#the fact that this is technically just part four kills me

[analogwriting]

It Comes in Waves

Chapter 10: Spilling Waves

Trafalgar Law x gn!reader word count: 2.8k first|next

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You followed Chopper to the deck. You barely stepped a foot out the door before you heard Luffy screaming your name followed by the immediate feeling of his limbs wrapping around your body as he hugged you tightly. You yelped as his body slammed with yours.

“Hey, Luffy,” you choked out. 

“LUFFY BE CAREFUL THEY ARE STILL RECOVERING!!!” Chopper was going to blow a gasket at this rate. You looked at the reindeer. “It's okay, Chopper. I'll be fine.”

You patted Luffy's back. 

“I thought I lost you,” he mumbled, his face buried in your neck. That statement hurt your heart. “Can't get rid of me that easily.” You tried to lighten the mood but he was quiet for a moment more. Even with his carefree attitude, you knew that his brother’s death affected him. You thought about all the times the three of you happened to run into each other. They were always fun.

He slowly let you go and air slowly came back to your lungs. “I didn't mean to scare you. Sorry,” you mumbled, ruffling his hair once you were able to fully move again. 

Once he let go, you gave him a proper hug. You pulled away, looking at him with pride. Much like an older sibling would. “Look at you! I think you grew a few inches!” You laughed. Your eyes landed on his scar and that day filled your mind but you tried to not let it dampen your mood. 

Though, it was in the shape of an ‘x’. Probably because his life was a treasure.

“I did, actually! I'm also a lot stronger now! I can use haki!” You grinned at him lazily, putting your hands on your hips. “Well, shit. Looks like the title of King of the Pirates is already yours,” you mused, once more ruffling his hair.

Luffy quickly pulled you to the table to start eating. He was talking your ear off, getting you caught up. You greeted everyone, catching up and making small talk with everyone. They all filled you in on what they had been up to.

 As time went on, everyone dispersed into their own conversations. You noticed two people you had never seen before. “Who…?” You looked at Luffy who followed your gaze back to the two newcomers.

“They're a couple of people we ran into on Punk Hazard.”

“My name is Kinemon and this is my son, Momonosuke.” You immediately noted the way they spoke. “Sir Luffy has been kind enough to let us accompany you all to your next destination.”

You nodded. “Uh, I'm Y/n.” The man, Kinemon, nodded back. “I have heard a great deal about you. Sir Luffy seems to hold you in high regards. As does Sir Law.” Luffy you were expecting, but Law? He talked about you when you weren’t around? You had a hard time believing it. He probably just chimed in. Though, you thought about his behavior earlier. Now that you thought about it, where was he?

The samurai spoke up again. “So, how did you meet Sir Luffy?” He looked at you with a curious look. You weren’t sure how to make him out quite yet. He seemed innocent enough, but you were still weary towards strangers.

“Uh, well. Luffy and his crew kind of just…picked me up? Saved me.” You shrugged. “I had just escaped from the Marines. Very narrowly. I was floating on a piece of driftwood and Luffy, quite literally, grabbed me and pulled me onto his ship.” It was terrifying at the time. To suddenly be flying through the air when just moments before you were close to death. You had taken quite the beating at the time. Lost a lot of blood.

Luffy spoke up. “Oh yeah! I remember!” He cackled. “The face you made was so funny, y/n.”

“I would hope so considering you pummeled them right into me,” Zoro commented. He made a face.

You nodded, laughing softly. “Yeah…almost gave both of us a concussion. And that was before Chopper joined the crew so we would've just been nursing ourselves back to health.” Despite what had happened, you looked back on the memory fondly. You looked at Zoro. “And you yelled at me like it was my fault,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“Let it go, that was forever ago.” He rolled his eyes. Or his eye. How did he get that scar? “I was literally bleeding out and you were scolding me like I did it on purpose. I’m never letting you live it down.” You snorted, shaking your head. “Never apologized either.” You sighed. “But Sanji made lunch as an apology after Nami helped patch me up. So, I guess it worked out.”

Luffy looked at you for a moment. “Remember what you told me that day?”

You paused, feeling your own face soften as you remembered that day fondly. “You were bouncing around and apologizing. The way you were acting, I had said that you reminded me of a friend of mine. That you two had even kind of looked alike.” You looked down for a moment. 

“You said I reminded you of Ace.” He didn’t introduce himself right away, so you didn’t know he was the Luffy that Ace had spoken so fondly of. It wasn’t until you had told him that that he had burst into a wide excited smile and started talking animatedly about him.

You nodded. “You did. You still do.” The energy around the table grew somber at the mention of the captain’s brother. He held a special place in the hearts of many that were on board currently. “Same unruly hair. Same crazy attitude. Not to mention your appetite.” That gained some laughs. 

“I'm sure it wasn't easy cooking with both of them on board, eh, Sanji?” The cook groaned at the thought of it. “So much food.” The two of them seemed to have endless stomachs. Luffy was enough, but Luffy and Ace? If you hadn’t seen it yourself, you never would’ve believed it.

“You know, you remind me of him too, y/n.” You blinked, looking at Luffy. You didn’t think you looked anything like him. “What do you mean?”

“You look after me and take care of me when you see me. Like Ace did. Almost like an older sibling!” 

You blinked, feeling heat rush up to your cheeks. “Well, you're like a little brother to me, so it works out.” You smiled, ruffling his hair again.

After that, conversations continued once more and everyone turned to their own thing. As people finished eating, they spread out on the deck, doing their own things. Towards the end of the night, you were on a bench, Luffy's head in your lap as he snoozed. You had a feeling he must have been missing his brother a lot tonight and that's why he was attached to you. It was clear now how much Luffy cared for you - like another sibling. You faintly remembered Ace mentioning they had another brother but he had passed away a long time ago.

Luffy had lost two brothers and yet he still found reasons to smile. You didn’t know how he did it. You admired him for that. You were only recently finding your own smile again. All thanks to two brothers and co. 

“He really was worried, you know.” You looked up, seeing Robin. She was in passing to grab some cola for Franky when she noticed Luffy sleeping. “When Usopp and Law showed up with you, I thought he was going to lose it. Shut down like he did when…you know.” There was sadness in her eyes, but a fond smile on her face. You could see how much she cared about her captain. Luffy was lucky to have so many people that cared about him.

You frowned slightly as you thought. “He just has a big heart. He cares so much for everyone.” You don’t know why you kept trying to convince yourself you weren’t special in any kind of way.

“But not everyone reminds him of his big brother,” she mused, walking off again. It did make sense. You came in and out of his life, fretting over him whenever you saw him. Much like Ace had. You couldn't help it. When you found out he was Ace’s brother, you felt like you had to protect him. He was your best friend’s brother! Pretty much your own! 

You thought about various times you had run into Luffy. It was a whirlwind every time. A breath of fresh air. He was filled with so much warmth and love for those around him. It warmed your own heart and reminded you of the home you were forced to leave a long time ago. At the same time, it only strengthened your resolve in your mission. You wanted to make the world a safer place. You knew you couldn’t completely end slavery and take down the Celestial Dragons, but you did what you could.

“What are you thinking about?” You looked up, seeing Law. You shrugged, looking back down at Luffy. “Nothing in particular.”

“I don't believe you.” He looked at you, studying your face. “If I had to guess, I'd say that you're thinking about what Luffy said earlier.” 

You were quiet, staring at Luffy's sleeping face. He was right. You were still dwelling on it. Then something dawned on you. “Hold on. You weren’t even at dinner? How did you know?” You looked at him.

“Dinner was on deck. I just wasn’t at the table.” He shrugged. “I heard everything though.” You narrowed your eyes at him for a moment. Then you realized something.

“Wait. Why are you here?”

He stared at you. “Oh? Am I not allowed to be here? Are you upset that I’m here?” He smirked. You glared. “You and I both know that’s not what I meant,” you said. He held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, no need to get so hostile,” he mused. “No need to be so…feisty.” You stared at him for a moment before you burst into laughter and he chuckled along with you. “I completely forgot about him, oh my ocean.” 

Your laughter caused Luffy to stir and you quickly quieted down. “Oh, sorry,” you whispered to the sleeping man in your lap. He readjusted himself before snoring once more. You chuckled, looking at Law. “Gotta keep an eye on me now, huh,” you teased. Law smirked, nodding. “Oh yeah. Make sure I keep you in check or whatever he was going on about.” You both chuckled quietly to yourselves. Even though it was only a year ago - it felt much longer.

“So, tell me. Why are you here? Where’s everyone else?” You looked at him after making sure Luffy was still comfortably asleep. Law was quiet for a moment. “Luffy agreed to help me take down Doflamingo in Dressrosa.” You thought for a moment. That name sounded familiar. “The warlord?” He nodded. “Yeah. He…” For a moment, Law looked like he was about to tell you about something from his past before deciding against it. 

You opened your mouth to ask when Luffy began to stir.

“Y/n?” he asked, groggily. 

“Yes, Luff? I'm right here,” you crooked softly as you ran your hand through his hair. He adjusted himself before settling back down. “I just wanted to make sure you hadn't left yet,” he mumbled. “Don't leave without saying goodbye…” He drifted back off. 

“Do you make it a habit to leave without saying goodbye?” Law asked, referring to Luffy's words. You groaned. Not this again. You thought that was long forgotten at this point. You shook your head. “I don't. I think he was just saying it.”

“Ah, so just me then.”

You glared at Law. “Can we not do this right now? That was also forever ago.”

Before either of you could say anything else, the sound of Brook’s violin filled the air. You felt the exhaustion of the night's events catch up to you and before you knew it, you were also asleep. 

--

The next morning, you groaned. You noticed you were in bed. You sat up, holding your head. It was pounding. Water. You needed some water. You stood up, shuffling towards where the kitchen was. It must still have been early as only Sanji and Nami were in the kitchen. They were discussing something when you walked in. 

“Good morning, y/n!” They both chimed, a smirk on both of their faces. They even shared a look before glancing back at you. “What?” You looked at them. They were gossiping about something. “What did you two hear?” They only grinned in response. Oh, you didn’t like that.

“Sleep well?” Nami asked, there was a hint of something in her voice but you were too tired to figure it out. 

“Would you like some water?” Sanji held out a cup to you and you nodded. When you reached for the cup, that's when you realized you were wearing something that you didn't have on the night before. Your movements paused midair as you processed this. Nami and Sanji exchanged looks again, grinning at each other. “There it is.”

You were wearing the jacket that Law had been wearing the night before. How did you make it all the way to the kitchen without noticing? You were suddenly glad no one else was awake to see this. How did this happen?

“Listen-” You started, but the thief stopped you by holding up a photo. You took it, studying it. Your face immediately turned as red as the apples that Sanji was currently cooking with.

Luffy, Law, and you sitting on the bench, all fast asleep. Luffy’s head in your lap, your head on Law’s shoulder, and his head on yours. You couldn’t take your eyes off the picture. Mostly because you couldn’t meet Nami’s eyes right now.

“You guys look like a little family!” Nami teased, her shit eating grin growing larger somehow. “Nami, please,” you groaned, covering your face in embarrassment. “Everyone saw, you know.” Her teasing was going to kill you. You peeked at her through your fingers. “No they didn’t.” She looked at Sanji, who nodded. “Yeah. Just about everyone saw. Except Luffy, for obvious reasons.”

“We were tired! As if you guys haven't fallen asleep on each other before.”

Sanji and Nami shared, yet again, another look. Fuck. “Suuuure,” they both said, turning back to their own tasks. Nami went to take the photo back and you held it from her. “Oh, absolutely not. I’m destroying this.” She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think so!” She hopped over the table to chase you and you yelped, turning on your heel and running out of the kitchen.

Only to run face first into someone's chest, sending the both of you tumbling down to the ground. You groaned, slowly lifting yourself up and coming face to face with Law. You froze, blinking as you processed. Law stared right back at you - he seemed to also be processing.

“Get a room!” Nami playfully called before going back into the kitchen with a triumphant look on her face, pulling you both out of your trance. You scrambled to get off of him, straightening yourself up and dusting yourself up. “Sorry,” you mumbled. You realized you still had the picture in your hand. You quickly shoved it into your necklace.

Law cleared his throat. “You really shouldn’t run out of a doorway. You never know if someone is on the other side.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Really? A lecture this early in the morning?” Did he know how to interact without scolding? “You’re the one who bulldozed right into me,” he said. 

Then he looked at you. “Are you alright, y/n? You’re really red.” He reached out to put his hand on your forehead to feel for a fever and you dodged his hand. Mostly on instinct. “I am just fine, thank you. Nami just teasing me.” You waved it off. He looked at you. “Are you sure?” You nodded. 

You went to scurry off before anything else was said, wanting to forget what had just happened. “Wait, y/n-” Law reached out to grab you to stop you in your tracks, but grabbed the collar of the jacket, pulling it against your neck. You, already being somewhat flustered, felt the light pressure against your neck. In your surprise and with your guard being down due to illness, at least that’s what you’ll tell yourself, you let out a moan.

As soon as it sounded off, you clasped your hands over your mouth. Your face was a radiant red and Law even froze in his movements. You could see his own face turning red as he stared at you.  That was mortifyingly embarrassing. You could pass away right there. Then you absolutely booked it. You had to get as far as you could from him.

[orchidyoonkook]

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

[earmo-imni]

(Major spoilers for anyone who hasn’t read/watched Fairy Tail)

(Like seriously, major)

Something that always haunts me about Fairy Tail is that Natsu isn’t really the original Natsu

Like Zeref said he brought him back to life as an Etherious

But as far as I can tell creating an Etherious seems to involve writing, in detail, what makes up that Etherious in terms of personality, in order to determine what the magic involved actually creates

Which would mean, technically, Zeref never actually resurrected anyone, he just created an approximate facsimile of his dead brother

I mean, he had like previous versions of Natsu and everything (see: Larcade) which means Zeref tried to recreate Natsu multiple times and our Natsu was just the most accurate recreation, the one close enough to Zeref’s original brother for Zeref to accept

Our Natsu is still our Natsu and always has been, but he is not, in fact, the original Natsu who died. He’s a copy of a little boy who died four hundred years ago.

Except he grew up into his own person of course

Also I wonder if some part of Zeref recognized that and that’s why he was totally okay with Natsu killing him even though that meant Natsu would die too, despite literally everything Zeref had suffered and done to bring his brother back to life

[qcomicsy]

Some Nice!future au headcannons because I want to keep the ideas fresh in my head.

- Bruce is retired, Wich is insane saying this, I know right? How could he? And that's my favorite part he is retired, except he isn't actually.

He generally stays in the comm and no he doesn't care if that bothers Terry. Sometimes Terry just purposely turns his comm off, part to piss Bruce off and part to not get himself pissed off because there's a limit on how much you want your dad minding your business while your doing your job.

So Bruce stays sometimes in the comm and sometimes giving his mostly unwanted inputs on his investigations.

He doesn't get out as Batman as much as he wants to, because yeah that would get him killed but when that ever stopped Bruce Wayne honstly? And also because when he did it he almost gave everysingle one of the Bats a fucking heart attack.

Terry was so fucking confused because some goons and criminals kept telling him 'I though you were taller???' and he would get '????'

- Bruce minds everyone business as well is not just Terry, sometimes he just pop up in the other Bats comms and everyone is deeply annoyed about it, because how the fuck he keeps invading their own security system?

And it's even more infuriating because in the end of the day (most of the time) he is just extremely helpful.

Not even Oracle could keep him off her back.

- Tim is "technically" now the best detective in the world, except he isn't because Bruce isn't dead and Detective Chimps isn't either, but not many people know that.

- Gordon is happily retired thank you very much, and he can finally rest because Montoya filled for him as commissioner.

- Everything that might happen is her problem now.

- Harley is mostly retired she lives with Pamela in a farm and works as a super-people/part villains therapist from home-office.

- Harley and Pam got married.

- Jason visits Harley constantly, they bonded a lot in these past few years.

- Jason visits Harley much more often then he visits Bruce and Bruce is definitely not jealous about it even though Harley lives in literally nowhere and the Manor is right there–

- Bruce nags Jason, so much about it. He nags everyone about it. He sends a passive agressive "Alfred told me to tell you dinner is ready" message ever couple of weeks (he's lying).

Jason once told him "I really miss it when you were emotionally stunted" and Bruce just looked at him and quipped.

"You're the ones to told me to get therapy."

- Bruce doesn't actually go to therapy he gossips with Harley and they call that therapy.

Because Harley tricks him into sessions mid gossiping.

And it is in fact, better than nothing.

- Terry became Batman as an annoying 17 year old for the exasperation of every adult of the Batfamily.

- Damian and Tim we're the one's who trained him, Bruce unfortunately was hospitalized at the time (he's better now).

- Damian trained Terry in martial arts, combat and streets smart skill and Tim helped training him on how to proceed with the criminal forensics part.

- Duke and Steph kept an eye on Terry in his first months of patrol, Terry kept trying to get away from them to do whatever he wanted but Tim or Damian would always eventually catch up to him.

- That doesn't mean he stopped trying until he made all four of them age ten years of stress.

- They let him do it whatever he wanted eventually, but mostly because they knew he was ready.

- Steph just did on purpose.

- Damian rarely would actually join Terry (or any of them) on patrol because he prefers working in the shadows.

- The day Terry successfully tricked all the four of them into leaving him alone he almost had a heart attack because he immediately bumped into no one less then Nightwing and Redhood.

- Red Robin was the one to call them.

- Terry and Jason got along so quickly it's infuriating.

- Terry is a great Batman, he is skilled and witty which puts almost every criminal off rithm.

They hadn't got this that amount of stress ever since Dick's robin.

- Jason works as a literature professor in Gotham public school.

- Jason was Terry's teacher for a while.

- Terry hated it.

- Terry got to school with patrol bruises once and when Jason managed to get a hand on him he cussed him out for 45 minutes.

That's how he learned that Tim and Damian forgot to teach Terry how to hide them.

Then he cussed them out for 84 minutes holding Terry's shirt the same way you hold a wet cat.

[blarefordaglare]

Fan Joy July, Day 1

it already started? Wow, okay, HORRAY (this feels like new years and I don’t know why)

anyways, for day one I am writing about @those-arent-poppies art

Link

I really enjoyed Twilight’s facial expressions in this one, and Green on the last frame depicts the stress beautifully! I also love how you incorporated each Four’s (Ok that sounds off but what I mean by that is GRBV) chaos, and the personality in each of them along with it!

I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

____

Four is scared, and that’s an understatement. If he was honest, he was completely terrified. Or at least one part of him was.

Green dashed through the grass, searching for a familiar face. His eyes twitched, in need of the order that was precluded too early. 

“Hey!” Green stopped abruptly at the familiar voice, gasping for breath, he would never admit it, but running was harder with shorter legs. “You good?” He noticed that the voice was the ranchers, and he watched his eyes scan the tunic quizzically.

He had no time to explain, “Have you seen me?!” Green tried to ignore the fact that Twilight most likely had no possible clue on what he was talking about.

His thoughts were proven right at the other hero’s answer, “What?” He gestured towards his body, “I mean… I see you right now?” Okay, fine. Green really didn’t want to break the rancher’s brain today, they already had enough stupid people to deal with.

With an inward sigh, he waved his arms out, thinking that it would ‘get the point across’, “No, no. More of me! I split, and then they split, and now I don’t know where they went.” Sorry Twilight, maybe your brain does need to crack a little.

“And that’s a problem because..?” Green noticed the blank stare of his face. ‘When in doubt, dumb it down.’ A famous quote he created himself.

Okay, maybe Vio was the one who said it, but technically he did create it, they’re the same guy after all. 

“Alright. Three more. Exactly like me. Different color tunics…” He leaned in, knowing full well he looked like a crazy person, “They’re out for blood.” 

He could already hear the rough voice of Blue, arguing with probably, no offense Legend, the most arguable one he knew. He could feel Red’s impulsivity drive to chaotic actions, he wouldn’t be surprised if they just tied him to balloons and let him fly away, and then Vio… he just prayed that his calculated chaos won’t let anybody kill him. That’s the last thing he needed to deal with.

“Well,” Twilight placed an arm on his shoulder, “If they’re anything like you, they will be fine.” 

Green could only run his fingers through his hair, feeling himself go insane.

[chiisana-sukima]

Hello, what do you think about the take, and what Dean says in that one episode, that Sam is not like John than Dean?

Hi, Nonny! Thanks for the ask!

I'm guessing the episode you mean is 04x19 Jump the Shark, where Dean says Sam is more like John than he himself (Dean) ever was. If not, my apologies for misinterpreting, and I hope this is interesting anyway.

Imo accusations in spn of someone being like John are mainly about four things: anger, stubbornness, the desire for revenge, and child endangerment. And about those, my main thought is this:

image source

I do think early spn makes comparisons between John and Sam that are intended to represent character flaws Sam needs to struggle against and overcome. Sam is sometimes angry, he's often very stubborn, and there are multiple seasons where he's driven in part by desire for revenge. For better or worse though, I don't find the comparison very compelling; mainly because anger, stubbornness, and desire for revenge are all morally neutral. The only actual bastard in that combo up above is the child endangerment, which isn't really relevant to early seasons Sam.

Anger, and even hate, don't actually lead to the dark side of the Force; maladaptive responses to emotions do. Whether one wants to go to Blackwater Ridge like Dad said to practice one's vigilante serial killing profession or search for Jessica's murderer to do the same is not the compelling ethical problem spn makes it out to be. Either option results in killing (people-like-)monsters that are killing people while being too busy to kill other (people-like-)monsters that are killing other people. And everyone who's dead at the end of the day is equally dead regardless of whether one's motive was "pure" (saving people) or "stained" (revenge).

To give spn what credit it's due, s4, where this comparison from Dean occurs, *is* the closest Sam ever comes to having anger and desire for revenge drive him into maladaptive and harmful behavior. Especially in the flashback scenes to when Dean was in Hell, Sam is at least having a really rough time of it, even if he still honestly seems to not be harming anyone (more than usual for a hunter) but himself.

Any moral dimension is significantly undercut by the fact that Sam's kill count in s4 is not especially high (Sam 9/Dean 10), as well as by the fact that the behavior Dean doesn't approve of is saving possessed hosts instead of offing them indiscriminately as collateral damage to get at the demons inhabiting them.

And this quote itself is especially weirdly vibes-over-substance in that Dean is just disillusioned with Sam because Sam is disillusioned with life. There is no actual moral element to discuss. Adam was long dead before they got there. Sam is technically on the correct end of the argument: being left in the dark--the path Dean was advocating throughout the episode, and that he's bitter in this speech that Sam disagreed with him on--did possibly factor into getting Adam and his mom killed. Certainly Sam disagreeing with Dean in the present did not. But honestly, who cares either way? None of it is relevant now. Dead is dead, and neither Sam nor Dean had anything to do with it or has anything to be ashamed of.

Which brings me to the one thing the person who did have something to do with it actually should have been ashamed of: John treated all his kids badly. Whether he was motivated by anger and a desire for revenge or by fear for their safety or the side effects of alcoholism or not being able to keep it in his pants or whatever else is really only minimally relevant in terms of how much harm his behavior caused them.

And while I'm not a huge fan of the "Dean is Sam's parent" reading of spn, there's no doubt that because of John's neglect and parentification of Dean, Dean often feels like he was functionally Sam's parent. Which is fine! Feelings are neutral! But he also conducts his half of their relationship from within that paradigm; which is not great in the show's present because Sam is an adult.

And given all that, lets get back to Dean's "you were more like him than I'll ever be". Who, by the end of the season, is endangering their "child" here? Who, in Levee, puts their own needs and the needs of the hunt above the life of the person they (feel they) raised? Who says "You walk out that door, don't you ever come back"? And how likely do we all think it is that the writers didn't do that on purpose?

[searenbound]

Can I request an heifer reader that has two newborn sons? (It can be fluff if you want!)

She was moved from her old farm because hers was abusive and with that she grew more aggressive, if anyone or any of the cows/bulls she will nip them hard or kicks them and with that bakugo starts to have a liking to them and is willing to wait for her to warm up to him and will father her two calf’s?

(If not you can ignore this plus I love your stories!!)

Only because I miss Bakubull, but fun fact! Only young cows who haven’t had a calf yet are called heifers. Just fluff for now but if anyone wants to give me a reason to make a smutty little sequel I wouldn’t be opposed

Warnings: swearing, mentions of past abuse, hybrid au, hybrids being kept as live stock, fem reader with she/her pronouns, written with plus size reader in mind, single mom! reader technically a cliffhanger ending

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

“My boys aren’t going anywhere with you!” she had snorted and snuffed at some pushy bull her first day there. Nipping and snapping when he tried to push her anyways in some sort of asinine attempt to show her he was no threat, because obviously a frightened young mother with her background is gone accept some assholes ‘help’ with her calves when he’s stupidly grabbing for them with insistence that he could help.

Like something like that doesn’t potentially lead to something awful happening to those calves. Like she hasn’t been through traumatic shit at her last farm that made her apprehensive to trust anyone but herself and her newborns.

Not the other cows who cooed at the sight of the new babes and offered help with the feedings, and certainly not any bull who’s motivates where unclear and very well could be an attempt to gain a new cow to breed instead of genuine care.

Bakugou found himself watching in silent wonder and slight disgust as they all crowded it her like they weren’t told how they needed to be careful and patient with her. It was beyond him how he, a bull who was the picture perfect example of his title, had internalized this when the ‘non-problem’ cattle hadn’t.

He would have stopped it himself by intervening, but before he could even stand to move, she was kicking up dirt as a warning before charging the larger bull for not taking her seriously. Her horns just nubs in comparison to his and her stature much smaller, but she held her own and proved appoint.

And maybe that’s what sparked his interest? Maybe it was the gentle way she regarded her boys? The little hint of joy in her eyes which she goes a particularly enjoyable treat that hinted at what she was like before the trauma?

Or maybe it was the fact she was a touch like himself not too long ago, scared and confused and covering it up with aggression to create a sense of superiority and strength so no one touched her or those calves.

Whatever it was it had him in a vicious little vice grip.

“You know, those idiots are wrong for how they’ve gouged about it, but they have a point”.

“And how the hell do you know that huh? How do I even know if you’re any different?”

He shrugged at that, watching her boys playing with the ring toys their handlers gave them, she didn’t have any reaction to trust him like she said but he was determined to prove her wrong.

“It’s been what? Four? Five months? None of us have done anything wrong yet”.

“Doesn’t mean you won’t, last place was good until it wasn’t too”.

“Well you didn’t have me there did you? I’ll killed anyone before they lay a finger on those calves or you”.

She snorted at that. He’s hung around them and kept other’s from bothering her and the boys, an attempt to win her over to breed her then throw her aside to be picked on by the other buzzards that called themselves cattle. He was self serving like any other bull, she was sure.

“Stop thinking I’m like the rest, you have that written all over your face princess” he huffed cutting her off before a word passed her parted lips. “Don’t fuckin’ care how long it takes, I’ll prove I’m better than them. Promise I’ll take care of those boys if you let me, take good care of you too”.

And maybe it was that soft little gleam, more of a glimmering spark, in his carmine eyes, but she wanted him to. It didn’t seem so bad an idea to let him father her boys, maybe even give her some of his own if he were so lucky. A thought that flustered her greatly when it ran through her head.

[erikahenningsen]

Since you asked… #20 for rejanis bc I like pain

20. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

Janis really thought she wanted Regina dead. She had wished every day since sixth grade that she had never met Regina—and since she hadn't yet figured out time travel, Regina being dead was the next best thing.

Then a bus barreled into Regina in front of half their class and Janis suddenly realized that she did not want Regina to die.

The guidance counselor doesn't have any pamphlets covering what to do when someone nearly gets killed and it's technically not your fault, but it's also not not your fault, and all the conflicting emotions raging inside your body make you feel constantly like you're going to throw up.

Janis hears from Damian who heard from Karen who heard from Shane that Regina had emergency surgery but is stable and sedated.

Mrs. George also keeps all of her 3,239 TikTok followers updated on every detail of Regina's medical care, which feels illegal but Janis supposes probably isn't.

Two days after the bus, Janis screws up the courage to visit Regina in the hospital. She runs into Mrs. George, who is on her way to get coffee, in the hallway. Mrs. George hugs her and kisses her on the cheek without acknowledging the fact that they haven't seen each other in four years. Janis is thankful for that.

Regina looks so small and fragile lying sedated and unconscious in the hospital bed, surrounded by machines and wires and tubes, and Janis immediately feels her throat closing.

"Uh, hey," Janis croaks, sitting in the chair at Regina's bedside. It's still warm, so Janis assumes it's where Mrs. George had been sitting. "It's me. Janis."

Carefully, Janis touches Regina's hand, just to remind herself that Regina is not dead. Her skin is cold and dry, some of her nails a broken mess, others still carefully painted and filed. For some reason, that is what makes Janis start to cry.

"I'm sorry, Regina," Janis whispers. "If you die, I..." She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. She can't go down that path. "I need you to wake up because I can't do this without you. Our story isn't done yet, okay? We're just in the shitty part in the last third of the book where everything is fucked up."

Regina makes a kind of gasping noise, her eyelashes fluttering, and Janis nearly falls out of her chair. A minute passes, then two, but Regina doesn't wake up, and Janis's heart rate returns to normal.

"You have to pull through so everyone can apologize to each other and—" Kiss, her brain supplies unhelpfully. "You are going to wake up, Regina," Janis says instead. "Okay?"

Her only reply is the steady beep of the machines, the rasping of the ventilator.

"Okay," Janis answers for herself. "I'll see you soon."

She's afraid to move Regina's hand or lean over her, so Janis just presses a kiss to her own fingers and touches them to Regina's hand.

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

david probably sees hu in him a lot. david thinks hu is easily manipulated because of her kindness, i think he’s projecting. as in he used to also genuinely love helping others and sticking out for people. that is, until he realised that his kindness doesnt pay and that people only take advantage of hin for it.

on that note, i think the same thing can apply to him and arei. arei is very cynical, she believes that if people dont take advantage of others, they will get taken advantage of in the end. during david’s mini break down in ep 10 (i think), he clearly pities arei for trying to befriend someone even though she’s someone with no experience with friendships at all. and he pities her for wanting to change. he definitely sees her in himself a lot. deep inside, he wishes he could change, but he stopped believing in himself a long tome ago

imo his ‘facade’ isnt 100% fake, there definitely some parts of him we see that show who he really is inside.

GODDDD you are so smart anon David is constantly projecting himself onto the people he grows close to, and I think in his four most major relationships so far (Xander, Teruko, Hu, and Arei) you can see a part of himself and what his true desires and feelings about himself are through how he interacts with them. As I explain more in-depth in this post, Xander is very much the kind of person David wants to become. someone who's compassionate and helps others and has hope and not only has faith in a better future, but actively seeks to bring it closer. Xander is David's idea of a good person, an idea that gets shattered after realizing that Xander too is not immune to being deceitful and cruel Teruko and Arei are both people that remind David of himself, specifically the cynical black-and-white way he thinks about the world. But the way he treats both of them is vastly different. The glimmer of light that shined then broke with Xander is re-lit with Arei, because Arei not just shows David a reflection of his own mindset, but a person who wants to change from that mindset. Like you said, David unquestionably saw himself in Arei, specifically his desire to change. Meanwhile in his eyes, Teruko shows no such desire and is forever dead-set on her path

David: Gosh. Teruko Tawaki. David: I know you hate anyone who isn't you, but dragging everyone down with you by getting us all executed is a low blow, even by your standards. David: You're searching for reasons to distrust others, like you always do.

Now we the audience obviously know that Teruko is putting up a front, and if my predictions on how the story will go are correct, I definitely think Teruko will eventually come around meanwhile David will continue on his downward spiral. But that's getting more into theory talk. And as for Hu, David definitely sees his more positive traits within her, specifically the fact that David genuinely wants to help others. That's also something he looked up to in Xander as well, and remember, Xander is David's idea of a picture-perfect good person, the person he wants to be, but thinks he can't be. On the topic of Hu (and this is technically getting into speculation but I think there's enough evidence to support it), I 100% think that she ended up opening up to David about her secret, which is most likely the Hopeless Child one.

Hu: I have to be the one to give everyone guidance. That's the only thing I can do. If no one relies on me, then I won't be useful anymore. Hu: You knew how I felt, and yet you... You... Hu: You toyed with my heart!

And if that is true, that also definitely resonated in David as well considering his own feelings of hopelessness, as well as his suicidal tendencies shown in how he is trying to get himself and everyone else killed in the trial, and also how his hidden quote is most likely referring to himself.

David: I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I wish you could just die.

And to cap it all off, I too also think that David's 'facade' was not entirely fake. In a lot of David analyses I see, especially right after the release of CH2-11, there's often a lot of focus on if him pre-CH2-11 was fake or not, and if his current behavior is just another fake persona, or if the small hints of tiredness and grumpiness we see from him like in the prologue is the "real David". But in my personal opinion, I think it's a lot simpler than that I think we're always seeing the real David, we're just seeing him through different perspectives.

[utilitycaster]

What ACOC fanon are people getting so upset over?

Come traveler. Let me tell you a tale. For I, too, was unaware of it until they went absolutely bugfuck all over Twitter. But if you don't want the whole long-winded epic: people shipped Belizabeth Brassica and Saint Citrina and while there has been no evidence indicating this will or not be confirmed or even mentioned they FREAKED OUT about how Matt would OBVIOUSLY destroy the "widespread" fanon (it is not widespread), specifically implying he'd do so in a bigoted way. Then some D20 guests noticed because the people saying this are not like, unknown fanartists (in fact one implied they had been asked to create art for the season but forgot to check their DMs) and were like "this is entitled and stupid and needlessly cruel to Matt, who is like, a guy we personally know and generally like." The people then, rather than saying "my B" and taking this to the DMs like a normal person who wants to talk shit, repeatedly doubled down. As of a few hours ago they were accusing Jasmine Bhullar of subtweeting them when she was in fact merely promoting an entirely unrelated show, it's sparked both a heartfelt discussion about how Matt's discussion of body dysmorphia has helped people and a conversation about how there's toxicity in all fandoms but the D20 community refuses to even acknowledge it; and also I think they've burned their chances of ever doing fan art for an actual play of any size in LA, Chicago, New York, London, or the centroid that represents an equidistant point from all the McElroys which is, I believe, hilariously for Amnesty fans, in the Monongahela National Forest.

Anyway POV we're around a campfire, I'm drinking something lightly alcoholic, and you wish to hear of The Drama At Length:

Do you remember Belizabeth Brassica, aka Broccoli Pope loosely based in appearance on Queen Elizabeth I (technically renaissance rather than high medieval but like...people constantly mix those up in D&D so it's fine)?

Great. Now do you remember the Rocks Sisters? Not the twins played by Siobhan and Emily; Amethar's four older sisters who died in the Ravening War, before the story started: Rococoa, Lazuli, Citrina, and Sapphria. Rococoa was a general; Lazuli an archmage (and Caramelinda's wife before she died; Caramelinda then married Amethar because while Lazuli had been a love match, this was a beneficial marriage for political purposes); Citrina a devotee of The Bulb; and Sapphria a spy and diplomat. They get talked about a lot, for sure, but their presence in the story is to be absent and to haunt the narrative.

Anyway the fanon is that Citrina and Belizabeth were in a relationship. In canon, I believe all we know is that both were devotees of the bulb; that Citrina held positions that might be considered heretical by some (she was a passionate believer in love matches and supported Amethar's marriage to a commoner in the Dairy Isles) and that Belizabeth ordered that she be killed.

Here's where this gets fun. So ACOC aired pretty much exactly three years ago, and while I think it's considered by many to be a high point in D20's oeuvre, a lot of fans have, you know, kept up with D20 on the whole and not dwelt on it in depth. But a small group of people have been consistently focused on this ship between an NPC who is vitally important to the narrative but shows up in fewer than a third of the total episodes; and a character dead before the story ever started. Which, I need to stress, is fine; the joy of headcanons is playing in the empty spaces.

Flash forward to 2023: a creative director who was generally opposed to revisiting past campaign settings and preferred standalone has just amicably parted ways. Neverafter has gotten mixed reviews (I have to see the last 8 episodes; this is anecdotal but some of the editing choices, plus the both dense yet meandering plot, brought the momentum of a truly fantastic TPK and resolution early on to a shuddering halt), and really nothing but A Court of Fey and Flowers has truly stuck for some time. The fandom has been clamoring for Fantasy High Junior Year for quite some time to no avail. The switch to 10-episode sidequests from 6 episode sidequests has met lukewarm reception. In short: D20 could use something flashy to revitalize their next sidequest. Enter: Matt Mercer as DM.

Now, a lot of D20 fans who are not part of the (significant) overlap with CR fans hate Matt Mercer. This is in part because a lot of people who got Big Mad about ships in Campaign 2 went to D20 and proceeded to badmouth Critical Role, a show they happily watched and made art for until roughly episode 107-ish of Campaign 2, proclaiming it homophobic (wrong two women kissed); racist (one of the women who kissed is a dark-skinned woman played by a white woman, which would have still been true if she kissed the other woman but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯); and probably problematic in other ways. To be clear I am not saying Critical Role is above criticism, and it has made its missteps, but like, the fact that these complaints showed up conveniently only when a ship didn't happen and mostly from like, white teenagers who proceeded to simultaneously call the cast transphobic and deliberately get their names wrong means this is not the criticism that is valid and worth considering, as is the fact that technically Matt had nothing to do with the ship not happening, but they've realized being an asshole to Marisha about her character's romantic choices will rightfully get you flayed alive. Also some D20 fans just hate Critical Role in the way that if you live in Boston you're supposed to hate New York and vice versa but if you say "why? what if I just want the baseball boys to have a good time together?" no one can answer.

Anyway here's a diagram to illustrate the group I'm talking about; they're the green dot:

So: a couple of them decided a smart thing to do on Twitter in front of God and everybody was to say that they were worried Matt would contradict this "widely established" fanlore because he is not plugged into the ACOC fandom. They then proceeded to specifically (jokingly, but like, in a shitty way, still where everyone could see it) say that Matt would probably introduce Belizabeth as being married to her husband because she is 100% straight.

Now there's a bunch of problems here, and people pointed them out. Namely:

This is a weird thing to assume Matt would do, ie, automatically make an arbitrary NPC definitely straight, even if you're joking about it; like, he has a pretty decent track record for making NPCs of varying genders and sexualities, especially by C2 and C3.

This is not even widely established fanlore; this is a tiny group of fans of ACOC. See below for more on that.

Even if it were widely established fanlore, it's unlikely Brennan would know either.

Even if it were widely established fanlore and Matt or Brennan were aware of it, they are under no obligation to adhere to fanlore, because it's fanlore, not the established canon of A Crown of Candy. This does not make fanlore bad! It just means that creators are allowed to ignore it in the same way that fan creators are allowed to ignore canon; this is a two-way street.

Therefore, because this is fanlore, even if Matt did say "here is Belizabeth and her husband, and she has only ever been involved with men" this would not be homophobic because the character's sexuality has never been established and straight is one of the possible sexualities she could have. Obviously if he went super hard on her straightness that could get weird but that's a fucking bonkers stretch.

When people pointed it out, this group and a few other people who just fucking hate Matt kept dismissing them as CR fans. Then it caught the attention of various D20 guest cast members or people in the broader TTRPG scene, who have pointed out that like...the actual play and TTRPG industry is a place where basically everyone in a particular region knows everyone else and they are all good friends and this is shitty. The D20 fans mad that Matt is DM-ing The Ravening War kept doubling down and started making outright ad-hominem attacks on Matt (notably his appearance and dress which is like, shitty and irrelevant to this fanon thing anyway even before you consider the body dysmorphia) and whining that because they've made some charity fanzines, a thing people have been doing since the dawn of Star Trek TOS, they deserve...something. People rightfully called them out as 1. entitled brats and 2. needlessly cruel. They keep whining that CR fans are dogpiling them when in fact like, the entire TTRPG community including, as far as I can tell, the D20 community who overlaps with CR fandom and even the D20 community that does not but is neutral on CR, is like "you suck, you started it, this fandom is not exempted from typical fandom toxicity, and you will look back on this in 5 years and vomit from embarrassment."

Anyway this is all kind of tiresome, but also pretty funny because literally I'm expecting a bunch of fanartists who are immensely high on their own farts to be 100% blacklisted from ever receiving a commission from like, any Actual Play of note and also a lot of fans; there's an outpouring of support for Matt that far outstrips what there would have been without a handful of idiots starting shit; and also the season is fully filmed anyway so if this ship was confirmed noncanon, it happened a few months ago anyway and there's nothing anyone can do.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, pretty much all these losers are still 100% going to watch The Ravening War anyway so like, this has all amounted to a net positive for everyone but them.

[nightphoebe]

Sometimes you're getting ready for bed and the urge to write purple prose Warhammer 40k fanfiction slaps you in the face so hard you stay awake until 1:30 writing.

And by writing, I mean researching because in all my years of 40k experience, it never occurred to me that Games Workshop just do not give a fuck about the details of space travel. Like, there's a galactic map but its very broad strokes and it seems like, in every edition, important landmarks just move around.

Beyond that, there are very beautiful drawings of fuck off massive star ships that have no interior schematics at all. Where do people go in these things? What parts are for what?

The answer is it literally does not matter because they are only there to give background for how you got to Fuckedupplanetland IV where you will be engaging in land combat with enemy flavor of the week.

I don't blame them for this necessarily. Armies on ground maps are what they're selling. This isn't X-Wing. But like, I've played Fantasy Flight's Rogue Trader and it never occurred to me that for all that game takes place in space, there's very little... space travel to it.

There have been a lot of hand waving reasons for the inconsistencies in universe. Warp travel is so fucked up and weird that the people mapping the galaxy can only really guess where they and major landmarks are. But the fact that I could only find one example of space coordinates and they used fucking compass directions is boggling. Yeah, you've got segmentums and sectors but those are vast, vast sections of the galaxy. Ostensibly, there are subsectors, but those are never represented on a single map. How do the people in this universe ever get where they're trying to go in their monstrous city ships that are as full of fog of war as any battlefield because no one knows where anything is in them?

I don't know. I'm probably frustrated because I spent four hours scouring books, Lexicanum, Reddit, and any other sundry sources I could find only for the answer to end up being "I dunno, make shit up." I could have done that at the beginning of this ride. I'm a fanfic writer. Making up characters and scenarios and dialogue is what I do. But I find the 'make shit up' approach kills my emersion faster than anything else when it comes to things that should be technical knowledge in a universe.

Four hours, all for a single paragraph where an Astropath sends a distress call with fucking coordinates in it and I still had to fudge it.

I love being a writer.

[anhilliator1]

I feel like something needs to be stated about the four Chaos Gods -

THEY'RE NOT INHERENTLY EVIL.

They're unbalanced. Let me explain:

Khorne: Chaos God of War, Death, Violence, Rage, Murder, etc... Long story short, Khorne likes to kill things and/or see things die - "Khorne cares not from where the blood flows." As a result, it would be very easy to assume that he's pure evil - but no. Khorne also represents Justice, honor, courage, strength - Without Khorne, there would be no such thing as "Righteous Fury." Fighting for what is right technically falls under his domain as well. In a sense, he could be considered the Chaos God of Morality. In fact, he strongly dislikes underhanded tactics, hence why he often finds himself at odds with Tzeentch.

Nurgle: Chaos God of disease, decay, rot, stagnation, and so on. Nurgle is commonly associated with the color green, for good reason. As said, disease, death, rot, stagnation - but also resilience, rebirth, and consistency in everything. Technically speaking, he's the Chaos God of life and nature. No Nurgle, absolutely everything would be inconsistent. There would be no such thing as safety, because there would be no consistent definition of what "safe" is.

Tzeentch: CG of instability, inconsistency, trickery, manipulation, cunning, lies, deciet, and change. He plays you like a fiddle, and what you may think is reality may not be true. He's like Mysterio, but a gajillion times more powerful. However, he also represents hope, evolution, the ability to problem solve, and more. Tzeentch is the reason why Guile Heroes exist in 40K, and can be said to at least partially be empowered by the actions of people like Creed and Ciaphas Cain. As TTS puts it, "Without him, there would be no evil schemes, but also no one clever enough to save people from those schemes." Also, change isn't inherently evil - change is constantly happening, all the time, something that puts him at odds with Nurgle due to him being Stagnation. Funny thing, Happy Chaos from GGST can sort of be considered Tzeentch if he was more balanced rather than inclined evil.

Now, Slaanesh - Hedonism, sex, lust, pleasure, indulgence, suffering, etc... Hell, they were literally murder-fucked into existence by the Eldar. But, they also represent Passion, Joy, hell, maybe even the concept of emotion itself. Passion, it must be mentioned, is not restricted to the sexual kind - it's the creative kind, the "for-a-cause" kind - same with Pleasure. You gain pleasure from doing things you love, not inherently sexual - and technically, without Slaanesh, there would be no meaning to doing, well, anything - no happiness, no sadness so that happiness means anything, no enjoyment and no disgust, no love or hate... I think you get the idea.

The Chaos Gods represent important mental concepts inherent to all life, and all thoughts of said life - good or bad.

So why are they villains? As said, they're unbalanced, courtesy of the Necrontyr royally screwing things up by messing with the Great Old Ones and the C'Tan. As a result, the Warp, once peaceful, became a violent place roiling with negative energy, some of which became Daemons. This caused each of the four and their followers to become heavily inclined towards the worst parts of what they represent, why Khorne and his followers kill and destroy anything and everything in their path, why Tzeentch and his followers will endlessly lie, cheat, manipulate, and more to make you do what they want (prisoner's dilemma is the very tippy-top of the iceberg), why Nurgle and his followers spread filth, rot, and disease everywhere they go, and why Slaanesh and their followers endlessly rape and torture.

They're unbalanced.

In fact, everything I just said can sort of be summarized by this video:

It's why in the episode of TTS this is from, I noticed the Emperor's wording when he said he would DEFEAT Chaos, not Kill, DEFEAT. I always took it to mean that he would essentially force them to "get back to work" in a sense - go back to being balanced representations of their concepts and stop interfering so much with the Material.

[lolokouhm]

FUSHIGOVER pt. IV [AFTER ALL]

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

just a small fluffy addition to the III <3

Megumi Fushiguro's hair was simply the best.

There'd always been something in the way it grew taller instead of getting longer, messier with every week he didn't visit a hairdresser. The way it moved every time he ran during our training sessions, soft but spikey. The way those black strands stuck to his forehead, wet and sticky from the drops of sweat forming on his pale skin.

That evening, his hair was freshly washed and dried. I could easily tell. Fushiguro was the type who would put on the sunscreen, enjoy the gossip without showing the undoubted interest in the subject and take pictures of especially pretty sunsets. He would then sit in his phone, changing the exposure and saturation, so it’d look even better. When the four of us would go shopping, he’d quietly follow us around, but he’d loudly voice his opinions on Nobara’s outfits - without any hesitation. He’d hesitate about mine though.

Well, my fashion sense was questionable. At least my taste in men wasn't.

"(Y/N), have you ever heard about Gashadokuro?"

"No", I replied, trying not to lose my focus. "Or...", I scratched my forehead. Gashadokuro... For some reason, the name didn't feel completely unfamiliar. "Wait. I have."

"You have?"

"Yeah. My grandma used to tell me that it would take me away if I kept stealing the candy from her cupboard. I even googled it once." Yup, I'd done that. When I was seven. An unforgettable experience. "Is it like... a theory or something that you're rather sure of?"

"It's just a hunch..." Megumi shook his head slowly. "But it would make sense. According to the mythology Gashadokuro is a youkai, but it might be something connected with the Ten Shadows. Still, it doesn't make a lot of sense. We went to Kioto to look for something that would help us, but we came back empty-handed." His hand finally got out of the shadow. "We'll keep on looking. This might..." There it was again. That look. "This might help us kill him."

We sat like that for a while, in complete silence. I wasn't really sure what to say - I had no idea which part of the story he'd just introduced me to was the most surprising. Maybe the simple fact that he'd actually said all of those things?

"Let's go back. It's your party." I finally managed to get my thoughts straight. "You need to have a drink. You deserve it the most."

Megumi sighed, but propped himself up.

"Yuuji's got some serious brain damage for organising that."

"I mean, technically, most of the us thought you'd end up to be the one with the biggest brain damage." Oh God, shut up, woman. "I'm sorry. It's not funny." I really was an idiot. Nervously, I checked on him to see how much ACTUAL DAMAGE the joke had made.

Megumi seemed unaffected by my words.

"I'd thought so too."

And just like that, that feeling was back. The uneasy one.

"Some guys thought you wouldn't come back." I really hoped those words would come out of my mouth and sound relatively okay, but in the end, they were nothing more but a mere whisper. I was a freaking masochist. I apparently loved to torture myself.

"And you?", he asked after a few seconds. "Did you think I wouldn't come back?"

I'd always found the silence between us soothing. I knew he didn't like talking too much, or rather, he had some trouble with expressing his thoughts. I wasn't like that, but it was different with Fushiguro. It was nice. It was calm.

"No", I answered with a complete certainty. "I knew you'd return."

After all, you're Megumi Fushiguro, aren't you?

[honeypiehotchner]

Devil's Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part fourteen

Time for some more technical stuff...and for the truth to come out to everyone else 😳

Warnings: nothing crazy here, just typical profiling

Follow @honeypiehotchnerlibrary and turn on post notifications to be "tagged" when a new part goes up!

Fourteen: What you have done is terrible, and now you carry it with you -- "Four Walls" by Bastille

It was nearly 4pm when you returned to Quantico. You flew up the stairs because the elevator was taking too long. You barreled through the glass doors, earning confused and stunned looks from the entire team, including Derek who was getting ready to leave.

“Nope,” you shook your head at Derek, pointing at him to put his stuff down. “Team meeting. All of you. Where’s Garcia? Rossi?”

“Up here,” Garcia said quietly, standing in Rossi’s office, him behind her. She looked scared. You wondered how much Rossi told her.

“Let’s go,” you nodded toward the conference room. 

You bounded up the stairs, into the conference room, flicking the lights on. You paced at the front of the room as everyone filed in, filling the chairs around the table.

“What’s going on, kid?” Morgan asked, resting his hands on the table. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you answered honestly, ceasing your pacing for a moment. “Rossi, would you like to start?”

He pointed behind him to the bullpen. “I need to see where Strauss is.”

“I’ll start, then,” you nodded, placing your hands on your hips. You removed them almost immediately, feeling the cuts on your back stretching and beginning to sting all over again. At least you’re wearing a dark shirt, in case they start to bleed.

“What is this about?” Garcia asked. “Rossi gave me a location to look into, but it’s just a random motel three hours from here, and everyone’s being so secretive, so can we please—”

“Baby girl,” Morgan shushed Garcia. “Give her a minute.”

“JJ, the files you’re missing are not random, or a coincidence, or a freak accident,” you began, watching them closely.

She stared at you. “...okay.”

“Hotch took them with him when he left,” you said. “And he’s been killing those unsubs since.”

“What?” Morgan said, immediately defensive. “Kid, that’s…that’s a big accusation.”

“Do you think I’d be standing here saying it if I didn’t know that?” you snapped. Morgan stared at you for a second, but eventually relented.

“Are you sure about this?” Reid questioned.

“I’m positive,” you replied. “I don’t want to be, and I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t certain.”

“How do we know this?” Emily asked. “Have you spoken to him?”

“Yes,” you said, pushing the fact that you had sex with him both times far from your mind. “I just got back from speaking with him. Strauss had me follow him this morning when he left, and he realized I was tailing him.”

“Of course he did,” Morgan said. “This is Hotch we’re talking about.”

“Yes, but it’s not the Hotch we knew,” you insisted. “He admitted to killing Holman and Edwards, and told me there are more.”

“I still don’t— I don’t understand this, I mean, why would Hotch do this?” JJ asked. “We can’t be certain based off a few misplaced files, I mean, that’s ridiculous.” She laughed as she said it, utter disbelief covering her face. “It’s Hotch, he wouldn’t…”

You looked at her solemnly, shaking your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head back at you. “This…this can’t be—”

“It’s true,” Strauss said, breezing into the room with files in hand. She passed them to each member of the team, and one to you. “This is the investigation that is now open into the murders committed by Agent Hotchner. Can you turn the screens on?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, reaching for the remote, turning the TV on. CCTV footage appeared instantly, and you had to look away.

You hadn’t noticed the camera across the street at the gas station. You should have known it would have one. They almost always have at least one, no matter how shitty the quality of the camera might be.

The image was grainy, but clear enough. Hotch had you against the car, your chin in his grip. The room was silent as they watched Hotch force you to look at him. Force you to listen. And you did.

Rossi was the first to speak, only for you to hear. He stood next to you, resting his hand on your shoulder. But you refused to look at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “I didn’t know he hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” you said, louder for everyone to hear. You lifted your head, and Rossi’s face softened.

“Y/N…” He went to touch your arm, most definitely to offer comfort, but you slapped his hand away, the noise drawing everyone’s attention.

“Sorry,” you said. “Anyway, um— He got in my car and held me at gunpoint and I had to drive us away to where there was no cell service,” you admitted. “We argued. He told me to leave him alone and not get the team involved in this, but obviously,” you waved to the room, “I couldn’t do that.”

“You’re bruised,” Reid said quietly, his fingers touching his chin.

Instinctively, you raised your hand to cover where Hotch had his grip just hours ago. It was strong, but you didn’t think it was strong enough to bruise already. 

“This is obviously not a normal circumstance,” Strauss began, “but normally, the team the agent belonged to would not handle this. I am overriding that rule because I believe you are the only set of people who can find him. And we must find him. I received a call a few hours ago that another unsub had been murdered.”

Your eyes snapped to Strauss’s. “When?”

“Two days ago,” she replied. “His name was Steven Landam.” 

JJ locked eyes with Rossi. “That’s one of the files I’m missing.”

Strauss sighed. “I figured as much.”

“I’ll get the list of all of the files,” JJ said, pushing her chair back from the table and leaving the conference room.

“Agent L/N,” Strauss said, motioning to you. “I need to speak with you privately.”

You nodded, following her out of the room and into Rossi’s office. But Rossi did not follow like you expected him to. 

Strauss shut the door and stood in front of it. You didn’t know if she thought you might run, but it unnerved you nonetheless.

“Is there anything you would like to tell me regarding your relationship to Agent Hotchner?” she asked, keeping her gaze trained on you.

You swallowed. “No ma’am.”

“Do I need to ask again?” she pressed, raising her eyebrows at you. “What did I witness on that camera?”

“You witnessed him trying to intimidate me into lying to you and the rest of the BAU,” you replied firmly. “You should be thankful he didn’t succeed. Or do worse.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He threatened to kill me,” you said. “Multiple times.”

She studied you. “But there is nothing to your relationship with him.”

“There is no relationship at all,” you replied, meaning it for the first time. “There’s nothing.”

“Should I take you off this case?”

You tried not to let that get to you. “If you do, I don’t think you’ll find him.”

She nodded once. “Good answer. That is all.” She opened the door and stepped out, and you followed, returning to the conference room. Where you should be.

JJ was back with her list of missing files, the team crowding around the table still. She crossed off Holman, Edwards, and now Landam. That left three other names. More than you wanted there to be, but it could have been worse.

“We’ll need to narrow those down to two, hopefully one that we’re sure of,” you said. “He’s determined, and he knew where he was going. We don’t have much time to catch up with him.”

You felt it when everyone turned to look at you. You continued to stare at the list, but the silence remained.

“Can you guys stop staring at me?” you asked softly. “Please?”

“Sorry,” Reid murmured, shifting in his chair.

“I know it’s a lot,” you said. “I know I’m asking a lot. And I know you have questions, but I can’t answer them until we find him, so we need to just— We need to find him, okay?” You lifted your head. “Help me find him.”

“Okay,” Morgan nodded. “Let’s start where we always start. Profile. What do we know?”

“He’s killing unsubs from cases we worked on,” JJ began. “The unsubs were acquitted or given a short sentence.”

“Were any of them not convicted at all?” you asked.

“Uh, I’d have to check, maybe,” JJ said. “Garcia, can you bring up um— Matt Philips, Danny Newman, and William Pearson?”

“Yep, yep, and…yep,” Garcia replied, her fingers clicking on the keyboard of her laptop. “Philips was acquitted,” she said. “Newman served two years, got out on good behavior, and Pearson…Pearson died last year in prison.”

“Oh,” you blinked. There was one impossible option, at least. “Okay. So, Philips, he was acquitted, what did he do?”

“That was the same year as Holman,” Morgan said. “He did not like Hotch.”

You looked at Morgan. “What do you mean?”

“I remember that,” JJ said. “They were at each other’s throats.”

“Was there ever a physical fight?” you asked.

“No,” Rossi said. “It never got that far. But I remember him. When we got the news that he was acquitted, it didn’t sit right with Hotch. It didn’t sit right with any of us, but it bugged Aaron.”

“Bugged him how?” you asked, frustration settling in. It had to be Philips that Aaron was after now, but that meant nothing to you if all you had was the name.

“I don’t know,” Rossi replied. “He didn’t talk about it. I’d ask, and he’d say he was fine. And we went on other cases, and I stopped asking. I thought Aaron had let it go.”

You sighed. You needed more than that. “What did he do?”

“He murdered entire families,” Reid said. You could tell he didn’t want to tell you about the case, but he continued, because you stared him down. “Wife, son, and father. He…” Reid averted his eyes to his hands. “He made the father watch.”

You closed your eyes, all of it making sense now. “The others killed families too, didn’t they?”

“Yep,” Morgan said.

“Okay, so Hotch is killing these unsubs because they didn’t…what?” JJ said, exasperated. “Get the punishment they deserved?”

“Exactly that,” Rossi said quietly. “He’s taking matters into his own hands by killing them.”

“So, he’s a vigilante,” Emily said.

“Kind of,” Reid replied. “Vigilantes typically operate in a group or in a specific community, and they don’t discriminate between criminal charges. Technically, Hotc— He’s on a revenge spree.”

“I figured that,” you said, settling down in a chair and putting your head in your hands. “What does that mean, Reid, normally?”

“Well, it—” He stopped himself.

“Reid, please.”

“It means he’s incredibly hard to predict,” Reid added. “Unless we know the exact, specific reasoning and details of the event—”

“We do,” you insisted, lifting your head. “We know Foyet killed his wife and son, then he killed Foyet, but it wasn’t enough revenge, so now he’s killing these old unsubs. Why isn’t that enough?”

“Because these aren’t personal,” Reid explained, looking just as pained as you felt. “These aren’t old friends or family members that wronged him.”

You understood that, but it didn’t make you feel any better. “Where does Philips live?”

Garcia typed frantically. “Stony Creek. About two hours south of here.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “He went west, though, he wasn’t going south.”

“I know,” Garcia. “You were outside Bridgewater at the motel. Almost to West Virginia.”

“Okay, where would Philips be, then?” Emily asked. “Where’s he from?”

Garcia typed quickly, her eyes scanning her screen underneath her glasses. “Uh, born in Texas, moved to Missouri when he was five, stayed there until he was twelve, then moved to Ohio.”

“Okay, um…” you paused, trying to get your bearings. “He probably— Fuck, I don’t know.” You leaned over to Garcia. “What else can you tell us about Philips?”

“Well,” she chuckled. “He graduated high school top of his class — weird. Never went to college, bounced around states and jobs for his early twenties, racked up a few petty misdemeanors until his first sexual assault charge when he was twenty-five. He collected those like candy for the next six years, then the murders of the families started. Two years of those across the US until we found him, and he was acquitted, not enough evidence, blah blah blah.” She scrolled. “Ah! He got married. Well, then got divorced two months later — yikes. And they— Oh no.”

“Oh no? What? Why oh no?” You leaned over, reading her screen. “Fuck.”

“What?” Emily asked.

“They have a son together,” Garcia said. “And his wife died ‘suddenly’ last year, so Philips has custody of the son.”

“What?” JJ said. “How did she die?”

“Natural causes,” you read from the autopsy report. “Natural causes at twenty-eight? Are you kidding me?”

“Okay,” Morgan said, trying to steer everyone back. “Okay— So Hotch is going after this guy because he killed families, got off easy, and now has custody of a son. He must think Philips killed his wife.”

“Uh, the autopsy report does look fishy,” Garcia said. “Not to defend him but…never mind.”

“Would Hotch go after a guy with a kid, though?” JJ asked. “Would he kill the kid, too?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, shaking your head. You wanted to say no, he wouldn’t, but you didn’t know anything anymore. He was out for revenge, and he was going to do whatever it took to get it, no matter who got caught in the crossfire.

+++

This unsub was smarter than Hotch thought. He wasn’t at all where Hotch thought he might be.

He should’ve seen that coming, considering this was the only unsub able to evade Hotch the way he had. It pissed Hotch off, yet he admired the chase. It made things interesting.

Besides, Hotch had one other unsub he had to handle. It seemed like a worthy pitstop.

[idontknowstudios-writes]

New longform fic in the works!

Hello hello, I've been dead to the world for a while now, but I'm back now!!

I've recently been working on a SVSSS/MDZS crossover, with my dearest son Mo Xuanyu as our MC! The premise goes as follows;

Mo Xuanyu has heard of a cultivation sect far away from all of the clan's politics, called Cang Qiong- the stronghold between the demon realm and the human realm! He's willing to live on the border between realities if it means he can get away from his own personal hell on earth that Mo Village has become. Only, he'll be leaving behind his fiancé... But then, what happens when the clans follow him to Cang Qiong?

As always, I'm soft hearted so there won't be too much angst, but there will definitely be enough hurt/comfort to go around!!

I still can't think of a name for it though 🤔

Anyway, the relationship tags for this fic have already been all figured out!! They're below the cut with some technical aspects rambling because this fic is my hyperfixation right now and i cant be normal about it;

Main Ship;

Mo Xuanyu/Nie Huaisang (I miiiight work in Jiang Cheng, because I know that Nie Huaisang/Jiang Cheng is popular i think? We'll see when we get there)

Background Ships;

Shen Jiu/Mu Qingfang/Yue Qingyuan

Shen Yuan/Luo Binghe/Liu Qingge (I'm a firm believer in polyamorous immortals you can't fight me on this)

Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian

Familial/Friend Ships;

Mo Xuanyu & Various Peak Lords as family :))

Mo Xuanyu & Wei Wuxian bonding probably?

Mo Xuanyu & Luo Binghe

Technical Aspects;

Finding a good timeline for this fic is hell, I want everyone to know that!!! For SVSSS, the timeline is set a few years past the canon ending of the story, and for MDZS it's set in the very first year after the end of their story.

It's also very far from being canon on either end of the crossover, because (just to state the obvious) Mo Xuanyu is still alive, and so is Shen Jiu! I just really wanted to write a fic that I'd like to read myself, so I'm shoving in as many of my favourite parts from other fics as I can.

I also have an outline written that is. 700 words long right now!! I've only written the prologue!! what am i doing!!!! Though tbf I am on draft four already and im slowly going crazy :)

Also I usually try to write a "prologue" introducing the premise for long form fics and I try to keep it short, so like 1000 words?? but I just kept going and brought it up to 1800 this time T_T The actual chapters will be AT LEAST 2000, but with the way its going right now it'll probably end up longer.

Side note in relation to that, I'm thinking this fic will be like ,,, 7-10 chapters? I'm still in the early stages, but that's my estimation!!

There is also some planned angst between Mo Xuanyu and Nie Huaisang because well, Huaisang did try to manipulate him into killing himself, so. yknow. I personally am not excited for it because I hate writing my skrunklies fighting :((

I also wanted to work in Tianlang-jun and Zhuzhi-lang somewhere, which will probably happen when the whole MDZS crew shows up! Idk I'm not that far in my outline yet ( ╥ω╥ )

Anyway!!!! Credit to this fic by Jenrose!!! It's what gave me the MDZS autism and what inspired this fic a little, despite the fact that there's nearly zero similarities lol

Thanks for reading all that,

signing off, Yin ! ☆⌒(>。<)

[the-whispers-of-death]

Why Those Nicknames?

If you ever looked at the basic info posts for my COD OCs and saw their nicknames and wondered, "why?", this is for you. Just something fun. This is solely for the COD OCs that are in "The Lions" squad (Kali, Sarabi, Simba, & Nala) because there's a post about why Stone's nicknames are his.

Kali:

Mufasa- This is technically a callsign, but I put it in the nicknames section because only The Lions and Stone use it to refer to Kali. Everyone else, including me, uses Kali when referring to him.

The Phantom of the Opera- This was sorta touched upon but here's a more in-depth explanation. Kali's light on his feet, like a phantom, but he also sings (hence the opera part). During his earlier years in the Marine Corps, Kali used to sneak up on people and sing songs from the musical The Phantom of the Opera, just because he could and it sparked the nickname.

Harbinger of Death- Harbinger means a person who announces or signals the approach of something, which is fitting for Kali considering as a sniper, he kills people. But also no enemy has ever seen him and survived, hence the nickname.

Sarabi:

True Leader of The Lions- Partly because he's the one that does the most of Kali's paperwork (because Kali, despite being a captain, hates paperwork) but also because it's a play on the fact that prides of lions are usually a matriarchy. So since Sarabi's callsign is a feminine name whereas Kali's (at least in the squad) is a masculine name, people joke Sarabi should be the actual captain of the squad.

Shadow-Man- Sarabi manages to blend in the shadows somehow, he hides there and no one really knows he's there because he usually doesn't talk much. Also, some people have said he manipulates shadows when he moves (which is just to further the legend of him).

Simba:

Geek-Man- It's not because he's a math prodigy, I swear. It's because he has these "geek-outs" as he calls them, where he just info-dumps about a certain subject. It's mostly about math or animals, don't ask him about fun facts about zebras. He will talk your ear off about zebras.

Greene Day- He loves the band Green Day and if you hear him humming, it's most likely a Green Day song. Combine that with the fact that his last name is Greene, you get the nickname "Greene Day".

Chaos Himbo- You may be thinking, if he's smart, how can he be a himbo? It's the energy. He doesn't seem smart, especially not with the way he has often accidentally set a fire in the microwave by trying to microwave different things. He's also chaotic in the way he has run several times on all fours, like he's a four-legged animal. He surprisingly runs pretty well on all fours.

Nala:

Daddy Williams- He got this nickname before he became an actual father and it's because he made the mistake of saying he once had a partner (not his wife) call him "Daddy" in bed. And no one let him live that down. It's gotten to the point where his daughters call him "Papa" and yes, that was his conscientious choice to teach them to call him that.

Man with a Bunker- It's self-explanatory; he has a bunker. Everyone found out when he just said "I do have a bunker" when someone joked he'd be the type to have a bunker. It's speculated that he might have more than one bunker, but he refuses to give a distinct answer on whether or not he has more than one.

Lord of the Weapons- Just a funny nickname because of the fact that he has a bunker and is a weapons expert. Other soldiers, non-weapons experts, revel at his knowledge of weapons and the fact that he can assemble and reassemble a sniper rifle blind-folded. Yes, people have actually seen him do it. In-universe, there are videos of him doing so.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)