Insecure Reader - Tumblr Posts

insecure

warnings: angst, super slight fluff, slight mention of suicidal thoughts, mentions of depression, cursing, reader gets slightly injured

a/n: i know i’ve written a lot of depressing shit, so i apologize and i’ll try to make happier imagines that are fluffy. just feeling down a lot now and i feel like the dent in a perfect new car and everybody is judging me. it’s whatever. enjoy!

masterlist

I stared into the mirror, judging my reflection. You’re fat and ugly. No one will ever like you. You don’t fit in. 

It’s true, I don’t fit in. I always feel out of place with my supposed friends, and even in my family. I couldn’t believe that I was dating Tom Holland, Spider-Man. He chose me over Zendaya and all the other beautiful women, but why? You’re just a charity case. He doesn’t really care for you. He’s using you.

I quickly shifted my eyes away from the reflecting glass, sniffing away the tears, wiping any stowaway ones. Tom would be coming home at any moment, and I can’t show any signs of weakness.

Not many moments later, I heard the familiar click of the door.

“Y/N, darling? I’m home,” he placed his keys on the golden-coloured wall rack. I rushed down the stairs, keeping my composure, “Tommy!” I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, “How was work today? Did you have a good time?”

“Work was great and tiring. Of course, I had a good time, love, but I missed you,” Tom frowned. I giggled at his adorable gesture, kissing him once again.

“Well, I’ll go make you some tea, and you can go wash up and rest. Love you,” our noses touched.

“Mhm,” he sighed in satisfaction. “Love ya too, darling.”

I unwrap my arms from his neck and walk to the kitchen to make his tea, as promised.

I set the tea kettle onto the stove, setting the heat to a medium. The steam slowly started to flow out of the spout, and the whistling started to increase. I turned down the heat, making sure the tea wouldn’t splash out.

After waiting for another 5 minutes, I grabbed the kettle off the stove, forgetting to turn off the fire, causing me to burn myself.

“Ah, shit,” I let go of the kettle and run over to the sink, running my hand under cold water. You finally got what you deserved, you bitch.

As I stood at the sink, still keeping my hand cool, I heard footsteps coming from the staircase. I quickly pulled my hand out of the water, hissing in pain. I hid my hand behind my back, turning off the fire with my good hand. My right, and burnt, hand was throbbing. The pain was spreading through my arm.

“Is the tea ready?” Tom asked excitedly. I smiled and gave him a fake giggle, “Yeah, it’s just cooling. Go sit down, I get you a cup.” He walked out of the kitchen, his bareback muscles clenching.

“Fuck!” I whispered, silently slamming my left hand on the counter. I walked to the fridge, grabbing an ice pack to put on my red, swollen hand.

“Love? You doing alright in there?” Tom asked from the couch. I hurriedly grabbed a cup and attempted to pour the tea into it, but failed miserably, “Ah, dammit!” The hot tea spilt all over my legs and feet, burning them too.

Tom rushed into the room to see me crying and covered in hot tea, “Oh my god, baby, are you okay? Please stay calm,” I sobbed in pain and idiocy. You’re a fucking idiot. Failure as well. You should just die. You deserve to kill yourself most painfully ever. Everybody would be happier without you.

“Darling? I’m going to call the ambulance, stay still,” I heard him dial and number on his phone, hearing the loud ringing. I felt numb from the pain. Maybe everyone would be happier without me. Maybe I wasn’t important. Maybe I do deserve to die. Maybe I shou-

“Y/N, love, the ambulance is on their way. Stay with me,” Tom held me closer, pushing me against his hard muscles, “I feel tired,” my eyes fluttering from opened to closed.

“Darling, just try and stay awake, please,” Tom spoke, attempting to give me energy. “Look at the pretty forest! Sparkles, Tommy, there’s sparkles!” Then, darkness.

Lost on Me (Loki/Reader Lullabies #245)

Fandom: Marvel/Avengers

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Category: Angst/Fluff

Rating: G.

Summary: The memory of your touch is all that gets Loki through the worst of his missions, sometimes. Unbeknownst to him, one of the other Avengers has done something to jeopardize that.

Warnings/Notes: This is a companion piece to Never Let You Go.

New but Retroactive Reminder for this and all of my fics: I do not, have not, and will not give anyone permission to copy/paste, translate, or otherwise take or modify this story to post it anywhere else. You can find my stories here on Tumblr or under kaeorin on AO3, but nowhere else. This does not apply only to fics which hold this disclaimer--NONE of my works are to be stolen or modified. Additionally, please remember that Liking a post on Tumblr does not increase the author's exposure. I don't run your life, but readers should be reblogging the works they like.

Lost on Me

The flight back to the Tower was tense as always. Even after all this time, the others had yet to move past the things he’d done the last time he was here. He tried not to let that bother him. He’d long since come to realize that the vast, vast majority of Midgardians were small and petty and unyielding. No matter how many times he saved their lives, or backed them up during missions gone horribly wrong, or even just joined them for a quiet and uneventful dinner or movie, they still went on giving each other those strange, uncertain looks around him. It was hard to blame them, really, but it was also, in a much bigger way, harder to stomach it. After all, you had managed to see the truth in him right away—so quickly, in fact, that it put him on edge for a long time, convinced as he was that you were some sort of mind-reader.

But you kept him upright.

Not so long ago, he had decided that he would accept all the discomfort from (and around) the others, as long as you would go on being… you. Something about the way your face brightened every time you looked at him made it easy to ignore the way Romanoff pressed her lips into a fine line when she looked at him. Something about the way you slipped your hand in his—even in public, in the common areas of the Tower—and tightened your grasp on him like you couldn’t bear the thought of letting him slip away made it easy to ignore the way that Stark or Banner always seemed to tighten their grasp on the edge of a table or a chair. You were the perfect counterweight to the rest of the Avengers’ incomprehensible nonsense, and if keeping you in his life (and in his arms) meant holding his tongue instead of ripping those other mortals to shreds on a daily basis, he could manage that.

To be honest, the thought of you was the only thing keeping him together at the moment. The others were arguing, as they were wont to do after a mission: should one of them have done the irresponsible and ill-thought-out thing that they actually did, or should they have waited for someone else to do their own irresponsible thing? How in the nine realms could they possibly have thought that any of that mattered? This mission, just like all the others Loki had ever been sent on, had taken unexpected turns, but, ultimately, the lot of them were back on the jet en route to the Tower, more or less intact. It was hard to see any benefit to rehashing everything they’d just survived.

Instead, he was thinking about you. As with most things, you were the best part of returning to the Tower. He wasn’t particularly injured so he knew he could expect only the brightest smile from you, and none of the quiet worry that always clouded your features when he came back bloody. As soon as you saw him disembark from the jet, your face would light up and, if he was very lucky, you would run to him so you could throw your arms around him and bury your face against his chest. You did it all so easily. Did he deserve that? Did he deserve you? It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to wonder such things, because it wasn’t often that you allowed it. From the way you behaved, and the way you kept looking at him, you didn’t seem to care whether he deserved anything that you had to offer: you were going to keep on giving it. Only a fool would turn that down.

So when the jet landed and Loki made his way out to you, he was more than a little disappointed when you didn’t immediately attach yourself to him. All you offered was a wave and a brilliant smile: the same thing you offered to everyone else who came off the jet. He wanted to reach for you. He wanted to pull you in close so he could bury his nose against the top of your head and breathe in that distinctive, comforting smell of you, but if you were hanging back like that, surely there had to be a good reason. Once you’d gotten a good look at everybody, you did finally come to stand beside him and wrap your arm around his waist, but it was clearly only because you’d noticed the way he was limping. Still, it was better than nothing.

He braced himself for the way you’d plead with him to go see a doctor to make sure he was alright. You didn’t. Once the two of you were in the elevator, your fingers didn’t even hover over the button that would take him to the medical center: you just immediately pressed the button for his floor. Should he have been relieved? Should he be worried? He stole a glance at your face out of the corner of his eye, but you kept your own eyes fixed solidly on the numbers above the door.

You chattered brightly at him as you helped him into his sleeping quarters. He saw the way you started to help him undress, but let your hands go still at the last minute and instead pulled yourself up so you were seated on the bathroom counter. It was hard not to miss the way your touch would have felt on his skin, tender and loving, maybe even a little suggestive if you happened to catch a certain kind of glint in his eyes. But you let him undress himself, all the way down to his boots. It wasn’t easy to undo the laces on one of his boots, let alone to tug it off of his swollen ankle, but he held his tongue to keep from letting you know how much it hurt. The pain was nothing compared to what he’d already faced today. Compared to the fact that you so steadfastly refused to touch him tonight.

He did not bother to invite you into the shower with him. It wasn’t hard to guess how you’d respond, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to ignore your awkward rejection. As he busied himself with straightening the shower curtain from the inside, he tried to ignore the quiet way you closed the washroom door.

The shower was fine. He was perfectly capable of washing himself, and tonight he continued to manage just fine. Still, it was hard not to think about how different things could have been if you’d joined him. You were always so eager to look after him under the spray: you washed his hair, made sure to condition it, and then soaped up his body so attentively that it made even Loki himself think twice about how ordinary he thought himself to be. You treated him like a masterpiece. He especially liked thinking about the way you looked when you peered up at him when you were on your knees before him so you could wash his legs.

But there was no sense in dwelling on that tonight.

He washed and dried as quickly as he could so he could rejoin you again. Things may have felt strange between the two of you, but he still enjoyed your presence. He didn’t have to have his hands on you in order to appreciate you, after all.

That same, familiar thrill ran through him when he slipped back into his sleeping quarters and saw you sitting on his bed. That always felt so intimate, no matter what else was going on. His bed smelled like him: like his shampoo and his cologne and his nightmares and still, even now, you so fearlessly planted yourself right there in the middle of it. He liked the thought of putting his scent on you. He liked the thought of you leaving here in the morning after a night in his sheets, and having your skin smell like his own so that anybody else—out there in the Tower or out there in the streets—could tell without so much as a word that you were his. If you were still willing to sit on his bed, surely whatever was wrong wasn’t too terribly wrong.

He forced himself to be a little more animated than usual. Before you, and before Midgard, he hadn’t been much of a gesturer when he spoke. After all, people so rarely let him complete a thought aloud that he seldom had a chance to actually start a gesture. And on a normal night, especially a night after such a long time apart, he should have had your hands folded carefully between his own, soaking up every last touch that he’d missed out on all these past lonely nights. But your hands were folded in your lap, and so he found himself speaking with his: drawing out shapes in the air as he told you about the mission, about the dumb shit that one of the soldiers had tried to pull, about the harrowing escape to the jet (made to sound perhaps just a little bit more dangerous than it truly was). You kept your eyes on him, but… reasonably. You did not continue staring at the same spot on his face as though you were tuning him out. Instead, you were clearly listening and you responded appropriately. Here and there, he caught the way his hands drew your gaze away from his face, and the way your eyes seemed to linger a bit before you forced yourself to look back at his face. Whatever was bothering you, it was probably not his fault?

Encouraged by such a realization, Loki spoke without intending to: “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, interrupting one of your quiet stories. When he realized how demanding it sounded, he reached to take your hand so he could kiss your knuckles. “Please. Will you? Stay here? I’ve missed you, love.”

When you agreed, there was no hesitance in your voice, nor reluctance. His heart beat a little faster.

He gave you something to wear, as he always did, but tonight the fact that you so willingly clad yourself in his clothing, in his scent, it was especially comforting. You didn’t even try to sneak into the washroom for privacy: you allowed him to take in the sight of you right there and then as you changed in front of him. Norns, it made him ache to pull you into his arms. What he longed to do was cup your face in his palms and scatter soft kisses along your cheekbones. It always made you laugh so quietly. He liked the way it seemed that you wanted to hide your face away, but you never, never did. You never closed yourself off from him like this. Dread coiled low in his belly. You never behaved like this with him. Even if whatever was troubling you wasn’t his fault, it was still keeping you from touching him, and that was just as bad.

Later that night, he let you slip away to brush your teeth in his washroom. On a better night, he would have been right behind you so he could stand there at the sink with you and take part in such a domestic little ritual. He should have been in there now. He should have been making faces at you in the mirror and nudging you with his hip and trying to keep your hair out of your face as you ducked to rinse out your mouth. He forced himself instead to focus on getting the room ready for sleep: turning off the light, turning down the covers.

When you came out of the washroom, you tucked yourself into bed with him without any hesitation—but also without turning to face him or burying your face against his shoulder, as you often did. The silence between you felt strange. Expectant. It was like you were waiting for him to say something, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what to say.

At long last, he could bear it no longer:

“Have I done something to upset you?”

To your credit, your eyes went wide there in the darkness. Still, as you stammered your way through some sort of assurance that all was well, he had to force himself to look away from you. He wanted, too dearly, to reach out and touch your face. You were so close, and it was like your body was calling out for his touch, but you’d made it very clear tonight that you weren’t particularly interested in physical touch.

When you asked after him, his chest felt tight. It was frustrating how you could do that, how you could change the subject so effortlessly from yourself to him. Though his cheeks burned fiercely, the darkness shrouded his embarrassment as he tried to explain himself to you. He said things that he would never have said to anybody else, not before you. It should have felt like he was revealing too much of himself, too much of his inner thoughts, but with you, that was never an issue. He licked his lips and went on. “Please tell me what I’ve done, darling. I’ll make it right. I’ll spend the rest of time making it up to you.” Norns, just let me touch you again.

You were silent for a long time. Too long. Icy fear crept through his veins until the moment you finally turned onto your side to face him. Before you spoke, you reached out with a hand that should not have trembled, and you cupped his cheek in your palm. That alone was enough to steal his breath away. This was all so mortifying—or, perhaps, it would have been, if he had any reason at all to suspect that you would ever use these moments against him.

“It’s not you, my prince, it’s… I’ve just been thinking about how...you know, nonstop I am when it comes to touching you. Bruce said—well, it doesn’t matter what he said, but I realized that I never just let you breathe. I don’t want to suffocate you, Loki. I don’t want to drive you off. So I’ve been trying to give you space tonight, that’s all.”

Conflicting emotions warred within him. Banner. This was Banner’s fault. He wanted to throw himself out of bed and go track down that scientist to roar him down, green hulking beast be damned. But he also wanted to take you into his arms and crush you against his chest, now that he knew you weren’t upset with him. He wanted to keep you close and smother you with kisses and ask you to keep on calling him “your prince” for the rest of the night.

The latter was the far more attractive option, so that’s the one he chose. As he pulled you in close, he could hear himself speaking to you, providing some kind of rebuttal to those damnable doubts which had clearly been plaguing you all night, but he was far too focused on the feel of you to worry about what he was actually saying. He could feel all of the tension drain from your body as soon as he’d gotten his arms around you—and he had to assume that you could feel the same from him. He breathed you in. You smelled of soap, and comfort, and belonging, and everything else he’d ever wanted, even before he allowed himself to consider wanting anything. It was hard to speak around the lump in his throat, so he simply stopped speaking at all and let his arms do the talking. He felt the way you slipped your arms around him and dug your fingers into his back, clutching at him as though you couldn’t bear to let him go.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured, only a breath away from his ear. “Loki. My Loki. I’m sorry. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

But he had you too: wrapped up in his arms the way he’d longed to feel you from the moment he left. Clinging to him, legs entwined with his, breathing him in between the tiniest of sniffles that he chose to ignore—for now. Because you were right there. Right where you belonged.

Beautiful to me

Pairing: Diaval x OC

Summary: Rhea is a daughter of a lumberjack living near the Moors, a forest which everybody fears. It is no wonder that she became Aurora's first best friend.

Warnings: body insecurities

A/N: As I've said, I've never seen the whole movie, but Diaval is such a sweetheart and...well, this happened. So I'm sorry that this maybe won't go as the movie does, for example, I couldn't find a clip on youtube about how Aurora first got to the Moors, so I changed it.

Pictures found on Google

* * * * *

Everybody feared the Moors, because they believed that a great evil lived behind the great wall of thorns.

Only one family was brave enough to live near the place. It was a lumberjack and his wife. They have never been afraid of the strange part of the forest. Everyone deemed them crazy when they answered their curious questions with: "There is no need to be afraid. If you'll respect the forest, it'll leave you alone."

When news spread that the lumberjack's wife was with a child, people were baffled to hear that they aren't moving from their cozy little cottage near the dangerous Moors.

And after nine months, a baby girl was born. Her loving parents named her Rhea. She had black hair, like her mother and beautiful green eyes like her father.

Rhea was a curious, happy go lucky child. Taught from early age to respect those around her and do no harm until she was the one harmed, she grew into a kind young girl. Her parents treated her with love and kindness and so she didn't see a reason to ever disobey them.

One day, Rhea was walking by the edge of the forest, which grounds she knew better than the back of her hand. The 'normal' part of the forest, the one where her father worked, was surrounded by meadows full of flowers and beautiful little creatures.

She listened to birds chirping and bees buzzing as she skipped along the secret path she found for herself, her little hands gently caressing flower petals of all colours.

Rhea heard a laugh. It wasn't her laugh, but it was a child's laugh. It sounded like a little girl. Rhea looked all around her, trying to see who exactly was laughing, but couldn't see anyone. That is, until the tall grass started shaking, little giggles escaping between the rustling.

Rhea kneeled on the ground and pushed the grass aside, so she could see better.

At first, she thought she's seeing things. But at a second glance she recognized the creature she mistaked for a fairy as a young girl. But what a beautiful little girl!

She was a few years younger than Rhea, but too young to be left alone. The little girl hasn't noticed her yet, so Rhea softly called out "What are you doing here little one?"

The little girl gasped and turned to face Rhea. It took little to no time for a big grin to take over her face "Pretty girl!" she squealed.

Rhea blushed. Nobody, aside from her parents, had called her pretty. She never really felt pretty and thought that her parents told her that just because they were her parents. But there was something about this girl that looked so sincere. Maybe it was how her eyes shone brightly or her big smile.

It didn't look like the girl wanted to wait for Rhea, her attention was grabbed by something else. As she waddled away, Rhea called out to her "What's your name little one?" and ran after her.

The girl stopped to examine a catterpillar crawling on a leaf and when Rhea caught up with her, she repeated her question. "Aurora." the girl said without turning her head. Rhea thought it was a really strange name.

The rest of the afternoon Rhea spent by Aurora's side. The younger girl hopped around, fascinated by every little thing. Rhea patiently walked behind her, looking after Aurora, so she wouldn't hurt herself. She wondered why was she alone? Did her parents not care for her? How could they?? She was such a sweet little thing.

"Pretty flower!" Aurora exclaimed happily, plucking the flower from the ground and twirling it between her little fingers. This caught Rhea's attention. Everything Aurora saw she called pretty. Pretty flowers, pretty bees, pretty clouds...

Rhea felt a little sad at the thought that for Aurora 'pretty' didn't mean anything special. But she quickly chased the thought away. Why should she be sad about such a trivial thing as beauty? They were in the forest, she didn't need to be beautiful! Wait, the forest..?

Without her noticing, Aurora led her straight through the forest to the thorn wall. She looked at the big branches with even bigger thorns in awe. Strangely, she didn't go to feel it with her tiny hands.

For the first time in the whole day, Aurora turned to Rhea, pointed at the barricade and said "Pretty bush!"

Rhea couldn't help but smile. Pretty really wasn't a meaningfull word for the little girl. "It sure is magical, isn't it?" Rhea came to stand by Aurora's side.

Flapping of wings and cawing could be heard and both girls turned to look at the tree where the noise was coming from. It was just a raven.

There was something strange about the way it looked at Rhea. Almost suspiciously...

"Pretty bird!" Aurora said laughing, clapping her tiny hands. Rhea smiled at the little girl. It's just a bird, there's nothing to worry about.

Rhea grabbed Aurora's hand, gaining the girl's attention. She crouched down next to her and pointed at the raven "That's a raven. You mustn't mix ravens up with crows. They may seem similar, but they are different none the less."

The bird's eyes softened and it cawed happily. It caused Aurora to laugh in a childish glee and Rhea tried to mimick him. The raven turned its head to the side a little, amused by the girl's attempts to make the younger one laugh. So it played along, Rhea and the raven cawing at each other, just so Aurora would laugh.

After that, everywhere they went, the raven was with them. And every time Aurora set her gaze on it, she immediately called out excitedly "Pretty bird!" And so, the name stuck.

The years flew by and the girls became best friends. Some would even say they were as close as sisters.

Every day they would spend the whole day together, Rhea usually teaching Aurora about nature and in return, the younger girl invented the best adventures, while Pretty bird, who Rhea always brought treats for, watched over them.

They both grew into beautiful young women. Aurora was just as lovely as she was when she was a child, if not more. She had the beauty of a fairy and the heart of a playful bunny. Rhea matured and grew into the kindest and most generous woman far and wide from the Moors.

Rhea admired Aurora's beauty, as if she couldn't see her own. And it was true. While she thought everything around her was beautiful, she 'could never compare' as she'd say.

One day, which Rhea was going to remember in great detail long after, they stayed outside longer than usual, the sky was getting dark and night was slowly falling upon the land. But they didn't care and kept on walking by the thorn wall.

"I wonder if you can get through it somehow..." Aurora wondered, gently petting the bush, careful as to not cut herself. Rhea turned to look at the wall and just silently nodded her head.

Maleficent was, like many times before, looking after Aurora. She watched the two girls chat and wondered how much the girls have grown. If she wants to see the Moors so bad...I can grant her that wish. Maleficent thought to herself and with a quiet chuckle put a spell over the two girls that put them to sleep.

She cleared out a path for herself that went through the giant thorn bush and carefully levitated both girls behind her as she entered her kingdom.

Next, she gently laid them on the ground and hid in the shadows and crooked tree branches and undone the spell. Now I just wait until they wake up...

The spell wore off pretty quickly. The first one to sit up was Aurora, while Rhea tiredly blinked her eyes. "Rhea, do you see that?" Aurora asked in disbelief, standing up. "No." Rhea croaked tiredly "What should I see?" she slowly sat up and looked around.

"We're in the Moors!" the younger girl exclaimed happily, giggling. Aurora twirled in place, taking everything in with fascination. Rhea rubbed the sleep from her eyes and joined her best friend.

Curious eyes looked at them from behind the rocks and tree leaves. Blue heads poked out from their hiding spots and tiny blue creatures slowly and cautiously floated to the two strangers. Both girls slowly extended their palms and let the fairies touch their fingers. Before they could properly introduce themselves, the fairies looked around in panic and fright and quickly scurried off to hide again.

Aurora felt presence behind them and turned to face the shadows. Nothing but a pair of yellow eyes could be seen in the darkness. "We know you're there. Don't be scared." Rhea came to stand by her side and took her hand.

"I'm not scared." it chuckled darkly. Rhea noticed its voice was smooth, cold and rich.

"Then come out." Aurora prompted the voice again.

"Then you'll be afraid." it said again. It sounded like it was making fun of them.

"No we won't." Aurora defended them bravely, her cheecks puffing out a little.

It seemed like the voice complied. The pair of glowing yellow eyes moved from the shadows. It had the moon behind its back, so only a silhouette could be seen.

Aurora gasped softly at the sight of the big horns and Rhea stepped protectively a little in front of her.

Maleficent then stepped into the light completely. Instead of screams of fear that she expected, Rhea's breath was stolen away by the fae's broken, dark beauty and Aurora just laughed.

"I know who you are." she said with a smile "You're my fairy godmother!" Rhea was used to Aurora telling her about the shadow that looks after her. But she, as beautiful as she was, didn't look like a protector. More like a predator.

"What?" Maleficent asked, clearly thrown off by this comment. "Your shadow. It's been following me everywhere I went." Aurora's smile didn't falter.

A raven landed on a branch next to its mistress. Both girls turned their heads to look at it. "I remember you." Aurora said and with Rhea they both giggled. "Pretty bird." Rhea said and the raven turned its head to the side. "This is Diaval." Maleficent said, not even looking at him, waving her hand, after the raven bowed politely to the girls.

And suddenly, their Pretty bird was now a man. A very handsome, young man, Rhea observed. His hair and eyes dark like the night around them, black tunic, that showed off his chest, as well as black trousers and black boots. On his temples, his neck and the exposed parts of his chest were scars, from what Rhea would love to know.

Diaval went to closer to Aurora "It's nice to finally meet you." and kissed her hand gently "I knew you since you were a little one." Rhea quietly snickered to herself. What a strange thing to say.

But then he turned to her and she found herself lost in his eyes. Apart from his scars his face looked really smooth. Just like his feathers looked smooth when he was a raven. "My my, what a beauty you've grown into." he said and kissed her hand too, while looking her directly in the eyes. Rhea felt like she couldn't breathe. His skin felt so smooth where he touched her but his voice was so deliciously scruffy, she couldn't wrap her head around it all. "This must be a dream." she said quietly and Diaval grinned, still not letting go of her hand, but neither of them noticed.

"I know right?" Aurora squealed excitedly. She started ranting about how beautiful the Moors were, overwhelming Maleficent so much, that she had to put her to sleep again.

When Rhea saw her floating friend, she wondered So that's how we got here, huh... "I think that is enough for today." Maleficent stated "Diaval, take Rhea home."

A small mutter of 'yes mistress' could be heard from him and as he went to lightly bow to her he realized he was still holding Rhea's hand. He immediately let go, embarassed and showed her the way.

He insisted to take her all the way to her cottage and held her hand every time there was any obstacle in the way, small and large ones. "We're in a forest. If you want to be gentlemanly like that, you can just hold my hand and not let go." Rhea giggled, but Diaval took it seriously and, deciding it would be a good idea, grabbed her hand, making her cheeks turn pink.

Days went by and they were all spent in the Moors. Aurora played with all the fairies, often including Rhea or even Diaval. Maleficent usually stood on the sidelines and watched them. Rhea noticed the fondness in the fae's eyes and sometimes she'd catch a glimpse of the tiniest smile.

If they were not playing with Aurora, Diaval and Rhea also stood on the sidelines, chatting and finding out more things about the other every day. Aurora and even Maleficent noticed how close they became.

It was a beautiful night. The stars shone brightly, the moon was big, nowhere a cloud in sight and the temperature was just right. Perfect for stargazing.

Rhea needed time to herself. Her mind felt heavy, burdened with negative thoughts and doubts.

"Why are you frowning at the stars?" a voice above her asked. Rhea smiled a faint smile "Hello Pretty bird." "Why do you keep calling me that even when you know my name?" "Because you are a pretty bird." she shrugged. "I suppose you're right." Diaval said proudly and laid next to her, their shoulders and hands touching.

He could see something was troubling her and he wanted to help. He never liked seeing her sad. It made his heart clench. When it first happened, Rhea found a dead baby bird, fallen out of the nest. He thought he was deathly ill and came to Maleficent immediately, panicked. She just stared at him and whispered something strange "You're in love."

She left abruptly, not saying anything else. He wasn't mad. After he processed the words, he realized she probably needed time to ponder if she is going to do something about it or not. He could see how conflicted her thoughts on love were as of late.

He came to terms with it a few days ago. Those days leading to this one were spent consciously pining after her.

"Just...my parents." Rhea started slowly. But he didn't mind, he would listen to her patiently for years if it meant helping her. "They told me I should start looking for a nice man, since I'm the right age for marriage right now."

He swallowed hardly. Was she in love already? What if it wasn't him? What would he do if it wasn't him? "And what seems to be the problem?" he forced out of himself, as if he didn't even want to know the answer.

"I don't know anyone!" she cried out. It wasn't entirely true though. Her heart already picked a certain raven someone, but her insecurities blinded her so much she didn't even consider him liking her back as an option.

"I'd have to go out and impress someone and...to be honest, who in the world would be impressed by me." the last word harboured so much disgust in it, it made Diaval frown deeply.

"What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely confused. Rhea sighed sadly "Look at me. Look at everything else around us. How can I compare to the beauty that is this world? How can I impress someone when I'm just...so...ugly."

Oh no. She didn't. No, no, no, no, he wasn't going to let her talk about herself that way.

Diaval gently grasped her chin and made her look at him "Listen here Rhea and listen closely. You can't compare to anything? For me It's more like nothing can compare to you, because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Prettier than any flower, star or even the moon itself. You are better than flying, everything about you is so otherworldly I can't put it into words."

His voice lowered to nearly a whisper "You don't have to impress or catch anyone's attention. You already have. I'm afraid, Rhea, that you've captured my heart. I don't know if I'll be a good enough suitor for you, but I will try my best...if you'll have me?" his eyes filled with hope met hers filled with tears.

She couldn't get the right words out, she just nodded her head and hugged him tightly.

And as they laid there in a tight embrace, under the starry night, she whispered to him "I wouldn't have anyone else."

How? 

A/N: Nancy, she is an amazing character no doubt but even the thought of having to stand next to her would make me unsure of myself. She just seams like she has everything under control. I definitely admire her, but I’m intimidated by her and that’s (I’d say) pretty similar to how the reader feels.

Nancy Wheeler x gn reader

Summary: She confesses and asks you out but can someone like her really love someone like you? (Angst to fluff)

“Nancy I’m not the perfect suburb teen, that you may think I am. Once you get to know me apart from school, you’ll be disappointed.” Nancy was now looking at the ground, she had thought you’d liked her too, though those moments between the two of you weren’t just in her head. But now that she confessed you pushed her away from you.

You couldn’t let her in, maybe that made you a coward, but you’d rather be a coward than opening up to the girl every parent would be happy to have as a daughter. She had good grades, always looked beautiful, was brave, polite and always tried to do the right thing.

And still she asked you out.

“You’ll never disappoint me and I know that you are not like me, but I don’t want a second me! I like you. Whatever it is that your so afraid of, I can help you.” She took your hand in hers. You looked around. The two of you stood behind the stands of the football field and everyone could come by and see the two of you. That would start rumors and ruin her reputation and still she stood here in front of you.

“You can’t fix me Wheeler, I won’t be your new project.” You tried to turn away from her but she wasn’t gonna just let you leave her. “I know, and I promise you that your nothing like that.”

It didn’t make sense to you, as much as you wanted it to be true, how could she like you? “How can I prove to you that I like you for the interesting, funny and self assured person, that’s standing I front of me right now?”

Something in you changed, she wouldn’t take ‘no’ as an answer, that made you rethink your decision.

“Ok Wheeler, one date. Tomorrow I’ll pick you up at seven.”

The date went fine, better than that probably and that made you even more unsure. Before you could blink the next date was planned and the next and you met her family. Watched sports with her father, and even if you weren’t that interested, you wanted it to work. Joked around with her brother and his friends and made dinner with her mother. You were a nervous wreck but they loved you, they saw how Nancy looked at you with the most loving sight and how you made her laugh.

She was there for you, helped you however she could, understood you.

When you’ll think back to the day she asked you out, you couldn’t do anything but smile. Cause to your (and her) luck she was determined enough to not let you change the way she saw you.

Little Black Dress | one-shot

・❥・Pairing: 70s!e x reader

・❥・Genre: a pinch of angst, fluff, mature themes, 70s!Elvis, shy reader, insecure reader, jealous Elvis.

・❥・Ratings & Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MDNI.

・❥・WC: 5803 words

・❥・Summary: After being a devoted Elvis Presley fan for more than a decade, you and your best friend manage to miraculously score tickets for his Las Vegas show. You wear a classic little black dress, as your best friend decides it's the perfect opportunity to wear it for the first time. Unbeknownst to you, what you believed to be a 'plain' outfit choice seemed to have caught the eye of the King of Rock 'n Roll himself.

・❥ A/N: Hi my beautiful followers! I apologise for not posting for a while, life happens and well, you'll soon find out that I am quite the perfectionist when it comes to writing. This is unlike any other I have written before, my first attempt in writing NSFW content. Please be gentle with me, aha. Anyways, I hope you all like it! 💋

@literally-just-elvis-fics

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“I think it’s too short,” You said, attempting to pull the dress down lower. 

“Girl, you look hot, don’t overthink it.” Your best friend, Annie, confidently replied in contrast to your self-doubt about your attire. 

Exactly a week ago, you managed to score some tickets to see Elvis Presley at the Las Vegas Hilton hotel. Even if the infamous singer has been playing numerous back-to-back shows at the infamous venue, the tickets remained challenging as ever to get a hold of. It seemed that even after the decade-long absence from the stage, his name never failed to lose its popularity and relevance. As a result, crowds upon crowds of people were lined up just outside the ballroom excitedly waiting to be let in. And for once, you and your best friend were one of them. 

You became an Elvis fan since you were a freshly-turned teenager, his charm and unique way of performing immediately captured your curosity.  Despite, of course, against your parents’ wishes. Like all the other parents in the country, they were determined in calling Elvis Presley “a rebellious boy” and how his scandalous movements are wrecking the minds of the youth. You laughed at that and simply ignored the “warning.” You were still fairly young back then, only really discovering him after he finished his military service. And so, ever since the start of teenagehood - you became a fan. 

Because here you are, all these years later and still an avid fan of him. Through the persuasive ways of your best friend, she has managed to convince you to finally wear the little black dress at the very back of your closet. You purchased it a while ago, with no specific intention on wearing it anywhere, as you didn’t perceive yourself as a wildly confident dresser. But as your best friend said, it seemed to be the perfect outfit to wear for your first Elvis Presley concenrt. 

And so, here you were. A tight little black dress that reached just a little above your mid thigh, paired with black boots and your hair in a half-updo. You thought it was basic and simple enough, but fitting enough for the event. But now, as you stood in the lobby - you began having second thoughts that the dress might be too short for the occasion. 

“Annie, does my underwear show through this?” You said, turning around, “I don’t want to be flashing anyone.” You worriedly say, knowing that the material of the dress is quite thin. 

Annie laughed, “You are absolutely fine, Y/N. “

You sighed in relief, “Ok, just double checking. “

“Besides, if you were to flash anyone, it’d be Elvis so-”

You gasped and hit her arm, “Annie! Oh my god, No!”

You shake your head horrified, face fully red in embarrassment at just the thought of such an incident. 

Annie simply smirked, “Why? It wouldn’t be so bad.”

You smile shyly, “Let’s just go before they close the doors.” You switch the subject immediately, keen to draw away from Annie teasing you. 

-

Excited chatter filled the ballroom, with not one single empty seat. You and your best friend were luckily seated only a few rows from the very front of the stage, but of course, found yourself rising from your seats and being as close to the front as possible. As close as possible to him. 

The moment you saw him appear on stage, it was surreal. He was one of the most photographed celebrities, but those photographs did not do him justice. It was true what others have said, how Elvis Presley’s looks were almost to the level of a greek god. A sharp jawline, beautiful tanned skin, high cheekbones, plump lips, and the most striking blue eyes that seem to pierce right through whoever he’s looking at. His black hair was messy, but fit him perfectly, falling over his eyes a little - with that boyish smile gleaming at everyone. It was such a stark contrast from the all clean-cut Ken doll throughout his Hollywood years. Even more so, his jumpsuit hugged his lean and tall figure, with the few buttons undone to reveal his chest. 

You were entranced. You spent your days endlessly playing his records in your bedroom at your parents house, and now more recently in your own apartment. But hearing him sing, right at this moment, in front of you - his talent never wavered. It astounds and shocks you at the same time, the familiarity of it and the newness of seeing him perform right in front of your eyes. He seemed to be more confident in his performing persona, knows how to command a stage and gone was the shy smile of his when he first started out. All throughout the concert, he would every now and again drop jokes and would constantly check if the audience is enjoying the show. 

It is almost the end now, and sweat trickles down his face and it doesn’t surprise you. The way that Elvis performs, it’s not a case of simply singing. No. It’s the vocals, along with his dances and karate movements mixed along that capture the eager-eyed audience. His immense energy surprises you, and you aren’t ashamed to admit that you are one of the girls in the audience screaming constantly in excitement. 

But then came the moment you’ve heard through hushed whispers, and that is how Elvis would kiss his fans at his concerts. You thought it was simply a rumour that spread like wildfire, as celebrity rumours do - but now you can definitely confirm it to be true. And that is because you are now on the receiving end of such a public display of affection. You barely registered the very brief encounter, but it happened. Elvis cupped your cheeks with his hands, and planted a brief soft kiss to your lips. He pulled away, but made sure to fixate his gaze on you with that smirk of his quirk in the corner of his lips. He was quick to be pulled into another kiss by another female audience member, but you were frozen. You touched your lips with your fingertips, the sensation still lingering as waves of bliss course through you. 

Of course, you were not naive to the fact that you are merely one of the many women that he would kiss that night. Afterall, the evidence was right in front of you - how Elvis walked away from the stage and made his way around, interacting with as many fans as possibe. This went on for a good while, before he returned to the stage and resumed performing a few more songs. 

After the final song, Elvis bids goodbye to the audience and gratefully thanks them before the curtains draw the show to a close. Your cheeks seem to be hurting, probably from all the smiling you’ve been doing so naturally. But you are back to reality now, the concert you’ve waited for what seems like your whole life - is now over. It felt like it was over in a blink of an eye, and you never fully understood that phrase when people say it - but you do now. Hours worth of performances were done in a single second it felt. 

But despite the shrinking feeling of dismay within you, the euphoric sensation coupled with pure adrenaline coursed fiercely through your veins. You linked arms with Annie, who herself shared the same expression - absolutely elated and sad it’s over. Everyone slowly dispersed the venue, excited chatters of memorable moments from the show filled the conversations. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Your best friend says, as she sighs while you are in the line of people exiting the venue. 

You shake your head, “Neither can I.”

“Well, now we can cross off two things from our bucket list.” Annie muses, as she smirks. 

“Finally going to an Elvis concert?” You ask, unsure of what the second one could be. 

“That and also kissing him.” Annie says, pure delight in her voice. 

You bite your bottom lip, unable to control a smile. 

“Gosh, did you see how that lady leaped over the tables just to get to him?” Annie asks, lowering her voice a little, “She’s my idol.”

You chuckle, “She definitely was determined.” 

“I’m surprised that his clothes didn’t rip to shreds, like back in the 50s?” Annie says, as you quickly recall the news articles of ‘rebellious Elvis’ performing and would often end with his clothes, quite literally - destroyed. There was a photograph of him walking backstage with no shirt on, and his pants that might as well be shorts. 

You shake your head, “Gosh, yeah. That was - people are strong, I’m telling you.” You chuckle. 

Annie nods and says, “I don’t know about you, but I am starving. Where do you want to go?”

You both were in the lobby of the hotel now, much of the crowd of people have exited the hotel and are most likely finding transportation to go home. 

Before you could even respond to the question, you hear a rush of footsteps that seem to be getting near you. 

“Excuse me!”

You both turn around and see a man who seems a little out of breath, “Hi, ladies. “ He offers a kind smile, and you instantly recognise him as part of Elvis Presley’s entourage. One of the men in his ‘Memphis Mafia.’ 

“I know you.” Annie furrows her eyebrows, seemingly taking longer to recognize the man. 

“Hi, I’m Jerry. I work for Elvis, and well he has invited you both  to his suite for dinner.” He says, as if it’s the most casual thing to say in the world. 

You freeze and exchange a look of shock with your best friend. 

“I-I’m sorry?” You stutter, not fully believing the words. 

“Us? He’s inviting us? To meet him?” Annie questions, tone in equal disbelief as you. 

Jerry nods, seemingly unfazed by your reactions. 

“Yes, that’s right.” He nods in certainty. 

You look at Annie again. 

“We’d love to!” Annie responds grinning excitedly, interrupting your thoughts from running into overthinking. 

As Jerry leads the way, Annie whispers to you, “Don’t overthink it, Y/N. This is once in a lifetime.”

On the way there, Jerry makes small talk with both of you. Just the usual case of introducing yourselves, how long you’ve been a fan and all that. All the while, trying to calm the fast thumping of your heart at the reality that not only will you be face to face with Elvis - but you’ll be talking to him. And also thinking about the wild thought that he has asked to meet you. 

There was not even one single point during the concert in which you’d thought he’d be fixated on you like that. 

-

You have been in his suite for an hour now, and overwhelmed is an understatement. The suite was filled with many other people; beautiful girls that could easily pass as models (perhaps they are), actors and actresses, and of course the Memphis Mafia. It still felt like an intimate affair though, with only around fifteen people in the room. You were sitting on the velvet couch, as you took gradual sips of your drink. Evidently, you were subtly people watching. Annie seemed to be caught up in a conversation with Jerry, as they both lingered near the pool table. Her laugh seemed endless, and you know from the look in her eyes and the gestures that she was definitely flirting with Jerry. 

You’ve met Elvis earlier, it was very briefly since he wanted to say hello to everyone. But in that split-second interaction, you cannot help but blush and stammer your name out as you introduce yourself. You were thankful that he was wrapped up in a conversation with someone else, as it decreased the chances of you absolutely making a fool of yourself in front of your celebrity crush. Right now, he seems to be in conversation with a comedian and his laugh echoes. You cannot help but smile at the sound. 

Annie seems to be nowhere in sight, but so does Jerry and you can only make assumptions of what that may mean. You sighed and stood up, refilling your glass of wine as you leaned against the corner of the wall - people watching. You don’t go unnoticed though, as a member of the Memphis Mafia approaches you - Red West. 

“Hi.” 

Your eyes refocus on the new face in front of you, he flashes a grin at you as he leaned the side of his body on the wall. 

You clear your throat, “Hi.”

“I’m Red.” He says, sticking his hand out. 

You shake it and kindly smile, “Nice to meet you, Red. I’m Y/N.” 

He repeats your name, an amused grin on his lips. 

“So, Y/N. . . avoiding humans then?” He jokes, as you are removed from all the conversations going on. Here you were, standing alone.

You chuckle, “Not exactly. I was part of the human chatter earlier.” 

Red nods with his arms crossed, “And now you’ve realised that humans are a pain in the ass.” 

You laugh, “I was going to say I just like people watching, but that too.” 

Red’s eyes flicker to your lips and you hardly notice it, completely oblivious that he is physically attracted to you. You yourself have never been experienced in the art of flirting nor romance, therefore you just deemed it to be a normal conversation. 

“Sounds like stalker territory, but okay.” Red says, dramatically putting his hands up.

You rolled your eyes but laughed, “You’ve never heard of that term before?”

He shakes his head, “Nope.” 

“It just means someone who is an observer of life. You know, how Shakespeare says that thing about how movies are ideas from what humans are like in real life. People get ideas from people, by people watching.” You explain. 

Red steps a little closer to you, and this you notice. But you don’t react because the conversation has been harmless so far. 

“Like Romeo and Juliet then, that’s Shakespeare right?” Red says.

That’s not exactly what you were saying, and you are pretty sure he just ignored the rest of what you were trying to say. But you are also aware of how some men just don’t use whatever brain cell they have. So, you are not surprised at his question. 

You smiled tightly, “Yeah.”

“You are very smart, you know. Very pretty just like Juliet.” Red says, a glint in his eye as he smirks. 

You laugh unsure of what to say, “Thanks, I guess.”

And still, you are oblivious as ever with his flirtatious tone. 

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of azure eyes gaze intently at you from across the room. Elvis has been socialising with everyone for an hour or so now, but in the corner of his eye he is still paying attention to you. Ever since his eyes met your face at the show earlier, he couldn’t help but immediately want to see you again. He has seen and been with many beautiful women in his life, the advantages of being who he is - the way women just flock to him without him even lifting a finger. But your beauty was not overdone, and your whole look was minimal. It was obvious that you were not dressed to impress, as they may say. You dressed as one would to attend a concert, but not with the intention of ever drawing his attention. Well, you did. But you had no idea. 

Of course, Elvis would invite a bunch of people to his suite for dinner after his shows. Aside from celebrity figures, Elvis would also invite people from the audience. Most of the fans invited immediately said yes, as you and Annie did as well. The hopeful women that clearly wanted and competed for Elvis’ undivided attention surrounded him, but his head snapped to you. You who was leaning so close to Red West, as you laughed in your fixated conversation with him. You both looked so in your own bubble, apart from everyone else. Apart from him. The women around him keep on talking, but Elvis is no longer listening. 

Elvis has thrown warnings to the MM before about his fans, if any of them were to try anything with any of the fans - he wouldn’t take it lightly. Of course, some fans that he would invite to his suite - Elvis had no intention of being intimate with. And so, Elvis wouldn't bat an eye if any of the MM were to flirt with them. 

But he clearly expressed his interest in you to the MM, and so rage fuelled his body at the sight of Red going against his words. Even worse, it looked like you were enjoying Red’s company with your cute laugh and  endless smile. 

Elvis has had enough. He excuses himself from the women around him and stands up, much to their dismay. But they quickly talk amongst themselves. Elvis strides over to you and Red, he takes his sunglasses off and folds it confidently - holding it in his hands. 

“Red.” One word and Red freezes. He turns around and there is Elvis with his jaw tightened and a tight smile on his lips. 

“Boss.”

“Heard you both laughing all the way there, wondered what the joke is.” Elvis says, though the intensity in his eyes mentally burning holds into Red’s head. 

You, of course, were frozen that Elvis decided to show up all of the sudden. Still not used to his effortless charm and handsome smile of his. 

“Um, i-it was n-nothing. “ You stutter, mentally hitting yourself at the sudden timidity of your voice. 

Elvis eyes are on you but he quickly looks back at Red, who seemed to have gotten more nervous than ever. He is scratching the back of his neck and is no longer leaning against the wall, but straightening his posture. 

“Honey, I doubt it. What do ya say, Red?” He says. 

Red immediately gets the hint and realises that he has fucked up. Here he was blatantly flirting with you, right in Elvis’ line of sight. 

“I’m saying. . .  I uh, Charlie needs my help on something. I better go.” He says, quickly excusing himself and briefly looking back at you. You frown, confused as his sudden change of mood. 

Elvis sighs and pats him on the back, “Good idea, man.”

“Bye, it was nice to meet you!” You call out and he shoots you a small smile before vanishing somewhere else. 

“You enjoying yourself, honey?” Elvis asks, the southern drawl so apparent in his tone. He casually takes the spot that Red was standing in, but Elvis is closer and he is leaning against the wall. 

You attempt to make eye contact with him, but his gaze is intense. Even more so without his sunglasses on. 

“Yeah, it’s nice. Thanks for , um, inviting me.” You say, twirling the empty glass of wine in your hands nervously. 

“Can I be honest with you, Y/N?” He asks.

“You remember my name.” You say before you can stop yourself. 

Elvis chuckles amusedly, “Why wouldn’t I? Miss Little Black Dress.”  He says, shamelessly trailing his gaze from your long legs up to the gaze in your eyes. 

You feel your cheeks heat up, “Not the most creative choice, I know.” You smile at him, trying to make yourself relax and appear more confident. 

Elvis shakes his head at your comment, “You look good, honey. Don’t count yourself out.” 

Although he has probably complimented many women, his words still make you naturally blush. You can’t help but look away and nervously say, “Thanks.”

The one chance that Elvis Presley is having a conversation to you and to you alone, and you are looking away? You mentally hit yourself and try to push out the shyness that seems to have taken over you since the start of this conversation. With Red, it was easy conversation, you weren’t rethinking each word that left your mouth. But he wasn’t Elvis. He wasn’t the celebrity crush that you’ve endlessly devoted yourself over for the past eleven years. Elvis found you adorably amusing, clearly hyper aware of the effect he has on you. 

You muster some courage of confidence and attempt to meet his eyes again, as you clear your throat. 

“Sorry, you were saying?” You ask. 

“Hmm?”

“Uh. . you said about being honest with me about something?” You explain, redirecting the topic of conversation. 

He snaps his fingers and chuckles, “Ah! Right. I, well, would you like to get out of here?” He asks, his hand lightly brushing your hand but not quite intertwining your fingers. 

You freeze, not being able to maintain the shock with your eyes. Although you were practically oblivious when a guy was flirting with you, the naivety did not extend to words such as the ones that Elvis just let go. You knew what he was implying, and you were quite certain that he was hinting to sleeping with you. But this is when you drew the line. Sure, it was nice to talk to your idol, but crossing over to that territory? You don’t think you are sure of yourself. Besides, you haven’t even crossed territory like that with any guy. 

“I-”

He interrupts you, as if reading your mind. 

“I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I promise. I just figured it’s easier to get to know each other without all this noise.” He explains, voice soft. 

Your best friend’s voice echoes in your mind at that very moment. 

‘Live a little, Y/N. When an opportunity presents itself, just jump. As long as it’s not harmful. Besides, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ 

You hesitate, unable to form words. 

Before you could even register what is happening, you find yourself smiling at Elvis and agreeing to his offer, “Okay.”

-

It has been a while now since Elvis whisked you away from all the ‘noise’ as he described it. You were sure that your heart was beating loud enough for anyone to hear, as he placed his arm lightly around your waist. You were now in his room, and it was as luxurious as you’d expect it to be - the interior exactly what you imagined his taste would be. You were unsure at first on what to do, as you stood there. But luckily, Elvis was careful and noticed your nervous energy - he offered you to take a seat at the very edge of his bed. 

“How old are you, darlin?” He questions, as he faces you fully. 

“Twenty-four.” You say, and your mind immediately runs wild at what he must think of you now. 

Here you were, at the adult age of twenty-four and yet your life experiences seemed to not suit that description of such an age. You struggled to even hold a conversation with Elvis without stuttering or looking overly timid. In this stage of a woman's life, aren’t they supposed to be confident in their desires and advances? Romantic and sexual experiences should be vast by now, right? That’s what you believed, and yet - here you were. An anomaly within that belief. Your shy nature upon initial conversation with him, made Elvis conclude that you were a precious jewel out of the many. But your naivety to such things made you embarrassed, as someone with overflowing sex appeal had his undivided attention on you. 

Oh shit. He’ll probably ask something and that’s that. He’ll find out how embarrassingly inexperienced I am, and I’ll have to make a run from it. That is humiliating. 

You thought to yourself. Although you cannot be one-hundred percent sure that the conversation would lead to that, you know in yourself there is a pretty solid chance that it will. After all, the environment you are in just screams it. Here you were, literally sitting on his bed, the door is closed and it ‘s just the two of you. Besides, you’ve heard the rumours - about his sexual appetite. Afterall, he was this rock ‘n roll singer who practically had women fawning all over him. Logically speaking, he had to do something with that adrenaline after walking off stage - right?

You were getting ahead of yourself again, your thoughts running rampant and Elvis clearly noticed this. He delicately placed his finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, concern swimming in his blue eyes. 

You shake your head, “N-Nothing. I, um. . .”

“I meant what I said,  I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.” He says, placing his hand over yours as he squeezes it reassuringly. 

You sighed and nodded, trying to calm your nerves down. 

“Do you read?” Elvis asks suddenly. 

“I used to a lot, but not anymore.” You reply, managing to form a normal sentence without stuttering. You tilt your head in confusion as Elvis gets up, but shortly returns back to his spot next to you with a book in his hands.

“Why did you stop?” He asked, his genuine curiosity took you aback a little. 

You shrugged, “Life became busy and I don’t know, I eventually lost interest I guess.” 

You look at the title of the book that he’s holding, “The Impersonal Life by Joseph Benner.” 

Upon reading the title of the unknown book, Elvis delves into revealing that he is an avid reader and brings a suitcase full of books whenever he’s on the road. Surprise would be an understatement, you admitted to him that you never expected him to be a reader. As the conversation grows, you find yourself relaxing and all the nervous energy vanishes from you. You thought that when Elvis said that he wanted to get to know you, it was simply just a phrase. But he truly did evidently show that he was interested in what you had to say, you felt flattered. You would answer his questions, but then he would ask another one based on the answer you just gave him. And you knew that he was listening to you, as he stared intently and would nod encouragingly at you to continue. 

Initially stepping into the room, there was no clock in sight. You wished that you had your watch on, it would’ve helped to know what time it was. It felt like you’ve been talking to each other for a while now, you presume it has been hours. And yet, Elvis was true to his word - he hasn’t done anything that you didn’t like. 

You were in the middle of explaining to him the meaning behind your name, but you stopped mid-sentence.

“I’m sorry, I’m just rambling. Am I boring you?” You smile at him apologetically. 

Elvis grins amusedly at you and shook his head, “The opposite, honey.” 

He nods at your black boots, “Interesting choice.”

You chuckled, “Yeah, well, wearing heels makes my feet hurt. I mean, I have worn heels before because on some occasions, you just have to. But my black boots are my go-to, and coincidentally enough-”

You are looking down at your black boots, but stop yourself from continuing your sentence because you feel his focus has shifted. In the corner of your eye, you feel the heat of his gaze and this makes you naturally turn your head to face him. The pair of blue eyes flickered between your eyes, and your lips. Elvis sighed and it was obvious that he desperately wanted to lean in. All the while when you were talking, his mind kept directing him to stare at those lips of yours. So perfectly pink and inviting. But he held himself back, and didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

It was only this, in this moment did you realise how close together your bodies were. Your thighs were pressed up against each other and literally no space between you. It was silent for a while. You found yourself studying his face, and you still cannot believe how perfect he looks. It was so unlike the beauty of any other human being, you thought. You found yourself tracing his features with your finger, lastly touching his plump lips. Your motions were slow, and agonsing it seemed as Elvis' breathing increased. All the while you maintained your eye contact with him in good control. His eyes held pure fascination with your actions, a stark contrast from your shy nature. Your touch was delicate and careful, but he can tell that there is something more wanting to break out from you. 

It was in this very moment that you felt a hot sensation within you. You have hardly done anything, and Elvis is already feeling that familiar ache. His eyes intensified, as his tongue wetted his lips. 

Annie’s words echo through your brain again.

“I want to kiss you,” You finally admit, voice delicate but strong. You have never been this forward with a guy before, and so the words that leave your mouth surprise you.

“You don’t have to ask.”  He says, his tone of voice low.

You circle your arms around his neck, and finally - your lips meet his. The melding of your lips together, causes Elvis to let out a groan. The sound sparks the sensation in your lower body. The kiss was sweet and slow at first, but you felt yourself wanting more. An unfamiliar determination takes over you, as your hands thread through his hair - pulling it tightly. Elvis welcomes the pain, and tightly secures an arm around your waist - his touch searingingly  hot through your little black dress. The kiss is far from slow, as you both grow in need. His other hand grips your cheek as he deepens the kiss, recapturing your lips again, as he bites into your bottom lip. You let out a gasp, and swipe your tongue on his lips. The sweet sound of your gasps spurs something darker within Elvis, he needs more. But he can’t be selfish, and so he pulls back from the blissful touches.

Elvis is breathing hard, and you do too. Both trying to catch your breaths, as you try to comprehend what you just did. But a smile pulls on your lips, as does his. 

“Y/N, if we continue. . . I-I don’t think I can stop.” He warns, and your heart beats at how careful and honest he is. Staying true to his word. 

You lean forward once again and whisper, as you look him right in the eye, “Then don’t.” 

You gulp at the words you just let go, unaware where you found this confidence from. But you keep it going, not knowing when you’ll shrink back into your timid nature. 

Elvis’ movements are fast, as your lips meet together for the second time. This time, the kiss is not gentle anymore. It is filled with hunger and pure desire, a kiss that feels like the dichotomy of scorching desert sun and the icy glaciers that are surrounded by the Southern Ocean. A kiss that both felt like a crashing wave of relief, and an invisible rope tightly binding you and Elvis together. Your hands travelled through his back, his neck and his hair. Elvis’ hand trailed up your thigh and you felt your heart beating faster, as he slid the ends of your dress higher and higher. His other supported the back of your neck, as you naturally arched your back - displaying your neck invitingly to him. 

Elvis left a trail of strong kisses to your neck, “You have such soft skin, honey.” He hums, and you feel his teeth tug lightly at the skin of your neck. You moan at the feeling, knowing that you’ll have to find a way later on to hide the inevitable hickies that’ll be marked on your skin. You feel Elvis smirk at the sound, and this only encourages him to add more to the ones already forming prominently on your skin. 

“Elvis, I-I” You gasped. 

He pulls away, you frown confused at abruptly stopping his actions. Elvis finds this cute and chuckles at your expression, “Let’s take these off.” He removes both of your boots, and winks at you. 

He pulls you back into a kiss, and naturally brings you to his lap with your legs on either side of him, straddling his lap. Elvis groans at the contact of your thin underwear on his crotch, in this new position. His hand on the back of your neck finds its way to grip the butterfly clip that holds your hair together, he removes it letting your hair fall down and rest on your shoulders. 

Elvis looks at you in awe, “Beautiful.” 

Your cheeks heat up, only adding to the warmth that fiercely courses through your body. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the little black dress.” He says, and you feel breathless. 

“Oh do you now, Mr. Presley?” You muse, tilting your head at him as you bite your lip. 

Elvis places both of his hands on the ends of your dress and attempts to remove it smoothly, but grows frustrated at the strength of the material and you suddenly hear a sharp sound of tearing. Elvis pays it no mind and lets it fall to the floor. 

You laugh and shake your head at his frustration. Elvis laughs along with you and leaves kisses at the side of your face, as  you glance at the torn material on his velvet carpet. 

“But it’s time to say goodbye to it.” Elvis smirks. 

He flips you both over, so your back is on the soft sheets of the bed as he presses his body against you. Both of your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. You help him rid of his clothing, admiring in awe at his bare chest. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a new one.” He assures you, implying to the ripped up dress. 

“I have a better idea,” You say, tone sultry. 

Elvis smirks, his fingers circling your breasts, as his thumbs graze your perked nipples in repeated motions. You moan at the action, arching your back. At the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head, Elvis wishes to have the sight before him captured into his mind forever.

“Hmm? And what would that be?” His deep voice, sending you into limitless bliss.

You reach your hand out and grip the necklace dangling from his neck, using it as a way to pull his face towards you, as you clash your lips together and you feel him smirk through the kiss. He detaches himself from your lips, and descends down to kiss your jaw, your skin and now your chest. He is quick enveloping the hardened buds, wetting them with his tongue, as he repeats the action to your other breast. Your mind is in a frenzy, feeling your toes curl at the pure euphoria as you moan. 

Thank goodness for the Little Black Dress, you thought. 

“Y/n do you want to talk to him?”

~ You’re just so pretty. ~

[Han Jisung x Fem!Reader]

scene: everyone seems to be attracted to jisung, shamelessly throwing themselves at him despite the fact that you two are a couple

genre: angst with comfort😔🫶🏼💪🏼

warning: swearing, jealous reader, mentions of body insecurities, two day ghosting

note: (non!idol au, university au) so I think this is so scattered because my thoughts are all over the place but I will get to editing it later tonight. go through contacts are basically the people in your contacts who can bypass the ‘do not disturb’ and have notifs of their chats despite dnd being on.

Masterlist

They aren’t even trying to hide it anymore, they love your boyfriend. And your boyfriend couldn’t care less.

The girl is practically throwing herself at him, her finger twirling her blonde hair while the other squeezes his biceps. She’s so close to him she might as well be the air he breathes.

Jisung on the other hand, doesn’t do anything. He laughs at her attempt to flatter him, compliments about his muscles, his face, his whole fucking being. He is beyond amused at how these girls try to be his.

He smiles at the sight of you, ignoring the murderous look you have for the scene in front of you. “Baby! You’re back, finally.” He beams excitedly, like a squirrel with an acorn.

You smile back, glancing at the girl who still has her hand on your boyfriend. She rolls her eyes, trotting back to her friends. You finally feel the air become light again.

“Hi sweetheart, what were you doing?” You ask, sitting on his lap.

His hands instinctively hold you close, one wraps around you waist the other on your thigh. “Was gonna study but these girls kind of pushed their friend on me, I’m so glad you’re here now.” Your boyfriend explains, before kissing you on the cheek. “Are you ready for finals?” He queries, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

~•~

The finals are a day away and you can’t rest, overwhelmed by the thought of your boyfriend cheating on you. You don’t think he would do that, you trust him. But, he’s just so pretty. Girls naturally flock around him like birds to bread.

Why did he choose you? When there are much prettier, skinnier, paler, taller girls than you.

The (toxic) girls around you can tell you’re nothing but garbage compared to them, they know it well, so well that they hit on Jisung even when you’re together. Shamelessly accidentally tripping and making him help them, and his kind heart actually leaving your side to help the fallen lady.

Just a few minutes ago, you were happily chatting with him when a girl about 5 inches taller than you, brunette, and more fit than you are approached him. You thought it would be like the others, he’d say thank you to the compliments and go back to you.

But instead, you have to witness him fawn over this woman you don’t even know. He doesn’t even bother introduce the two of you.

“So how have you been?” Her squeaky voice just annoying you, drilling into your head how everyone is so much more feminine than you.

And you will never be good enough for Jisung.

“I’ve been good!” He returns the same enthusiasm she has, not bothered by her finger tracing shit on his chest.

“Jisung-“

“Hold on, baby. I’m talking to someone.” He cuts you off, not even sparing you a glance. He just continues to flirt with this woman as if you aren’t there.

Well alright, you’ll just make it reality.

You pick up your things, placing it all in you bag then standing up to leave the cafeteria. The place is buzzing loudly in your ear, not helping the hate thoughts consuming you.

When you find a secluded place in the study hall, you settle down. Your bag dropping beside you.

You plug your earphones in, turning the volume up so it’s the only thing you can hear.

~•~

It’s been 2 days since the brunette incident and you’ve been trying your best to avoid Jisung. Not wanting to talk or hear his voice again. Even going to the extent of muting his texts and taking him off your ‘go through’ contacts.

Those two days have been the most peaceful ones since you got into a relationship 5 years ago. No noisy fangirls or fanboys, not a cellphone pinging with notifications. Just silence and rest.

You got through the finals, confident you would pass them with flying colors.

You admire the setting sun, the waves giving you wonderful white noise and it almost sounds like Jisung and his friend?

“You know I’m happy for you.” His friend exclaims, when he notices Jisung’s confused face he mentions you. “I never really liked Y/n, seemed controlling and shit. Besides, Chae-eun is hotter.” He chides, kicking a rock in the way.

You frown angrily, quietly standing up from your spot on the sand. You don’t want to hear Jisung’s reply, it’s not worth the heartbreak you haven’t prepared yourself for.

“Shit, bro is that Y/n?” He gulps, afraid you’ve heard him.

You start walking faster, almost running at that point. You’re so far that you don’t hear Jisung disapproving his friend’s remarks about you, quipping about how perfect you are.

~•~

*tuk tuk tuk*

The sound of knocking from your front door resonating to the kitchen where you’re cooking. “Minho? Did you lose your key?” You shout, rushing to the door not caring to peek in the peephole. “Minho-“

“Y/n, please let me explain.” Jisung pleads, visibly tired and worn out. The two days having the opposite effect on him than what it did to you.

He opens his mouth but is interrupted by Minho, your best friend’s hand on you boyfriend’s shoulder in a warning manner. “Y/n, do you want to talk to him?” Minho questions, giving you a comforting nod, as if to say I’ll kick his ass if you don’t want to.

“Yeah, I do. Thanks, Min. You can go inside.” You opened the door wider and he brushes past your boyfriend.

Jisung sighs in relief, and you walk with him to the park where he explains everything. Chae-eun being a childhood bestfriend from his hometown (but he’ll distance himself if you want him to), the boy who insulted you being scolded by Jisung, and him constantly reassuring you between his explanations that you are the only one for him.

“I promise, Y/n. You are the most perfect girl I’ve ever met. You are mine and I intend to keep it that way, you and only you.” He clarifies, tilting your head to look at him. “I’m sorry for pushing you away and making you jealous. I don’t do it on purpose.” He continues, giving you comforting squeezes to the hand.

You start to tear up, relived you’ve finally talked it out. “You’re just so pretty.” You murmur, “everyone who looks at you falls in love.” you blubber.

Despite all your insecurities he stays with you and reassures you with never ending patience.

After calming down you two walk back to your apartment where Minho is fast asleep like a cat on the couch, the table is full of food and your favorite show is paused on the tv.

You smile, waking him up and beckoning him to eat.

The night ending your two day long span of not talking to your beloved.

Find all my works under #skzwife-02

Beach Day

Pairings: Hanta Sero x Reader

Summary: 1-A goes to the beach, a day that began with insecurities and mishaps turned into a night of new love and acceptance.

Warnings: OOC characters, Mineta being a perv, might be some curses?, mentions of stretch marks and insecurities of the body

Notes: SO this was kinda written with a fuller body in mind because I have one, and a lot of the time I struggle with accepting my body. It’s not a huge factor in the story but it is there. I hope this story kind of helps you forget those insecurities for a bit.

『° 。✰˚⋆☾⋆。✰°』

“How come you’re still wearing your clothes (y/n)?” Uraraka asked sincerely as you tensed, shooting her a nervous smile, “I’ll take it off in a bit! I just wanna get situated.” You said taking a sip of your drink from your spot on the sand. You and Mina had set up underneath a large umbrella, putting your towels side by side and arranging your belongings.

“She’s just insecure.” Mina said, making you flick sand at her while she laughed, “Whaaat!?” The girls shouted, “You have nothing to be insecure about!” Momo tried, making your mind race,

“That’s what I keep telling her!” Mina once again interjected. It took all your will to not find a way to zip his trap with your quirk. “American and Japanese ideas on the body may be different, but that doesn’t mean yours is bad.” Tsuyu said in her usual blunt manner making you sulk,

“And with that new bathing suit Toru and Mina picked out, I’m sure you’ll look great!” Jiro said shooting you a thumbs up as her earphones waved. Knowing you weren’t gonna win this, you sighed, “Okay, but only for a bit.” You said as you began to remove your shirt and shorts.

The girls twittered amongst each other about how you looked, which made you insecure about your body. Your fingers subconsciously raced over the stretch marks on your stomach, breasts, and thighs, your mind shooting to what the ones on the back of your arms and thighs looked like. 

 Finally stepping out from under the umbrella, you tried to cross your arms over your stomach, which was softer than the skinny toned girls in your class. The pink girl huffed and tried tickling you to get you to ease up, tickling you to do so and as a result of your laughter, heads began to turn, and some stared a lot longer than you would’ve liked.

Suddenly you heard a loud SMACK, the boys who were playing volleyball winced and groaned. Turning your attention towards them, you saw Sero with a quickly reddening imprint of the volleyball on his face, making you cringe.

Kaminari patted Sero on the back and laughed, “That’s what you get for staring.” He joked, making the boy flush. “Don’t act like you guys didn’t look!” He yelled loudly making them all tense as you looked over. They all threw their quirks at him, either shocking, singeing, or freezing him.

You quickly turned away when the girls called you over again to join them in the water, which you had agreed too, since you usually swim far enough for the water to reach up to your chest. You and Tsuyu swam for a while, the other girls played with a beach ball on the other hand, laughing and splashing water at each other.

Suddenly, you froze and shrieked.

“Something touched me!” You yelled as you frantically looked around, Asui tilting her head curiously. “Was it some seaweed?” She asked you as you wiped the water off of your face,

“No no, like, something touched my ass!” You said as she disappeared into the water, probably to look around.

After about a minute, you heard splashing and yelling. Looking over in that direction, you saw Asui break the surface and come out holding Mineta with her tongue. Swimming over to the shore and shaking him

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You said exasperated as he trashed in her hold, swimming back to shore to meet her. “I think this is the piece of trash that touched you.” She muttered as best as she could with her tongue sticking out.

“Hey let me go! I’m thorry it was just out there! You know you thouldn't be wearing thomething like that if you didn’t want anyone to touch you!” Mineta said aloud making you cover yourself as best as you could with your hands, even pulling down the bottoms to cover your ass that was barely poking out.

“The hell you say scumbag?” You heard an aggressive voice say, making you flinch. “He touched (y/n)!” Mina shouted as she came to console you, seeing how you had gotten.

“Give me the scumbag, Frog.” Bakugou said with a chilling smirk making your skin crawl. Asui did as he asked and tossed the kid at him, Bakugou caught him by the head effortlessly, careful to avoid actually grabbing his quirk. Mineta thrashed and cried out, pleading for help while everyone turned a blind eye.

“I'm about to win this game you damn extras.” Bakugou said as he ran back to the court, everyone following. 

Getting into position to serve, he threw Mineta up into the air as he screamed. The blonde ran up and jumped into the air, and spiked the screaming student using his quirk, sending Mineta over the net and creating a mini crater in the sand.

The other girls cheered while you winced, still covering your body. “Hey, you okay?” A voice behind you spoke. You turned around to see Sero, still adorning the bright red mark on his face, 

“Yeah.” You said with a small chuckle, reaching out to hold his face. He blushed as you examined the injury, noticing that you were very close to his face. “Check out this new spell that I found.” You said as you closed your eyes and focused on him, chanting some spell quietly, you then looked back up at him and smiled.

You gently bounced in your spot, making Sero notice how the air dried your hair, adding beach waves to your hair. “What’d that do?” He asked rubbing the back of his head, You pulled a small compact mirror from your bag nearby and showed him his reflection,

“Oh shit! You healed it?” He asked as he poked at his face, only making him flinch and gasp in response. “I only made the visual injury disappear, the pain is still here.” You said as he gently poked his face still. 

“It’s kinda useless, I know.” You said looking down dejectedly, but Sero quickly and gently grabbed your chin and tilted it up to look at you. “Nonono, it’s great! It’s pretty cool actually.” He said with his contagious smile. Realizing what he did, the two of you blushed, but before you could say something Kaminari cut between you two, 

“Leave room for the holy spirit.” He said leaving you two at about 3 feet apart, both laughing.

When the day began to darken and the air turned chilly, you all bundled up and started a bonfire with the help of Todoroki’s quirk. S’mores were made and stories were told and laughter was flowing. Everyone was having a great time, and you and Sero couldn't help the glances you two would share.

You later found yourself separating from the group and walking along the shore, feeling how your feet left imprints in the sand. 

“Mind if I join you?” A voice came from behind you, the wet sand concealing his nervous approach. You turned with a smile at the newcomer, nodding as you turned back around, “Of course. What draws you over here Sero?” You ask once he takes his place next to you, the boy in question shyly rubbed the back of his neck, 

“Well, you.” He mumbled, head turned away from you, obscuring his answer. You turned to him and asked him to repeat what he said, making him fluster, “W-Whales, you know?”

You chucked at how quickly he answered, turning back around and craning your neck up to the sky, “I don't think we’ll see any whales, but we can see the stars.” You say as the boy turned to look at you, seeing as though you had stopped walking. “They’re beautiful.” You whisper.

Sero looks at your hand that rested at your side, empty and waiting, practically begging for him to take it into his own. 

And that's exactly what he did. 

At the feeling of his hand in your own, you turned your attention to the blushing boy, your face turning into the same shade. “Sero?...” He swallows the nervousness he had gotten stuck in his throat, preventing him from speaking properly. “(y/n), we’ve been friends for a while, but I found myself wanting to be more than that.” Realizing where this was going, you stepped closer and squeezed his hand.

“You're beautiful, and I don't just mean physically. Your everything is beautiful! Your eyes, your smile, your personality. Not to mention you're so strong in so many ways! Your quirk, your reason to become a hero, the way you just exist is an amazing thing alone,” he rambled, words nearly blending together, your brain nearly frying to keep up with what he was trying to say.

“But why me?” You whisper more to yourself, only for him to hear you, “what do you mean?” He asks lifting your chin so his eyes could meet your glossy ones, “I don’t look like Momo, or-or Mina,” you begin, not looking directly at him in shame, “I’m not pretty like the other girls in our class im-” Sero cut you off with a hug, “Stop that, I don’t want Momo or Mina, I want you. It’s you who distracted me earlier from the volleyball, it’s you who I imagine holding close, your body is beautiful and you know why?” He asks holding you at an arms length to get a good look at you, as you shook your head, “It’s beautiful because it’s yours.”

You stare at Sero with wide eyes, admiring how cute a blush looked on his face, “Look what i'm trying to say is-” grabbing his cheeks and planting your lips on his, his eyes widened for a second, hands flying up in surprise, only for his eyes to begin fluttering closed as you deepened the kiss, his hands finding their place on your waist and pulling you in. With chests against each other, you both could practically feel how hard your hearts were beating, almost threatening to burst out of your chests.

He groaned against your lips when he felt you begin to pull away, making you giggle at his reaction, “can I finish my sentence next time?” He joked, eyes still shut in bliss, “maybe you just talk too much,” you quip back, now meeting his eyes, “I mean if that's your way of getting me to shut up then I'll just never stop talking.” 

The ocean stretched to where the two of you were, the surprisingly warm water sending a shiver through both of your bodies. “So, would you want to maybe go out? Maybe be my girlfriend?” He asks lightly squeezing your sides, making you sigh contently. “Not maybe,” you begin, pulling him down to another kiss, however you stop just as you feel his breath fan over you, “definitely.”

“Thank you Hanta.”

『° 。✰˚⋆☾⋆。✰°』