#which I would write oneshots for if I didn’t cringe every time i read my writing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingofbodyrolls · 3 months ago

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Better late than never, right? 💕 (joke aside, you really didn’t have to respond but I adore you so much for taking the time to respond and I don’t care that it took some time 💜 also ØÆDFLDLJÅØÆ for the energy you matched it with was amazing, so here some more good energy back ✨)

This made me laugh in the absolute best way. 10/10 way to start a review, so ASKØÆÅVFÆÅFØLDB right back!! 😂😂

Maybe I should start all my reviews by screaming in Danish 🤣 I’m glad you liked it, and that it gave you a laugh 🥰

Lissa I'm finally able to respond to this with matching energy so SAME TO YOU MY GOOD DUDE(gn). You absolutely spoil me with your love and I dont deserve it 😭😭♥♥♥

First off, I love the energy you’re matching me with, and— OF COURSE YOU DESERVE IT!!! I will yell about you and this fic from the top of a hill until you hear me 💜

SOBBING CRYING. I literally am so so happy you enjoyed it. It was my first time really going in on like. Lore and fantasy and smut so the fact that it hit so hard for you just makes my heart freaking soar dude.

Soar. Fly. Fly high into the clouds, because this was seriously one of the best fics EVER for me. I read a lot, but I can easily put this in my top 10, or even top 5 ✨ And I fucking LOVE lore and fantasy! All the recognition you’ve gotten for it is so deserved 💎

Re-revisit???? SPOILED!! I AM SPOILED!!!

I am going to spoil you ROTTEN 😝💜

I whole heartedly that Mr. Min as Mr. Underworld wholly just does something for me. IDKWTH that says about meeeeeee. But I see you. I see you. OC makes my heart happy because she (unknowingly to me at the time of writing) stole all my gryffindor like traits and then turned them up to 11, and I love her for that. I love how brave and unbothered she is by everything. I just. Adore her. I debated for all of 4 seconds on which member I wanted to make OC's bartender coworker bestie and Tae just fit because he's sooooo the type 😂😂. I thought for 2 seconds to make him Jimin but then I figured Jimin would suit a Banshee better and forevermore Tae was decided to push OC's buttons in the ways she needed. I do have theories in my mind for more of this universe with the other members, and hell even if i wanted to, with other groups even. But I know what the other members are in the universe, and I have a rough (very VERY rough) couple of ideas what could happen for each. Who, knows, I've gotten so much love from this oneshot that series is starting to sound much nicer. And I gotchu! I know a lot of folks take praise as demand but you dont gotta worry about that with me. As someone who was and remains a reader before a writer, I getcha. I do.

OMG reader was totally displaying peak gryffindor behavior!!! I adore her so much for that too! Omg I could also have pictured Jimin as her bartender coworker, but I’m glad you decided with Tae because he certainly pushes her buttons— and Jimin makes a perfect Banshee! OMG, OMG, if you ever do write more to this universe with any of the other members, please do tag me! 🥹💜

God this is consistently relieving to hear. I can't read it myself anymore without cringing but my mum has read the story so maybe thats why. I did put a lot thought into word choice and actions and such, but trying to ~write~ and trying to make it hot at the same time is such a talent and so for my first time really trying to write it I think I did okay. My point being, every time someone as lovely and kind as yourself tells me this it's such a nice relief to know it's only cringey to me (because ~i~ wrote it) and the experience is different for people who didn't have to sit there and think "should I use cock or dick here??? Is folds okay still or is it starting to become cringe as hell??? Shit why are there only like 3 acceptable words for clit!!??" 😂😂😂

Okay, okay, first— YOUR MOM READ IT??? How was that experience? 🤭 And I totally get you, as a writer I cringe at my own smut scenes, which is why I like to praise writers for it, because I know sometimes we’re just insecure or feeling “is this even good?”, so when I feel like it’s good and/or amazing, I’ll comment on it!! It’s just cringy to you, don’t worry!

And lol, my mom has never read any of my stories, but my husband has 😂 It is a very fun bonding experience 😂 And YES! The struggles of a writer “I’ve used this word 5 times now” and oh damn, sometimes when I edit, if i’ve just written cock, I’ll write dick next, and then reserve it next 😂

*cries while looking up from my bowing position at your feet* T-thank youuuuuu😭😭😭♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

You deserve it!!!!! 💜 And you’re welcome 🫂💜💜💜

Ramble always! I don't know a single writer out there who doesn't love it!!!! And I agree on terms of principle. Yoongi is just.. fucking hot.

That is so true!!! Yoongi is bias wrecking me so hard, every single day 🥵

I've never seen supernatural but I have seen Lucifer XD. Yin and Yang you and me! And now that I've googled crowley, he's a cutie pie!! So I'm good with that!

Hahaha 🤭 He is!!! And he’s super funny (most of Supernatural is just crack, truly). Maybe I should give Lucifer a chance— I saw some when my husband watched it! (but I know I’m not going to lol, I have way too much on my plate)

I really loved this gloriously kind and loving review. Folks like you are the reason fandom persists, thank you for your efforts ♥♥♥

No— thank you! But also thank you for acknowledging my efforts and then also taking them time to respond to me with the same energy 🥹 That really means a lot to me, and not many writers do that anymore 🥲 (and you're welcome (I'm bad with compliments))

*continues sobbing a puddle the size of the pacific* Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you. For the review, the patience you give and for your existence <3

Thank YOU; for responding to my review, for writing the story in the first place, for keeping your promise (🥹) and for your existence 💜

I wish you all the best and loads of good energy to you ✨

*flying high into the sky with a lot of love*

The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word.

Intimate. That would be a better choice.

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering.

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony.

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy.

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts.

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go.

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between.

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company.

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight.

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off.

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges.

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter.

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot.

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are.

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back.

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses.

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up.

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.”

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is.

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck.

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself.

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.”

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night.

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung!

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing.

You just lost all your tips for the night.

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it.

Fuck.

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?�� You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet.

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know.

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it.

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass.

No one serves him but you.

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you.

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year.

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath.

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,” he responded.

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased.

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you.

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it.

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink.

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself.

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.”

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.”

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.”

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation.

No one calls the Devil by his first name.

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to.

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives.

No one except you.

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is.

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that.

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in.

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night.

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker…

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up.

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath.

The King of Hell.

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end.

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon.

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging.

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully.

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity.

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive.

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again.

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well.

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while.

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was.

And maybe he is.

But not to you.

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow.

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him.

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world.

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you.

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find.

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos.

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside.

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor.

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding.

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system.

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth.

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing.

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer.

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.”

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target.

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own.

Yoongi.

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself.

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real.

And he looks like sin incarnate.

Fitting.

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you.

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on.

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved.

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you.

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises.

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night.

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse.

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him.

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body.

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.”

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now.

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening.

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you.

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant.

Beautiful.

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says.

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you.

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers.

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you.

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring.

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear.

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait—

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse.

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’.

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him.

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides.

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it.

You’ve decided.

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power.

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years.

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back.

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club.

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait.

And apparently neither does Yoongi.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate.

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil.

You trust Yoongi.

“That's a good girl.”

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft.

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people?

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on.

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get.

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight.

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent.

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea.

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh.

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off.

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?”

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs.

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you.

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.”

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him.

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge.

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look.

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded.

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter.

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip.

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue.

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.”

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get.

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it.

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt.

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines.

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before.

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip.

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him.

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it.

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it.

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.”

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures.

You’re the most powerful person here.

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible.

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know.

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact.

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets.

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace.

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them.

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you.

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else.

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal.

Perfect in every single way.

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too.

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back.

Not yet.

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling.

Ever.

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more.

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence.

There was only you.

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows.

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming.

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance.

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white.

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need.

It’s yours.

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze.

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented.

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?”

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?”

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before.

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking.

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say.

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.”

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him.

You just know it.

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless.

You never expected anything like that.

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years.

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better.

Because of you.

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that.

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly.

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell.

He was yours now.

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

#this. this. so fucking sweet #and i love it UwU #*hug*#not many writers take so much time to respond #and then match the energy!?#AMAZING <3 #this made my day too <3 #good energy ✨#orchid <3 #thank you for you <3

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bookishgalaxies · 2 years ago

Note

I'm back🤸‍♀️

here to request a possible friends to lovers katara x reader based off the prompt “Every time I see your face I go crazy.” “Crazy in a bad way or crazy in a good way?” “Undecided.” maybe it happens during that one play they go to in book 3 i think it was. and readers making a big deal about how everyone sees katara and reader together instead of zuko and her. Just a suggestion though. you can make the setting wherever you want doesn't matter to me. THANK YOU FOR READING !!!!!!!!

I absolutely love this and had to re-watch the episode that you are referencing to (which was amazing bc it’s been a minute since I watched the show) honestly, this was fun to write! 💕💕

“Then Do It.”

pairing: katara x fem!reader

info: oneshot, not proofread

warnings: none

summary: you go with the gang to a play that you all end up hating. The only good part was seeing a certain someone loosen up and laugh a bit.

a/n: I have no words other than please don’t call me cringe, I already know I am.

Watching Zuko and Aang train wasn’t the most entertaining thing in the world. After awhile, even firebending gets really old to watch. The only reason you were out here was because Katara was. She insisted on keeping an eye on the two boys to make sure they didn’t get injured. You tried to tell her they knew what they where doing and that she should go inside and enjoy some shade but she wouldn’t listen. That was Katara, stubborn as ever.

You made yourself a promise that if she was going to sit out here you were at least going to let her get some stuff off her chest. She was always so stressed out and worried about other’s, that stress needed to be relieved. So, you let her talk, spill out all her worries and thoughts. You actually listened to, because you cared, maybe a little too much even.

“Okay, now that you’ve gotten all the doom and gloom out, what’s the first thing you want to do after we win the war?” You asked her

“You’re so sure we’ll win.” She said

“We will, now my question.” You replied

She sat there for a second and thought, then said

“Maybe a nice spa day like the one you, Toph, and I had. Oh, and possibly go to a nice bakery afterwards and get some sweets!” She explained, a smile forming on her face.

“And think about it, we could find a nice pond to spend the day near and just have some good old fun.” You added on.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” she said, “also scaring Sokka by drenching him in a wave of water.”

You both laughed, imagining her brother’s face after getting completely drenched out of nowhere.

“We have to win the war first though.” Katara stated, dampening the previously light mood.

“I’m telling you Tara, we will, I mean, we have the literal Avatar, who can bend all four elements! Zuko’s father doesn’t stand a chance.” You explained

“Yeah, but Aang’s just a kid, he shouldn’t have the burden of the world on his shoulders.” She sighed

“He shouldn’t, none of us should, but we just do the best we can, and keep going.” You spoke solemnly.

“Maybe after all this is over you’ll get to see my home for the first time.” Katara perked up, speaking of something you had imagined many times.

“I’d really like that! We could go penguins sledding!” You exclaimed

“Yes!” She agreeed.

“Guys, guys, look what me and Suki found!” Sokka cheered as Aang and Zuko walked over to join You, Katara, Sokka, and Suki.

“What is it?” Katara asked

“They made a play! About us!” Sokka exclaimed.

“About us?” Toph asked

“Yup, probably because we are 100% coolio to the max.” Sokka explained.

Suki laughed at the phrase.

“I know that theatre. My mother always made me go watch their plays. Butchered my favorite story every single time.” Zuko piped up from where he was standing next to Aang.

“Is it really a good idea to go to a play right now? We’re in the middle of a war.” Katara pointed out.

“Katara, this is the kind of crazy random stuff we’ve been missing out on!” Sokka protested.

Eventually everyone agreed that they would put on their fire nation attire and attend a play about themselves that evening. You knew Katara was worried that it was a “waste of time.” And you tried to talk to her about other things to keep her brain distracted. She seemed to appreciate it, always giggling and smiling when you made a joke or told a funny story. Good, your plan to de-stress your friend was working. However, you will admit every time she laughed at something you said, it gave you immense butterflies in your stomach. That was probably just nerves about the play though, right?

When you got to the theatre the first thing that happened was Suki, Sokka, and Aang grabbing every snack imaginable before we got to our seats. Then, Toph made a comment about where we were sitting and that she couldn’t pick up anything with her feet. Very understandable complaint since that was her way of sight. Katara promised to explain everything to her, oh how kind she was.

-☾❤︎☽-

The play was definitely something. No one liked how their character’s where portrayed, not even you. While they where accurate to an extent, everything was horribly exaggerated. That was the point of theatre, you knew, but this was too much. When intermission hot, you were more than happy to get out of the theatre and get some air.

You could tell you weren’t the only one who was upset. It wasn’t that you didn’t like how they portrayed you, well, yeah, that was it. You weren’t a bender and the play definitely got that spot on. Except, they made you out to be this weak person who just follows Katara around like a puppy letting her protect you.

That was hardly the case. Sure, you might not be a bender, but you had studied at the university in Ba Sing Se, where you met the gang. You had learned how to make small gadgets there that would help in combat and everyday life. So, being portrayed as helpless just because you couldn’t bend and you were a girl didn’t sit right with you.

Zuko and Aang didn’t seem to happy either.Zuko was more than his usual grumpy and even seemed a little sad. Him and Toph were sitting together, you assumed she would take care of him. Suki and Sokka were attempting to sneak backstage so Sokka could recommend some better jokes as the “dedicated fan” he is. Aang had gone out on the balcony to sulk, or at least that’s what it looked like he was doing when he walked out. Now, where was Katara?

You walked the halls for awhile, and made a full circle back to where everyone had been sitting. Your feelings hadn’t gotten any better. In fact, quite contemplation might have made them worse. You saw Katara walk back in from the balcony where you assumed Aang still was since he didn’t seem to follow. She looked exhausted, yet still somehow had a small smile on her face.

You tried to lift your chin, put on a smile, and pretend like nothing was wrong. She saw right through it the second you told her you had been looking for her. How? How could you be so good at hiding your emotions and yet she was always one step above at sniffing them out? She asked you what was wrong, you told her you didn’t want to burden her with one more thing.

“Y/n, I care about you, a lot, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.” She told you

“Katara, do you really think that I’m just the tag along in the group. I hate saying all this because it sounds so pitiful and I don’t mean to but, am I really the weak bender who doesn’t have a use?” You rambled off to her.

“No, absolutely not Y/n, you are a valuable part of our team. You matter so much to the others, especially me. I, personally, don’t know where we would be without you and your handy gadgets and gizmos.” She explained to you

“Really?” You asked

“Yes!” She exclaimed

“I really matter that much to you?” You took a leap of faith with the question.

“Y/n, every time I see your face, I go crazy.” She confessed

“Crazy in a bad way or crazy in a good way?” You chuckled a little as you questioned her.

“Undecided.” She replied

“Oh.” You said, trying you hardest not to sound too disappointed.

“It’s just been so hard with the war to sort out my feelings. I mean, so always get this weird feeling in my stomach when you are around. Also, I find myself wishing you were right beside me all the time. It’s crazy, sometimes, I even just want to lean in and kiss you!” She ended her aggressive ramble.

You were in utter and complete shock. She confessed, this was the moment you had been waiting for ever since you met them in Ba Sing Se. This was it, and now that it was here, you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. So, you blurted out the first thing your brain thought of.

“Then do it.” You said

She did

-☾❤︎☽-

When you two pulled apart the. Rest of the gang was there wide eyed. Of course, the first one to speak up was Sokka.

“Ha, Toph, you owe me five gold coins AND a full statement saying that I, Sokka, was right and you, Toph, were wrong.”

“Wow, I mean, I always saw you guys look at each other funny, but I never guessed,” Aang started “I’m happy for you two.”

“I won’t lie I always thought Katara would end up with Zuko.” Suki admitted

Katara laughed, probably harder than she should have.

“Hey, it’s not that funny.” Zuko said,

“Don’t take offense to Zuko’s mood, he’s always like that, he’s quite pleased with this pairing, and so am I.” Toph explained

“Well, at least one good thing came out of this horrible play.” You jested

“Yeah, and it’s not even over yet.” Sokka replied

—————🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔—————

#avatar the last airbender #atla x reader #atla☄️#atla katara #katara x reader #katara #atla sokka #atla toph #atla zuko #anti aang #atla suki #x you #x y/n

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h0neypjm · 4 years ago

Text

Just for practice | kth

↳ Summary: “I think we should normalise giving head to your friends as practice.”

↳ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader, slight Hoseok x reader

↳ Genre: Smut, pwp, some plot i guess, best friend! Taehyung

↳ Rating: 18+

↳ Word count: 5.3k

↳ Warnings: swearing, lip biting, hickies, oral (both female and male receiving), rough blowjobs, spanking, fingering, squirting, big dick! Tae, possessiveness/jealousy, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap pls), dom/sub themes, Taehyung calls reader lots of pet names (sweetheart, darling, good girl), degradation, biting, slight cockwarming

↳ a/n: I’ve been having major writer’s block while writing confident :( however, i saw this tweet which prompted this lil oneshot hope you enjoy

Jung Hoseok [ 2:15 PM ]

Am I gonna see you at Seokjin’s tomorrow?

You [ 2:16 PM ]

I’ll be there :)

Jung Hoseok [ 2:18 PM ]

You’re not gonna run away from me this time, right?

You [ 2:20 PM ]

No of course not haha

Jung Hoseok [ 2:21 PM ]

Is that a promise princess?

A sigh flies out of your mouth like wind through a window and you’re shucking off your glasses in an instant. Hoseok’s texts bringing back a flurry of memories that you wish to forget.

“Do you need help with your essay again?”

Your eyes are strained when they try to focus on Taehyung, your shoulders shrug in defeat. “No, I’m fine. It’s just-”

Taehyung knows immediately, he is your best friend after all. “Let me guess, It’s Hoseok isn’t it?”

You slump in your seat while a pout is cutely drawn onto your face, you nod with dismay. “I really like him Tae, and every time we see each other, It’s like the universe has it out for me and tries to make sure I embarrass myself in front of him.”

Taehyung shuts his laptop because he knows there's no use in trying to write an essay while you speak about your utterly tragic love life. He thinks about your situation for a minute before he speaks.

“Yes, you might’ve spilled your beer on him and accidentally punched him in the eye, more than once. But, if he’s still texting you he’s obviously still into you. It’s a good sign sweetheart.” Taehyung pats your hand across the coffee table, a comforting smile adorning his handsome face.

Taehyung doesn’t know the full extent of your problem and the more you think about it the more embarrassing it becomes. So you smile back at him uttering a small thank you before turning back to your laptop.

Taehyung raises a brow, “wait, wait, hang on, something is still bothering you.”

You frown, “it’s embarrassing.”

Taehyung shuffles around the corner of the coffee table as if you’re about to tell him a secret, though it’s just the two of you in his small apartment. “Just tell me, it can’t be that bad.”

“Taehyung it is that bad.” You tilt your head at him, pulling up the sleeves of your sweater around your tiny fists. “You’re gonna laugh at me.”

Taehyung feigns shock at your words, his hands placed on his heart for dramatic effect. “I would never laugh, and frankly I’m offended you think that low of me.”

You roll your eyes, turning your body more towards him, deciding it wouldn't hurt letting Taehyung know the thoughts plaguing your mind. “Well, you know how Hoseok and I have been kind of flirty lately, right?” He nods in understanding.

“I can tell he wants more than that, you know? His touches are small but I know exactly what he’s suggesting, and don’t get me wrong, the feeling is completely mutual because trust me I want that too. Really bad.”

Taehyung hums, interrupting your soon-to-be graphic rambling. “I totally get it Y/N. Now let’s stop beating around the bush so I can help you.”

If Taehyung were a girl, this would be so much easier. You curse your eight-year-old self who just had to become friends with a boy because God, how do you even start?

Taehyung is a patient man, always giving you space before helping you but, in this situation, you feel it’s best to just rip the band-aid off. Taehyung if you can read my mind, please don’t laugh at me.

“I’venevergivensomeoneablowjob.”

You speak so suddenly, Taehyung’s not so sure he heard you correctly. “Huh?”

“Goddammit Tae”, you rub and your temples and avoid his stare. “I’ve never given someone a blowjob!”

His eyes are wide. “Oh”

You hide your face into the table while your body internally cringes. At least he didn’t laugh. “See! You do think it’s bad.”

“I’m just surprised to be honest”, he reassures, leaning back onto his palms, strong brows pulled together in thought. “Shit Y/N, have you really never sucked a dick before?”

Sure, you’ve had sex many times (most of which have been extremely disappointing) but, it seems that most of your hookups want to get straight into fucking. No foreplay, no nothing. Just unseasoned, pleasureless fucking.

A groan rumbles out of your throat, “It just never happened! They were all about that hump and dump lifestyle I guess.”

Taehyung is utterly baffled at your statement. In Taehyung’s books, It is compulsory to treat every women like a queen. Preparing and edging them the perfect amount of times to see them crumble so sensually by his very doing. To Taehyung, seeing a woman cry out his name from experiencing the most explosive, leg-shaking orgasm was always his favourite part.

This is why Taehyung is absolutely shattered for you. “So, you’re also telling me no one has ever eaten you out?” You miserably nod, “that’s actually fucking evil!”

His words do not ease you one bit as you throw your head onto the seat behind you. “The way you say it makes me feel even worse. This is the sole reason why I run away from Hoseok and make a fool out of myself.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, the air floating around carrying an awkward silence. You don’t really care and you don’t expect Taehyung to think of a solution. Plus, you’re already embarrassed enough.

You might as well leave and ask one of your girlfriends for help, maybe finish your essay while you’re at it. You sigh, shutting your laptop and stacking your books together.

However, the next sentence that flies out of Taehyung’s mouth makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“I think I’ve figured out how I can help you.”

Wiggling back into a comfortable seating position, you lean into Taehyung with interest. “And how might you help me, dear Taehyung?”

He eyes you nervously, his fingers fiddling with his chunky rings, “You trust me, right?”

You smile, “yeah, of course, you’re my best friend Tae.”

An exhale puffs out of his mouth. “Why not practice on me?”

You almost choke on your spit. You definitely did not expect him to say that. “Could you repeat that please?”

A new glint of mischief sparkles in his eye. “Why not let me teach you how to give Hoseok the blowjob of his life and in return, I’ll eat you out”

Your brain is having a meltdown.

“You’re fucking crazy”, you wail. “You actually want me to suck your dick?”

He brings his hands up in defence, “I think we should normalize giving head to your friends as practice, I don’t think it’s such a bad idea. Think about it, you get to learn and cum at the same time.”

You won’t lie to yourself, the proposal is tempting and in all honesty, Taehyung is hot as fuck. You will forever thank the Gods above for blessing you with the delicious sight that is your best friend. However, the proposition puts you in an odd spot.

Apprehensive about your thoughts, you state your unease, “I-I don’t know Taehyung, don’t you think this might ruin our friendship?” An exhale, “have you seriously thought of me that way?”

Taehyung chuckles, it’s deep and totally unexpected to your question. “Sweetheart, there are many things that go on inside my head involving you. And to answer your question, they’re not completely innocent.”

A startled gasp is ripped from your throat and your stomach flutters with a dangerous mix of nervousness, thrill and dare you say arousal.

Never in your life would you have imagined Kim Taehyung, your best friend since grade school, seeing you in such an inviting way. To make matters worse, It was intimidating to think about his fair share of experience and the long line of women backing up the fact that Taehyung was indeed some sort of sex demon.

Of course, you felt the same way. How could you not! The man was practically an incarnation of a Greek God. Broad sturdy shoulders that sat atop thick muscular thighs, and how could you forget his gorgeous fingers.

You’d die before you admit it, but there have been many nights where you have found yourself thinking about what his pretty long fingers could do to you. Those nights always ended with a mess of your sheets and a wetness between your thighs. It was your dirty little secret, however, it seems Taehyung also had some of his own.

His sharp eyes storm with darkness when he speaks, “don’t lie Y/N, I know you’ve had some dirty thoughts about me up in that pretty little head of yours.”

Pink blossoms over your cheeks like wildfire because he’s so terrifyingly right. “I don’t even need to touch you sometimes, one look and you’re a goner.” You gulp. “Look at you right now.” His gaze drops down to your thighs. “All my talking making you so needy, you need to clench your thighs to keep it together.”

He smiles, though it’s not his usual boxy, boyish smile. It’s dangerous and seductive almost smirking and shit when did he get so close to you? Your breathing is erratic and you have no idea how you could be so anxious yet so amorous at the same time.

Your heart beats rapidly in your ears. “This is just for practice, right?”

Taehyung curses under his breath, “just for practice sweetheart.”

You don’t get to respond.

His lips are hesitant at first when they meet yours, yet his hands say the opposite. They start at your waist and tickle their way down to your stiff hands. Ever so gently, he pries them open, intertwining his long fingers with yours, and God, did his hands feel so right.

Your nerves dissipate slowly but surely as you allow him to explore your mouth with his skilful tongue.

Much to Taehyung’s dismay, he finds you releasing your fingers from his own. Your hands flying to the nape of his neck, ultimately bringing him closer to you, deepening the kiss. Taehyung moans in delight when you tug at his long curls, you bite his lip in reply while lust paints your vision and dampens your panties.

Taehyung never knew he would miss the feeling of your lips against his when he painfully pushes himself away to situate himself comfortably on the couch. It was time for the lesson to begin.

You pout at the distance, trying to wiggle close until he motions for you to get into a particular position. Your insides swell with eagerness.

His voice is sweet and his hands are delicate when he tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear. “Get down on your knees for me sweetheart.” You obey immediately. He smirks at your sinking form. “Good girl.”

You swear right then and there your pussy had gained a working heartbeat at his words. The unfamiliar pulse thumping as if it were trying to break loose from the constraints of your sweatpants.

Your eyes are big and expectant, slowly drinking up the sight of Taehyung’s delicious figure seated above you. He sits on the couch like it’s his throne, legs spread to accompany your kneeling figure, and dominating stare pinning you down. A shiver runs down your spine.

“Wh-what do I do now?” You utter, making it known to Taehyung that he is in charge. He is in control.

Taehyung cocks his head to the side, using a decorated pointer finger to hither your hands towards him. Hesitantly, you raise both hands, lightly placing them down on his thighs.

A click of his tongue makes its way to your ears and you know you’ve already made your first mistake. Taehyung’s brows furrow, it’s obvious you need to make the next move but your brain is fuzzy and flustered.

He sighs at your confused silence, bringing your small hands onto his belt. Oh, you know what you’re supposed to do now.

“I thought you were smarter than this, how else are you meant to get my dick out, hmm?” The blush across your cheeks has definitely spread profusely from his teasing. Its once peachy pink tone deepening into an embarrassing cherry red.

The buckle of his belt jingles under your fingertips as you nervously undo them. You’re apparently too slow for his liking, Taehyung finishing the job by pulling his belt off his pants, leaving you to stare down at the large bulge covered by the fabric of his tight jeans. You thought you had your nerves under control but the way your hands start to shake is an indication that this is real. You’re really about to suck your best friend off.

Ever the observant friend, Taehyung is quick to notice the slight shake in your fingers. “Wait, stop.”

You do as he says, quickly settling your palms back on the thickness of his covered thighs. “Are you sure you want to do this? your hands are shaking sweetheart.” His voice is laced with concern, a total switch to his previous words.

Clearing your throat you reply, “oh, no, no I’m fine.” You lock eyes. “I just want to make sure I’m doing good so I can be good for him.”

Possessiveness flares within Taehyung’s chest and he has no idea why. Although he doesn’t let it show, he can’t help the swell of his ego at the knowledge that he’s the first to get you like this. Not Hoseok. Him.

So, he grins his wide boxy grin, dragging a finger down your warm cheek. “Don’t worry darling, you’re in great hands”

The commanding smirk etched onto his lips sparks a surge of confidence through your veins, begging you to finally touch him.

With a tug of your small hands, Taehyung’s constricting jeans are pried off the taut muscle of his thighs and are left to pool around his ankles. The excitement of finally being able to suck dick coursing through your body like lighting, and just like his jeans, Taehyung’s boxers are off in a second.

His cock springs, tall, hard and proud. Your jaw drops, Taehyung chuckles at your reaction. You feel an ooze of wetness pooling in your panties.

His size is nothing you’ve seen before, thick and girthy with an impressive length to match. You wince at the thought of fitting him down your throat.

The cold metal of his rings against your hands brings your attention to Taehyung’s handsome face. Without breaking any eye contact, he wordlessly wraps your hands around the thickness of his cock.

It’s warm and swells in your palm, your two dainty hands stacked on top of each other. Fingers trying so hard to wrap themselves around the sheer girth of his cock.

You’re not dumb, you know what comes next. With a sharp inhale you begin to stroke up his length, paying close attention to his facial expression to get an idea of how well you’re doing

Taehyung’s head tilts to get a better view at your hands, “grip it tighter for me… yeah fuck that’s it.”

His praise boasts you on, holding tighter onto his cock and gathering the slick of his pre-cum with a twist of your wrist. Your eyes remain focused on the way the skin moves with your hands and the way his tip glistens with arousal. You want to lick it.

“When you’re ready you can put your mouth- Ahh shit Y/N!”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence when you’re already so eager to have him in your mouth. You do what you think would feel best, sucking on the head of his cock like a sweet ice lolly on a hot summer's day. Your tongue tracing the thick circumference before dipping into his slit.

A light groan falls from his mouth as he watches you lap at the remaining pre-cum that glistens in the afternoon light. Taehyung almost forgets why he’s here, lost in your plump lips wet with saliva.

Right, he’s here to teach you how to give a blowjob. “Try and take my whole length in darling.”

You nod, taking a deep breath, your mouth opening wider to take him in as far as you can. You try to keep your throat relaxed taking him inch by inch.

“That's a good girl”, he praises, “you’re doing so well for me.”

Your knees squeeze together, acting to relieve some pressure on your aching heat. It had truly been a while since you got some serious action.

Surprisingly you’re able to make your way to the hilt of his cock, a choked gag sputtering from your lips.

A few strands of hair fall in your face, blocking your eyes in the process. Swiftly, Taehyung brushes the hair from your eyes while simultaneously lifting your head off of his cock.

You release him with a satisfying pop, your eyes wide and makeup a little smudged. Taehyung coaches you through the next steps. “I want you to try and do that again, but when you come back up, lick the length of my cock and look at me while you do it.”

Humming in acknowledgment you grip the base of his cock before pausing. “Isn’t this what you like though? What if Hoseok likes to be touched in a different way?”

An unintentional growl bubbles out of his mouth. Oh how he wished he could take your mind off Hoseok and have you screaming his name, thinking about him instead.

He pushes down his discontentment with the other man on your mind, “men are simple creatures Y/N, just making out sometimes can get them going. And judging by the way you’re sucking my cock right now, I’m sure Hoseok will be crazy for you.”

As Taehyung explains the ins and outs of a man’s brain, you don’t make an effort to stop the teasing of his cock. His words sound slurred, they go in one ear and out the other, and besides the delicious length in front of you is much more fascinating.

For the time being you stare up at him, your eyes wide feigning interest in his words, all while you grip his cock in one hand and continuously lap at his tip with a kitten-like flick of your tongue.

Taehyung finally realises that you’ve stopped listening when he feels the small yet downright sensual pleasure shooting through his cock. He grunts, pushing your hair back once again, “fuck, that’s hot. You’re so fucking good.”

His preoccupied hand squeezes the pillows beside him, the veins of his hands popping out. You do what he taught you, seductive eyes laser focused on him while your wicked tongue leaves a hot trail up the prominent vein on his dick.

“Shit Y/N you’re doing so well-”

You release him from your mouth disrupting his sentence, “can you fuck my throat?”

Taehyung swears his whole body just convulsed at your request. He looks away just so he can contain himself because holy shit.

Obviously Taehyung has thought about you being in this position, saying those words. Yet, no matter how many times he fantasizes this scenario, nothing would ever prepare him for those words to actually come out of your mouth with the most bewitching grin plastered on your pretty face.

He stutters, “I- no, I don’t know if you can take it darling.”

You grip his thighs, pout forming on those dangerous lips of yours, “please Tae, I want it. Want you to use me.”

Taehyung pushes the curls of his bangs away, a hiss steaming from his lips. “Alright, but if you feel any discomfort pinch my thigh, okay sweetheart?”

You’re impatient, “yeah, yeah, I can take your monster dick.” You place a small kiss on his thigh, “do your worst.”

His movements are all too fast, all too sudden. His fingers securing a death-grip on the mess of your hair before holding his cock up to your mouth. “You asked for it darling.”

Your mouth automatically widens, welcoming the rough intrusion of his cock as it slides all the way down your throat. A lewd gag fills the room.

A dark cloud of lust of dominance fogs Taehyung’s vision, his biceps flexing when he brings your head up and down his thick velvety length.

The room resounds with the filthy wet noises of your saliva covered lips pumping repeatedly. Taehyung breathes heavily through his nose, tilting his head against the cushions behind him. He keeps his hips still, yanking your hair at an obscene pace. A slew of curses and moans fly out into the air as he revels at the complete state of ecstasy you’ve put him under.

The heat of his member burns the back of your throat but you fucking love it. You open your teary eyes, gazing at his chiseled jaw and the way he shivers and groans above you. It only spurs you on when he glances back down, meeting your mascara ruined eyes.

It’s like a knee-jerk reaction. Taehyung harshly pushes your head all the way to the base of his cock. Your face is met with his abdomen, the hairs of his happy trail tickling your nose.

He leaves you there, and the burn in your throat rises, leaving you gagging, your throat tightening around him.

Taehyung believes after this he could never get the image of your messy docile eyes and tarnished lips out of his brain. He feels your throat constrict, “sh-shit, fuck Y/N, breathe through your nose.” You inhale. “That’s my good girl.”

He releases you from his member only to push your lips back onto him, going back to his beastly pace. “You look so fucking pathetic, you think Hoseok wants a messy girl like you?”

You gurgle around him, tears freely falling down your cheeks as you try to shake your head no. He only mumbles out a groan, his cock abruptly pulsing under your tongue like a steady heartbeat.

It's all too sudden when he releases your head off his length, a glob of drool dripping down your chin and onto your shirt.

“Fuck sorry I was about to cum.”

Although your heart swells with pride you wonder, “why didn’t you?”

He runs a hand through his messy locks, “the purpose of this was to teach you, don’t you still want to practice?”

You’re smug with your answer, “I think I’ve got the hang of it now.”

He swipes a finger under your tear stained eyes, “getting cocky now are we.”

You were cocky indeed, “well I did get you shaking under my touch didn’t I?”

He rolls his eyes, “get up you brat, I’m gonna show you what you’ve been missing out on.”

Fucking finally.

You won’t lie, you were probably most excited to finally know what it feels like to receive head. Your mind is still fuzzy from Taehyung’s rough ministrations as you slowly get up. You wobble slightly and Taehyung is quick to stabilize you with two strong arms holding the curve of your hips in place.

With his arms already around you he pushes you towards the couch, kicking his jeans off in the process.

Back flat against his plush couch you’re already stripping off your sweatpants and panties together in one. “My, my aren’t you eager”, he teases, a glint of shamelessness twinkling in his brown orbs when he drinks up the plushness of your thighs leading to your dripping cunt.

Holding your knees in the palm on his hands, he spreads them open to reveal the glossy folds on your heat. He kisses his teeth, satisfaction and hunger clear on his face. “Fuck, isn’t this a pretty sight.”

His words bring back a blush on your cheeks, you pull him forward, your lips inches away from his own. “Shut up please.”

And he shuts you up real good. Smashing your lips to his, he envelopes you into a feverish kiss, your tongues dancing the devil's tango.

His hands are adventurous, feeling the mounds of your breasts over your shirt. “Why the fuck isn’t your shirt off yet huh?” He tuts, pulling on the cotton fabric.

“I want yours off too.” You cutely mumble tugging at the hem of his shirt, to which he complies, tugging it off in one fluid motion.

You peel your baggy shirt off just in time to see Taehyung's arm flex as he takes his very own shirt off. “Have you been working out? My God Tae, you're as big as Joon.”

He inwardly smirks because yeah he’s been working out and it's clearly paying off. He doesn’t want to show his glee however, “can we not talk about other men when I’m about to eat you out.”

You chuckle, eyes trailing down his buff arms to his v-line that leads to his dick like an arrow directing you to his treasure. You bite your lip, unclipping your lace bralette, “sure, sure, let’s get the show on the road.”

It’s Taehyung turn to drink up the sight of your body. “Fuck, always imagined what these tits looked like under all those tight clothes you wear.”

He’s really feeding into your praise kink. “Well, were they what you expected?”

He sucks on one immediately and you arch your back at the unexpected pleasure. “Even better”, he squeezes them in his palms, “they’re fucking gorgeous.”

He sucks a deep hickey under your left breast, leaving you whimpering with a hand tangled in his hair. “Always imagined what you sounded like moaning for me.”

You can’t reply, his touches burning through your skin. He kisses down your sternum to your stomach until he’s hovering above your aching clit, a tantalising grin on his face before he’s diving in.

“Fuck!” You wail at the unfamiliar yet mesmerising feelings. His tongue is stiff and pointed, flicking quickly up and down your bundle of nerves.

The grip you have on his hair is deathly but it's the only thing in your reach that can ground you. He licks a long stripe down your sopping slit, keeping his sharp eyes on you the whole time.

“F-feels so fucking good Tae!” You almost scream. He cups his lips around your swollen nub sucking on it with a shit-eating grin on his face.

You’re too dazed to comment on it, reeling in the new pleasures you’re experiencing. You stare down at him, your eyes half opened and so close to rolling to the back of your head.

However, they almost completely open wide at the sight presented before you. With two long fingers, Taehyung is shoving them in his mouth, soaking them with his spit before rubbing them onto your sensitive folds.

You beg. “Put them inside.. Please.” Taehyung doesn’t make a sound only kissing your clit as he plunges his ring decorated fingers into you.

You’re so wet his fingers slide into you with ease. He groans at the sensation, his view focused on the way your cunt greedily sucks him in.

“Look at you, getting my rings all dirty you filthy girl”, he scolds watching the way your essence drips into the crevices of his intricate jewellery.

Taehyung increases the pace of his long fingers, finger fucking you into euphoria. He doesn’t stop there, his lips returning to your desperate clit in a wet mess of your juices and his saliva.

You can feel your orgasm bubbling in your stomach. It's hot and feels so unlike any other upcoming orgasm you’ve experienced. His fingers curl inside of you, his palm slapping your folds with his rapid pace and his lips don’t give any sign of stopping.

“Taehyung- Tae, I’m cumming!” You really scream this time, your orgasm taking control over your body like a demon.

You swear your eyes black out, your body shaking, a warmth gushing out of your cunt as it spazzes out.

Your chest heaves and you blink, feeling a damp pool around you. Oh God, Did you piss yourself?

“Holy fuck Y/N, I can’t believe you just did that.”

You sit up, embarrassed, an apology falling from your lips.

“You just squirted on me.”

You’re flushed, “I- what?”

Taehyung almost looks akin to a wolf hunting down his prey. “That was the hottest fucking experience of my life, holy shit I’m so hard.”

Well at least you didn’t pee on his couch. There’s a surge of overwhelming need for his cock to be inside of you. You’ve never felt this way before, it’s scary but so is this whole experience. It’s definitely one for the books.

Getting up on your knees you hold onto his shoulders, Taehyung raises a brow. “Fuck, I need to ride you, can I ride you?”

You think you just saw his dick twitch at your words. He grins, “just for practice?”

Your smile is sickly sweet, “of course, just for practice.”

His arms are strong when he shuffles into a seated position all while holding your hips above his awaiting cock.

He pauses, a flash of his normal self resurfacing. “You’re on the pill yeah?”

You peck his lips, “yes, now stuff me full.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s sinking you down onto his length.

You both let out moans of pleasure at the feeling of being complete. The stretch hurts so bad but hurts so good. He fills you up so well it has you speechless, the air trapped inside your lungs refusing to be released until your walls are comfortable around his impressive girth.

Mumbling a soft curse, you swivel your hips in slow circles, getting used to his large size. Taehyung watches you, hunger written on his face as he licks his lips and examines the way you fit so perfectly on his lap.

You test the waters, holding onto his shoulders for support. You lift your hips and settle back onto his lap. He groans at the wet squelch it makes and slaps your ass, grabbing it in his hand to squeeze it.

You pick up the speed, pumping up and down, whimpering at how well he fills you up. You keep your gaze trained on the image of his dick disappearing in your heat and pulling out with a wet sheen.

Taehyung tucks a finger under your chin, bringing you close to his face to push his soft lips onto yours once again.

It’s weird to say, but you don’t think you can get tired of kissing your best friend. He knows exactly what you want and knows exactly how to make your head spin.

With his large hands of yours, you pick up the pace, slamming your ass onto his hips. You leave his lips, kissing the side of jaw and suckling a few lovebites behind his ear.

His voice is deep and sultry, “fuck yeah, that’s it.” You wail in his hold, pushing yourself to meet his thrusts below. Your thighs burn but the pleasure burns so much hotter.

You feel your second orgasm of the night rising within you and can tell Taehyung is close too. Taehyung assists you, using his thighs to push up into you. Your juices drip down onto his pelvis and both of your breaths get heavier.

His thrusts are fast and rough, creating loud slapping noises that echo around his empty apartment. He grunts, folding his head into the crook of your neck. He’s about to cum and so are you.

With one final gasp your release hits you like a truck. Your thigh shakes in his lap and Taehyung bites at the delicate skin of your neck. His warm seed shoots inside of you, eliciting a small sigh from your lips.

Taehyung releases his hold to lean back onto the couch. He keeps his softening cock inside of you, lazily staring at your fucked out expression.

You play with his rings, “well, how did I do?”

The shit-eating grin is back. “Hmmm, I think you may need more practice.”

#ficswithluv #bangtaninn #bangtanuniversity #bangtansorciere #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts #bts x reader #taehyung fanfic #jimin #jungkook #seokjin #hoseok #namjoon #yoongi #h0neypjm #mine

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slasherhaven · 4 years ago

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Hii! Can you write oneshots for Michael, Thomas and the Sinclair brothers where the reader was one of their victims, but after she dies she becomes a ghost, and starts annoying the hell out of them? I love your writing, by the way💖

Thomas, Michael, Bo, Vincent, and Lester have one of their victims come back as a ghost:

Thomas Hewitt

You had appeared down in the basement where Thomas was cleaning up. You couldn’t help but cringe, knowing what he was cleaning up.

“Well, it’s good to know you keep a clean work space” you joked, making him spin around to you with a sharp object in his hand.

As soon as he saw you, he recognised your face. He had...killed you...but here you were.

“What? Don’t remember me? I’m offended! You didn’t kill me that long ago. You must move on quick” you mocked offence, placing your hand over your heart, unable to feel it beating like you used too.

This was a lot to process for both you and Thomas.

What surprised him more than you being a ghost was how unbothered you seemed.

Then he realised that your goal seemed to be annoying him.

You talked and talked as he continued to clean up, pointing out where he missed a spot and chastising him for it.

That night at dinner, you stand uncomfortably close to him. Looking between the plate of food and his face, asking “are you going to eat that? Really? Right in front of my face?”. It’s fair to say that he doesn’t eat the meat that night, and luckily nobody else can see or hear you.

Even when he’s trying to sleep, you’re there. Sitting on his dresser, chatting away.

While you are wildly irritating...you’re oddly nice to have around. It’s nice to hear somebody talk about something different, something that isn’t death or misery despite you being...dead.

He has to hide his smile whenever you mock Hoyt. Apparently you remembered the older man as well and seemed to dislike him a lot despite seeming rather neutral on Thomas, even if he was the one who actually killed you.

Yes, you were annoying, you were dead, only Thomas could see or hear you, and you made Thomas feel guilty about what he did to you but...but at the same time you were upbeat and positive. And, no matter what, that was still a nice change.

Michael Myers

He was actually pursuing his next victim when you first showed up.

“Quick! She’s getting away!” you shouted after him.

He paused before slowly turning to you. His grip on his knife tightening, just planning to kill you but then he recognised your face...no, you must have just looked like on of his previous victims.

“Hey you already killed me, shouldn’t you be chasing her or something?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

He would still try to kill you, driving his knife through you only for you to blink up at him, looking completely unamused.

“This is familiar” you commented with a small laugh, completely unfazed.

For now Michael would ignore you just to kill the victim he had been chasing.

He expected you to just leave or disappear but you started following him everywhere he went.

Even when he wasn’t doing anything, you were there. Talking about nothing important, reading news reports about him. You even read the report about your own murder to him, talking and laughing about it like it was ‘the good old days’.

You were driving Michael insane.

He still tried to kill you at least once a day or just throwing things at you. But that just doesn’t do anything, you’re still there and still annoying him.

You can try all you won’t to get in the way of his kills but you can’t prevent them. Though the chastising you give him afterwards might start to be enough to get him to stop, god you’re so irritating.

You’re just...always there. You won’t leave. You won’t shut up. And you aren’t scared of him!

While some might start to warm up to your constant presence, Michael won’t. Not for a very long time at least.

Bo Sinclair

Bo had literally been washing the blood off of his hands when you appeared in the bathroom.

He saw you appear in the mirror and spun around to face you, his face scrunching up in confusion when he recognised you. You were one of his latest victims, he had killed you before leaving you with Vincent.

But...here you were.

“What the fuck?” Bo asked, more to himself than you. He must have been seeing things.

“If you can kill me, I’m sure you can deal with seeing me again” you scoffed. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted. All that fake charm, well now you’re stuck with me” you shrugged, a smile growing on your face.

“Is that my blood?...you should finish cleaning up” your nose scrunched up in mock disgust.

Bo huffed before finishing cleaning the blood off of his hands, thinking that maybe that would make you go away.

But you stayed, following him around.

He quickly realised that his brothers couldn’t see or hear you, you were here purely to bother him apparently.

You never shut up, talking about whatever came to mind, commenting on every little thing he did, just bothering him.

He’s definitely told you that he wished he could kill you again a few times.

The most annoying thing you do is chastise him when he picks on Vincent. Sure he played a part in your death too but you still didn’t like how Bo sometimes treated his brother!

No, actually he’s changed his mind. The most annoying thing you do is when you correct him and turn out to be right! That angers him to no end.

At some point, after he had grown used to but not fond of your presence, you had told a stupid pun but it had made him laugh...now he never hears the end of it.

Vincent Sinclair

The first time you appeared to him was in his work room. He was actually working on your figure for the wax museum.

You had appeared behind him, looking around the room curiously now that you had the chance to do so.

“Is that me?” your voice made Vincent jump and turn to you. He was prepared to attack the intruder but as soon as he saw you he instantly recognised you as one of his last victims. But...that wasn’t possible.

“Huh...that is me...” you examined the was sculpture, “hate to compliment my killer and everything but...this is actually pretty good. Looks just like me. You got the eyes right and everything.”

Vincent just watched you in pure confusion. “Oh no, you remembered right. You killed me, a day or two ago...I’m not sure, time has been kinda wobbly with the whole dying thing” you walked right past him, continuing to look around, completely unfazed.

Vincent kind of assumed that you would...disappear at some point but you didn’t. You just continued to follow him around, commenting on his artwork, complaining about the abandoned town, complaining that he wasn’t paying attention to you. It seemed that you existed purely to annoy him.

But then you started doing things that made him warm up to you. You would do things to make him smile and laugh, such as mimicking Bo or just making fun of him. Of course the others couldn’t hear or see you but Vincent had to stop himself from laughing.

Then you’d do things that would even manage to make him smile and blush, usually by complimenting his work.

He actually began to grow fond of you, having you around so much. It was nice to have somebody around that wasn’t his brothers.

You never seemed mad at him or sacred about that fact that he had killed you not all that long ago. You actually always had a smile for him. Maybe being dead had something to with that...

Lester Sinclair

Lester had just gotten home after helping his brothers deal with the most recent group of victims, that was when you appeared to him.

Well, you were already sitting on the couch in his leaving room with your feet up like you owned the place.

“I thought I...” his voice trailed off, too in shock to even process what exactly was happening.

“Killed me? Yeah, you did but I’m back. Spooky right?” you waved your hands in an amusing way, completely unfazed by the events that had occurred only hours ago.

“Uh...sorry?” Lester apologised awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

Okay, that actually managed to surprise you a little.

After that you were just always around, always following him or just with him.

He realised that his brothers couldn’t see or hear you either which only confused him further. But he decided not to question it too much, just going with the flow.

He is the most likely to just communicate to you. He likes that you talk so much because he likes to talk a lot too and isn’t a huge fan of silence.

You might be there to annoy him but he’s difficult to annoy.

He’s knows it’s kinda sad but...he kinda likes having you around. He doesn’t live in town with his brothers and it’s oddly nice to have you around so he doesn’t have to be alone. Plus, it’s nice to have somebody to talk to other than his brothers.

He grows fond of you the quickest. He feels guilty about having killed you but you don’t seem mad at him, he still apologised a few times.

Again, as sad as he knows it is, Lester starts to see you as a friend.

#thomas hewitt x reader #michael myers x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #slashers #slasher #my writing

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thewhitejournal · 4 years ago

Text

kind words .

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader oneshot

request: Hi, I was wondering if you could write an Aaron Hotch x shy reader where Hotch is always careful and gentle around the reader, but one day he yells at her in the middle of talking (maybe she messed up on the case) and she immediately shuts up and won't look at him bc it scared her so bad? If that makes sense.

alright @lovely-lady-lumps , this one is for you! i really hope that you like it and that it lives up to your expectations.

like and reblog if you liked it! :)

content warnings: angst, cursing, talk of murder/crime/violence

The team stood around in the large and finely decorated dining room of the Peterson’s home. They were waiting on a call from the unsub, as it was in his M.O. to do so. The daughter, Kelly, of James and Miranda, had been kidnapped. She was only seventeen, and as with most cases involving kidnapped children, time is of the essence.

Emily and JJ were comforting the parents in the nearby living room; they were both too distraught to pick up the phone when the unsub called. You were the unsub’s type, a younger, innocent-sounding girl. As the new agent trainee of the BAU, there were a lot of learning experiences for you to have. This was one of them. Hotch had so much faith in you that you could handle this case, even though it was one of the more emotional ones.

It would be a lie to try and say Aaron Hotchner didn't make a lasting first impression on you the first day you met him. You had to be interviewed by him to join the BAU. It was one of the most nerve-wracking days of your life

You took a shaky breath as you stepped out of the elevator, walking into the room you would soon learn to be was called the bullpen, where all the other agents sat. You could feel every pair of eyes in the room on you, piercing through your skin like needles. You moved your feet with care up the stairs so as to not trip, like it was your first time walking up a set of them.

Agent Aaron Hotchner’s office was only a couple paces away now. Sure, you've had interviews before, but this one was different. This interview would decide the fate of your career for the rest of your life. Not to mention you'd heard plenty about the man conducting it; he was stern, strict, not to be messed with. He was a fearless leader and wouldn't take anyone’s shit. You'd even heard once that a bullet was fired right past his head at gunpoint and he didn't even flinch. Your anxiety and nerves were riding higher than ever.

Your knuckles rapped softly on the wooden door. ”Come in.”, you heard his voice sound from inside. Your breath shook as you exhaled and your shaky hand turned the knob, pushing the door open into his office. It was minimally decorated, and that's an overstatement. He had only a few personal items on his desk; pictures of him and what you assumed to be his son. He had a huge smile on his face, holding the child in his arms. The boy wore a soccer jersey and a smile to rival his father’s.

Agent Hotchner stood to greet you. Immediately you were intimidated by his height and overall presence. His hand was huge compared to yours, and warm in a comforting way. He gave you a small smile while shaking your hand, which made you feel a little better. ”Please, have a seat.” He said, gesturing to one of the leather armchairs that sat in front of his desk. You did as you were told.

The rest of the interview went smoothly, other than of course your occasional slip-up and stutter. But Hotch, which he said you could call him, always comforted you and spoke in a low, soft, gentle tone. This was the last thing you expected from a man like him.

Ever since then, he's always been so kind and helpful to you. How could you not fall for a man like that? Oh did you fall, hard and fast. The whole team certainly knew, but you weren't sure he did. They are all profilers after all. Prentiss, Garcia and JJ would lovingly tease you about him and always asked if either of you had made a move yet.

The answer was always ’no’; he was your superior in many ways, and you weren't even on the team officially. Reid and Morgan acted like a mix between older brothers and guys that still wanted you but knew Hotch had your heart, so they didn't dare overstep any boundaries. Rossi of course was like your father, advising you to be careful but that he would certainly make sure Aaron would never be found again if he hurt you. You knew it was all jokingly...hopefully.

Aaron stood over you, along with Rossi, Morgan, and Reid in the room. You let out a small, shaky breath as you waited for the phone call that should be coming any minute. You felt Aaron’s hand rest softly on your shoulder. He didn't say anything, but the gesture meant a million words. ”You can do this, (Y/N). I'm right here.” You could almost hear him whispering it into your ear.

The phone rang. The room was silent; all eyes were on you. A shaky breath escaped your lips, and you turned to look up at Aaron. His light brown eyes searched your face, dark brows furrowed as he tried to read your mind. With his job, it was almost entirely possible. He gave you a small nod; you took that as a sign to pick up the phone. You gathered as much courage as you could and pressed the button to answer it.

”Mmm...Miranda, my compliments to the chef. She takes right after you, curves in all the right places except even juicer...” The distorted voice filled the room. You cleared your throat.

”This is Agent (Y/N) (Y/L/N) with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Can Kelly come home, please?” You tried to sound as innocent as possible. Aaron’s hand squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, then his hand fell to his side. You had to speak in a way that would praise the unsub, say what he wanted to hear. He was a dominant sexual sadist; pleasing the unsub was the only way to get Kelly back to her family.

”And how old are you, young lady?” You cringed at the way he said it, but you kept your composure.

”25, sir.” He groaned at this.

”Sounds like a fair trade to me. Tell me (Y/N), what are you wearing?” Unbeknownst to you, Aaron was fuming. He hated hearing someone talk to you like that. He wanted so badly to intervene, tell the unsub to shut the hell up. But the case depended on this ruse.

”A white blouse. Your turn.” You yourself were starting to get angry. All you wanted was to help get this family back together, but it felt like you weren't getting anywhere.

”Nothing but a smile, darling.”

”Kelly’s mom and dad really miss her. Can she come home?” The innocent tone returned to your voice. A deep and distorted chuckle came from the other end of the line.

”No, no. I think I’ll keep her a little while longer. You should come and join us though. You sound like you'd be a lot of fun.”

Your blood was boiling, anger was clouding your mind. Tears were pushing against your water line, a few making it down your cheeks. You were biting your lip so hard you thought it might bleed. Word vomit was bubbling up inside you, and as bad as you wanted to control it, it all came spilling out.

”How could you do this to such a loving family, you sick fucking psychopath? What the hell is wrong with you, you freak? Can't you see the pain you've caused this family?” Even more tears spilled onto your face, and your fingernails dug into the palms of your hand, knuckles so white they envied the walls. The unsub scoffed from the other end, there was a scream heard, and then silence as the line went dead. Reid and Morgan looked at you with widened eyes. Rossi looked almost proud. You could see Hotch shaking his head in your peripheral vision, pinching the bridge of his nose. Your stomach sank. You knew you’d messed up, and it hurt you to know you probably let Hotch down. That was the last thing you ever wanted to do.

Garcia called Morgan’s phone, and he answered it quickly. “Hey, baby girl. Tell us you got something.” He immediately put her on speaker.

“I traced the call. I’m sending everyone the location.”

“Thanks, baby.” Morgan hung up the phone and shared a look with everyone in the room, including you. You saw Hotch motion them on out of the corner of your eye, but Morgan held his hand up at Hotch for some reason. You felt Hotch’s hand clasp your shoulder, and you looked up at him. His face was stern and hard like stone.

“I’m going to talk to you when we get back.” He said in a harsh tone, with a voice full of anger. You watched him hurry off out the door and heard the SUV’s sirens turn on and they all pulled away. You hadn’t even noticed Morgan didn’t follow the rest of the team out the door, not until he pulled a chair out from the table and flipped it to where his chest met the back of the chair. His arms folded over each other, resting on the chair. He sighed. You turned your head to look at him; with this motion, tears you didn’t even know had formed fell on to your cheeks.

“Morgan, I-“, your voice broke. You loved Aaron, all the stolen looks and little kind gestures. You didn’t care if it was inappropriate to say so, it was the truth. One thing you never wanted to do was disappoint him, but it seems you’ve done just that.

“(Y/L/N), it’s okay. Not everyone on this team is perfect, including Hotch. I know you’re not even on the team yet, but there’s no way he’s gonna let you go. Do you know why?” You didn’t answer; you figured he was going to tell you why anyway.

“Because you’re one of the most talented little profilers I’ve ever met.”, he continued. “You’re kind and smart and you’re damn good at this job. We’ve all made mistakes, but that doesn’t mean we’re not good at what we do. Garcia found the location of the call, they will find her. It’ll be okay, (Y/N).”

You sighed, wiping the tears from your cheeks. You wanted to believe that, but it wasn’t a guarantee. Morgan got up and motioned you to do the same. He pulled you into his strong arms, and it took every ounce of energy you had not to break down and start sobbing into his t-shirt. Your arms wrapped around his back and you squeezed his body.

“Thank you, Derek.” You muttered. He didn’t respond; his lips placed a quick kiss to the top of your head. He gave you a ride back to the police station, where the team would eventually end up. The family followed suit.

The unsub was caught and arrested. You heard a commotion coming from outside; it was the press, trying to get pictures and interviews from the team, per the usual. You looked up to see Aaron walking through the door with the rest of the team, with the unsub in handcuffs, pushing him towards a holding cell. The unsub looked over at you, did a once over of your body, and winked at you. Aaron noticed this and shoved him along a little more forcefully. The action made your heart flutter a little.

JJ went over to the family and told them their daughter was in the hospital and that she was going to be okay. They cried and hugged and thanked her. Hotch came back from disposing of the unsub to the local police, along with a couple of members of the team. “Great work guys. Wheels up in thirty.”, he told them. His eyes met yours, and he gestured with his head to one of the empty detective’s offices. You got up and followed him, watching your feet the whole way. Even when you went into the room and shut the door behind you, everything in the office seemed a lot more interesting than looking at Aaron. The blinds were shut and the room was dark, save for a desk lamp.

“(Y/L/N), the way you handled that phone call was unacceptable. The entire case could’ve been compromised and that girl could’ve died! What the hell were you thinking? I told you to stick to a script, tell the unsub what he wanted to hear. Was that not clear enough for you?” His voice rang out through the empty office, bouncing off the walls and coming back to hit you in the chest. You wouldn’t look at him. Your throat hurt, and tears fell on to your cheeks. You had one arm across your chest and the other propped up on it, fist under your chin.

“(Y/N), say something.” His tone seemed a bit softer now. His hand reached out to rest on your arm, but you shrugged him off. He sighed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I can’t be mad at you for getting emotional over this case, and this was a win for us anyway.” Your eyes finally met his.

His eyes were the soft, light brown that you loved. His lips were pressed into a thin line, apologetically you had to assume. You wanted to kiss him, but you knew that would be an overstep to your boundaries as a new agent trainee. His eyes flickered around your face, trying to read your emotions.

“Are you okay?” You nodded. He nodded back, in understanding. The tension in the air was so thick; you could hear your pulse in your ears and butterflies fought each other in your stomach. You were still looking at him, taking in every little detail of his face. He muttered for you to come here. You hesitated at first but stepped towards him. He pulled you into a hug, and you rested your head on his chest, taking in the moment along with a deep breath. He smelled almost like vanilla and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His heart was pounding in his chest, which quite surprised you. You’d think he would be calm.

You pulled away from his chest, still in his arms. You could swear his eyes looked darker. Maybe it was his intoxicating smell or the fact that the room was spinning already, but you could’ve sworn he leaned into you. You copied his motion, lips only centimeters apart now. Blood rushed to your cheeks, making them feel hot. He closed the gap, kissing you gently. He pulled your body closer to his; you were now chest to chest. Your arms snaked up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

The kiss deepened, and you heard him sigh; not one of annoyance, but one of happiness. He slowly pulled back from you, but didn’t meet your eyes. “(Y/N), I’m sorry, that was...unprofessional of me and-“ You silenced him by placing your lips on his again for a brief moment.

“I’ve wanted you to do that for a long time.” You both smiled at each other, lips meeting again. The team was probably getting impatient, but neither of you cared. Everyone won tonight.

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httpswwwtbhkcom · 4 years ago

Text

Yashiro Nene’s Confession

[Oneshot/Imagine]

Pairing: Yashiro Nene x Reader

[@httpswwwtbhkcom’s masterlist]

Summary: Yashiro has been acting weird lately, immediately running away while you try to talk to her. You thought that you did something rude to her but Aoi reassures that you did nothing wrong. After school, you saw Yashiro at the confession tree and she confessed to you.

Warning: some wrong grammars, cringe,

Genre: Fluff,

Keys:

Y/n- your name, L/n- last name, N/n- nickname,

A/n: Btw, You and Yashiro are in the same class. AND the reason Hanako isn’t mentioned here is because he had a meeting with the other seven mysteries.

Reader: Neutral

Made by: ??? (Please tell me who the artist is so I could credit them!)

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

“Good morning Yashi-” You stopped when Yashiro immediately ran away from you. You called her but she seemed to ignore you, or didn’t hear you at all.

“Good morning Y/n-san.” Aoi greeted, giving you a smile which you gladly returned. “Good morning Aoi. Did you know why Yashiro ran away when I was just going to greet her?” Aoi seemed to freeze for a second, then her posture relaxed.

“I have no clue, I think she’s busy.” She answered with an innocent smile. You furrowed your brows. “This early in the morning? That’s weird... Uhm, Thank you I guess. See you later, Aoi. Please greet Yashiro for me.” You said before leaving Aoi alone. She giggled once you were out of earshot.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

You were sitting on your chair leaning on your hand as you barely listen to your teacher’s discussions. You stared blankly as you thought of an explanation of why Yashiro didn’t talk to you this morning. A frown had made way to your face as you furrow your brows.

‘Was she really busy? I mean... It’s just the morning and all she needs to do is water the plants... Is she avoiding me?’ You thought, slightly getting annoyed every second that passes by.

Your train of thoughts were interrupted by your teacher calling you to answer the question on the board. “Huh? Ah- Ok.” You stood up and went to the front, grabbing a chalk and answering the question, soon forgetting about your worries.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

With Yashiro:

Yashiro stared at you while you were zoned out. She was lightly blushing that she thought today is the right time to ask you out, to tell you her feelings. But she was scared. What if you rejected her?

She sighed then looked at her bag with a box of homemade chocolates that made for you. ‘I should place this in the fridge in the Home Economics classroom later.. These might melt.’ Yashiro noted. Yashiro felt a tap on her shoulder and saw that it was Aoi.

“What is it?” Yashiro whispered, hoping the teacher won’t get her caught. Aoi pointed at you and said “Look at Y/n-san.”.

Confused, she looked at you. You were leaning on your hand while you were frowning. The sunlight illuminating your form. Gosh it made you more attractive on her eyes. Yashiro stared at you lovingly while Aoi looked at her and silently giggled at her friend’s obvious crush.

Aoi tapped Yashiro’s shoulder again making her slightly jump, luckily it was unnoticed by the teacher. “You’re staring at them again.” Aoi smiled, Yashiro blushed in embarrassment and looked away from Aoi. “Was it that obvious?”

“It was.”

“As I was supposed to say, Y/n-san seems frustrated right now. I wonder why.” Aoi added. Yashiro glanced at you and nodded. Was it because she ignored you earlier? She didn’t mean it. “Was it because of what happened this morning?” She asked her friend. Aoi shrugged. “I hope not.. I was just flustered to talk to them today.”

“Mhm, that’s why you need to gather all your confidence and confess to Y/n. I know they like you too.” Aoi reassured.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Your POV:

“Really?!” Yashiro exclaimed, hopeful. You jumped and accidentally made a screeching sound with the chalk and the board. You turned to see Yashiro looking both at you and the teacher with wide eyes. She turned red in embarrassment.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Yashiro?”

“N-no Sensei! I’m sorry!” She bowed. The teacher sternly looked at Yashiro then sighed. “It’s fine, Don’t talk with your peers while we’re in the middle of discussion alright?”

“Y-yes Sensei..” She slumped, then sat down. You looked at Yashiro and felt sorry for her. “Continue answering, L/n.” You nodded then finished answering the question. The teacher checked your answer then said “Good job. You may sit down.”

You nodded then sat down, not without making eye contact with Yashiro then her looking away. You stared at the board with disinterest as your teacher continued to explain to everyone about the question you just answered. Out of boredom, you glanced at Yashiro who was quietly talking to Aoi. Sadly, you couldn’t hear them at all since you were a few seats away from the two of them.

Aoi looked at you and her smile widened. Then she whispered something to Yashiro and pointed towards your direction. Yashiro, with a confused look, looked at your direction and accidentally made eye contact with you. A blush slowly crept up her face then she looked down at her desk.

You made a small frown and looked at Aoi, who were waving at you. You waved back at her and gave her a small smile.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Once the class was done, it was now lunch. You were going to walk towards Yashiro and Aoi but then Yashiro immediately grabbed all her things and shoved it in her bag. “Uhm.. Hey.” You said awkwardly, rubbing your neck. Yashiro tensed then looked at you reluctantly, her face tinted pink. “Hello Y/n-san!” Aoi greeted happily. “H-hi...” Yashiro stuttered.

“So do you wanna eat t-” You were cut off when Yashiro took an envelope from her desk then ran away. “-ogether...?” You looked at the spot where you last saw her and frowned. ‘Why is she avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?’ You thought.

“Aoi, did I do something wrong to make Yashiro like this?” You asked sadly. Aoi slightly panicked but still remained her calm posture. “What? Of course not! She’s just...”

“Don’t you dare make the same excuse again, It won’t work on me.” You deadpanned.

“... In a rush?”

You both were in an awkward silence. Then you spoke up. “Anyways, Can me, you, and Yashiro eat lunch together? You can bring Akane if you want.. Wait, where is Akane?”

“Oh? He is in the hospital with a broken leg and arm.. I don’t know how he got that though...”

“Hospital?!” You panicked. She nodded. “Yeah. But don’t worry, I’ll visit him later. You can join too if you’d like!” Aoi offered. ‘It’s not like visiting him will heal his broken leg and arm but alright...’ You internally deadpanned.

“If I have some time to visit, then sure. Thanks.”

“Oh right! We can eat at the rooftop together instead! It’s peaceful there. I’ll talk to Yashiro about it. Meet you at the rooftop Y/n-san!” She said before she left the room with her belongings, leaving you all alone.

You glanced at the door then took your bag, to your locker to get your lunchbox.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

With Aoi:

Aoi giggled as she jogged towards the place she knew Yashiro would be; In front of your locker. And she guessed correct, she saw Yashiro take a deep breath then slip the envelope in your locker.

“You finally did it!” Aoi exclaimed as Yashiro shrieked in surprise. “Aoi-chan?!” Aoi hugged her. “I’m so glad you finally thought on confessing to Y/n-san! I thought you were going to back out on it.” Yashiro placed a finger in front of Aoi’s mouth to shush her. “Shh! They might hear!” She whisper-yelled.

Yashiro looked around her to see everyone minding their own business. “Yea... I finally thought about it and I finally decided that I want to confess to them. I just hope that Y/n-san will accept my feelings.”

Aoi grinned “Don’t worry, I know that they like you too.” Then something struck Aoi in realization. “Oh right! We must hurry! Did you get your lunch yet?” Yashiro nodded “Great! I’ll grab mine right now. Let’s go eat on the rooftop ok? Ok! Now go!” Aoi shooed her away, making Yashiro confused, but Yashiro obliged and went up the stairs to the rooftop.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Your POV:

As if on que, you appeared on the other side of the hallway Yashiro left and Aoi came from. You raised a brow when you noticed Aoi near your locker, but her locker wasn’t near yours. ‘Weird...’ You murmured.

“Oh hey Y/n!” Aoi greeted. “Hi, Aren’t you and Yashiro supposed to be on the rooftop by now?” You asked, confused. “Ah... About that, I told Nene-chan to go there first. And I thought that I... Wanted to walk to the rooftop with you..?”

“Oh.” Was the only thing you said after that. You kinda wanted Yashiro to be the one walking with you instead but hey, it’s better than walking to the roof alone right? Plus, Aoi’s your friend too. “Ah, Did you want Yashiro to walk with you instead?” She asked, her tone innocent yet teasing at the same time. Your eyes widened as you became flustered.

“Ah- What? H-huh?” You stuttered. Aoi laughed at your response. “I’m just kidding.” She said, going to her locker then opening it, seeing a lot of love letters falling out of her locker. She took them and placed the letters somewhere then took her lunchbox. She closed her locker then went to you.

Aoi saw you holding a letter that was similar to Yashiro’s. Out of curiosity, you opened the letter and read the contents inside.

𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓨/𝓷,

𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓶𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓫𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓰𝓸 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓵? 𝓘’𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰.

You looked at the letter in confusion. It was short and possibly rushed, since they forgot to add their name. The way of how the writer wrote the letter made it look so familiar, yet you couldn’t place who you think it is.

Aoi looked at you confused when you raised a brow at the letter, equal as confused. “Hey Aoi, Do you know who gave me this? It didn’t have a name on it.” You asked her.

A sweat formed on Aoi’s flawless face. ‘Did Nene forgot to write her name down? Or did she do it on purpose?’ Aoi thought to herself. Aoi gave you an innocent and confused look. “Nope, I don’t know who wrote that letter.” She lied. You thought for a while then gasped. “Did you wrote this?”

Aoi smiled and waved it off. “Heavens no! Your not really my type.” ‘You could’ve just said no instead of saying that to my face y’know?’ You murmured. “Oh.. Then who do you think wrote this?” You asked Aoi for her opinion, while grabbing your lunchbox and closing the locker, still holding on the letter.

“Hm.. I don’t know.” She answered plainly. “Alright.. Let’s go now, Yashiro must’ve been waiting for so long.” She nodded then both of you went to the rooftop together.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Yashiro sat on the rooftop floor, looking at the marvelous view from the rooftop while she waited for Aoi to come. Three minutes later, Yashiro heard a click and a creak from the door. There stood a smiling Aoi and you. Yashiro’s eyes met yours for a second then left.

“Ah sorry for the wait Nene!” Aoi apologized as she sat beside Yashiro. You stood there a bit nervous, with your lunchbox and a Yashiro’s letter on your hand. Yashiro’s eyes lingered to your hands that has her letter in it. She blushed as she thought about confessing to you later.

“H-hey...” Yashiro spoke as you sat on beside Yashiro and Aoi, making a small circle. “Did you read the letter y-yet?” She asked. She mentally facepalmed since it was obvious that it was opened. “Yeah.. Though I don’t know who placed this in my locker. There was no name signed in here.” You replied, opening your lunchbox and taking a bite of your food.

Yashiro felt herself heat up in both embarrassment and in being flustered. “O-oh.. That’s sad. So what does it say?”

“It said to meet them at the confession tree after school.”

“A-ah... Ok..” Yashiro went closer to Aoi and leaned to her and whispered “I didnt knew they would be here?! Why didn’t you tell me?” Yashiro whispered, you ignored what you two were talking about, thinking it was something personal, so you continued eating.

“It slipped my mind. Oopsies.” Aoi whispered back, making a innocent look.

Aoi listened, amused as both you and Yashiro awkwardly tried to talk to each other.

Aoi made sure she finished eating first before you and Yashiro. She had a plan. Taking a last bite of her food, she finally finished eating and began packing up. Yashiro was the first one to notice her standing up and asked “Hey Aoi, where are you going?”

“Oh, I almost forgot that Akane-kun needs my help today. See you two later!~” Aoi waved at both of you then left. “Wait, But I thought Akane was in the hospital..?” You looked confused, while Yashiro blushed, realizing her plan.

‘AHHH AOI!!!!’ Yashiro internally screamed, both thankful and scared of being alone with you. You looked at Yashiro. Your eyes widened as you see her face was beet red. You scooted closer to her, much to her relief and dismay, and touched her forehead with your hand!!! HAND!!

“Are you ok, Yashiro? You don’t have a fever.” You mumbled. Yashiro felt herself being slightly dizzy. “I think I might just faint..” She murmured, her head falling on your chest then she fell unconscious. You were blushing at her head on your chest but you panicked that she fell unconscious.

‘Is she fine? She just fainted right? Nothing more...? What should I do?? Uh, I should bring her to the nurse..’ You said to yourself. Once you made the decision to do so, you carried her with her on your back. She was a bit heavy, but you’ll be fine right? You don’t need anyone else to help you. You want to look like a hero for her right?

“Wait...” You said after you had second thoughts. “Me and Yashiro could just skip classes and stay here. It isn’t that bad right? It’s just a few lessons. It’ll be fine. Yeah, it’ll be better than carrying someone and possibly falling.”

You laid Yashiro on a sitting position first then sitting yourself, then letting her lay on your lap. Your face tinted pink but you assured yourself that this was a better plan than anything else than you could think of. Plus, more time with Yashiro! :D

A few hours later, You stared at Yashiro as she was peacefully unconscious on your lap. You noticed a stray hair on Yashiro’s face, so you tucked it behind your ear, caressing her cheek in the process. You looked at the now slightly orange sky.

You let out a yawn and thought on taking a short nap when you felt Yashiro squirming. You tensed as she slowly opened her eyes. You and her made eye contact for a minute, her not realizing the situation, and you afraid to move. “H-huh?” She uttered, looking left and right then back at you.

“What happened..? Where are we?” She asked as she slowly gained consciousness once again. “H-hey wait...” Yashiro muttered when she noticed that you and her were still on the rooftop with the both of your lunchboxes still here.

“W-why am I laying on your lap?” She asked, not realizing what she said for a moment. Then soon after, her eyes widened and her face was crimson red. “LAP?!” She shouted as she sat up, but soon regretted it once she felt her head throb.

“Ow...”

“Are you alright, Yashiro?” You asked her concerned. “A-ah... I-...I-’m fine... Thank you.”

“What time is it? What happened? Why are we still here?” She asked, slightly panicked that she missed something important and unimportant. “I don’t know what time it is. But looking at the sky, I think it’s almost time to leave school.” You answered. ‘So that means I have to confess soon!’ Yashiro exclaimed to herself.

“For some reason, after Aoi left, you fainted. I didn’t know why but I was thinking to bring you to the nurse. I was concerned.” You continued. ‘Y/n cares about me!’ Yashiro’s heart leaped. “But I then I stopped that plan to bring you to the nurse because it would take to much time and we might get hurt because of the stairs. I’m not that strong...” You said.

“So I thought on staying here instead. And I didn’t want to leave you alone so I stayed here with you.” You added. “Oh and if your asking why I didn’t just woke you up instead, it’s because you looked pretty sleeping..” You murmured the last part, unfortunately for you, Yashiro heard it and silently fangirled to herself.

“Y-you think I-I’m pretty?”

“Mhm...” You nodded, averting your gaze to something else.

“W-well..! I- Thank you! I think you’re pretty too!” Yashiro smiled. Her smile was so infectious that you smiled with her, though yours were more of a grin.

Yashiro looked up then gasped. “Oh no! I must go hurry. See you later Y/n!” She stood up and ran away leaving you alone. “Later? What do you mean later?”

You looked at where your lunchbox was supposed to see and saw two instead of one. ‘Yashiro must’ve forgot about her lunchbox! I should give this to her before she leaves.’ You said to yourself. Then you noticed a piece of paper on the bottom of your lunchbox. “The confession tree! GAH! I’ll go to Yashiro first! Only if I could find her of course..”

You stood up and took the two lunchboxes and the letter then ran to find Yashiro. On your way downstairs, you couldn’t find her at all. ‘I guess I could give it to her tomorrow..’ You sighed. You took your bag with you and went to the confession tree.

You stopped and your eyes widened when you saw Yashiro standing there anxious waiting for your arrival. ‘Yashiro’s the... Secret admirer?’. You took a deep breath and walked to her. “Y-Y/n! You’re finally here!” She smiled, nervous.

“Don’t be nervous Yashiro, please. Take your time.” You would be lying if you said you weren’t surprised at how calm you said that. Yashiro nodded and it took a while for her to regain her confidence.

“So.. Uhm.. Uh.. You see.. I really really liked you alot when we first met. You were really nice, and sweet and hot-” She coughed. “And caring. You shared your lunchbox with me when I forgot to bring food one time.. Uh... I- I’m sorry I didn’t prepare for this much.. I uh, didn’t have time.” She said with her looking at the ground.

You chuckled. “It’s fine.. Continue.”

“You didn’t call names about me or tease me about my legs. I really appreciated that. I- I... What I wanted to say is... I- uh. I... I wanted to say was I really like you! Please be my girlfriend/boyfriend!” Yashiro bowed as she showed you a small box with ribbons on it.

“I made this chocolate homemade just for you!”

You looked at the box then at her. Then you gave her a charming smile when she took a peek to see your reaction. “I didn’t know you were going to be the one confessing to me. I thought it was going to be someone else. But I’m happy it was you. Cause... I really like you too.” You confessed, looking away.

“Really?!” She perked up. You nodded. Yashiro jumped and hugged you. “AHH I’M SO HAPPY!!”

She smiled again and opened the small box showing chocolates. She took one and fed you the chocolate. “So... How is it?”

You chewed the chocolate as you felt yourself being in heaven. “This is so tasty..!” You murmured, tears welling in your eyes at how good it is. Don’t lie and say it’s trash, no it’s not.

“I’m glad you like it!”

“Can I have one more Yashiro?”

“Silly, this is all yours! Oh and please call me Nene instead.”

“Nene...” You mumbled. “Alright Nene!”

‘Y/N SAID MY NAME!!!!’

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Bonus:

The next day...

“Good morning Nene-chan! You seem more happy than usual. Something happened?” Yashiro nodded enthusiastically and smiled. “I’m dating N/n now!”

“N/n? That’s great! You mean Y/n right?”

“Mhm!”

“Oh and guess what?” Yashiro smiled widely. “Y/n called me pretty yesterday! And they let me sleep on their lap!”

“Really?! Tell me every detail!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

E/n: It was ok at first but when I continue writing it, it became sloppy and more... changed than I originally planned it to be.

#yashiro nene #yashiro nene x reader #yashiro nene x y/n #yashiro nene oneshot #yashiro nene imagine #tbhk #tbhk x reader #tbhk x y/n #tbhk imagine #tbhk oneshot #jshk #jshk x reader #jshk x y/n #jshk imagine #jshk oneshot #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #x reader

65 notes · View notes

kiirokero · 4 years ago

Text

Nepenthe (KTH)

Nepenthe: A drug used to induce forgetfulness of pain or sorrow; something capable of causing oblivion of grief or suffering.

Part of the “Protect the Village!” Oneshot Series!

Masterlist

Pairing: Baker!Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst if you squint, romance...? Reader has troubles with their emotions and TaeTae tries to help them, ft. a blonde smug Jimin,

Note: Time to sleep. Catch up on writing :)

Summary: Mama always said that sweets give you cavities. But she didn’t warn you about the boy who makes them. Or, having an insatiable sweet tooth has left you spending much of your time in Taehyung’s bakery. But nobody prepared you for the feelings your cold heart caught.

Word Count: 2.4k

Contrary to popular belief, you did have feelings. You felt happy, sad, angry. You were human. But people tended to forget that. Whether it was because you were academically intelligent or you were just an easy target, you were used to... Well, getting used.

You were often the cash cow. The dead horse everyone thought was entertaining to beat. The goose with the golden egg and no farmer would leave you alone before you popped out the next solid gold money maker. And when you gave in and gave them what they wanted, you were the one left behind, high and dry.

Years of being treated like this in college left you emotionally unavailable. You opted to protect yourself from the hurt you felt by not allowing yourself to feel at all. You had built up your walls so thick that you barely allowed yourself to even feel happy half of the time. Many people tried to break down the brick hell you’d banished yourself to, but gave up when the stone didn’t relent. But it's not like you care, right?

You didn’t care that you had nobody to voice your worries to late at night when the self doubting thoughts plagued your mind. You didn’t care that people avoided you because of your frigid nature that left the happy little people in Bangtan Village uncomfortable. So what if you didn’t have anyone to catch you when you fell? You didn’t need anybody.

You just needed your comfort foods.

Yes, maybe it was an unhealthy habit to drown your self hating thoughts in the taste of sugar and cinnamon. Maybe anyone looking into the state of your mental health would cringe at the way you personally dealt with it. Who cares? This was your life and you would live it however the hell you wanted to. You were tired of others dictating you.

So you often found yourself at “Kim’s Confections” sitting in the corner, looking out with window while you ate your danish and sipped your tea. Every single day, whether the sun was up or down, you sat in the same seat, at the same bakery. You changed up the pastry, of course, you could only eat danishes for 3 days straight at most. But the routine of visiting the small shop was one thing that never changed.

As leaves fells and winter came, you visited the bakery. As rain fell and flower bloomed, you visited the bakery. You like the atmosphere the bakery gave off. The aroma of sugar and bread that wafted through the air made your body feel like jello as you could easily fall asleep to the smell. The small wooden tables that were scattered around made the shop feel more personal. The food that never failed to melt in your mouth calmed any tension that seeped into your bones.

But one thing about the bakery that didn’t calm you down was the owner himself.

Kim Taehyung.

Nothing was wrong with Taehyung, per se. He was an attractive guy who always had a friendly, boxy smile on his face. He had beautiful brunette hair and majestic auburn eyes. His skin was always shining, 24/7, always looking like he walked off the cover of a magazine. Even if you gave off a cold, icy aura that screamed “Don’t talk to me,” he never once failed to give you a smile and a warm welcome.

No, you were never purposely mean to Taehyung. You never snapped at him or showed any sort of distaste towards him, because you didn’t have any. He just confused you. Normal people would stop trying to be nice to you by now. Most people would take your less-than enthusiastic responses as rudeness or dislike. Not Taehyung though.

You often asked yourself what was up with him. I mean, who would look at you and think, “Yeah, I’ll give the snow queen a shot,” Nobody. Except Kim Taehyung, apparently. Without fail Taehyung tried to initiate conversations between the two of you that would last more than a few one words answers (Mostly from your side,) He would ask how your day was or what you did over the weekend. To which you would respond with “Good” or “Nothing,”

It’s not that you didn’t want to talk to the guy. He just made you feel... Weird. His smile made your heart quicken. His laugh made your cheeks heat up. Whenever he had his eyes on you, your hands would turn clammy. It just made you feel... uncomfortable. You were used to feeling 2 things, “Bleh,” and “What am I doing with my life,” not some odd feeling of quickened hearts and clammy hands.

But alas, no matter how much you wished to banish the invasive feeling all together, your sweet tooth needed to be satiated. So here you were, standing in front of “Kim’s Confections,” Walking in and chiming the small little bell that hung above the door. The familiar sight of wooden chairs and the glass display case full of confections filled your eyes. But there at the counter was the man himself.

“Hello Y/n! Welcome back!” Taehyung said with a smile on his face, enthusiasm laced in his voice. “Hello,” You said, sounding dead compared to his lively way of speech. “What will it be today, sweetcheeks?” Taehyung smirked, resting his head on his hand as he leaned over the counter. “Don’t call me that,” You said, not liking the heat that made its way onto your face the moment he called you “Sweetcheeks,”

Taehyung chuckled, saying nothing, just gesturing to the glass case of goodies. Taking a look, you noticed your favorite was in stock today. Red velvet cupcakes. “That one, please,” You said, pointing at the mouth-watering pastry. “Coming right up, sweecheeks,” Taehyung smiled. You decided to ignore the endearing nickname, instead trying your best to cool down the heat on the tips of your ears and apples of your cheeks.

Taehyung grabbed the cupcake and put it on a plate for you, sliding it towards you as you handed him the money you’d already fished out of your wallet. “Thanks,” You mumbled, grabbing the plate off of the counter. “Anything for you,” Taehyung smirked. You didn’t say anything else to him as you went to your corner to eat your cupcake.

Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another.

You’ve read The Iliad a thousand times before. You know how the adventure ends and what the climax of the story will be. You knew what happened to the characters, and you were well versed in the outdated way of speech. But that didn’t mean you appreciated the interruption of a certain blonde haired male. “What Jimin?” You groaned, putting down your well-worn book, glaring at the man in front of you. “Ah you wound me, Y/n. I just wanted to see you is all,” Jimin shrugged.

“See me? Dumb move,” You countered back, face unchanging. Jimin just chuckled, shaking his head with a smile. “You know, I was talking to Taehyung and he said you barely speak a word to him. That’s surprising since your with him every day,” Jimin smirked, swiping off some stray frosting that laid on your plate and putting it in his mouth. “I have nothing to say,” You said, turning to look outside the window.

Jimin scoffed, “I find that hard to believe. Tae can make anyone talk, do you not like him?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. “I didn’t say that,” Was your immediate answer, debunking Jimin’s dumb theory. “Well, you kinda did,” Jimin teased. “He makes me feel weird,” You admitted, unable to face the man in front of you.

“He makes you feel weird?” Jimin asked, confused.

“He makes my palms clammy and face hot. He’a like a witch or something,” You sighed.

You didn’t know Jimin, no. Jimin was one of Taehyung’s friends who tried even harder than him to get on your “Good side,” When in reality, there was no good side. You were just in a perpetual state of saying “Cool,” and throwing up peace signs at everything life threw at you. So no, you weren’t Jimin’s friend.

So the unimpressed, disdained face you gave him when he burst out laughing at your words wasn’t entirely unwarranted.

“Oh my goodness, you’re funny,” Jimin chuckled out. “What did I say?” You asked. “You have a crush on Tae!” Jimin whisper shouted. Your eyes widened, and you flicked his forehead. “What are we? Twelve? A crush? That’s preschool shit,” You seethed, not allowing yourself to believe what Jimin was saying. “Woah, calm down Y/n. Crushes are normal,” Jimin explained, right before Taehyung came up to grab your empty plate for you.

“Did you enjoy the cupcake?” Taehyung said in his deep baritone voice that made goosebumps rise on your skin. You nodded your head yes, avoiding looking right into his eyes. “I’m glad,” Taehyung whispered to you, giving you a smile as he walked back to the kitchen with your plate. You watched him go the whole way.

“Scratch that, your head over heels,” Jimin spoke up, and you whipped your head around to glare at him. “Shut it,” You spoke through gritted teeth, gathering your book and purse, standing up to leave. “I don’t have a crush. That’s childish,” You countered, but Jimin just gave you a knowing look, a smirk plastered on his face.

You never missed a day to visit the bakery. But maybe you should’ve today. It was pouring outside. Thunder rumbled through the air and lighting flashed through the sky. You were without an umbrella or anything to protect you from the rainy onslaught that was happening outside the shop.

Sighing, you flipped through the pages of The Iliad. You had just finished the story another time, and the epic was still too fresh in your mind to begin reading again. So you sat in your corner, listening to the pounding of rain that rammed against the shop windows.

“It’s pouring out there, huh?”

Taehyung’s soft, deep voice cut through the rain ambiance that filled the tiny shop. You nodded, tearing your eyes away from him and suppressing the thoughts of his muscular figure from your mind. “Do you have someone coming to pick you up? I don’t want you walking out in that,” He asked, coming to sit in the seat in front of you.

“I don’t,” You answered, avoiding his gaze. “Really? No boyfriend coming to sweep you off of your feet?” He chuckled. You shrugged, picking at the edges of your book. “I’m not girlfriend material,” You sighed, finally looking up to meet his gaze. “Not girlfriend material?” Taehyung asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “I just have too much baggage, I guess,” You shrugged.

Taehyung chuckled, “Everyone has baggage, Y/n,” Was his answer, looking right into your eyes with his deep auburn ones. “I guess,” You mumbled. The two of you sat in silence for a couple of minutes, just listening to the sound of the rain outside as the two of you just enjoyed each other’s presence without the other knowing it.

“I think you’re girlfriend material,” Taehyung spoke up suddenly, startling you out of the thoughts that swirled around your mind. “Ha ha,” You sarcastically laughed, but Taehyung doubled down. “I’m serious, Y/n,” He said, leaning forward on the table. “No I’m not,” You argued, shaking your head at what you believed was a ridiculous claim.

“Why do you think that?” Taehyung asked, but you didn’t respond, feeling the walls you meticulously built start to crumble. That scared you. You’ve always been focused on others trying to force your walls down, but you never thought about what it would be like for someone to urge you to bring them down yourself. To want to willing talk about the thoughts that plagued your mind. To let someone cozy up with you inside your walls. It was scary how you wanted to talk to Taehyung.

You didn’t know what it was about Taehyung that made you want to let him in and turn your hell into a sanctuary. Maybe it was because he was always so nice. Or maybe it was because he made the best comfort food you’d every have. Whatever it was about him, he was starting to get through to you, and it scared you more than you’d like to admit. So you shut down.

Taehyung kept asking you why you thought that or what made you think that you were any less than amazing, but you just kept shaking your not wanting to open your mouth in fear that you’d spill out all of your emotions like a hangover full of regrets and puke.

You heard Taehyung sigh as he got up from the chair. You felt your heart squeeze at the thought of him finally giving up on you. You knew it was a bit selfish to expect him to stick around after you gave him no reason to, but it still hurt. You were so out of tune with your emotions that you had a hard time identifying what was what.

Was this disappointment? It’s been a long time old friend.

Was Jimin right? Am I in love? Is this what love feels like?

A hand placed a plate with a cinnamon roll on it in front of you. The aroma of cinnamon filled your nose, and you cracked a small smile at it. Taehyung sat back down in the seat in front of you, giving you a warm smile. “You don’t have to push yourself to answer,” Taehyung spoke up, “I don’t know exactly how you feel, but my friend, Yoongi, is like you.” He smiled as you took a bite of the cinnamon roll. “He says that talking to others about feelings is a monumental task, so don’t feel obligated to answer my question. You have your walls for a reason, Y/n. It’s up to you if you want to let me in. But I will say, I’m waiting at the door with cookies.”

At his words, you gave him a sincere smile. The first sincere smile he’d ever seen from you and you could tell by his huge, boxy one that it made him happy. “Thank you, Taehyung,” You said. “Anything for you, sweetcheeks,” Okay, so maybe your heart was a bit cold. Maybe the thick walls you built around yourself prevented you from properly processing your feelings. Maybe Jimin was right and the clammy hands and giddy feeling you got from being around Taehyung was love.

But right now, the two of you didn’t care.

Because you were in the middle of your first genuine conversation.

#kim taehyung #taehyung #bts v #bts #bts oneshot #taehyung x reader #bts fluff

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101flavoursofweird · 3 years ago

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Fic Questionnaire

Thanks for @sixtyfourk for tagging me! I’m putting the questions under a cut because it’s quite long :’)

I’ll tag @northernscruffycat, @northelypark, @edward-elbowlick, @vermontwrites, @asa-liz, @yoshi-g-teh-first, @call-me-rucy, and @aquamarineglow but if there’s anyone else who wants to do this, please go ahead!

How many works do you have on AO3?

107… but a lot of these are just reposts or prompt-inspired fics that are 10 lines long!

What's your total AO3 word count?

378242 words

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Professor Layton, PLvsAA, Layton Brothers Mystery Room, Rhythm Thief, Voltron: Legendary Defender (I only watched the first two seasons, haha…), The Ancient Magus Bride (I was in it for the cute dragon mage— not for the main romance), Steven Universe, Ace Attorney (only as a part of PLvsAA), Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts, My Hero Academia

…10 fandoms altogether, but some like PLvsAA and LBMR fall under the PL category.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Aizawa Doesn’t Give Hugs - MHA- 1111 kudos - (Why can’t I update my most popular fic?)

Fireflies - Steven Universe - 221 kudos - (Again, WHY DID I NEVER UPDATE THIS?)

Reset - PL - 134 kudos - (This is the one I feel the worst about because it’s an ongoing long fic for my main fandom and I’ve had so much support from readers but I just can’t find the strength to update it…)

Worth Fighting For - PL - 86 kudos - (My incomplete Whumptober fic!)

Mending - Voltron - 85 kudos - (I think this was one of the first fics I posted on AO3 and I was really happy about the response it got! And for a fandom I’d never written for before!)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I usually respond to comments pretty quickly because I want to show my appreciation for people who take the time to comment :) If I’m ever slow to respond it’s probably just because I’m busy or I’m trying to formulate a long response. If a person leaves a longer comment, I try to make my response longer!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

That’s probably ‘To Boldly Flee’. It’s a fic I originally posted on FF.net but it’s now part of an Aurora & Luke oneshot series called ‘Looking Foward’ on AO3. The fic stars Aurora and Luke in an AU set during Azran Legacy. It diverges from canon after Descole steals the Azran keystone in the Nest. Aurora doesn’t want to go to the Azran sanctuary and face her ‘duty’ as the Azran emissary— she also doesn’t want to get STABBED IN THE HEART— so she decides to run away with Luke.

Aurora receives even more angst in this AU than in canon. After Descole’s betrayal, she starts to doubt herself and her friends, aside from Luke.

With a bit of help from Rook and Bishop, the two of them fly to London and then to Misthallery when they hear Targent have taken over the town. During this time, Aurora has her identity crisis about being a golem and having the fate of the world resting on her shoulders. She eventually decides to help Luke save his hometown because Luke is worth the world to her.

This all culminates with Luke getting fatally(?) wounded and taken to the Golden Garden. Aurora is so distraught by this point that she almost ‘floods the whole world’ in a kind of failsafe doomsday device the Azran may have implanted in her. Luckily, Descole and Layton show up to assure her that Luke is alive— but just barely. Aurora returns to her normal self and they get Luke to hospital. Aurora waits by Luke’s bedside for him to wake up. Aurora mentions that Emmy’s fate is unknown, but they still mourn for her.

In the original FF.net ending, Luke wakes up.

In the AO3 ending, Aurora just keeps waiting for Luke. ‘She could not age, so she would wait until he awoke. Even if it took forever...’

If I ever did write more of this story, Aurora and Co would probably go to the other Azran sites (Ambrosia, the Infinite Vault of etc) to search for a cure for Luke. But at it is, the fic is left open-ended as to whether Luke ever recovers.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really hate but there was one anon review that may have been ‘too brutal’ (their words). I can’t say it hasn’t affected the updates on that particular fic.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I wrote a couple of light smut fics back when I really shipped Layton/Emmy. I think I’d cringe if I went back to read those fics (but then again, I do that with a lot of my old writing). I can’t see myself writing smut now.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I can’t say I’ve had a fic stolen, but I was reading a fic a while ago and the wording was veeery familiar. I’m not sure why because the fic was already good up to that point? Why would they bother copying my writing? XD I can’t complain, though! We’re all technically stealing the original creator’s characters and concepts by writing fanfic.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, for my Rhythm Thief AU, Déjà Vergier! In this AU, 16-year-old Raphael gets taken in by the Vergier family. A Deviantart user called BakApple kindly translated my writing into French. With the help of Google Trabslate, I started translating their French Rhythm Thief fic— ‘July the Fourteenth’— into English, but I didn’t get around to finishing it. My translating skills are nowhere near as good as BakApple’s!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I wrote a PL fic with called ‘If You Only Had Time’ with an awesome writer called Glowbug. It’s an AU (of course) where Rachel Bronev survives and she runs away from Targent with eight-year-old Emmy. Glowbug doesn’t seem to be active online anymore, which is a shame, but I don’t mind! I’m just glad we were able to write 6 chapters.

I don’t think I’d co-write any more fics now… but more for the co-writer’s sake than mine! I’m notoriously bad at updating long fics and I struggle to write under pressure or within a time limit. There’s a reason why I don’t enter Big Bang events, as much as I’d like too :’)

Writing fics is a hobby first and foremost. If I don’t feel like writing something, I’ll leave it and come back later, hopefully with renewed inspiration.

But I’m always happy to discuss fic outlines/ideas/characters’ with other people!

What's your all time favorite ship?

Apparently the ship I’ve written the most fics for is Janice/Melina on AO3?

There seems to be more content for them recently and that makes me SO HAPPY.

Ranhengela might be a close second favourite… Sometimes I literally forget both of these ships aren’t canon.

My favourite characters tend to be those who are so selfless and would sacrifice their lives for the ones they love— e.g. Janice and Henry— even if their significant other is presumed to be dead. I want these characters to be happy but I also want them to through ANGST.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I don’t want to say Reset… but maybe Reset? I haven’t given up completely but I’ve lost a lot of confidence with this fic. What I wanted most out of this story was for Luke to bond with other characters aside from Layton— his parents, Arianna, Emmy, Flora etc.— and to give these characters a chance to shine. But I guess I realised I can do this without all the crazy plot twists and time travel mechanics… like in Ready Now, for example. Most of that fic is just Arianna bonding with Luke, Layton and the others, and it’s hopefully giving Flora her chance to shine too! I guess after giving Arianna her own chapter in Reset I just really wanted to write about her, haha.

What are your writing strengths?

Someone mentioned in a nice review that I often fuse canon with fanon? That’s usually just me poking fun at the series— like when Arianna’s mother asks about Flora’s age and her adoption status, Arianna and Tony just shrug at her comedically. Who knows, really? :’)

I’ll often just make two character sit in a room TALK about their feelings.

Dialogue is an easy one, but I like writing dialogue for characters and getting their voices down. (I will forever portray Dalston with his official Yorkshire accent— not the fake posh accent they gave him the the US version of Miracle Mask.)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it’s cool! …If it’s not used to mock another language— apart from English. Please make all the English jokes you want. I’ll probably agree with you and laugh at them.

I remember when I was re-reading Goblet of Fire and I cringed every time J. K. Rowling wrote about a character who wasn’t English.

I’ll occasionally throw French words or sayings into Rhythm Thief fics especially because that’s what they do in the game. It’s hilarious how Charlie has an English accent but then she’ll sprout a random French phrase.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Pokemon, but that short oneshot is long gone.

What's your favorite fic you've ever written?

I’m going to be boring and say Bonds Left Unbroken— an AU where Layton and Desmond both get adopted by the Laytons. I think I enjoyed the earlier chapters more, focussing on younger Desmond and Hershel, and especially their time in Stansbury. The later chapters don’t really branch out from canon that much, aside from the fact that Hershel and Desmond are on the same page during Azran Legacy.

I feel bad that I never got around to finishing the ‘bonus’ episodes, but it kind of just felt like the original series with Desmond phoned in :’) But I’m still proud of the original fic!

#Fanfic #answers #long post #my writing #my fics #thanks #TW: JK Rowling mention #Tagging just in case!#Bonds Left Unbroken #Reset #Ready Now #Aizawa Doesn’t Give Hugs #Looking Forward #Deja Vergier

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maddiefriendlovesbilly · 3 years ago

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TW/CW: Ranting, use of caps/text yelling, mentions/discussions of depression, suicidal thoughts, low self-esteem, and cringe-culture, no language indicators (everything is /genuine), large chunks of text which may be hard for some to read (please lmk if anyone would like a bulleted or split up version /gen), complicated words and concepts (again, please lmk if anyone would like a version w simpler words or more explanations!! /gen!!!)

Topic: Writing, Cringe-Culture, and Freedom to Express Yourself

Not to get like, personal and serious on this silly YouTube roleplay side-blog but here’s some writing advice for you writers out there. Literally no one will notice if you put two “-ly” words in your story.

As long as you are using basic sentence variation in your story — aka complex sentence, compound sentence, simple sentence, compound sentence again, repeat in a pattern that seems to get your point across best (long sentences are best for describing situations or when a character is rambling, simple sentences are best for times that you want your words to punch the reader in the face with words alone or crush their little hearts while cackling maniacally) — nobody other than pompous gits will notice if you say “Oh, he thought, wishing desperately for something to do with his hands.” Because no one actually nitpicks stuff like that if they’re properly immersed in your story (obviously beta readers are different, they’ve been paid to look for your mistakes lol). (more below the Keep Reading. Warning!! Triggering topics/actions start right here! :] <3!!!)

And even if you DO fuck up and put a couple too many “ly” words or too many “he said/she saids?” WHO CARES. THAT IS THE POINT OF WRITING. TO IMPROVE. MAKE SHITTY SELF-INSERT FICS. WRITE FANFICTION TO PRACTICE. WRITE A REALLY BAD ORIGINAL STORY ABOUT OVERPOWERED OCS WHO YOU’VE HAD SINCE YOU WERE ELEVEN. EVERY TIME YOU WRITE YOU IMPROVE. IF YOU LOVE SOMETHING ENOUGH TO DEDICATE HOURS OF YOUR LIFE TO IT YOU DESERVE TO LOOK BACK ON IT AND SAY “I made this thing out of love. By making this I made someone happy, and that someone was me. I deserve to be proud of this, because I worked hard on it.”

NEVER regret your old shitty writing. NEVER regret your current writing. Yes, you can spend hours nitpicking every detail and every word like I used to. But you have years to figure out your writing style; years to gauge whether you like first or third or second person POV — or even something else entirely — best; years to experiment and and learn and love new and different things. You will improve, it is an inevitable, inescapable part of being human, being alive.

So please, please write whatever you want, whenever you want. Write cringe! Write badly! Write poorly planned out stories!! If it makes YOU happy, who fucking cares what some bozo using the anonymity of a faceless online profile to bash your earnest, hard work about something you care about says? Why do THEY have any right to your happiness? Your self-esteem? Do what makes you happy, even if it’s bad, or self-indulgent, or god-forbid “““cringey.””” You know what’s cringey? A grown ass adult human being who knows better making fun of someone working hard to improve a skill, or simply enjoying the freedom that writing gives. You have the gift to create. No one starts out writing like a pro. Don’t let others shame you out of expressing yourself in a healthy way that brings you joy.

This is one of the many reasons I have left several nearly untouched, original records of my fic A Small Slice of Ethereal P.I.E, which was written of the course of two years. I am PROUD of how lackluster and empty and basic the beginning of that fic is in comparison to the final chapter — I was fucking 15 years old, had undiagnosed depression and anxiety, and it was the first piece of writing I ever loved enough to finish even after two years, of course it was BAD. It was utter SHIT dude! I was coping with heavy amounts of trauma through a safe, comforting medium through a character I related to deeply. I’m alive because of that fic. It kept me going until I could get help. If writing does that for you; if you think “I don’t want to wake up tomorrow, but if I don’t, then I can’t write that fanfic/story/oneshot/daydream I’ve always wanted to/haven’t completed/dream of publishing one day” then cling to that. Use it. Whatever keeps you going til tomorrow.

Your passions, your interests, have value. I’m so sorry if anyone has made you feel that they don’t. I’m sorry if people have told you your writing isn’t good enough to keep making. Every piece you make is a gift to yourself. I guarantee there are people out there who will. Who do. Even if it’s only future you. Even if it’s only current you. Your joy, fleeting or not, is worth more than you could ever imagine.

Keep writing. For you. Not for anyone else, because you deserve to. You deserve to love something passionately. You deserve to write poorly. You deserve to love what you make anyways. This got a little out of hand, I didn't really mean to say all this, but I feel it's important to my point so whatever haha. seriously though, if anyone wants me to delve further into any of the topics discussed here, especially about sentence variation and where to use complex, compound, and simple sentences in a paragraph/scene/description or what POV to use for the type of story/scene you want to convey to your reader, I'd be literally over the moon lmao. I LOVE talking about the importance of cadence and impact, and how it basically overrides basic grammatical rules like "he said/she said" and "-ly words" and "remove every 'was' in your story." Alright, I'll stop pestering y'all now haha, both my ask box and my dms are open if you want to ask any questions about this!

#maddie talks #maddie writes #kinda vt #but like not really this was just inspired by my passion for writing cringey stories about VT characters haha #writing #writing advice #writing tips #fanfiction #original story #original fiction #original character #cringe #cringe culture #cringe culture is dead #venturiantale #taleblr #sorry people looking for like. anything related to VT today. brain empty only mental illness and writing rants #you didn't read this but I am not doing well mentally today. I don't want to think about anything anymore.#i hate having to acknowledge that i'm lonely and touch-starved. i hate having no one to talk to because we moved away from my therapist and #i wont get to even meet my new one for two weeks. i'm hurting again. i was doing better. i'm afraid my mom will start making herself out to #be the victim again. or worse. tell me that i dont really think that. last time i said i knew i was a disappointment she said that.#i want real human connection with someone i can touch. but im so fucking traumatized that im afraid of people irl #i want to go home. i thought that was our house in georgia with my dad but now that were back here im just nostalgic for a life that #could have been if we hadnt left. i feel empty. i feel alone. im so fucking scared of loving someone who doesn't love me back again.#i just want to be loved. i love my friends so dearly but i just want someone to reciprocate when i fall for them like a fucking idiot again #don't read these. please. i cant fucking think anymore. i just want to stop feeling.

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cry-stars · 3 years ago

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Fic Questionnaire

Tagged by @dazais-guardian-angel! Thank you so much, Dana! This is ridiculously long, so I’m putting it under a read-more, but first, I’m tagging @shocotate, @gemstoneslesbian, @theo-sev, @101flavoursofweird, @asa-liz, @teaofdestiny, and @ms-enmystic if any of you would like to do this as well! If anyone else would like to, please feel free, I mean it! I only tagged people that I know have an Ao3/write fics, but if you would like to, please go for it.

How many works do you have on AO3? 41

What's your total AO3 word count? 152999

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Professor Layton, Fullmetal Alchemist, and Lord of the Rings are the ones I’ve written the most for. I’ve also written a few stories for Rune Factory, Ace Attorney, Astro Boy, Ouran High School Host Club, Marvel, and Sonic the Hedgehog.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Open Jar, Golden Child, Ambivalence, The Duality of Homunculi, and Responsibilities. They’re all FMA stories; I’m kind of sad that none of the PL stories are on top, since I think I improved a lot since writing the FMA ones, but it all comes down to fandom size, I think.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

These days, I always do, even if it’s just a short “Thanks so much for reading, I’m so glad you liked it!” I’m just really grateful that somebody would take the time to read the story and bother to say something. It takes a lot of energy to leave a comment sometimes, even a short one, and saying thank you for that is the least that I can do. I had pretty bad depression about two and a half years ago and took a big social media break for about six months; I didn’t respond to any comments during that time. I feel pretty bad about it now, and sometimes I think about responding, but it was so long ago that I feel awkward replying now.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Maybe that OHSHC fic “Funeral” I wrote years ago where Tamaki gets… shot and dies??? Why did I write that…??? I intended to write a follow-up where he didn’t actually die and recovers, but I never did, so the fic seems to end with him dying. That’s one of the cringe fics that I kind of want to delete now :’) Second-closest (and one that I actually like/don’t find too cringey) is my recent Clora fic “Almost Lost,” which ends with a lot of crying, but it isn’t a tragedy and their crisis is averted.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not exactly. I did get a couple of comments with criticisms on FF.net years ago, but nothing horrible. Sometimes people vaguepost about how Clora is Bad after I post something, haha, but that’s pretty much the extent of it thankfully... I’d probably cry if I actually got a hate comment adsjhkdsaf... :’)

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Asdfhjkadfasdlfaf no. I get so embarrassed even writing about kissing. I’d someday like to write something that actually deserves the T rating that I give to a lot of my ship fics, but I don’t think that I could write anything higher-rated than that, and it’ll probably take me a long time to work up to that.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, not to my knowledge. If someone wanted to, though, that would be neat!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A long time ago, my friend and I wrote a very silly LOTR fic where we would alternate writing chapters, with no planning whatsoever. Unfortunately, I haven’t heard from her in years; I wish we could have finished the fic, even if it was garbage adskjhdsf… I miss her. More recently, my friend and I have been co-writing (or at least brainstorming) a Clora story (costarring a cherished OC) set twenty years after UF. Even if the fic takes forever to actually come together, we’ve come up with so many great ideas and it’s been loads of fun.

What's your all time favorite ship?

Clora’s definitely my all-time favourite. There have been a few others that are really special to me, but honestly, Clora has everything I want in a ship. They have so much potential for fluff and angst, and they can get SO much character development together. (and I really relate to/adore both characters sdjkhsadf…) The ship does get hate and that does discourage me at times, but they feel really rewarding to write about; I feel like I’m solving a puzzle whenever I get one step closer to having them get a happy ending together. Nobody had written about them since like… 2016 until I started last year, so I’m really glad that a few other people who also liked the ship have something to read again now.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Some of my old FMA WIPs… I’m not really into FMA or the characters/ship I used to write for anymore, and I kind of feel like I won’t ever get that kind of passion for the series again, although I still have some good memories of it. Every so often, though, I get a really nice comment on one of them and wish that I could finish them for those peoples’ sake.

What are your writing strengths?

Once I’ve found what emotion I’m going for, I think that I’m fairly good at keeping it consistent throughout a whole fic. I think that I’m also okay at being sympathetic to most characters, even ones that I don’t really like; it feels awful when somebody spitefully writes about my favourite characters, and I don’t want anyone to feel that way when reading my stuff. I think that I’m good at writing about… longing or yearning too, haha… not so good at writing established relationship stuff adshjksfd but I’m getting better.

What are your writing weaknesses?

So much… The biggest thing is getting myself to write at all. I just get so easily overwhelmed, distracted, or discouraged and give up. It takes me forever to write just a oneshot, let alone multichapter stories. I’m also quite bad at planning ahead… I plan major moments in a story, but often, the in-between bits are surprises to me. I do enjoy how my characters kind of take me on a ride and surprise me, but sometimes I find myself written into a corner. I also overexplain. So many of my chapters wind up so long because I feel like I have to explain every little detail.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’ve never done much of that when writing about real-life languages, but I used to throw in the random Sindarin word in my LotR fics, such as calling someone’s father “Ada,” since that was common in LotR fics back then. If I was to do it now, though, I’d probably only include dialogue in another language if it was immediately translated to English afterwards, like someone explaining what a sentence meant, but I wouldn’t throw in random words unless it was a character’s normal habit to mix languages.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

The Lorax, but it was super cringe, and I deleted the fic… Funnily enough, it wasn’t even about the onceler, it was about my OC dad for him.

My official first fandom in my mind is Lord of the Rings/Tolkien in general. I was a very awkward and excitable teenager, new to the internet, and met a lot of kids on FF.net who were as awkward as me by commenting on their very silly fics/writing very silly fics similar to theirs to try to impress them. I had so much fun and made a lot of friends that way, although I’ve lost touch with almost all of them, sadly… I really miss them. The fics are all on my FF.net profile still, but I don’t recommend most of them aJSDKsdf… Those were the days before I was an angst addict and everything I wrote was ridiculous. Most things I wrote before 2019 aren’t very good to me...

What's your favorite fic you've ever written?

Right now, probably Bright Saffron Dreams… I put so much love and energy into that one, and it has so many tropes that I like in it. If I’d been brave enough to make it slightly more overtly romantic, it would have been exactly what I wanted in a Clora fic, haha...

#my fanfiction #tag games #I'm so sorry if I missed tagging anybody that would like to #please go for it if I missed you!

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arofili · 4 years ago

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how’d u get into writing? like, writing fic and being part of the silm community, being Known, that stuff? i’m really new to being a silm cc and i’d love to know ur advice! also: how’d u build up the confidence to start posting meta/hcs? bc i have a Lot of hcs and meta ideas but also i’m really anxious abt posting them bc yknow anxiety is like that

these are some great questions, anon! I’m gonna go through them one by one :)

how’d u get into writing?

not to be like, super cliche, but I’ve...kind of always been a writer? as long as I can remember I’ve been telling stories, and when I was too young to read or write I would dictate them to my mom, who would type them up for me and help me choose clipart illustrations to accompany them. when I got old enough I would always be writing; I attempted my first novel at age 9, and while that never really went anywhere I did finish the darn thing and it had some pretty sophisticated plot twists for a 9-year-old!

like, writing fic

around the same time I got into fandom! I was deep into Warrior cats (like. really deep) and I believe I started writing my first fics when I was like? 10 or 11? my memory is kind of fuzzy on the order of things, but I know I got an account on the Warriors forums when I was 9, and that I was already posting my fic there when I made my FFN account. I believe I was 12 when that happened, but who knows. I haven’t the faintest idea of what happened with those forums, but uhhh pretty much all of my Warriors fic is still up on FFN lmao. you could probably find that if you want to but um...maybe don’t?

my first Big Fic was a self-insert of...my entire 5th/6th grade class into the then-current timeline of the Warriors books...well. I honestly think that might still be my most popular fic of all time l m a o though I try not to think about it because Hashtag Cringe. though as much as I look back on that time with a “yikes,” I am very grateful for the Warriors fandom in a way? that place was so accepting and encouraging of OCs, of AUs, of completely disregarding canon, of worldbuilding that is completely alien from canon - it was a fantastic sandbox to begin with, there were so many ways to write stories and practically all of them were accepted and had fellow fans invested in them!

and being part of the silm community,

soooo I wrote Warriors fic until my freshman year of high school (wow sdjfhkdsjfh), which was when BOTFA came out, and I was absolutely wrecked by the ending and immediately started writing my own fixit fic. I was also super hooked on Kiliel! so that was my intro to the Tolkien fandom; and simultaneously, I joined tumblr, and, well, the rest is history tbh.

I honestly do not remember when I first read the Silm, but I kind of got into the more obscure parts of the Tolkien fandom through fandom osmosis, and I do have a vague memory of doodling the Finwean family tree in geometry class so it might have been later on in freshman year? that was also the same time I was having my Queer Awakening, and Russingon definitely contributed to me unlearning my internalized queerphobia, so probably around then.

anyway - queer awakening, tumblr, Tolkien, transitioning from FFN to AO3 - all of that was happening around the same time. I know I dipped my toes in the Silm fandom then, but I was still primarily a Hobbit fic writer focusing on Kiliel. toward the end of high school I kind of shifted to LOTR and (qp) Gigolas...but somehow the Silm fandom is the most active of the Big Three within the Tolkien fandom, and I was getting dragged further and further in.

it wasn’t until @backtomiddleearthmonth 2019, my freshman year of college, that I really dove into writing Silm fic! I picked some Silm-specific bingo cards and never looked back :D that was really not all that long ago but I am obsessed in a way I don’t really remember being even with TH/LOTR, I obviously cannot see the future but I anticipate hanging out here for a long time. the Silm fandom is great overall and there’s just so much material to work with!! <3

being Known, that stuff?

so I don’t really have a whole lot of context on how “well known” I am in the fandom?? definitely within the past year and a half or so I’ve noticed that I like, get asks like this, and get a significant amount of notes on my posts, and I’ve made a lot of fandom friends especially since I joined some Silm servers on Discord (hmu if you want invites; I’m on the SWG server and 2 general Silm servers and the Russingon server) this past year. and I have 3,000 followers as of this month - and while ever since I hit 1k I don’t particularly pay attention to my follower count I can definitely say that I have more engagement now than I used to! but it took me a long time to build this “audience,” I suppose; I’ve been around the Tolkien fandom since late 2014, so nearly 6 years of this, lol.

really the best way to build a following, in my experience, is to just post a lot of stuff. when I started making edits I got a lot more engagement, because for a long time I would post one every day! (I made them in batches and queued them; I didn’t actually make one every day lol...and now I’m too busy to do that, so I just make edits for events and whenever I feel like it) And I have [checks ao3] 145 works in the Silm fandom as of today - I’m fairly prolific! I’ve come to generally expect 3-10 comments on most of my oneshots, which is a lot more than I used to have back in the day. consistency and quantity are more likely to attract people to your work - and quality, of course.

also: how’d u build up the confidence to start posting meta/hcs?

I’ve been writing since I was very young, and I’ve been writing fic for like...11 years? I think? in that time I’ve produced a lot of garbage, but imo most of that was in my Warrior cats phase, so I came into the Tolkien fandom with confidence in myself and my writing. I’m also working on original fiction on the side (I hope to eventually become a published fantasy author, but right now school takes up most of my time that I don’t devote to fandom, which gives me more immediate gratification and also is just Very Fun) and I know I’m a good writer.

basically, I’ve been doing this for like...half my life, and I’m still fairly young, so I’ve had time to build up my skill and confidence and I know I’m only going to get better with time. you will get better with practice. like I said, I’ve written a lot of terrible stuff, and it’s only through sucking for a long time that I’ve gotten to the point I am now. and I am far from perfect; I know I still have lots of room to grow!

for meta and headcanons specifically, I started with writing fic, and then when I didn’t think I could stretch something into an entire fic I would just make a hc post. I have a vivid memory of writing my first meta in a notebook during driver’s ed because it was so goddamn boring and I had Thoughts about Tauriel and Thranduil!

in my experience, meta comes from having Opinions and wanting to share them and most importantly to back them up - you need to have sources! you need to have reasons! you need to have justification! otherwise it’s not meta, it’s a headcanon or an AU. which is fine!! I love hc/AU!!! but they are not the same as meta, and I’m a stickler for being accurate when it comes to meta. if you have sources and shit to back you up, that will help you build the confidence to share your meta.

sharing disinformation and passing it off as meta instead of just coming out and saying this is a headcanon/baseless theory/AU or whatever is such a fandom pet peeve of mine; it’s not bad for something to not be Accurate! you just have to have that disclaimer - and even when you’re writing meta, you’re offering an interpretation of the text, and you need to acknowledge that other interpretations also exist and are valid.

um. I hope this answers your questions? and sorry for basically word-vomiting my entire life story, lol. this post got long; the main reason I’ve written so much fic is because I really just cannot shut up for the life of me. sooo if you can tear of that filter of being shy and just. say shit. you can go so far~!

OH and one more thing - I can’t believe I almost forgot this - but part of being a writer is participating in the community. this is code for LEAVE A DAMN COMMENT IF YOU LIKE A FIC. that’s how I made most of my fandom friends before Discord! I follow @ao3feed-silmarillion and stalk that blog for new Silm fics; I read the ones that interest me and comment on them.

I know this is not really the most common way for folks to find fic but it’s so rewarding to interact with new fic, new writers, new commentors, new stories - you can find gems that don’t rise to the top of the kudos/bookmark lists; you become friends with your fellow writers; you can watch people grow and change; you support smaller content creators. yeah, you might not be getting Just The Best Stuff, but it’s so so so worth it!!

and if you make friends in the comment section of other people’s fic - I guarantee you some of them will go to your AO3 profile and check out your fic, too! and they’ll leave comments! this is a fic community, and that’s what I cherish about fandom most of all, tbh.

anyway - again - sorry for rambling so much, but I hoped this helped! feel free to send in another ask, or to come talk to me off anon if you’d like! and definitely send me your stuff if/when you decide to share it; I would love to support you!!! <3

#silm #silm fandom #silmarillion #fan culture #tmi anna #(for real this time sjdfhdkfh)#tefain nin #long post #anon #answers

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randomfandomimagine · 5 years ago

Text

Love Notes (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Characters: Poe Dameron, Finn, BB8, mentions of Rey

Fandom: Star Wars

Tags: Reader Insert, Female Reader, Fluff, Love Notes, Confessions

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,7k words

Requested by anon: Hi! If you’re taking Star Wars requests, could you please write an oneshot, drabble or ficlet with Poe Dameron, where Poe uses BB8 to run love notes to the female!reader who’s a nurse for the resistance back and forward between the two of them all day, as they work on different sides of the base and she figures that the notes are coming from Poe and she admits she likes him too.

A/N: I quite like the result of this! Hope you enjoy reading it!!

Poe Dameron x Female!Reader

You were extremely delicate, yet he still hissed through his teeth as you treated him. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you focused on putting extra care on the task.

“Sorry” You rushed to say, cringing on the inside at the state his bloody face was. “I’m sorry, I’ll be more gentle”

“I’m teasing you, Y/N” Poe said with a chuckle, making you sigh in relief.

“It’s not funny” You shook your head, continuing to treat him. “You are far too reckless, General Dameron”

“I told you a thousand times” He showed you a dashing grin when you finished healing all the wounds on his face. “Call me Poe, you’re my favorite nurse after all”

Facing your back to him, you tried to calm your nerves. Although you wouldn’t admit it, you were incredibly fond of him. As much as you enjoyed seeing him, you hated it when he walked in all bruised and injured. Especially since he didn’t take it seriously and always brushed it off.

“You know what? You’re right” Poe softly tugged at your wrist until you turned around and faced him once more. “It’s not funny, I feel a little sick”

“No wonder, you have a mild concussion” You observed him in concern, even if his playfulness proved it wasn’t serious.

“Yeah, I think I have a fever...” Still not letting go, he pressed your palm against his forehead. “What do you think? I would love your professional opinion”

Amused by his smooth manners as well as the grin he dedicated you, you smiled in the end. His own smile widened at the sight of it.

“That’s all I wanted” Even as he stood up, his fingers delicately lingered around your wrist. “Now I can leave with a clear conscience”

“I’m supposed to be the one looking after you, not the other way around”

“But I feel bad enough worrying my favorite girl...” His smirk assured his words were genuine despite the correction that followed. “I mean... my favorite nurse”

You pursed your lips, tempted to reply with a witty yet flirtatious retort, but ultimately decided not to. Firstly, you were working and wanted to keep romantic matters away from work. Secondly, his boldness flustered you slightly and the words got caught in your throat.

“I gotta go now” Poe slowly let your wrist go, signaliging that you had lost your chance. “Thanks for everything, Y/N”

“Take care, General” You urged him before he could walk away.

“It’s Poe” He winked at you as a silent promise to heed your words. After that, he left you with the empty feeling of his absence.

Other than Poe’s recurrent visits, your workplace was quite uneventful. You sat there, mind adrift as you tried to entertain yourself with something.

“Y/N” A familiar voice called you, and you looked up to see Finn.

“Hello” You fonldy greeted him. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Yeah, have you seen Poe?” He shrugged in helplessness. “Can’t find him anywhere”

“He was here a few hours ago” You tilted your head, assuming he realized what you were implying. That he had been reckless as usual. “I suppose he’s at the other side of the base”

“Thanks” Finn made to leave, already taking a step, when something interrupted him.

A droid was rolling around, and a smile immediately settled on your lips when you recognized BB8. The round orange and white droid approached you and stopped before you.

“What’s he doing here?” Finn uttered, watching as you crouched before the droid and took the note from him.

It had been so long since the last once that you had missed the thrill and excitement from the notes you sent back and forth with your mysterious secret admirer. He was always so fun and charming that you anxiously awaited his responses.

You giggled as you read the note, flattered by his words as usual.

“M-May I?” Finn timidly asked you, too curious to hide it.

“Why not?” You handed the small note to him and smiled wide as he read it out loud.

“I noticed you today as I passed by, you looked absolutely beautiful. I thought to myself... ‘that woman must be the first known angel to the galaxy’ and I couldn’t stop smiling all day” Finn laughed in amusement at the cheesy yet endearing line.

“I know, but...” You shrugged, although you felt slightly self-conscious with his presence, as he broke the usual intimacy in which you read the notes. “It’s sweet”

“How long have you been receiving these notes?” Finn realized this wasn’t the first time, and you could feel his eyes set on you as he returned the note.

“For a few weeks now, why?”

“And you don’t know who’s sending them...”

“No... Should I?”

“Aw, come on, Y/N!”

“What?”

“That screams Poe!” Your friend threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

His confidence on the matter flustered you, especially knowing about your usual interactions with Poe. They were always lovely and left you wanting more. Even if you still couldn’t quite call him by his pen name to his face. It made you wonder... why hadn’t he said anything directly to you? Of course, he was always playful and even flirtatious, yet... he never quite told you if he felt something for you.

“Are you sure?” Turning to Finn, you felt your heart starting to race.

“Of course” He replied, accompanying his words with a vehement nod. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me...”

“He didn’t?” You were surprised, knowing how close they were.

“Not about the love notes... He’s always talking about you, though” Finn cleared his throat, trying to impersonate Poe’s voice. “Like... ‘don’t you think she’s great? she’s the sweetest’, or ‘she is so beautiful in every way, I can’t wait to see her again’, you know? He’s so annoying”

You chuckled, recognizing his joking tone, and he did too. After a brief pause, the usual butterflies that you now associated with Poe returned.

“What should I do, Finn?” You nervously crampled the paper in your hands.

“Well, do you have feelings for him?” He crossed his arms and tilted his head, although there was an amused grin peeking at the corner of his lips.

“Maybe... I think so” You sighed, anxious about the whole situation. “But how can I know he does too? How can you be so sure that it’s not just a crush?”

“Those notes are telling enough, right?” That grin finally settled on his lips, being equally teasing and compassionate. “Besides, I’ve seen the way he looks at you”

Locking eyes with him, Finn reassured you with an understanding glance. He understood your struggle and your nerves, but he encouraged you with a head nod of approval. You smiled in return, feeling out of breath in anticipation to your confession.

It wasn’t until the next day that you gathered enough courage to confront Poe.

Each step you took as you trudged to the other side of the base felt heavy, it tightened the feeling of your stomach being in knots and made you worry about the many words swimming in your mind, and about the entire resolution of the dreaded moment.

When you spotted him standing there speaking to Rey, your heart skipped a beat just at the sight of him. She grinned and told him something that caused him to glance your direction. You gulped when his eyes landed on you.

“Y/N” He received you with a warm smile, absently patting Rey’s arms to excuse himself. “What are you doing here? It’s great to see you, though”

“Tell me about it” Being away from your workplace, you felt a little more comfortable playing into his game. “We needed to stop meeting like that”

Pleasantly surprised by your comment, Poe laughed a little. He took you by the elbow and guided you to a more quiet area where you could have privacy to talk.

“Did you need something?” When he took a closer look at you, his brow furrowed in concern. “Wait, are you okay? You look a bit nervous”

You nodded your head, both agreeing that you were nervous but assuring you were okay. Poe muttered a compliant ‘alright...’ and patiently waited for you to speak up.

“I wanted to talk about this” You showed him the notes from him you had collected over all those days. He took it from your hands with feigned curiosity.

You saw as his eyes read along the words you knew by heart already.

“W-What... what is this?” He tried to play dumb, although you saw through him.

“You know full well what they are” You took them from him with a sigh. “Why didn’t you just say anything, in person?”

It took him a few seconds to reply, perhaps considering whether to budge or not.

“Well, you seemed really shy” He shrugged, though his eyes were watching you fondly. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable”

“I’m not shy... you just can’t expect me to openly flirt with my patients”

“You wanted to openly flirt with me?”

“Poe...”

His eyebrows raised at the mention of his name, his real name. Used to his gallant smiles, you were shocked when he showed you a smitten one.

“I think it’s the first time you call me that” His fingers tentatively tugged at yours, intertwining with them when you accepted the touch. “It sounds so much better from your lips”

To accompany the words, his eyes lowered to your mouth. Reading his thoughts, you were more than willing to indulge in that exchange.

“Don’t expect me to call you that while I’m working” You half-joked, ignoring your racing heart as you leaned in closer.

Poe smirked, pressing his hands against the small of your back to push you even closer until your noses almost touched.

“We can always keep sending each other love notes” He whispered as his eyes became distracted with the proximity of your lips.

“That only makes sense if we love each other” You teased him, shivering as your mouths grazed.

“Well, I do...” He smiled, the gesture being dangerously close to leaning against your lips. “What about you, Nurse Y/N?”

“Me too” Your arms locked around his neck, keeping him close. “Even if the excitement is gone now that I know it’s you”

“I didn’t know you could be so witty” He laughed, smitten with that side of you. “I love it”

“Then kiss me, Poe” Before he could oblige and make the move, you closed the minimal distance and smashed your lips on his.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn / @c-taylor-wanna-be-a-glader / @fortheloveofbenyandtom / @caswinchester2000 / @danietoww04 / @x-joie-x/ @mattiekins / @lotsoffandomimagines // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, let me know!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

#rfi writings #poe dameron x reader #ficlet #faves #star wars #star wars ficlet #sw #sw ficlet #poe dameron #poe dameron ficlet #reader insert #requested

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cozy-the-overlord · 4 years ago

Text

Dances and Daggers

Summary: The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor's betrothed, Teki's only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn't find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn't the only prince in Asgard...

Chapter 1: The Dagger

Next Chapter

Word Count: 6648

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

A/N: This is an idea that's been in my head for a really long time (like, for several years). I meant it to be a quick little oneshot to get my creative juices flowing, but I completely lost control of it and here I am a month later sitting on thirteen pages worth of writing. Sigh...I never specify the ages of Teki and Loki in the story, but if you're curious I pictured them as early teenagers, between 12 and 14 years old (or the Asgard equivalent).

TW: mentions of child abuse

Read it on Ao3

Teki held her breath as her mother laced her into the crimson ball gown.

“Oh, why did you have to upset him tonight?” she lamented as she pulled at the ribbons, ignoring Teki’s pained gasps. “Tonight, of all nights! You know how important it is for you to look your best tonight, and you’ve gone and made a mess of everything!”

Teki didn’t say anything. The subtlest of movements sent her chest on fire—it was not worth a bruising breath to attempt to defend herself. She was certain that at least one of her ribs were broken, but nothing could be done about that until her mother took her in to see the healer tomorrow with a story about how her clumsy little girl had fallen down the stairs again.

At least it won’t be a complete lie this time. Teki hated lying. Usually, the healers bought her mother’s story without issue and just set about silently fixing whatever she had broken, but last time they had questions. How did a fall down the stairs result in a black eye? Where did these bruises around your arms come from? And those gave way to a scarier question. Do your parents treat you well?

Teki had nodded her head enthusiastically, just as her mother had trained her. Of course they did! Her mother was loving and caring, the best in the world. She loved her stepfather more than anything. She smiled widely, hopefully masking the panic in her eyes. When the healers seemed to drop the subject, she wasn’t sure if it was relief or guilt gurgling in her stomach.

But she’d have to worry about them tomorrow. Tonight, she had bigger problems—like how she was supposed to dance the night away when it hurt to breathe.

If it were any other night, Teki might have been able to get away with playing sick. Norns know she had attempted that excuse time and time again. But tonight was the first night of the Summer Festival. Tonight was when the young men of the court would each choose a lady to hold their blade, and as Prince Thor’s betrothed, she had to be there.

Her mother often reminded her of how blessed she was to hold such an honored position, how lucky she was that her grandfather had negotiated such an agreement with Odin Allfather. No one was quite sure how he had managed it. But somehow, in the weeks before he died, he had convinced the king to agree to a marriage deal between Teki and Thor, thus turning his daughter’s greatest mistake into her most powerful commodity. Teki hated it. It was because of this “blessing” that Osvald had married her mother. After all, the promising of being the father to the future queen was quite the tempting offer.

But he wasn’t her father. He’d never be her father.

“There!” Her mother smoothed the silky skirt and stood up. “You look lovely! No one will ever know!”

Teki studied her reflection in the mirror. Did she look lovely? The gown clinging to her form did little to hide the tightness of her neck, the beads of perspiration collecting along her hairline. She shifted the wrong way and cried out as pain exploded across her ribcage.

“It hurts,” she whimpered, hands hovering over the throbbing area, afraid that touching it might make it worse. “Mama, it hurts so much.”

“I know darling,” her mother sighed. “Oh, why did you have to upset him tonight? Everything was going so well.”

Tears burned in her eyes. Sometimes, this was even worse than Osvald’s fists. She’d drag herself shaking and sobbing to her mother’s room, only to be fixed with her disappointed glare. She never seemed to understand that Teki didn’t mean to make him mad, she just… did. Everything made him mad. She couldn’t keep him happy, no matter how hard she tried.

“Hopefully, we won’t have to stay the whole time,” her mother saying, studying her in the mirror, “Once Thor gives you his dagger, we can probably find an excuse to leave. Maybe we can say that Brant isn’t feeling well.”

Brant was Teki’s six-year-old half-brother, so shy that many in the court thought him mute. Her mother had taken to using him as an excuse when Teki was hurt. It was better than Teki feigning ill herself—it wouldn’t do for the future queen of Asgard to be seen as too weak to stay for an entire dance.

Teki broke into a coughing fit. Her ribcage was on fire. The girl in the mirror didn’t look lovely, she realized. She looked like a corpse in a pretty dress.

“I can’t do it,” she whispered as the tears threatened to pour out, “It hurts too much. Please don’t make me do it, Mama, please.”

Her mother kneeled to brush a loose strand of hair out of her face. “There, there, none of that,” she cooed. “Of course you can do it! I’m sure Prince Thor can’t wait to dance with you!”

Prince Thor was three years older than Teki. He spent his days training in the courtyard with the Einherjar recruits and shadowing his father in the throne room while court was in session. He and Teki interacted only at festivals and balls, where they danced together silently until both sets of parents were satisfied, then went their separate ways. Teki doubted he’d miss her very much if she didn’t show tonight.

Her mother continued brushing through her hair. “I suppose I can give you something,” she said absentmindedly. “Not as much as last time, of course, but just a little something to help with the pain.”

The last time Teki had tried one of her mother’s painkiller drinks, she had passed out on the way back to their quarters, her evident laziness enraging her stepfather. She had sworn she’d never have any of it again, no matter how much she was hurting, but…

“Can you?” she asked, her voice pathetically small. “Please?”

Teki sipped on the concoction as her mother braided her hair into an elegant bun. The mug was only half full, but she was determined to limit her intake to even less. Just enough to make the burning go away for a few hours.

Her mother smiled and squeezed her shoulders. “Oh Tekla,” she breathed, “You’re going to be the prettiest one there!”

Brant and Osvald met them in the hall. Teki wanted to laugh—Brant was dressed up like a little warrior doll in his tiny leather armor—but she kept her face neutral. Osvald didn’t like it when children spoke out of line.

Brant, being his son, could get away with such disgraceful behavior. “Teki!” he squealed. “You look like a princess!”

“Not a princess, Brant,” her mother corrected. “A queen. And you know that’s not her name, darling—you can say her name, can’t you?”

Brant looked up at her with his big blue eyes, suddenly silent.

“Come on,” she continued prompting. “Tek-la. You can say Tekla, right?”

He gulped. “Tek-wa.”

“No, Brant. La. Tek-la,” her mother smiled down at him, but there was something strained at the corners of her mouth. “You can say it. Lalalalala!”

When Brant said nothing, she sighed. “You don’t want to look silly, do you?” she asked. “Do you want people to laugh at you because you can’t say your sister’s name?”

Brant’s bottom lip was trembling, the tell-tale sign that he was seconds away from bursting into tears. Teki forced a cough.

“It-it’s getting late, isn’t it?” she asked. Her voice was too loud and she cringed. “I mean—” Everyone was looking at her now, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. “I mean, I know mother wanted to get to the Festival right as it started,” she whispered. Her chest twinged, the last remnant that the painkiller had yet to take care of, and she bit her tongue to stifle the groan.

“Yes, yes, of course!” Her mother perked up, Brant forgotten in a second. “I’m sure Prince Thor will want to present his dagger early on. We mustn’t be late!”

“Of course,” said Osvald. “We wouldn’t want to embarrass ourselves. Would we, Tekla?”

Teki’s shoulder’s shook with the weight of his gaze. “No sir,” she whispered.

Her hands were trembling as they made their way through the palace. She clasped them in front of her skirt to mask the shaking. This was the first Summer Festival in which she was old enough to accept the honor of holding someone’s blade. It was an old tradition, but quite simple. When a man found a woman who pleased him, he could ask her to carry his dagger. It was a sign of respect, and of faith—he trusted her enough to give her control over his weapon for the remainder of the night. Who got to hold whose blade would be a topic of gossip for months to come.

For the past few years, Teki’s mother looked on with gritted teeth as Prince Thor handed his dagger off to a different girl every festival. Being older than Teki meant that he had come of age before she did, and that for a time he was unable to give her his dagger because she was too young. Tonight was the night her mother had been waiting for ever since she could walk.

Teki was terrified she’d forget what to say when Thor offered her the dagger.

The chatter of the ballroom enveloped her the moment they entered, and she allowed herself to melt into its anonymity. There was a strange kind of safety in knowing that she could be so easily swallowed up by the crowd.

Thor stood on the platform in the middle of the room, alongside his parents and younger brother. He was grinning at someone in the crowd, someone who wasn’t Teki. That was okay. She never quite knew what to say to the crown prince. Hopefully, they could just get their dancing and daggering out of the way quickly, and then he could go back to winking at whoever it was that he was currently winking at. Teki didn’t mind. She just wanted to lay down.

Odin welcomed the people to the first night of the Summer Festival in his booming voice, and with a bang of his spear on the ground, the festivities began. She got asked to dance soon after, by a stocky boy she knew from her Vanir class. At first, Teki wasn’t sure if she should accept—usually, she danced with Thor first—but she saw that her fiancé was already twirling a dark-haired girl on the dance floor, so she thought it would be okay.

Several dances later, Thor was still with the dark-haired girl. Teki didn’t know her name, but she thought she recognized her: she looked like the girl who trained with the Einherjar. With Thor. She swallowed the ball of anxiety climbing her throat and smoothed her crimson skirt. It made sense for Thor to want to spend time with someone he knew well, someone closer to his age. It was just… he had been with her a long time. And Teki knew that somewhere in the room, Osvald and her mother were peering at her intently, waiting on pins and needles for the prince to approach her with an extended hand.

A waiter came by with a tray of some kind of pastries, but Teki declined. The throbbing in her chest was beginning to return, along with a queasy feeling in her stomach. She hoped Thor would come over soon so she could go home and lie down.

A thin smattering of applause broke out over the music. Teki frowned. What happened? Should she be clapping too? She hadn’t been paying attention.

There was a stiffness in the air that hadn’t been there before. People were glancing back at her—why were so many people looking at her? And then she saw it.

Thor was tying his scabbard around the dark-haired girl’s waist in the middle of the dance floor. It took her a moment to understand, but once she did, she felt the color drain from her face.

Thor gave her his dagger.

Thor gave someone else his dagger.

Teki felt as though she had been doused in ice water.

Through the crowd, she felt Osvald’s heavy glare on her. She found him standing on the opposite side of the room, clapping with the rest of those around him. His features were emotionless, but his eyes glinted as they captured her gaze, hard and full of horrible promises.

We wouldn’t want to embarrass ourselves. Would we, Tekla?

Her breathing was coming fast now, so fast that it hurt, so fast that it felt like she wasn’t breathing at all.

Air. I need air!

Teki wasn’t sure how she made it to the balcony, only that suddenly she was outside, gripping the golden railing as if her life depended on it and gulping the cool, evening air.

Osvald was going to kill her.

A despondent wail slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. She slapped both hands over her mouth in an attempt to silence herself.

Breathe.

Why did Thor have to do that? Why couldn’t he have danced with her first? Didn’t he understand?!

Breathe.

The balcony overlooked the royal gardens, lush greenery that stretched far into the darkness of the night. Teki stared out at it all without really seeing it. Had she done something to upset Thor? Was he angry with her? Osvald would certainly see it that way…

Oh Norns, Osvald…

“Are you well?”

Teki jumped, whipping around with a shriek. Emerald eyes peered at her through the darkness.

Prince Loki.

She had had even less experience with the younger prince than with her betrothed, even though Thor’s little brother was closer to her age. He had been in a few of her classes when she was much younger, back when they were both still learning to read, but they never talked to each other. He didn’t speak much then. As far as she knew, he still didn’t.

Had he just been standing there this whole time, watching her panic about Thor’s blade? Teki had never been so mortified in her life.

“I’m well, my prince, thank you,” she tried to sink into a curtsey, but with her ribs screaming in protest all she could manage was a little bow of her head. “I-I just needed some fresh air.”

For a moment, Loki only stood there, studying her with those jewel-like eyes. “I can understand that,” he finally said, cautiously joining her at the railing, “It’s quite stuffy in there, don’t you think?”

Teki gaped at him, belatedly finding the wherewithal to nod in agreement. He turned his gaze to the gardens, allowing the quiet to lapse over the two of them once more. Teki stood rigidly at his side, wondering if walking away would be considered rude or if it was expected of her.

After several minutes of the uncomfortable silence, he cleared his throat. “You look lovely tonight, Lady Tekla.”

The compliment only reminded her of the gown her mother had laced her into earlier, the same shade of red as the cape Thor wore as he danced with the wrong girl. Her eyes swam with tears.

“Thank you,” she only barely managed to whisper.

Teki could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up. It wasn’t enough that she had failed to capture the favor of the boy she was promised too; now she had gone and humiliated herself in front of his younger brother.

Somehow, she knew she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

Loki shifted awkwardly. “My lady, I—” There was something in his tone that sounded almost apologetic. He cleared his throat again.

“Would you carry my blade for me tonight?” he asked quickly.

It took a moment for Teki to process his words, but once she did, she whipped her head to face him so quickly her braids almost slipped loose from their bun.

“What?” she breathed. He had to be joking. Laughing at her failure. But the prince only smiled at her with a sort of hesitant eagerness. “You—” she stuttered, completely forgetting to use his proper titles. “You want me?”

He laughed nervously. “Well, you’re the only one out here, aren’t you?” When Teki just stared at him, he coughed, twitching uncomfortably. “Of course, if you don’t wish to, I understand completely. I know I’m not—”

“No! It’s not—I mean—” Teki’s head was swimming. Was she even allowed to carry someone else’s dagger? He was still a prince, even if he wasn’t the right prince… it might please her parents to know that the entire royal family didn’t find her repulsive…

She smiled. “I’d be honored, your highness.”

Loki exhaled. “Wonderful.”

He picked at the knot holding his scabbard to his hip, the black leather sheath that housed his dagger. She could just barely make out the intricate design of its handle in the moonlight: snakes of gold intertwined and twisting their way up the grip, their metallic scales shimmering like the stars in the sky. Teki could practically hear her mother wailing about how it would clash with the silver trim of her dress. Still, she stepped forward when Loki reached out to tie the scabbard around her waist.

He was exceedingly cautious as he pulled the leather around her, almost as if he was afraid she’d shatter like glass if he moved the wrong way. Osvald would’ve laughed if he had saw it (“Our prince, ladies and gentlemen, frightened off by a pair of hips”), but Teki was grateful for his hesitancy. She too felt as if she was prone to shattering.

He pulled the strap tight as he knotted it, unknowingly pressing the leather against her aching rib. Teki couldn’t stop the hiss of pain that whistled through her teeth. Loki froze, glancing up in alarm.

“Did I hurt you? Are you alright?” His voice was slightly panicked.

Teki’s face flushed. Couldn’t she do one thing right today? “It’s fine, my prince,” she said quickly, ignoring the renewed throbbing in her chest.

“Are you certain? Forgive me—”

“There’s nothing to forgive, my prince,” she smiled widely, hoping she looked calm and well put together and not as spastic as she felt.

He studied her, gaze laced with concern, but finished tying the scabbard. Her fingers traced over the scaly hilt that now dangled at her hip. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, so loud she wondered if Loki could hear it.

I’m holding someone’s dagger.

Somehow, in all the times she practiced this interaction in her head, she never imagined the giddy rush that came with carrying the weapon. Of course she hadn’t! —in her head, it was always Thor tying the scabbard around her waist for appearances sake, because he had to. This was different. This was Loki, and Loki didn’t have to.

Loki held out his hand. “Would you join me for a dance?”

Teki nodded.

The dance floor was just as crowded as it had been when she had dashed off, but Osvald and her mother were nowhere to be seen. Teki breathed a sigh of relief as she and Loki slipped unseen into the waltz.

For a while, the two said nothing. Teki’s mother had drilled into her at a young age that to look at one’s feet while dancing was the pinnacle of discourtesy, but her stepfather gave her the back of his hand every time she dared to look a man in the eye. As a sort of compromise, Teki had fallen into the habit of focusing only on her partner’s chest during a dance. It was awkward, especially with someone like Loki who was basically the same height as her, but it kept both her overlords happy.

Apparently, it did not have the same effect on princes.

Loki, having seemingly overcome any anxiety he may have been feeling on the balcony, was quick adopt a teasing tone.

“Is my breastplate so terribly interesting, that you continue to study it so?” he asked with a hint of laughter in his voice, “Or am I just so hideous that you can’t bear to look at me?”

Teki started. “Oh, of course not, my prince. I—”

“It’s alright, my lady. I won’t turn you to stone.” Hesitantly, she raised her gaze to find Loki grinning at her. “There you are. You have such lovely eyes.”

Her eyes were murky brown, the same uninspired shade as her departed father’s. That Loki, with his sparkling gemstone irises, was saying hers were lovely was almost laughable. Cheeks burning, Teki dropped her gaze once more.

“Oh no! Not again!” Loki protested. When she continued to keep her eyes downcast, he sighed dramatically. “You continue to deprive me, Lady Tekla.”

Teki tried to bite back the smile that tickled her lips. This truly was the silliest conversation she had ever had with anyone, dancing or not. “My eyes are hardly anything special, my prince. It can’t be that great a deprivation.”

“Oh, you couldn’t be more wrong, my lady,” he said earnestly. “I’d go as far to say that you have the loveliest eyes in the room. They’re warm and inviting—like freshly roasted chestnuts on a winter’s day. Subtle, but subtle suits you, doesn’t it?” He reached out to tip her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “As I said, lovely.”

If her cheeks had been burning before, they must have been on fire now. “If you say so, my prince,” she murmured. Loki laughed, spinning her about to the music.

While he seemed blessedly content to drop the topic of eye color, Loki was quite clearly intent on carrying out a conversation. It was strange, to say the least—Teki had never known him to speak two sentences together at once, but now that he had started, he talked more than all of her previous dance partners combined. Even stranger was his determination to maintain a dialogue: he’d ask her questions about her family and hobbies and seemed to genuinely listen to her answers, however threadbare they may have been. Teki was shocked to discover that Loki knew her brother’s name and age, something Thor never seemed to remember.

“I suppose I just have a better memory when it comes to such things,” he shrugged when she said as much. Teki wondered if she was imagining the faint pink in his cheeks.

They had taken a break from dancing, standing huddled in the corner near a refreshment table as they sipped tiny goblets of wine. Usually, Teki tried to avoid the sickly sweet glasses, filled so carefully to their golden brims, but the pain in her ribs was getting quite severe and her mother always insisted that alcohol could mask any kind of ache.

Out on the dance floor, Prince Thor was twirling the dark-haired girl to whom he had given his dagger, laughing with an enthusiasm that suggested that he may have been drinking some wine as well. Loki had said that the girl’s name was Sif, and that she and his brother had grown quite close in the past year.

“It’s another one of his passing fancies. Nothing to worry about,” he had told her. “He has a tendency to forget that the universe doesn’t orbit him. His choice had nothing to do with you.” Teki wished Osvald would see it the same way.

She caught glimpse of her stepfather on the other side of the room, laughing gaily with a woman who was not her mother, and quickly averted her eyes. Her free hand caressed the hilt of Loki’s dagger at her hip. The younger prince may have granted her a respite, but it would not last. It was wishful thinking to hope that he would not blame her for Thor’s decision. He blamed her for everything. The outburst from earlier, the one that ended with her in a crumbled heap at the bottom of the stairs, had been over a book missing from his nightstand. Teki hadn’t touched the book, hadn’t even been aware of its existence, but Osvald still dragged her out of her room by her collar, shouting about harboring liars and thieves under his own roof.

Teki swallowed. No, he would be furious when they returned tonight. He’d wait until her mother went up to put Brant to bed, and then he’d turn on her.

“You had one purpose tonight. One singular purpose.”

Maybe he’d pick something up. A heavy book. One of the silver candlestick holders. He liked to hold things in his hands, liked the authority it gave him. Or maybe he’d just knock her to the floor with his fists.

When Teki had been little, she used to run from him. That was foolish. Running made him even angrier when he caught her, and he always caught her. She knew better than to try now. Now, when Osvald was mad, she knew to stay as perfectly still as possible, to muffle her cries and staunch her tears as much as she could, and to let him hit and kick and rant as much as he liked because then it was over faster. When he was finished, she could hobble to her parents’ room, where her mother would be pretending that the walls were too thick for her to hear the thuds.

A hand on her wrist made her jump, spilling her wine on the floor.

“Forgive me, my lady, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Loki smiled, but there was a sense of worry behind his eyes. “Are you well?”

Teki nodded, not trusting her voice. This was the second time tonight the prince had been concerned enough with her wellbeing to ask that question. She needed to pull herself together. But her hands were beginning to shake worse than leaves in the wind, and her breath was coming in fast little hiccups, her chest screaming. Somehow, she knew Osvald was watching.

Loki said something, but his troubled face was quickly fading into a blur of sound and color. She couldn’t have a scene. Not now, here, in front of the whole court! She couldn’t give him another reason to be mad! He was already so mad—

She cried out when someone wrapped their arm around her waist, pressing a little too hard on her injured ribs, but the grip loosened and she realized it was only Loki, guiding her out of the ballroom and down the hall to a bench. The sudden lack of the hum of hundreds of voices left her ears ringing, but somehow, the effect was soothing.

Teki was choking out apologies even as the prince helped her into the seat. He shushed her, kneeling before the bench and stroking her knee through her dress. That was soothing too.

“Breathe,” he murmured. “Just breathe. It’s alright. You’re safe.”

His words lulled her racing heart to a steadier pace. She closed her eyes and did as he said.

Breathe. In and Out. It’s alright. Just breathe.

She didn’t notice when his hand moved from her knee to her waist, but she did notice when his reassuring stream of words cut off abruptly. Teki opened her eyes to see him frowning at her middle.

“You’re injured,” he said.

Her heart jumped to her throat. “W-what?”

“This swelling by your chest. That’s not normal.” He looked up, his features distressed. “You’ve been in pain this whole time, haven’t you?”

Teki turned away. She couldn’t face him, not with him looking up at her like that. “I fell down the stairs,” she whispered when she realized he was waiting for an answer, quietly, quickly, all in one breath.

Loki said nothing. He brought his other hand to join the first at her waist and muttered something. A strange heat enveloped her chest, soft and safe, and suddenly the pain was gone. Just gone, as if nothing had ever happened. Teki inhaled. She had heard that the younger prince had his mother’s talent for magic, but never had she imagined he was capable of such healing.

“Thank you,” she managed to breathe. Then she burst into tears.

She shouldn’t have been surprised. It had been building all night, the panic slowly rising in her throat even as she fought to swallow it whole. It was only a matter of time before it came pouring out. Still, it was humiliating. Teki buried her face in her hands, as if she could hide her obnoxious sobbing from the prince.

He rose. Teki half expected him to return to the party: after all, he had done more than enough. There was no need for him to sit here and watch her bawl like a baby.

But he didn’t leave. Instead, she felt his weight settle next to her on the bench. Gently, he began stroking her knee again, just a feather-light touch that she barely felt through her skirt. He said nothing.

They sat like that for a while, the silence of the hallway pierced only by her wet hiccups. It was a pathetic display and Teki knew it, but she didn’t have the energy to pretend otherwise. Honestly, it started to feel rather nice after a bit. There was no staging right here, no role she had been trained to play. Lady Tekla of Asgard, betrothed of Prince Thor—that girl had washed away with the tears. Now, there was only Teki: battered and broken, but real.

Slowly, she got ahold of herself. Steadied her breathing, fixed her hair, wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand—at least, that’s what she was making to do when Loki held out a handkerchief. Teki took it with mumbled thanks. She tried not to concentrate on what he must have been thinking of all this. A bitter laugh tickled her lips as she dabbed at her nose: at least it was only Loki who bore witness to what a mess she was, and not Thor, or worse, Odin.

He was the first to break the silence, his tone measured and deliberate. “My mother is very protective of the ladies of the court,” he said, holding her in his gaze. “If she thought that one was being mistreated, she would not hesitate to take action.”

Teki swallowed. She knew what he was asking. Here he was, trying to throw her a line and pull her to safety. She just didn’t know if she could take it. For a moment, Teki imagined going to Frigga, spilling her guts to a sympathetic mother, watching as her stepfather was arrested and dragged away on the orders of the Queen. It was a lovely dream, but it soon faded into something quite different. Going to Frigga, telling her everything, only to have the Queen call in Osvald to check his story. Osvald would lie. So would her mother. So would Brant, if they had time to tell him what to say. And Frigga would shake her head and chastise her for lying and send her back with her family, and Osvald would take her by the arm and, and…

We wouldn’t want to embarrass ourselves, would we Tekla?

“It’s fine, my prince,” Teki said, twisting the wet handkerchief around her fingers. She couldn’t look at him. “It’s fine. It was just an accident.”

Even with her focus on her lap, she could feel the prince studying her. How was it, she wondered, that this boy’s gaze was so tangible that she always knew when his eyes were on her?

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

Teki nodded. Her eyes were burning again, but she had cried enough today and was determined not to start again.

“Lady Tekla,” he shifted, leaning closer to her. “Please. There must be something I can do.”

It wasn’t right, hearing the prince say her birth name so gently, not when it belonged to Osvald. It had never bothered her before, but suddenly, she couldn’t stand it. “You can call me Teki,” she blurted out without thinking. Gasping, she clapped her hands over her mouth.

But Loki didn’t seem offended at her direct tone. “Teki?” he asked, cocking his head. “Is that a nickname?”

Her cheeks were on fire, but she nodded. “In-in a way, my prince,” she stuttered. “Please, forgive my—”

“There’s nothing to forgive, my lady,” he laughed. “Please, continue.”

Teki inhaled, swallowing her embarrassment. “Well… I don’t really go by Tekla. Or, I do, but… my brother calls me Teki.” She was speaking far too fast and likely making very little sense, but now that she had started, she found she couldn’t stop. “He can’t pronounce his l’s, see, so he just calls me Teki. It drives my mother crazy. She thinks he sounds like a simpleton. But… I kind of like it. More than Tekla, I mean. My—” she stopped abruptly, before she ventured out into more dangerous territory.

Loki nodded. “Go on.”

Teki bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t supposed to talk about him. She especially wasn’t supposed to talk about him to a member of the royal family. But Loki was sitting there, smiling at her with an eagerness she had never seen from anyone else, and she found herself trusting him despite herself.

“My father called me Teki, too,” she whispered. “My real father. Before he… went away.” She sighed. Saying it felt like a betrayal. Her father had been a kind, wonderful man, a musician in the royal court. According to the stories she heard from the servants, he had been absolutely enchanted with her mother, who greatly enjoyed the attention from the court’s most talented bard. Teki had been the accidental result of a few minutes indiscretion between performances.

Once he found out, her grandfather had been in a rush to marry his daughter off to a respectable noble before the pregnancy began to show. But the musician wouldn’t have it. The child was his, he argued. By law he had the right to raise it as such. Teki’s grandfather offered him money, land, prestige, but he held his ground. In the end, Teki’s mother had no choice, and the two were wed.

Even as a child, Teki knew that her parents didn’t like each other. They slept in separate beds in separate rooms and spoke to each other only through servants carrying messages. When her grandfather visited for lunch, her father was not allowed to the table. But he didn’t care, and so neither did Teki. He was content to spend his days carrying her through the gardens on his shoulders, singing songs of dragons and warriors and brave little princesses who saved the day. She learned to play the piano before she learned to read, sitting on his lap and covering his tan hands with hers as they danced across the keys.

“My little Teki,” he’d laugh when they finished a piece together. “You’re going to put me out of work!”

She had just started her lessons when the negotiations between Odin and her grandfather began. At the time, Teki didn’t really understand what was happening, only that her grandfather was coming over more than usual, and that he was angry at her father more than usual. When she asked her father about it, he told her not to worry.

“The adults are just trying to figure some things out,” he said, tucking her into bed. “It’s nothing you should be concerned with.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you, Teki.”

“Love you, Daddy.”

Then one day he was gone. Just gone. Her mother produced a letter he had left behind, explaining that family life had just become too overwhelming for him and that he had formally dissolved his marriage. Within a week, everything had changed: his room had been cleared out, the piano sold away, her mother’s engagement to Osvald formally announced. A week later, Odin made public his agreement with her grandfather, betrothing his eldest son to Lady Tekla.

Teki was banned from talking about her father.

“He left us, dear,” her mother explained. “He didn’t love you. He’s not your father anymore. We have Lord Osvald now.”

Teki nodded, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. He went away. He left. He doesn’t love you. He’s gone. She chanted the words in her head over and over again, trying to convince herself of their validity. But she couldn’t bring herself to believe them.

When her father first disappeared, a handwriting specialist was produced to determine whether or not the letter was genuine. He concluded that it was in fact written by Teki’s father and that the sentiments expressed within were completely authentic. But he was wrong.

At the bottom of the letter, her father had left a note for her. “My dear Tekla,” it said, “I hope you understand that this is all for your own good. Someday, I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me. Love, Daddy.”

Her father never called her Tekla.

Of course, Teki didn’t tell any of this to Prince Loki. Still, he seemed to be struggling to come up with a response to what little she had said. She wondered how much he knew about her father. Her family had done a good job of disappearing him from existence—most of the court believed her stepfather to be her biological father. Over the years, she had gotten used to being introduced as Tekla Osvalddottir, as deeply as it stung.

“It sounds quite special,” the prince finally said. “Are you sure you want me to use it? I feel as though I might profane it.”

Teki flushed at the reminder of how they reached this subject. “You don’t have to, my prince,” she murmured. “Only if you want to. I mean—I do prefer it to Tekla, but—”

“Well, in that case I shall,” he said softly. “Lady Teki. It’s quite sweet. I like it.” He grinned, his green eyes lighting up. “It’s only a few letters off from Loki, after all.”

She giggled despite herself. “Just… don’t let my mother hear you say that. I think she’d go mad if anyone else started calling me Teki.”

“Well, now I won’t be able to help it, will I? I do so love my mischief.”

Inside the ballroom, she could only just barely hear the notes changing to a slower dance. Perhaps it would be best if they returned now. Who knew how long she had kept the prince away from the festival with her wild, emotional nonsense. Someone was certain to be looking for him.

Loki seemed to read her mind. “If you’re feeling better,” he asked, standing up and offering his hand, “Perhaps you would honor me with another dance?”

Teki beamed. “I’d love to, my prince.”

The ballroom was just as they had left it, couples swaying, laughing, drinking. She noted Thor with Sif on his arm in one corner, her mother with Brant in another. Osvald was nowhere to be found, and Loki seemed to have no intentions of letting her search for him. He swept her into his arms, her gorgeous crimson dress fanning out around her, and pulled her out onto the floor. There wasn’t much to this dance: it was mostly just simply swaying, soft and soothing like her partner. Teki found herself melting into the movements, entranced by Loki’s smile.

“I’m glad Thor didn’t give me his dagger,” she whispered. She was surprised by how much she meant it.

Loki’s breath hitched. “Really?”

She nodded. Maybe Osvald could try to make her regret it, but she could feel the truth deep in her chest.

Her prince smiled. “Me too, Teki,” he whispered. “Me too.”

#dances and daggers #loki oneshot #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #loki marvel #loki laufeyson #cozy writes

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strawberrysoup · 5 years ago

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Yes, Sheriff || Chapter 1

Sheriff Carol Danvers takes her job of protecting the citizens of her small town very seriously — there are just some that she cares about more than others. A lot more, in fact, and she will take care of her sweet baby girl whether she likes it or not.

relationship: Carol Danvers/Reader rating: Explicit chapters: 1/? length: 5,413 warnings: Dark Carol Danvers, coercion, manipulation, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat additional warnings: open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

This is my entry for searchforanotherway’s Onyx Night Challenge! My plan is for this story to span several chapters, so it certainly won’t be finished by the deadline of January 11th but I wanted to try and write a fic longer than just a oneshot. That being said this chapter can stand alone and doesn’t have to be read in conjunction with other chapters for plot coherency or effect. Oh, also please keep in mind that I’ve never written a reader insert before, so go easy on me if anything seems off!

Being the sheriff of a very small town and the rather empty surrounding county came with some very particular challenges Carol hadn’t necessarily expected when she signed on. Burgess was mostly concentrated in a small area where the main town was built, about three or four streets worth of businesses. Beyond that were what they jokingly referred to within the department as the Suburbs, mostly cute little farmhouses with plenty of space in between. Of course, the distance between plots hadn’t done them any good when the fire broke out about 6 years ago, before Carol signed on with the department, and had taken out 12 houses. 36 people had died, the fire was so hot and spread so fast through the 100 year old homes the volunteer fire department had barely been able to keep it from jumping the road.

Y/N’s parents, her only family, had been 2 of the casualties. She would’ve been too, had she not been spending the night at a friends house on the other side of the Suburbs. From what Carol had been able to gather, the young woman had just graduated from getting her Masters degree in library sciences and had intended to only move back home for a little while before moving to the city permanently. The death of her parents had destroyed many of her plans, especially when she had to deal with so much fallout from the insurance companies and lawyers. Luckily her family had owned the land her house sat on, the money from the home insurance had come through and y/n inherited everything. She’d rebuilt the house, smaller but just as old fashioned in design, and taken a job as the town’s librarian, enabling the previous one to retire (the woman had been older, didn’t actually have the education necessary to be a librarian and was happy to step aside so sweet little y/n could have the position).

Most of the town seemed to have a soft spot for y/n. When Carol first started, the entire population had been leery of her. She’d expected it, luckily, and wasn’t shocked by the reserved nature of the people she served. She was relatively shocked when they started accepting her presence, their topics of conversation ranging from now the town fair is very important around here so you need to handle it correctly—those townies will run amok if you’re not careful to do you think you could drive past the library this evening while y/n walks to her car? I get so worried when she’s out late like that with no one around. It was consistent that the townsfolk would find a way to wriggle y/n into conversation but they didn’t seem to know it was a collective issue; every person who asked her devote some extra attention to the young woman did so covertly, as if to prevent anyone from knowing. It was endearing and cute and Carol honestly didn’t have much to do most of the time so she didn’t mind the little side tasks.

The small town and county police department was made up of 90% locals who were happy to respond to most calls. They mostly dealt with domestics and property violations, occasionally some sort of larceny or robbery or breaking and entering calls. Wilson and Barnes were trained paramedics and dealt with the medical calls, luckily, although when she rolled into town Carol had forced all of her deputies to get certified in multiple emergency life saving techniques. The nearest ambulance dispatch was an hour away and she was baffled the former Sheriff hadn’t enforced even basic CPR certifications. Rogers, one of her two deputies, handled most of the domestics with Carol as his back up if necessary (it was almost never necessary, even if Rogers didn’t have that disarming Good Ol’ Boy Charm he had biceps as wide as y/n’s thighs and could handle most things on his own). Rhodes, her second deputy, was good for dealing with bored teenagers who liked to play at crime, breaking and entering and minor burglary, along with trespassing. Property violations and agricultural issues were big in a town like Burgess too, but Odinson (another transplant like herself) had grown up in an even tinier town devoted to farming and could handle such problems in his sleep. Pietro, the youngest and greenest in the department, handled what she considered the beat; traffic and parking violations, jaywalking that caused endangerment, vandalism, etc. Most of what came down on Carol’s shoulders were the big issues—the small amount of drug situations they dealt with, any prostitution or assaults. The other officers said they liked her to be open for those sorts of calls, which left her driving around on patrol at least 50% of the time with nothing to do.

It gave her more time to talk to locals than she expected, more time to subtly watch y/n than she could’ve ever anticipated. The more she watched her, the bigger Carol’s problem became; y/n was lovely and sweet and beautiful and Carol was finding that she had a crush on the young woman. Well, it might’ve started as a crush. Carol found herself very quickly falling down a rabbit hole of obsession and honestly wasn’t all that mad about it—the longer she watched, the more she realized how perfect y/n was, in general and for her.

Carol had embraced her bisexuality at a young age, had dated men and women over the years but never really found anyone to her liking. She had an incredibly dominant personality, both in general and in the bedroom and finding someone willing to unconditionally follow direction was hard. Moving to a small town had seemed like a sexual death sentence in all honesty, until she came across y/n. She was so small and demure, averted her eyes and blushed constantly under Carol’s strong gaze and said yes Sheriff when prompted with the most precious drawl. Carol could look down her nose at the woman, could imagine the way she’d feel slotted right against her chest with her head tucked perfectly under her chin, knew that y/n was just short enough that she’d have to stand on her tiptoes when Carol put her thigh right between those pretty legs and made her work for her orgasm, those tiptoes slipping for purchase while her pussy ground hard into her thigh.

It had gotten harder and harder to ignore, the all too carnal desires she had for the young woman and she was relieved when she decided there was no reason to ignore them. There was no reason not to take y/n as her own— she’d take good care of her, in every way, and love her so deeply that she’d never dream of anything else, never want anyone else. Carol was meticulous and careful and manipulative, even if she pretended not to be. It wouldn’t be hard to get her right where she wanted her.

The spark plugs in the glove box of her cruiser were a testament to that. It had been easily to quickly take them after the sun had gone down, Carol knew for a fact there weren’t security cameras anywhere nearby and there was no one around to see (usually the library was rather busy right up until close, but most of the population was at the high school football game a town over). Several of her officers were there too, Carol correctly assuming that it would be a slow night for calls. Peter Parker had offered to take the dispatch shift and run the receptionist desk so that the usual evening dispatcher, Wanda could attend the game too.

Carol sat straighter in her seat as y/n emerged from the library, taking the time to carefully lock the doors—first the door that led straight to the her help desk and then the double doors that opened into the main library, the entrances separated by a wall between the doors and a small hallway that allowed y/n a little bit of privacy in her “office” unless someone needed extra assistance. The keys went into her purse, exchanged for her car keys with a generous pause that made Carol cringe slightly; she wished y/n would have her keys ready and out when she left the building, the long hesitation while she stood alone in the dark was ample opportunity for a mugging or abduction. She’d impress the importance of being prepared and quick once she had an opportunity that wouldn’t betray the fact she’d been watching her from afar.

There was another uncomfortably long pause as she unlocked her car and climbed in, leaving the door open for an extended time while she settled and Carol was sure y/n didn’t lock the doors even once it was closed. It would evidently be a rather long conversation regarding safety. Carol smiled when the car didn’t start after several minutes and turned up her radio. Most of the townsfolk would call the non emergency line at the station when they had car troubles and Carol was nearly positive y/n would do the same. It took about five minutes give or take for her radio to crackle to life, Peter’s voice coming through.

“Sheriff, Rhodey, are either of you near the library? Y/n just called in from the parking lot, she just finished closing up the building and can’t get her car to start."

"I’m just across the street, actually— Coach Steveson asked me to make sure y/n got home alright since he figured nobody would be around because of the game,” it was true, Carol regularly got requests from different citizens asking her or the other officers to check in on people and y/n was one of the top requests, obviously, because everyone knew she was alone, “tell her to wait in her car, I’ll be over in just a second."

"Will do, Sheriff!” There was a click and crackle on the radio and Carol smiled; Peter made an excellent receptionist but his dispatch skills could use some work and professionalism, not that she really minded the candor.

She cranked her car on and reached into the glovebox to retrieve the spark plugs she’d grabbed earlier, glancing at herself carefully in the rearview mirror. Her hair was pulled back to show off her undercut, the front in a twist away from her face with some strands having managed to escape over the course of the day. Y/n liked the undercut, evidenced by how flustered the poor thing got the first day she saw it (actually that was the day Carol realized y/n wasn’t straight, the poor thing had been so caught off guard she’d stuttered and blushed and had 100% rubbed her pretty thighs together under her skirt).

She quickly popped across the street, spark plugs tucked discreetly into her pants pocket and pulled up beside y/n’s car. The door opened immediately, much to Carol’s displeasure; she was sure Peter relayed the message that y/n was to stay in her car. The order was likely too ambiguous and Carol would be more careful in the future.

“I’m so sorry to bother you Sheriff,” y/n started immediately as Carol exited her cruiser, “I hate to call but my car won’t start, I could pop the hood but I have no idea what I’m looking for."

She looked embarrassed, hands twisting together at her waist and Carol had to carefully arrange her features to prevent her excitement from showing, her demure little baby was so cute, "that’s alright y/n, I always want you to call if you need help. How about you get back in and pop the hood for me, I’ll take a look."

Y/n did so quickly before joining Carol at the front of the car, much to her amusement, "you go ahead and sit down, sweetheart, I might want you to try cranking the engine, okay? I’ll tell you when."

The pet name was easy to pass under y/n’s radar, the endearments a regular part of the small town life. Even Carol got called sweetheart and honey on a regular basis, but it didn’t stop y/n from blushing darkly all the way down to her chest. Carol carefully kept her eyes from trailing down the neckline of y/n’s sensible tank top (it was hot as hell outside and paired with a long, flowy skirt Carol was sure anyone would think it professional enough for a small town librarian) despite the fact she desperately wanted to know if the redness spread all the way to her tits. The young woman did as directed, quickly hustling around to sit in the driver’s seat with the door open.

It was easy to quickly reattach the spark plugs, just so that when the mechanic showed up in the morning they wouldn’t be suspiciously missing. She didn’t bother disconnecting anything else, instead staying ducked under the hood long enough to justify a good look around before standing straight and closing it.

"There must be something going on below the surface honey, everything up here looks fine,” she stated, walking around to meet y/n as she stood up, “why don’t I give you a ride and I’ll call Tony out in the morning to take a look."

There was a torn look on y/n’s face at the suggestion and Carol watched the gears turn in her head; leaving her car overnight in the lot wasn’t the problem, no one would tow it or anything, the problem would come in the morning when she needed to get back to the library to open. The blonde had already considered all of the options though and smiled sweetly when y/n hesitated.

"I’m just about to get off for the night anyway, we could swing by your place and grab some of your clothes and you can stay the night at mine, I can drop you over here on my way in,” she offered, enjoying the flustered way that y/n shifted on her feet, “I guess I could just drive around to come pick you up at your place before I start my shift…"

The sheer thought of inconveniencing the town Sheriff made y/n look like she might cry and she quickly shook her head, "no, no I can stay over tonight. I’d hate to make you go out of your way—no, thank you so much for the offer, it’s so kind thank you."

Y/n wouldn’t look up from her feet but Carol didn’t push, couldn’t push quite yet. Instead she encouraged y/n to grab her purse and held the door of the passenger seat open while the smaller woman slipped inside. She’d call Tony in the morning, say she couldn’t find anything wrong with the car but would you please take a look for y/n’s peace of mind. The mechanic would surely be happy to help and would make up some excuse for why the car hadn’t started so y/n wouldn’t get embarrassed over not being able to properly start her car.

The ride to y/n’s house only took about five minutes and she was quick to collect an overnight bag before running back out to the cruiser. Carol kept a very careful eye on her as she continued on to her own home, a good fifteen minutes further into the suburbs. She could tell y/n was confused, if Carol’s house was further than hers why couldn’t she stay at her own home overnight? It would’ve been on the Sheriff’s way into town, just a quick stop. But y/n was a good girl and never questioned those she considered superiors, instead just sitting in vague discomfort as they got farther and farther from her home.

Carol lived on what was considered the very edge of town, as a new addition to the population it was hard to get a place closer, but she appreciated the the isolation. Y/n waited until Carol opened her car door to do the same, shuffling nervously along behind her up the steps. The house wasn’t as nice as the one y/n had built but it was quaint and old and smelled like all of the old houses that had survived the fire.

"Here we go,” Carol unlocked the door and waived y/n inside with a pleasant smile, “I left dinner in a slow cooker this morning, give me just a minute to change and I’ll get it all together."

"Oh, Sheriff, I couldn't—"

"Of course you can sweetheart, I’d be insulted if you didn’t,” she joked with a smile, “you can put your stuff where ever, make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back."

Carol could tell y/n had been expecting her to show her to a bedroom and pressed her lips together; y/n would be sleeping in her bed by the end of the night but the poor thing didn’t know that and wouldn’t know what to do if Carol instructed her to put her things in there. She changed quickly, into a pair of tight joggers and a slightly cropped workout top that showed her abs—she wanted to see what shade of red y/n’s skin would turn at the sight. Plus, she had aspirations of y/n riding the hard planes of her abdomen until she came and a short shirt would make that easier if she could make it happen, no matter how far fetched the hope.

Y/n’s eyes immediately dropped to the exposed skin when Carol returned and the blonde wanted to coo her face turned so red, it was so cute, her baby was so precious. She carefully pretended not to notice the staring, crossing into the kitchen quickly and checking on the crock pot of spicy pulled pork.

"I could put this over a salad for you or put it on a roll, which do you prefer?” She turned back just in time to see y/n’s eyes snap up from where they’d been locked on her ass and was unable to hide the that came over her features; teasing her at this point would be a mistake, but it was so hard not to, “come over here and I’ll make you a plate honey."

Y/n shuffled over, red faced and very obviously embarrassed to have been caught checking out the ass of the local sheriff, "just-just a sandwich, please."

Carol made sure to pull from the bottom of the pot, where the meat would be the spiciest for y/n’s sandwich before handing her the plate and grabbing a bag of chips to go with it from the pantry. Y/n dutifully went to go sit at the table, waiting patiently while Carol fixed herself both a sandwich and a salad. She didn’t bother to ask if y/n drank, pouring them both a large glass of the strongest red wine she currently had in the house (bought specifically for this occasion) and setting one down in front of y/n.

"This is my favourite wine,” she stated, looking to subtly manipulate y/n’s coming actions, “it’s a bit expensive but I haven’t had such lovely company over in a minute, might as well share it."

The wine was already poured, Carol’s favourite, and it was expensive; there was no way y/n would reject it now. The food was spicy, she’d likely drink the entire glass, and with her smaller stature would certainly not be entirely herself afterwards. And poor y/n played right into her hands, following the script Carol had written in her head to a T. She got flirtier as the meal progressed, as her wine disappeared, responding to Carol’s carefully probing words beautifully. The blonde was two seconds from stealing her off her chair to sit her right on her lap when y/n gave a little sigh.

"I think I drank a little more than I meant to,” the words were punctuated by a little hiccup and Carol cooed in response, immediately standing when y/n pressed to her feet.

She didn’t give the shorter woman time to move too far, carefully latching an arm around her waist and drawing her in close, her other hand catching y/n’s cheek gently to direct her gaze, “that’s okay, baby, I’ll take care of you."

Y/n took just a second longer to process than it usually would’ve taken before her cheeks darkened, her lips parting in surprise, "O-oh, I—"

Carol hushed her gently, her lips finding purchase against y/n’s jaw and running the length of her cheek to her ear, "you’re so shy for me baby girl, it’s so precious. I’ve always wondered if that blush goes all the way to your tits."

The tank top came off easily, y/n squeaking in shock but not fast enough to prevent her bra from following. Carol’s hands grasped her hips and she walked the smaller woman backwards until she could lift her to sit on the counter, her lips pressed hungrily against y/n’s own. Her skirt lifted easily until the fabric bunched at her waist and Carol pressed herself firmly between y/n’s thighs, happy for the extra bit of height. She wished she’d put on a strap on after changing, she could’ve slipped right into y/n’s pussy so easily at this angle.

"Wait-wait, Carol—Sh-Sheriff!"

"You’ll feel so good after this,” Carol’s lips trailed down her cheek, to her neck and down to her pretty tits, lapping at her nipple gently, “just let me…"

Her lips engulfed one of y/n’s nipples and she gave a deep, languid suck while the young woman on the counter writhed. One hand kept purchase on y/n’s back, a careful but firm hold to prevent her from squirming away while the other trailed down to her panty covered pussy. She was wet, a spot beginning to form on the fabric and Carol grinned. Her teeth scraped over y/n’s nipple, drawing a sharp cry from her and quickly slipped her fingers up into her wet cunt while she was distracted. Although it didn’t take long for her baby to notice the intrusion, her legs shifting and her thighs attempting to close even as Carol stood between them.

"You’re so wet, baby girl,” she cooed darkly, watching y/n’s face coloured with humiliation, “you want this so bad, don’t you? You want me to make you cum? Huh? On my fingers or my tongue?"

"N-no, wait,” her head spun as she reached down, grabbing Carol’s wrist in a weak attempt to keep her fingers from pumping into her cunt, “Carol, I don't—"

"When we’re fucking you call me Sheriff or Sir, do you understand?” Her thumb gave a rough pass over y/n’s clit and she jumped, a short whine escaping her even as her eyes started to shine with tears, “tell me you understand, y/n."

"Y-yes sir,” she hiccups slightly but was rewarded with Carol’s lips returning to her nipple, tongue laving over her sensitive bud forcefully enough that y/n tried to wiggle away.

Carol immediately withdrew her hand from y/n’s pussy and slapped her cunt hard through the fabric of her panties, earning a yelp and the blonde was forced to hold her hip tightly in place with the other hand, “you don’t try to get away from me baby, not ever."

It was easy to lift y/n over her shoulder, her baby screeching in shock as she was forced to hang upside down. The walk to her bedroom was quick and she tossed y/n onto the bed without hesitation, absently deciding to add more weight to her workouts— she liked manhandling her baby girl and some extra training might help it go smoother, especially if y/n decided to be naughty and needed a bit of extra restraining.

Y/n was still dizzy from the ride, too shocked to attempt to slip off the bed and simply not coordinated enough to try anything clever. Carol caught the edge of her toy box with her toe and dragged it over to the edge of the bed for easy access, slipping onto the mattress and covering y/n’s small body with hers. She quickly returned her mouth to the perky tits beneath her, lips latching onto the under stimulated nipple and sucking hard. Y/n whined him response, chest rising with each hard tug in attempts to lessen the pressure.

"I’m glad your pussy’s so wet,” Carol murmured after releasing the abused nipple with a pop, hand reaching over the edge of the bed to dig one of her smaller strap ons out of the box, “I don’t know if I have any lube."

She whipped her top off quickly after finding the one she wanted, followed by her pants. Forgoing underwear had been convenient and she quickly worked to attach the strap on around her waist. The moment y/n realized what was happening, her face scrunched and the tears came back with a vengeance. The no trying to run away rule was obviously immediately forgotten as she scrambled for purchase on the bed, her coordination nonexistent after the strong wine. Carol reached out and easily flipped her onto her stomach, subduing her flailing limbs with ease.

"What did I say about trying to get away from me baby?” Carol yanked the skirt down over her legs, catching the waistband of her panties in the same tug and shucked both articles across the room, “now I’ve gotta punish you before I fuck you, naughty girl."

"N-No, no! Wha—"

Carol slapped her hand down on y/n’s ass with enough force to make her shriek, the sound lighting the blonde’s pussy up like nobody’s business. She could feel her wetness dripping, the press of the strap on over her clit delicious. When she finished up the spanking, leaving her pretty ass red and raw and painful, Carol flipped y/n onto her back once more. The yelp she let out made the blonde smile, knowing that even the soft fabric of her sheets would feel like sandpaper at the moment.

"Awe, don’t cry baby, shhh,” Carol stretched out above her, letting the cock of her strap on drag against y/n’s wet little cunt in the process and wiped the tears away from her cheeks, “shhh, be a good girl now. You’re gonna take my cock so well, won’t you baby girl?"

"P-please, I don't—"

"You don’t what, baby girl? You don’t wanna take my piece?” Carol’s hand immediately found her wet pussy, scooping a good amount of arousal onto her fingers before bringing it back up to smear the moisture across y/n’s lips and cheeks, “this greedy little cunt disagrees. It wants my cock bad baby and who am I to deny this pretty pussy anything."

The head of the strapon nudged between y/n’s pussy lips, drawing a loud whine. Her knees drew up as Carol pressed deeper and deeper and the blonde was quick to spread her thighs wide, the muscles jumping as she pressed those pretty thighs flat to the mattress. When Carol finally bottomed out, y/n was whining and squirming, hands pressed against her taut abs. The movement chafed her raw ass against the sheets and the blonde knew the pain must’ve been a sharp burn.

"Is it a lot baby?” The blonde panted slightly, clit well stimulated by the strap on, “is that a lot for your little cunny? This is one of the small ones baby girl, you better get used to the stretch."

Carol withdrew and thrust in deeply before y/n could speak, repeating the motion roughly several times before she fell into rhythm pounding away at her pussy. Y/n wailed, her ass dragging brutally over the sheets with each sharp thrust and igniting a truly awful burn. The squelch of her pussy was obscene though and Carol shivered at the sound—she was so wet it was dripping out of her pussy, sliding down her ass crack and soaking into the bedsheets. Her mind might not’ve been entirely on board but her cunt was 100% involved, ready, and excited for the pounding even as her burning ass was rubbed raw by the bedding and the constant, torturous movement.

"God your pussys ruining my sheets baby,” she slapped at y/n’s clit several times in rapid succession, drawing a loud wail from her lips, “your cunts so excited to be fucked, so fucking wet its gushing. You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for me, aren’t you? Cum on my cock baby girl, cum on it!"

Y/n wailed in response, her little body pulling tight for several seconds before she came so hard her eyes rolled back and she shook. Carol fucked her through it with force, only stopping when the desperation for her own orgasm set in. She pulled her cock from y/n’s gaping pussy and removed the strap, dropping it over the side of the bed as she moved up her baby girl’s body until her cunt was positioned over that little gasping mouth.

"Mouth open, baby girl,” she ordered, hands digging into her hair to angle her chin up, “you’re gonna eat my pussy until I cum."

A small noise escaped y/n, some cute little grunting whine as Carol flattened her cunt over her mouth and thrust her hips forward. The drag was lovely, y/n’s open mouth warm and wet against her sopping pussy lips.

"Use your tongue,” she ordered with a small gasp, feeling her orgasm getting closer as her hand closed over the back of y/n’s head to keep her mouth pressed firmly against against her cunt, hips rolling swiftly back and forth as she chased her own end.

She moaned loudly when little kitten licks teased her lower lips, concentrating the movement of her hips to press her clit against y/n’s tongue. The drag was wonderful, a loud cry escaped her lips as she started to cum and she doubled her efforts, fucking y/n’s face brutally into the mattress until it abated. She let her weight rest suffocatingly over y/n’s mouth and nose for several seconds, lifting up just before she could start to panic.

“God that was even better than I could’ve imagined, you’re so good for me baby girl,” Carol slipped down her prone form, kissing her soundly but gently and licking the cum and arousal from her shell shocked face, “fuck, I knew you’d be perfect."

Y/n looked up at the blonde with big, wet eyes even as Carol continued to whisper praises against her lips. A hand had returned to her sopping pussy, Carol collecting her cum with taunting fingers before swiping the residual from her own messy cunt as well, bringing it up to y/n’s mouth. When her baby girl’s lips didn’t open she grabbed her jaw, squeezing with increasing pressure until her mouth opened and she was able to shovel the mix of their cum into her mouth.

"Swallow it down baby girl,” Carol cooed, hand sealing over y/n’s nose and mouth tightly until her throat visibly worked several times to swallow the load, “so good, so precious sweet girl."

The blonde’s eyes glanced to the bedside table and she sighed lightly, ignoring the huge wet spot on the bed beneath y/n and lying to her left on the mattress. She easily pulled the smaller woman on top of her, y/n’s little waist cushioned between her sticky thighs and her head rested perfectly between Carol’s breasts. She could see the bright red, chafed skin from her position and smiled darkly—y/n would feel it for days, everytime she sat would be a reminder.

"It’s gotten late baby, we should go to sleep. We’ll wake up early and go to breakfast at the diner before I drop you off at work,” her hands worked gently up and down y/n’s back with soft, sleepy touches, brushing the top of her ass with careful fingers.

“I—”

Carol hushed her before she could get a word in, “go to sleep baby, the alcohol in your system must be making you drowsy by now, especially after that kind of fucking. We’ll talk in the morning."

content warnings: alcohol consumption, nonconsenual vaginal fingering, strap on insertion and fucking, ass and pussy spanking, cunnilingus and face riding (is that what that’s called? i’m honestly not sure how to tag that), suffocation, and cum eating. hmu if i’ve missed anything.

#carol danvers x reader #dark!carol danvers #captain marvel x reader #dark!fic #sheriff au #yes sheriff

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