam and Bucky track down Karli and the super-soldiers. When Helmut Zemo joins the team, he takes a special interest in her. The friendly union is wrought for disaster, but then things take a turn for the worst when Y/N is taken as collateral. Will Zemo keep her forever? Does she even want to escape? And what happened in Madripoor that made the whole thing so complicated?

Warnings: mention of violence

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32878015/chapters/81589774

Madripoor was lovely until the shootout started.

It was difficult to appreciate the city views or even the night before as the shipyard collapsed around you.

One second you were running through fire and smoke, and the next, searing pain ripped through your bicep. The shrapnel and spewed toxic lab material were an afterthought as you hit the ground, clutching the place where a bullet grazed you.

The pain made it impossible to get up, open your eyes, or care about broken glass scraping your exposed skin. The smoke left you breathless, making the scream in your throat die before it could alert your friends of your location. You thought that maybe you heard Sam yell your name from somewhere far away — too far away.

Your lungs stopped fighting to scream and began the fight for air. Short puffs were all you could manage. Counting them held off the thoughts of your body behind left in Madripoor for only a little bit before your vision tunneled.

A familiar voice wafted through the chaos before darkness took you.

“There you are,” it had said as you felt strong arms lift you from the rubble.

That was all you could remember as you awoke from a hazy dream.

There was pressure on your arm and even with your eyes closed, you sensed the presence of people looming over you. They spoke but a harsh white noise filled your head, drowning out their words.

As the grogginess faded away, reality hit. You were on a plane. There was no mistaking the familiar rocking and engines rumble. A sickening thought hit you. Was this a military plane taking you back home, or Zemo’s private jet again. If your injurers were enough to land you in a hospital Sam would've called for backup, even in Madripoor.

You squeezed your eyes tight, unwilling to return to reality. This could be the moment you woke up and went back to your normal life.

The last week of your life had felt like a dream. Galavanting through Europe with super soldiers, uniting forces with a notorious villain, and forming a makeshift Avengers.

You still couldn’t decide if Zemo’s involvement made it more dream or nightmare. Either way, you didn’t feel ready to give it up. Opening your eyes meant coming to terms with what happened. This morning at breakfast, nerves had made it impossible to eat. You’d been sure that Zemo would make some mention of what the two of you had done. He could use the information against you, or worse, Bucky and Sam.

The thought of their eyes turning on you with disappointment almost made you keep your eyes closed for the rest of the ride but a sharp pain chose for you. The overwhelming throbbing of your arm shot you back into full consciousness. A guttural groan was all you could muster to alert the looming figures of your state.

“She’s back!”

Sam bent into view. From behind him, you saw the pristine accents of the private plane. Your heart fluttered.

They’d brought you with them.

Sam knelt next to the couch you’d been laid out on and placed a hand on your leg.

“How you feeling?”

Your mouth was too dry to speak so you nodded and took in more of your surroundings. The bathroom was near your feet, so you were facing backward.

A blanket weighed you down but you tried to sit up anyway. Sam’s arm shot out and knocked you back. He yanked the blanket up towards your neck and eyed the edge to make sure it reached your chin. The cool air on your back told you that someone had taken your shirt off to get to the wound.

“Nothing I have not seen before.”

The voice flooded your body with heat, making your cheeks burn. For the first time, you turned to see who was tending to your arm.

Zemo stared at Sam with a smile and continued. “From her dress last night, of course.”

That was the voice you’d heard. That was the voice that had saved you.

It wasn’t Sam or Bucky, it was the man they’d told you to hate. He’d come back through the flames, gunfire, and danger to pluck you out of the wreckage and bring you to safety. And now he healed you with his own two hands. He didn’t look you in the eye or acknowledge you at all as he bent his neck to focus on your wound.

You returned your gaze to Sam and spoke before Zemo made any more taunts or innuendos about last night. For now, you were partially certain that he hadn’t told anyone what happened. Sam’s demeanor might be quite different with you if he had.

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when we land, you need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” your voice came out as a croak. The room around you spun with the exertion of energy, proving your words false.

Sam chuckled and tapped your shin a few times while exchanging words that you couldn’t hear with Zemo. They leaned close and shared a worried glance before Sam entered the main cabin, closing the sliding door behind him.

You felt Zemo's hands at work but the pain subsided. Something had numbed your arm, or perhaps your brain had done you a favor and cut ties with the nerves there altogether.

Alone again, you stared at him, conscious of your hammering heartbeat and the fact that this was the second time you'd been topless in front of him in 24-hours.

“What are you doing?”

“Listen to your comrade. You need sleep.”

His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, sweat forming on his forehead and upper lip. His face was more flushed than normal, almost as if he’d been running but his breathing wasn’t heavy behind his firmly set jaw.

“Thank you,” you muttered. “For saving me.”

A frustrated sigh was all he responded with.

Of all the expressions you’d seen of his, you couldn’t understand this one. No smirk formed as he worked. And where his eyes usually told you everything you needed to know, all they communicated was his desperate need for sleep.

You choked a few words out to quell the tension and distract your mind.

“Were you a medic?”

He shook his head. “Our army did not have enough enlisted for such distinction. I was a commander but we had to learn everything.”

“Commander,” you repeated. “Baron. Quite the collection of titles.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in jest, noticing that you felt lighter than before. An odd giddy feeling bloomed in your chest, despite the dull pain. He must have given you some sort of pain medication before you woke up.

The drugs continued for you. “I’m just an anomaly investigator so I don’t know how to do all that.”

“I’m sure you could learn.”

“I’d need a teacher.”

He hung his head and you adverted your eyes. Even without the oncoming haziness from the drugs, you knew that this little game of flirtations should stop. You opened your mouth to change the subject but he beat you to it.

“I’m not sure we have enough time.” His voice had a twinge of sadness as he spoke the truth.

Eventually, you’d part ways and the world would be better for it. The mission would be over and he’d have less to worry about with the super-soldier serum destroyed.

“Well, who knows how long it will take to catch Karli and…”

He flashed you a somber look and your voice caught in your throat. He wasn’t talking about the mission. He was talking about the two of you.

That's right. Reality came back into full force then, knocking sense into your head.

He was a criminal who'd be locked up for the rest of his days and you would go back to your full-time job, fighting people like him.

It shouldn’t have been as big of a blow as it was, because you’d only known each other a few days. If the drugs and exhaustion weren’t keeping you firmly in place under the threat of passing out again, you’d run as far away from this man as you could.

He was a criminal. He was not to be trusted.

But he’d saved your life.

He didn’t have to, in fact, it didn’t make an iota of sense that he did. But the words he’d whispered on the balcony floated back to you.

Had he meant it all?

His strained voice invaded your pestering thoughts.

“Suffering by nature or chance never seems so painful as suffering inflicted on us by the arbitrary will of another,” he said, caressing your bare skin one last time before tucking your arm underneath the blanket. “Do you know who said that?”

You shook your head, ruffling your hair with the pillow.

“Arthur Schopenhauer. The philosopher of pessimism.”

The fresh stitches scratched against the fabric as you turned towards him.

“A terrible choice for a man in prison,” you whispered.

He played with a roll of gauze in his hands, turning it over and over. The muscles of his jaw flexed and clenched as he sorted through his thoughts before speaking.

“Is it surprising though? For a man with a life sentence?”

He met your eyes then. The hard glare almost made you flinch.

Your heart ached for him. You knew firsthand the harm the Avenger had caused, but you also knew it could’ve been worse. The eradication of Sokovia had been to avoid the destruction of the world. But that had been his family, his home, his world. You knew his vision had tunneled because of what he’d gone through. A smart, military man knew the cost of peace but resented who had to pay.

Did he not think that was what everyone who had to pull a trigger in the name of peace thought of? Did he think that made him different from the Avengers?

Again, the drugs moved your mouth before you could think better of your words.

“Maybe we can push for better arrangements? Your assistance to the US must count for something —“

He raised his hand to silence you before you could finish the thought.

“That opportunity passed as soon as you assisted my escape. You know, as well as I how this will end. It is not the United States that is most concerned with my sentence but those who are will insist upon a worse cell, where they do not negotiate for amenities or comfort.”

Your stomach dropped with the realization. “The Raft.”

He was right. You knew he was. In all the chaos, Wakanda hadn’t crossed your mind, but this was a betrayal of mass proportions. His life sentence was their revenge and they wouldn’t take his brief freedom lightly. You couldn’t blame them of course. He’d assassinated their king in cold blood, in front of the world.

Prison had seemed like a joke to him before. When you’d first spoken to him in his cell with Bucky, it almost seemed amusing. Now the weight of his reality seemed to have set in. You wondered what changed.

“Do you not think you deserve it…your sentence?”

He squinted and stared over your head towards the windows. “That is not the question.”

His words felt the same as the bullet that had hit your arm; sharp, and perfectly aimed.

Normally your banter felt like a dance. There was no point to get across, or set path. You simply swayed back and forth, feeling each other out. But this time, it felt like he had something to say but was unwilling to go through the elegant waltz that you usually did.

The realization struck like lightning.

“Whether you’ll serve it,” you asked hesitantly, hoping for the first time in your conversations with him that you were wrong. His eyes gave nothing away but the hint of a smirk ghosted his lips.

Warning bells rang in your head, overwhelming your thoughts and any willpower to be careful with your words.

“Helmut, you’d be insane to escape the raft and even crazier to tell me about it.”

His eyes widened at the sound of his name.

“But I am not in the raft, am I?”

You stared at him in silence, failing to hide your angry expression.

“Perhaps, I never will be,” he finished with a raise of his eyebrows.

There it was.

He flinched as you brought your good arm up to swat his leg.

“Why would you say that,” you hissed.

He caught your hand, lowering it back down to your side. His fingers lingered around yours, caressing the back of your hand in a random pattern. It was then his smirk reappeared. Whether it was because of how your fingers gravitated towards his, or your anger, was unclear.

“I thought you might like to know.”

You shook your head and dropped his hand. “You’re insane.”

The Zemo that everyone else knew returned right before your eyes. He lived to taunt everyone and everything. You’d only ever seen the mask drop for you but now it was back up.

“No heavy lifting for a while, yes?”

The change in his voice was a show for the others as he stood and spoke loud enough to fill the cabin.

To hell with the pain. You ripped off the blankets and sat up. Thankfully, you’d been mistaken before, you weren’t topless, a thin sports bra kept you from being exposed.

“Zemo —”

“I do think it will heal in a few days —”

“— that would get you killed.”

He busied himself with something and paid you no mind as he spoke.

“— so the hospital in Riga won’t be necessary.”

You used the rest of your energy to shove him. Hard. All your strength went into it. All your frustration with his past decisions that separated you and the future ones that might keep him from you still. There was no way for you to be together and so you put all the maddening anguish into his back.

He hardly registered the blow as he spun, bringing his face inches from yours.

“Do you plan to be a criminal for the rest of your life? Is being on the run better than serving time for something you did?”

His eyes kept his concerned doctor mask for a second and then you saw the damn break. His iris’s widened, making an angry abyss of his warm eyes. You had no choice but to sit back down as he marched forward and braced an arm on the back of the couch, hovering over you.

“Something I did?” He asked in a dangerous tone.

You held his gaze and sunk into the cushions. Fear. You should’ve felt fear but a familiar heat rose from between your legs. You willed it away and focused on his quirked mouth, almost quivering with anger.

“Was it I who destroyed a country — thousands of lives? I, who created that hellish serum that makes gods out of man? I, who unleashed them on the world without a leash?”

He paused and leaned closer, waiting for an answer.

“No,” you whispered.

“One man receives life in prison while a band of thugs runs free, wreaking havoc on earth and calling it justice. They are your friends, are they not? That is your side. So why would you, S.W.O.R.D agent, fighter for the United States, Avenger, care about my sentence?”

His nostrils flared as he hissed and anger burned in his eyes. You could’ve retreated from the accusation that you were the same as those you worked with. But it wasn’t true. It might have been foolish to think that you knew him but the delusion made you speak softy, and tame the beast.

“Because I know what you’re doing.”

He flinched at the words, offended by the meaning and delicate tone. Again, you wondered the last person to show him any kindness or regard him with gentle eyes.

“Enlighten me about what you think you know.”

His jaw was tense when you brought your face closer to his and spoke in nothing more than a whisper.

“You obsess over revenge in the hopes that it will fill the holes in your heart left by loss. I know that you think keeping yourself distracted will heal you but it’s not true. The harder you run away from all that pain, the worse it’ll be when it finally catches up.”

There was more anger in his face when you finished than there was when you started. He stood and straightened his jacket before clearing his throat, unwilling to let you finish.

You tried to get up and follow but blood rushed to your head as soon as you stood up. The room spun and your vision tunneled. The roar of white noise washed over you again, threatening to send you back into unconsciousness.

Steady hands were on you in an instant, making sure you didn’t fall. Despite everything, Zemo reached out and folded you into his chest. One arm looped around your waist, and the other tentatively held up your injury.

“Lie down, liebling,” he whispered, not looking you in the eye.

He laid you down and pulled the blanket back up to cover your torso. You tried to focus by counting your breaths and watching the man who made good on his promise to be sweet as he looked for something in his bag.

He came close again and silently helped you pull one of his sweaters over your head. You hissed in pain as he straightened your arm through the sleeve and he made a disapproving look as if it hurt him as well.

He stood to leave but you held onto his wrist.

“Distractions won’t heal you, Helmut. Nothing — no one can,” you said through the haze, searching for him in your clouded vision. “Only you.”

You meant it, deeply. Even though you longed to be someone that could put broken things back together. You meant it, despite knowing that it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

Zemo withdrew from your space and sat the chair opposite, watching you from afar as the plane began its descent. The words he’d said when he’d found you played over and over in your head as you watched him too. His expression was thoughtful and less angry than before. He looked to be mulling something over, and you wondered if your words had made a difference but it was impossible to tell. Sleep threatened to take you again, but you fought it off, opting for a staring contest with the man you couldn’t ever seem to figure out.

It wasn’t until the plane was safely on the ground that Zemo moved.

He crossed the plane to you like a rubber band being flung across the room before tucking one arm underneath your shoulder blades and the other under your knees, scooping you into a bridal carry. Eyes level now, he drew in close and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“You underestimate yourself,” was all he said before walking out into the cabin, towards the exit.

The door opened before you could object and both Sam and Bucky’s faces fell immediately.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Zemo ignored Bucky’s protest and pushed through them to descend the stairs. The sun was too bright so you shut your eyes and leaned into the man holding you. The man who had admitted that you might be enough to heal him. Your heart ached at the impossibility of it but you let yourself live in the fantasy for a little longer.

“James, are you not a gentleman?”

“She hurt her arm, she can walk fine,” Bucky yelled from behind you, stomping down the stairs.

Zemo’s chest rumbled as he spoke. “The question is not can she do it, but whether she should have to.”

Sam piped up, his voice exhausted from the journey. “Put her down, Zemo.”

The man didn’t listen, of course, and crossed the tarmac before setting you down gently a step away from the opened car door. You hobbled in and looked him in the eyes a final time. He no longer looked to be mulling over his thoughts, but rather, like he’d decided something.

“Chivalry may not be dead but it does seem to have many enemies,” he said with a wink, before closing the door.