#last 2 gifs physically hurt

[dark-tides-in-faerun]

Boiling Point (1/2)

Astarion x You!

Your party stumble across a hot spring in the wilds and agree to take turns bathing. It turns out, Astarion isn’t very good at taking turns but is more than happy to share…

🌶️mature🌶️ (fair warning that this chapter is just a little steamy but the next one will be very nsfw!)

You lay on your back in the recently discovered hot spring, eyes closed, basking in the delicious warmth. If this wasn't heaven, you weren't sure what was. The moon lights up the little clearing you’re in, giving everything that it touches a lovely, silvery sheen, and you close your eyes and relax into it, feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

“Well, hello.”

You almost jump out of your skin.

“Astarion.” You gasp, spluttering up a lungful of water as you quickly sink lower beneath the surface, arms crossing against your chest in a bid to protect your modesty as you twist toward him. The water’s cloudy enough that he wouldn’t be able to see anything, but that knowledge does very little to make you feel less exposed. “What in the nine hells is wrong with you?”

“Nothing that a little dip couldn’t fix.” He quips, lounging against a rock, his face the picture of innocence and your eyes narrow as you notice he’s clutching a crimson towel in one pale hand.

“It’s not your turn.” You warn, narrow eyes meeting his as his carefully blank face looks back at you. You’d all agreed on a schedule for hot spring use and given that he’d already talked you into letting him steal all of your allocated time, it definitely wasn’t his turn.

“Oh, I know that.” He replies, the picture of unaffected grace as he looks at his nails and then back at you. “I just think it’s a little selfish of you to be… indulging yourself with so little regard for other people’s feelings.”

“Is it?” You say, slowly, and his lips quirk up in response. “Or is it a ‘little selfish’ to interrupt someone during the only time they’ve had to themselves in days. Especially when that person in question has already given up every other opportunity to bathe in the hot spring for you.”

“Yes, yes, that was very generous of you darling, but try to look at it from my perspective. You generate your own heat, but what about me? Do you know what it feels like to spend night after night in this frozen and miserable, knowing that there’s something warm and wet that I could sink myself into just meters away?”

His voice is innocent, but as his eyes drop to where your skin disappears beneath the water, the smile he gives you is anything but. It's obvious he’s trying to use your physical response to him to manipulate you, because he's always trying to do that and you flush, desire flooding to your core just as he intends it. But you're not just flushing because of the obscene way he's looking at you. It's because that smile has reminded you of how he looked when he returned from the springs last night. All pink skin and delighted exuberance. He’d been light, playful, exhilarated... Happy. And you knew enough about his past to know that happiness wasn’t something he’d known much of in his long life.

“Why can't you just go and bother someone else for a change.” You grumble, but the delighted shine in his eyes shows you that he knows he's getting his way and you scowl at him. “Gods give me strength. Turn around.”

“Why?” he asks, mouth blooming into a full smile and you can’t help the extra little flip your stomach gives at the sight of it.

“Because I’m naked and I’m not getting out with you staring at me. Turn around.”

“Darling, I’m hurt. Are you really suggesting we can’t share? There’s more than enough room for two.” He pouts, eyes shining as he stares down at you, sparkling with mischief and butterflies flutter to life in your stomach at the suggestion. You know he’s only trying to get a rise out of you but damn it, if it isn’t working. "Besides, I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

You choke back a strangled laugh because it really wasn’t him you were worried about. The butterflies have gone into overdrive just from the suggestion, and you can feel the heat staining your cheeks a darker pink than the warmth of the hot spring. You stare up at him, eyes a little too wide, and he gives you a self-satisfied smile. You can see in his gaze that he expects you to balk. Expects you to surrender the hot spring and slink away with your pink cheeks and pounding heart.

Well fuck him.

You force a sweet smile, feeling a thrum of satisfaction at the slight widening of his eyes as instead of moving toward him you wade to the far edge and turn around. For a long moment there’s nothing and you wonder if he’s even still there.

“Well? Are you getting in or not?” You demand, proud that your voice is only a little shaky, and he lets out a laugh. You swallow, focusing on trying to keep your heart rate level as you hear the sound of rustling fabric and then the water ripples around you as he slips in behind you.

“You can look now, darling, I assure you I’m quite decent.”

You turn around and immediately regret not getting out when you had the chance.

There is nothing decent about the way he looks right now.

The moonlight floods the broad expanse of his naked chest, staining it an ethereal, shining white, and he looks like he was carved from marble. The steam from the water has already tightened the hair at the nape of his neck into little curls. He’s stark and beautiful in the silver moonlight, but it’s not even that, that’s most striking.

It’s his expression.

His eyes are closed, head resting against the grassy bank behind him and the little smile that plays at the edges of his lips is a million miles away from his usual shit-eating grin. It’s small and soft and decidedly content and you swallow. It’s the full force of the little smile you’d seen at camp. It’s true happiness, you realize and it makes your heart pound and ache in equal measure to acknowledge that you’ve never seen that particular smile before.

He shifts, lifting his arms from the water and resting them against the rocky edge of the pool, blinking up at you and that little smile dissolves into something darker. Water streams from his skin, running between the dips and crevices of his muscular biceps and you shrink into yourself a little, sinking into the water until just your chin hovers above it. There’s nothing you can do about your heart now, it’s pounding against your ribs like it wants to escape from your chest and his crimson eyes are fixed on you as you try your best to keep yourself in check.

“Happy now?” you ask, and though your voice is a little breathy you feel like the fact that you’ve even gotten the words out is a feat of heroic proportions.

“Very.” He replies closing his eyes, and you can’t help but smile at that. He looks more content than you’ve ever seen him and that thought triggers a reaction in you that’s so strong that you suddenly realize that you can’t stay here. He doesn’t deserve to be ogled like this, when he’s just trying to relax. From the little snippets he’s given you from his past he’s had enough of that to last several lifetimes.

You clear your throat and he opens his eyes again, one eyebrow raised questioningly you swallow, gesturing at him to swap places with you. He sits up at that, a surprised smile on his lips and you shake your head, not wanting him to get the wrong idea about your intentions.

“I’m going to leave you to it.” You say, your words only catching a little in your throat as he cocks his head to the side, looking at you thoughtfully.

“Leave me to what, exactly?” He asks, voice low and teasing, and heat rises beneath your cheeks as steam curls up in silvery tendrils around his chest.

“This. Warming up.” You manage, trying not to look at him as you edge your way around the to the other side of the spring, nearer to the grassy knoll, but you really need him to move out of the way if you want to make a graceful exit. “I’ll see you back at camp.”

“I can think of better ways to warm up.” He says, voice a little too innocent, and your gaze flicks to him before you can stop yourself. His eyes are fixed on you and the look in them is dark and predatory and you falter, heart in your throat. You’ve seen that look before, and you swallow as his gaze slips to your neck, the hunger in it apparent.

“I-I-“ you start, but your words die in your throat. The way he’s looking at you has melted your insides into a puddle of lust and your really, really need to get yourself under control. You take a breath. Blood. He means blood. You try to distract your pounding heart by thinking through the implications of what he’s asking. You’re no cleric, but surely bloodletting in hot water wasn’t the best of ideas... “Is it safe?”

He frowns at that, cocking his head to the side as if trying to work out your meaning and you swallow and touch your neck.

“Is it safe to feed in the water?” You say, again. He freezes for a second, and then some unreadable expression passes over his face before he quickly looks away. If you didn’t know him better, you’d have said it was disappointment.

“Of course.” He says, seemingly to himself, and when he looks up the expression has been swallowed up by his usual confidence. “Don’t worry, my sweet. I’ll take very good care of you.”

He holds out his hand and you bite your lip, hesitating for a moment. It’s not that you don’t trust him. If he says it’s safe you believe him, but you’re just suddenly very aware of your lack of clothes. You shift uncertainly, edging a tiny bit closer to him and a slow smile spread over his lips.

“I think you’ll find you need to be a little closer than that.” He says in a voice that spreads beneath your skin like treacle, and for the second time in one night you regret not leaving when you had the chance.

You shiver despite the heat as you place your hand in his and he wraps his pale fingers around yours, tugging you gently towards him. For one panicked second you think he's going to pull you onto his lap, but he stops when you're a few inches apart. You put your free hand on the grassy bank to steady yourself as he lifts your hand to his mouth, rotating it so that the soft skin of your wrist presses gently against his lips. He's fed from you before but, other than the very first time when he almost lost himself, he’s been almost clinical in his approach. Careful to only touch as much as he needs to.

This is not that.

You watch, dumbstruck, as his pink tongue slips out from between his lips to swipe a cool stripe across the overheated plane of your wrist. Your breath catches, a small hitch at the back of your throat, but he catches it and drowning crimson orbs flick up to meet your startled gaze. He does it again, staring at you darkly from beneath his eyelashes and licks another tortuously slow line across your aching skin.

You try not to, but you can't help but gasp, hand gripping tightly into the grass, and his pupils dilate with bloodlust as his fingers tighten against your skin. Gods.

“A-Astarion.” Your voice is breathy and tight, barely audible and you feel almost drunk from just this small amount of contact. He closes his eyes at the sound, a pained expression passing over his face as a shudder runs through his body, and then, before you can say anything else, his fangs sink into your wrist.

#baldur's gate astarion #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #my writing

[obliviouscxnt]

His Shadow pt.2 Azriel x Reader

a/n: all the feedback from the last fic is insane! I can’t even express the joy all of the comments bring me, the kind words mean so much!!! I'm so happy this concept is liked, I definitely want to explore more with it:)) I hope you enjoy!! <333

1.8k words

synopsis: azriel makes a deal with himself to get his shadows back

Warnings: angst, fluff

pt.1

He’d gotten so used to you being there, so comfortable with the shadows that always surrounded him. 

Now that they were gone—now that you were gone—he was left with an inescapable feeling. Loss. 

It felt like lead in his body. It twisted, and turned, weighing itself down on his ribs. Aching at every little thing he began to notice, the little things you did for him. The things he’d taken for granted. 

He missed the way your darkness covered him like a protective blanket. Missed the ease it brought him. Without it, he felt bare. 

He missed your voice, your whispers. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could almost hear it. Almost. He’d never taken the time to memorize it. Never took the time to see beyond what was on the surface. Why hadn’t he? 

How did he disregard you?

You, the first to show him compassion, apart from his own mother. You, who suffered with him in that cold keep, locked away. Unable to grow, to learn, to live. 

You were there for him, with him. 

How could he have overlooked you?

He holds on to your words, the idea that you would answer if he called brought him only a fraction of the comfort you gave him daily. 

You weren’t really gone, he kept telling himself. He’d see you again. 

When it was necessary. 

No longer would you whisper a good morning to him when he woke, or a goodnight when he slept. No longer would you be there, just to be with him. Just to rest on his shoulders, or weave between his fingers. 

He’d used you, like a tool. Like you were just another weapon in his arsenal. 

The pain in his chest swelled, twinging as the image of misery on your breathtaking face invaded his mind. The awful things he’d said, the hateful accusation he’d made. 

You cared so greatly for him, for so long, only to receive cruelty in return. 

How had he ever thought your absence poetic? 

Being away from him was a physical struggle. The need to be there for him, to comfort him, to apologize, and to express your faith in him was undying. You were surprised you’d lasted a full day. 

No matter how he treated you, no matter how much it hurt, he’d always be everything. 

Yet you kept hearing his words. ‘Are you jealous? Is that it?’ Kept seeing that angry glare he’d aimed at you, and how it melted away when you’d taken form. ‘Because I don’t give you enough attention?’

You kept remembering the change in his eyes, in the way he looked at you. Like he’d just then realized you had a mind of your own, that he didn’t have to think for you. 

You’d thought it would make you happy. To have him really see you. 

It didn’t. 

You felt anger and sorrow. Angry you practically had to spell it out for him. Angry the most observant person in the Night Court, if not all of Prythian, had never spared you a second glance. Sad that you had to look like him to get his attention. 

You'd given him every opportunity, you'd shown him your capacity for emotions countless times. He ignored it every single time. No, ignore wasn't right.

Ignorant.

Ignorant was the better word.

Perhaps it was your fault for expecting more of him. 

In the beginning, his neglect hadn’t even mattered. You didn't realize he treated you any differently. That is until you saw him interact with Rhys and Cassian, and then eventually Mor and Amren. 

With them, he was… still distant, closed off in a way. But he smiled, he laughed, he joked. He empathized with them, got angry for them, or sad, or happy. He loved them.

With you, it was just, find me this… bring me here…  go listen to them… keep me hidden… 

He never smiled at you. 

It was your own fault for expecting him to think of you as anything other than a servant. 

That’s what you are, right?

The need to grovel at his feet came back. You felt ridiculous. You lived to serve him. Without him you wouldn’t even have a life. 

You were such a fool, living darkness throwing a fit over some hurt feelings.

He was the only reason you were able to feel anything at all. He gave you meaning. He was your purpose in life, not the other way around. He had no obligation to you, he didn't even have to call on you. The fact that he did was a gift in itself. Just like the pain you felt was a gift.

Without him, you’d just be a regular shadow. 

That should be enough for you. 

So when you heard his call, when you felt that irresistible tug on your soul, you answered. 

You answered though you knew he had no reason for it. He wasn’t in danger, he didn’t want to go anywhere, didn’t need you to spy on anyone or find anything, he was just calling you. 

You answered because no matter what you said, no matter how you felt, he would always be everything. 

Azriel waits for you. Standing in the center of his room, shifting his balance from his right leg to his left. 

He couldn’t keep his hands still, they ran through his hair, adjusted his shirt, got stuffed in his pockets only to leave them a moment later and rub at his neck. His arms cross in an effort to keep them still. 

He was anxious, and restless, and nervous about messing up, but most of all he was angry at himself. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if you ignored his call, even though you said you couldn’t. You’d probably found a way, after all he’s done he wouldn’t blame you. 

It would hurt like hell, but he’d understand. Why would you bother giving him a second chance? 

He’d never even asked you for a name. 

Did you even have one? Do shadows need names? They obviously have a language, one he was able to speak and understand. Did you have a family? A people? Were you born or did you just appear one day? 

These were all things he should’ve known already. Things he should’ve had the mind to be curious about. 

He was too focused on himself and everyone else.

The lights dim, announcing your presence. 

His arms uncross, falling at his sides. You really came. 

Swirls of darkness slip into his room, slowly inching toward him. The way they move is lethargic. It makes him sick.

He speaks when you make it within a foot of him. Pushing past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

The shadows stop. Gone was the mighty spymaster. All that remained was the boy who cried out to you on that cold night several centuries ago.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “You don’t have to accept my apology. I don't want you to. I know I haven’t earned it. I just want you to know that If I could go back and change everything I would.” The words were nothing but the truth. He wished more than anything to go back and treat you right. To erase all the hurt he put you through.

His heart jumps when you continue toward him, slithering up his body, encasing him in your energy. 

He feels you curl around his ear, and then he hears your voice. That airy tone reverberating through his head. A sound only he could hear. Only he could appreciate. One he hadn't until he knew what it was like to lose it. 

“I forgive you.”  

Azriel wanted to weep at those words. For you. For him. For what he’d done to the two of you. For what the two of you could’ve been if he’d just sacrificed a little of his time to be with you. Like you always had for him.

“No, you don’t,” He began, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” 

The lights flicker, once, twice, then he feels it. Your hand.

His gaze trails down to watch your smokey fingers lace with his. The feeling of your skin touching his had his heart racing for other reasons. Very different from the chill of your shadows.

He lets his hand curl around your own. Squeezing as he went on, hoping you could hear and feel every last drop of his sincerity. “I could apologize to you every day for the rest of our eternal lives and I still wouldn’t deserve it.” 

You step in front of him, meeting his stare. The emotion it held stitched something back together inside of you, something that'd gotten torn apart years ago.

“I will do everything in my power to change that. I promise.” His thumb rubs circles on your hand. “I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of you. That you chose right.”  He felt his body tingle with each word, the sensation traveling down his arms, his chest, and his back. Ink undoubtedly marking his skin with a visual reminder of the deal he’d just made with himself.

To strive to one day earn your forgiveness. Your loyalty. 

You reach out a hand resting it on his face, so faintly it barely even touched him. Afraid you were overstepping.

He leans into it, covering it with his own, holding it there.

Your mind drifts back to when you met him.

His small voice, crying out for anyone. 

The strength of the Gods couldn’t have kept you from him.  

You didn’t choose wrong. You knew that. It didn't matter if he believed it or not.

“I swear it.” He vows, bringing you back to the present. His hazel eyes so intense, so sure, burning into your own. You couldn't help yourself.  

You kissed him. 

His lips connect with yours and everything stops. Everything fades away until it’s just you and him.  

He knew he’d never stop chasing the feeling it gave him. Something so simple, so easy, like breathing or gravity. Something he couldn’t live without. Not now that he’d had a taste. 

One of his hands land on your waist, pulling you closer. The other leaves your hand to find purchase on the back of your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss. 

It was euphoric, he wanted to get lost in it, in you. 

You pull away when his tongue brushes over your bottom lip, needing a moment to breathe.

Your eyes remain shut for a moment, stuck in that feeling. When you finally pry them open you study his face, taking in every detail, committing every single bit to memory. 

He's breathing heavily, scanning you with a hunger you’ve never seen before. Eyes darting all over your face, repeatedly drifting back to your lips as if he too was struggling with restraint. 

Then he smiles. Pure elation on his beautiful face. 

The sight was divine. 

You copied the action, smiling wide. You didn’t care if it looked or felt unnatural. You were just happy. 

Happy to be his shadow. 

taglist <33: @sidthedollface2 @mischiefmanagers @theravenphoenix26 @leeknows-wife @fxckmiup

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x shadow!reader #azriel fanfic

[molinaskies]

What We Get Wrong About Dark Sonic

I find Dark Sonic incredibly interesting.

I’ve said this before, but Dark Sonic represents an overflow of Sonic’s negative emotions, the ones he usually suppresses: anger, sadness, and fear.

However, many people believe that Dark Sonic is somehow a betrayal of Sonic as a character (even Ian Flynn, reportedly, but I’ve yet to see an official source). Sonic is meant to be a beacon of optimism. Sonic is meant to be the pillar of hope when all else fails. Sonic is meant to be the last one standing, no matter what.

In this sense, sure, Dark Sonic contradicts the notion that Sonic is “uncorruptable,” but I think that depends on how we define corruption.

I see it two ways:

1) Corruption by way of losing faith, through dishonesty and fraud. 2) Corruption by way of a forceful shift from one state of being to another.

In the first sense, corruption occurs when someone’s paradigm is shifted through lies, cheating, or manipulation. It’s a conscious mental shift. In the second sense, corruption occurs when something (or someone) is co-opted and changed without its will or influence, like data corruption, or a shift in the meaning of a word or image. It’s a literal, physical and/or metaphysical shift.

There’s a saying that floats around the fandom that says, “Shadow is just ‘Sonic, if Sonic had one really bad day’,” and I think that makes sense. Shadow is jaded and cynical because of how the world has hurt him, but he still wants to do right by people—just like Sonic. What separates Sonic from Shadow, however, is Sonic’s tenant optimism and positive paradigm. Without those differences, Sonic has endless reasons to be as cynical as Shadow, or even more so.

So, Sonic doesn’t let himself feel those feelings for very long, and especially not when other people are around. He pours everything into a clean, neat bottle, with a tight screw-on cap, right?

What happens when something tampers with that bottle?

Dark Sonic is a forceful corruption of body but not of mind. Let’s talk about it.

How Dark Sonic Works

What I think people misunderstand most about Dark Sonic is that it’s not an intentional state of being. It never was.

Dark Sonic is the polar opposite to Super Sonic, which is achieved when Sonic harnesses the positive energy of the Chaos Emeralds. If Sonic wanted to harness the power of the emeralds for the wrong reasons and his heart accessed the negative energy rather than the positive, he could possibly bring about Dark Sonic willingly. This, however, would likely never happen because that is the betrayal of Sonic’s character that everyone worries about.

That said, the only reason Dark Sonic ever appears is because of a mix of Sonic’s pure rage over Black Narcissist physically assaulting Chris and Cosmo and the presence of hundreds of the Metarex’s fake Chaos Emeralds, which possess an aura clearly shown to impact Sonic and make him ill.

Sonic’s first interaction with negative Chaos energy from the fake emeralds is filled with discomfort and even disgust. Sonic reacting to the negative Chaos energy poorly is critical, as it showcases that it’s seeking him out, not vice versa.

When Sonic was as triggered as he was, the negative energy from the fakes harnessed his emotions and corrupted him. It was a complete, freak accident.

This situation is very similar to Darkspine Sonic, the in-game equivalent to Dark Sonic from Sonic and the Secret Rings. Darkspine Sonic only surfaces when Sonic is severely triggered after Shahra starts to betray him, Erazor Djinn murders her (she sacrifices herself for Sonic), and he sees Erazor Djinn’s final form about to destroy the storybook world. In his shock and anger, the Secret Rings of Sadness, Rage, and Hate target him, painfully turning him into Darkspine Sonic. Once again, external energies corrupt him at the height of his emotional vulnerability.

Sonic never seeks out the negative energy of the Chaos Emeralds because his heart is good. When the negative energy seeks him out in such overwhelming waves, it corrupts his abilities, alters them, and pulls them out to play.

But—

If it’s simply a matter of fake Chaos Emeralds, then why can Sonic use Tails’ fake Chaos Emerald in Sonic Adventure 2 without any problems? I posit this to the fact that Tails might have a better understanding of the balanced nature of the Chaos Emeralds (in that they are powered by both good and evil), while Eggman and Dark Oak have only ever used (or desired to use) the Chaos Emeralds for evil.

Recall Eggman’s laser at the beginning of Sonic Unleashed and Perfect Chaos in Sonic Adventure. Both uses of the chaos emeralds drained them of their power—their negative power, that is. (Albeit through different means based on the lore of each game), Sonic is still able to restore and harness the emeralds’ power because he relies on the positive energy of the emeralds. As intelligent as he is, I imagine that Eggman (as well as the Metarex) has a hard time replicating the intricate nature and balance of the Chaos Emeralds because their hearts are filled with hatred and turmoil, so unwilling to heed the perspectives of others. The power is there, sure, but not the heart.

~Chaos is power. Power is enriched by the heart~

Tikal's Prayer

I think the difference between Tails’ fake emerald and every other fake emerald we’ve seen in canon is marked by the fact that both Eggman’s and the Metarex’s fakes disintegrate after excessive use (i.e., Chaos Control), but Tails’ fake remains intact.

The Metarex's emerald disintegrates upon excessive use

Eggman's fake emeralds can't hold their form upon excessive use

Tails' fake emerald is intact and ultimately used to stop the Eclipse Canon from firing

In short, Tails’ emerald is simply a better fake, more accurate to the originals.

also, I refuse to talk about how dumb it is that Sonic was able to use a fake Chaos Emerald to do Chaos Control for the first time. However, it is canon, and therefore relevant to my point.

Another key problem cited in Sonic X is just how many fake emeralds there are. One emerald pales in comparison to hundreds. Sonic feels all the latent negative energy consume him because that energy is a corruption, itself.

It’s not that Sonic gets so angry that he just gives in to darkness, it’s that darkness captures him when he’s in extreme emotional distress and his guard is down. Dark Sonic is the result of negative, unstable, potent Chaos energy clinging to him, using his latent Chaos powers as a vessel when he least expects it and, thus, is powerless against it.

I think I can best prove this by contrasting Dark Sonic with Sonic’s other intimate encounter with darkness…

Sonic Unleashed, Dark Gaia, and the Werehog

I’ve spoken at length about this game and this specific scene, already, so kindly forgive my hyper-brief summary this time around!

When Dark Gaia’s “weight issues” cause its essence to disperse around the globe, many people fall influence to Dark Gaia’s despair, losing faith and hope in the world. Nothing like the influences of Chaos energy, but enough of an influence that much of the world feels it. A core aspect of the game’s plot is that Sonic, distinctly, does not. In the cutscene No Reason, Sonic asks Chip why he stays the same despite the darkness inside his heart while so many others change at night. Chip answers simply, saying that Sonic’s too strong to lose himself and that part of his good will is because he never doubts himself, even when he’s on his own.

The difference is that while Sonic undergoes a physical transformation, he never loses faith or gives up hope—made especially clear by the fact that Professor Pickle, once as hopeful as Sonic, eventually does lose hope.

Also key to note that Amy also never loses hope.

Unleashed is just another fun, high-stakes adventure for Sonic; there’s never a moment where he’s aggressively triggered by something or when his personal morals are ever tainted. Irritated, maybe. Flustered, even. Never at a loss. The closest we see Sonic come to this is when he loses the werehog form to Dark Gaia before the final battle. He falls to his knees, worn and exhausted, and tells Chip to run because he doesn’t want him to get caught up in the mess. Yet even then he’s not giving up.

That’s why Sonic’s heightened emotional state is so important to the conversation. When Sonic’s will is intact, he’s much stronger, but when he’s triggered by something and his defences are down, it’s much easier for corrupting forces around him to take hold.

Mind over Matter

Even with the parameters for Dark Sonic’s appearance established, something that stands out to me about Sonic’s encounters with dark energies, and something I see as additional evidence that Dark Sonic is only a literal, physical corruption and not a corruption of his paradigm, is that Sonic is still in control of himself—to an extent.

Even as he seethes in his amplified rage, Dark Sonic never inflicts harm on the innocent. After Gold and Silver are destroyed, it’s not expressly clear if Sonic intends to stop or fight Black Narcissist, but Eggman implies that Sonic was fighting Gold and Silver until there was quite literally nothing left. Sonic was given a target to attack, and he kept his focus there, even when other enemies presented themselves.

This also goes for the Werehog and Darkspine Sonic.

He also has the mind to listen to reason—from Eggman, of all people—and stop when it’s clear that he’s finished what he set out to do. Sonic channels his anger to where it needs to be, and it’s clear that Sonic’s moral code and paradigm on life are thoroughly intact.

The only thing that changes is that he’s no longer imposing his usual limits. Sonic is stupidly powerful, even without any power ups. If he ever wanted to kill Eggman, he would have by now. If he ever wanted to kill anyone, he would have by now (and technically, he has).

Sonic throws Erazor Djinn's lamp into a pit, never to resurface, effectively trapping him and ending his livelihood indefinitely.

However, Sonic holds back because he doesn’t want to be an arbiter of justice—he doesn’t want to deprive someone’s chance to be good unless it’s been clear that they cannot be redeemed.

Why I Care About This

It is no secret that I believe that Sonic is a highly emotional character—far more emotional than many give him credit for. It bears repeating that Sonic’s emotions are very big and can be cataclysmic when left unchecked…

…but that’s just part of growing up—growing up as a hero and, damn it, even just a kid.

Dark Sonic isn’t a case of Sonic giving himself to darkness, nor is it a perversion of Sonic’s character. It’s an energetic, chaotically-charged version of Sonic when he is at his angriest—and even then it’s not enough to change his morals or make him lash out unjustly.

Dark Sonic is cathartic, in a way, and I definitely think it deserves its place in canon.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #sonic character anlysis #dark sonic #in defense of #dr eggman #eggman #sonic x #sonic unleashed #sonic adventure #sonic adventure 2 #sonic and the secret rings #chaos emeralds #chaos #perfect chaos #shadow the hedgehog #idw sonic #sonic idw #sonic idw spoilers #japanese sonic x #long post #:) #sonic the hedgehog needs a hug #sonic lore #sonic canon

[mistiell]

Let me put my Lips to Something

Pairing: Spencer x Fem! Reader

Summary: After learning about his aversion to touch, you tone down the physical affection. Spencer finds himself missing your touch, and after weeks of yearning, he’s had enough. He decides it’s time to fix this.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, it gets pretty steamy towards the end but nothing graphic so I don't think this needs age restricting lmao

A/N: Part 2 to “I’m Starvin’, Darlin’”. The feedback on the last part motivated me to finish this in like, a single sitting lmao. Hope y’all enjoy! :)

P.S. My requests are open so if you wanna send something in for Spence, I'll do my best to get to it quickly!

Part 1 - Current - Part 3

Spencer hadn’t realised how much he wanted — how much he needed — your touch until you stopped. Where there was once that warm, tingly anticipation whenever he made you laugh, there‘s now a strange absence left in its wake. Where there used to have been a bump or a squeeze, there are awkward smiles and nervous glances. Like a line of dialogue without end quotations, left to hang in the balance while the author considers what should be said next.

It’s killing him.

He’s come to realise that this want extends beyond the bounds of anything that could ever be considered platonic. He wants more than your touch. He wants you.

He craves you, finds himself remembering the way your arms felt around him the last time you hugged him. Finds himself fantasising about how it would feel to be the one to take you in his arms. How it would feel to be the one to hold you; to cradle your face between his palms and lose himself in your kiss; to let go of his inhibitions and drown himself in the depths of your affections.

He wants your time and energy. He wants your attention and praise. He wants to be the one to make you smile and laugh so hard your stomach hurts. He wants to be yours, and he wants everyone to know it.

It’s only been three weeks since that night at the bar, but even so, he feels like if he doesn’t figure out how to tell you how he feels, he might very well lose his mind. You’re right across from him all day, five days a week. It’s torture. Perhaps he’s being dramatic, but at this point, he’s well beyond caring.

The problem is, how on earth is he supposed to go about confessing to you? He’s never been suave or charismatic. He’s awkward and dorky and breaks a sweat every time anyone even remotely attractive looks his way. He’s never felt this intensely about anyone before, never desired anyone this way before. Sometimes, late at night when he’s finally tucked himself into bed, he attempts to calculate the probability of you ever wanting him in the way he wants you.

In his pessimistic mind, that number is despairingly low.

“Spence?” He startles at the sound of your voice, snapping his head up to look at you.

You’ve worn a different lipstick today. It’s a little darker than your usual colour, a rather glossy, rosier shade of mauve. He thinks he’s seen it somewhere before, and the name pops up from somewhere in his memory.

“Rum raisin.” He mumbles, staring intently at your lips and wondering briefly if it would transfer if he kissed you.

“What?” You cock your head at him with an amused sort of confusion.

He blinks once before clearly his throat, “Oh, um, your lipstick.”

You raise your hand so your fingertips hover over your bottom lip as you smile at him, “How’d you know?”

“I saw it in a drugstore once.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “Your memory never ceases to amaze me, Spence.”

His heart swells as he smiles sheepishly, “Thanks.”

You hum before gesturing to two big boxes of files that are sitting on your desk, “Could you help me run these down to records?”

“Oh, yeah.” He’s quick to cross the short distance to your desk and purposely picks the heavier of the two boxes.

The trip down to records is a rather tedious one as of today. The elevator is out of order so you have to take the stairs from the sixth floor to the third.

“Do you like rain?” You ask, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re looking out water speckled windows at the stormy street below.

“Yeah.” He leaves out the part that the possibility of power outages and the darkness that accompanies them unnerves him greatly.

You turn your head to smile at him as you reach the records room, “Me too.”

He opens the door for you before you have the chance and lets you go in first, letting the door shut behind him. He follows you into the room, weaving between shelves and stepping over boxes that have yet to find their places. He watches you skim over the yellowed labels, your lips twitching as you read them off in your head.

You find the spot you’re looking for and make a sound of satisfaction before bending at the waist to slide the box into place, your skirt sliding a little further up to press against the plush flesh of the backs of your thighs. His gaze wanders up the length of your body and stops at your chest. From this angle, he’s able to see the curve of your breast and he swallows hard. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shakes his head, feeling ashamed for ogling you like that.

Behind the darkness of his eyelids, he sees the lights flicker and when he opens them, he finds he’s not able to see much more than when he had them closed.

Shit.

“Damnit, the power’s out.” You curse, taking the box from him and slotting it in next to the other.

He takes a deep breath. The dark isn’t as frightening with you there in front of him, but that familiar anxiety pricks his chest and settles heavy in his gut.

“Spence?”

He wonders when the emergency lights will come on. Maybe they’re already on in the hall. He feels along the wall and shuffles back over to the door. When he tries the knob, he finds it locked. Now he’s panicking a little.

Well, maybe a lot.

There’s a clap of thunder outside that’s so powerful that he feels it in his chest and he jumps, breath catching in his chest as he screws his eyes shut as if it’ll make a difference.

“Spence?” You call again softly, “Are you okay?

“Y-Yeah.” He stutters.

“You don’t like storms?”

He shakes his head before realising you can’t see him, “No, not really.”

“Me neither.” You whisper, and he hears the shuffling of your clothes as you shift your weight between your feet and huff a breathy puff of nervous laughter, “I don’t like the dark either.”

“Me neither.” He echoes, wetting his lips briefly as he considers how to comfort you despite how anxious he is himself.

Carefully, tentatively, he reaches for you in the dark and takes your hand, just barely brushing his thumb over your knuckles. Your skin is soft and warm, and he attempts to find your face in the dark as he murmurs ever so softly, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” You reply just as softly, squeezing his hand.

It’s a little unsettling not being able to see you. He can hear you breathing, and having your hand in his feels so nice, but he wants you closer.

“Can I…” He trails off, but tugs at your hand so you’ll step a little closer. He swallows his nerves, “Can I distract you?”

It’s a lame excuse, but it’s all he can come up with on the spot.

“Distract me how?” He can hear the smile in your voice and it encourages his steadily growing confidence.

He pulls you closer, and you step further into his space. He places a hand on your waist, and you don’t recoil. In fact, you come a little closer and set a hand on his chest. You slide it along the length of his shoulder and up the back of his neck to thread your fingers in the hairs at the base of his skull and he shudders, lips parting to sigh softly. Your thumb settles just behind his ear and strokes the skin there tenderly and he can’t stop himself from leaning down to gently bump your nose with his, giving you plenty of time to pull away, to tell him you don’t want this.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask so innocently, breath fanning over his lips in a steady rhythm as his eyelids flutter shut.

“Please.” He breathes, leaning in to meet you halfway.

Your lips meet his timidly and his heart stutters in his chest. There’s a second where you pull back to let him breathe, let him get used to the feeling. His eyes open a sliver, just enough to make out the edges of you in the dark as his brain catches up with his body. And then the shock passes.

And he devours you.

The hand that was on your waist comes up to cradle your cheek as he brushes his tongue against your bottom lip in a silent request. You grant it, opening up to him to let him roll his tongue against yours. You stand on your tiptoes and lean further into him, returning the kiss with a fervour he wasn’t expecting but welcomes happily. He can taste your lipstick and is pleasantly surprised to find it tastes a little like vanilla.

There’s a push and pull of tongues and teeth and soft little sighs as he dares to slip his hands down and pull you flush against him by your hips, revelling in the breathy moan that slips from your throat and meets his mouth. He pulls away only to kiss sloppily at the corner of your mouth and down your jaw. He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, smiling against your skin when you gasp and tug at his hair. Mouthing at your skin, he searches until you whine and shudder after he drags his teeth over a particular spot and focuses his attention there.

He sucks a nice bruise into the spot, some primal part of him driving him to mark you up and claim you as his while he has you here. He bites a little too hard and you hiss, making him pull back and search for your face in the dark.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“Mm-mm.” You hum before immediately capturing his lips again, slipping your tongue into his mouth and swallowing the moan that escapes him.

He guides you by your hips until he has you pressed against the door, sliding a hand down the length of your thigh before slipping it up past the hem of your skirt to grab greedily at your flesh. He hikes your leg up by his hip and you hook your knee around it to pull him impossibly close.

His touch is tender even as he practically swallows you whole, thumb stroking the side of your thigh where your skirt has ridden up. He rolls his hips up against your experimentally and you whine, urging him to do it again. This is what he’s wanted — craved — for so long. You’re warm and soft in ways that his imagination could have never replicated. He’s dizzy, drunk on your kiss, on your touch, on you.

He’s attached himself to your neck again — the other side this time — when the lights flicker on, startling you both into looking up at the ceiling.

The room is filled with nothing but the sound of your combined laboured breathing, and when he looks back at you, he finds your face flushed and your lipstick smudged. You look back at him and he notices your pupils are blown wide as you suddenly smile and start giggling.

“What?” He chuckles, letting go of your thigh so that you can stand on your own two feet again.

“Rum raisin looks good on you, doctor.” You laugh, thumbing the remnants of your kisses off of his bottom lip.

He kisses you once again, smiling against your lips.

You tug him back and laugh again, “You’re making it worse!”

He does it again, and again, and then peppers kisses over the side of your neck until you’re giggling something awful and have to scrunch your shoulder to your ear to keep him from tickling you.

“Spencer!” You squeak as quietly as you can and he pulls away laughing.

Your giggles die down, and then you’re both left in a silence that isn’t awkward, but isn’t quite comfortable either. He has to say something, but what?

“Hey, would you, um,” You start, glancing down at his lips and biting at yours nervously, “Would you like to go out with me sometime? Just us?”

He blinks, wanting to pinch himself to make sure this is actually happening, “Like, a date?”

You nod. He blinks again before practically beaming at you.

“Yeah.” He nods, attempting to correct the smudged edge of your lipstick with his thumb, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Saturday? Five o’ clock? We can do whatever you want.”

He nods again, “Sounds good.”

“Good.” You smile, leaning up to kiss him, your touch so saccharine and gentle that his legs feel like jello beneath him.

The doorknob jiggles suddenly and he instinctively reaches to help you button up your blouse a little more while you fiddle with the collar until it covers the rather obvious hickey on your neck.

“Hey, are you two still in there?” Derek calls from the other side as you attempt to help Spencer fix his hair to no avail.

“Uh, yeah!” He calls, clearing his throat after his voice cracks up an octave, “We accidentally locked ourselves in.”

“Here.” You bend to slide the key under the door, and this time, he stares unabashedly, “That’s the key.”

The knob jiggles a little more before the door opens, and when it does, Derek eyes the two of you suspiciously, “You guys okay?” He locks eyes with Spencer and smirks, “You seem a little winded.”

“Yeah, we’re okay.” You smile, hastily walking out, “The boxes were just heavy. Plus, we had to walk all the way down here.”

“Yeah, okay.” Derek says, though it’s clear he isn't convinced. When you get a little further ahead of them, he claps Spencer on the back with a bright grin, “About time, loverboy!”

“Shut up.” Spencer shoots back, though he can’t help the smile that creeps up on his face.

This is not how he expected his confession to go, but — as he watches you walk down the hall a little ways ahead of him with a renewed pep in your step and your hair a little dishevelled — he is so glad it went the way it did.

———————————————————————

Edit: I had a couple people request a part 3 (Possibly smutty, but we shall see), and I'm curious about whether or not y'all would want that? Just let me know in the replies/reblogs. :)

Update: Part 3 is posted and linked at the top of this post :)

Taglist:

@louderfortheback @theblaxkbird @marimorena06 @special-forces7 @lolilkkk

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

[ma1dita]

kiss his face with an uppercut

smutty part 2 here-> heavy hitter

words: 4k

summary: james potter is so attractive you could beat him to death with a bludger. james potter x fem!beater!reader not from gryffindor (for the plot!!)

warnings: none! james gets physically hurt multiple times by reader, multiple innuendos, enemies to lovers kinda, less serious lovey dove more sexual tension!!! probably not accurate quidditch gameplay

a/n: sorry for the hold up guys this took almost a month of on and off editing lmfao— this whole oneshot makes me think of the filipino word ‘gigil’– simply translating to cuteness aggression; i barely know jack shit about sports much less quidditch but this concept had me looking up quidditch rules to be able to provide– eat up kids

Y/S- sibling name

Y/H- house

(posted & edited 10/10/23)

—

Oh BROTHER, this guy STINKS! I mean, how has he not gotten walloped at least once during this godforsaken game? You suck your teeth at the sight of James flying around the pitch blowing kisses to his fan club and Lily Evans, who turns her nose up at the sight of him.

Merlin, when will this game end?

The Hogwarts Quidditch Semi-Finals of 1977 was a game to watch… until both teams stopped scoring what seemed like hours ago. Both Gryffindor & (Y/H) were at a stalemate, down some players due to injury and now, even lower team morale. Gryffindor team captain and chaser James Potter, notorious Marauder, and resident flirt, is not someone who likes to lose. He’s spent all season drilling his teammates, memorizing plays, and thinking of every outcome possible to ensure another Gryffindor victory. James’ affinity to be right takes precedence over anything, after all. But after beating down almost all of (Y/H)’s reserves, James was almost vibrating with confidence. He really doesn’t lose, not if he can help it.

“AND ANOTHER (Y/H) IS DOWN WITH AN INJURY— Team captain Whithall calls for a timeout as they reconvene on what to do next! Hope you’re still comfy in the stands, folks….” the student announcer grumbles.

There’s absolute chaos on the field, and like birds scuffling over a piece of bread, (Y/S), the team’s last good beater is floating on a gurney, ready to be transported to the Hospital Wing.

“Oh, here comes trouble…” Sirius murmurs, smacking James on the back to grab his attention.

You jump down from the stands to check on (Y/S), and James is too busy reveling in the idea of winning the goddamn semi-finals that he doesn’t notice you putting Quidditch gear on.

“Easy win from here on out, Pads! The little lady’s just checking the damage. Not important,” he chortles before Sirius physically grabs his head to face the girl walking towards him, currently storming across the turf to meet him and his team.

“I’m subbing in,” you say, angry at how dirty Gryffindor’s been playing, and angry that you even have to play in (Y/S)’s stead.

“Sweetheart, this game is for serious, you know that right?” James says a bit dumbly with a furrowed brow. Both of you are head to head, and James sees the twitch in your eye as you cross your arms. Hot air is seeping out of your pores but James’s lip simply quirks up in intrigue. You’re someone he hasn’t noticed before, and the only thing running through his mind besides winning the game is that you’re really pretty. But then again, he’s always found angry women to be attractive, in retrospect.

“Yeah, for the actual cup, not…for Sirius… It’s the wrong time to joke, innit?” Sirius says to break the ice, noticing the palpable tension between your glares. Your faces are inches away from each other and he’s not sure if you two are going to fight or kiss, but it makes him grimace all the same.

“Who do you think (Y/S) practices with? Unlike you and your friends, I know when to take things seriously,” You say through gritted teeth.

“She’s legit, Potter. Got added to our reserves last week.” Whithall pipes up, ready to get back to the game. The crowd has been weathered down after hours of anticipation, and they want to see the end of it, no matter the outcome.

“Much to my surprise,” you grumble, elbowing the authority in the form of a teenage boy not much older than yourself. You should’ve known your sibling was looking a little too happy as they got floated off the pitch on a gurney.

“Then let’s play. Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” James says condescendingly, floating away on his broomstick like it’s a walk in the park, but the way you’re slapping the bat against your palm is getting Sirius a tiny bit nervous for his precious countenance. The whistle blows and the game resumes.

“A SURPRISE ADDITION (Y/N) JOINS HER HOUSE AS BEATER! Gryffindor better watch out for her swi—” You slam the bludger in James’s direction and it hurtles toward him so fast that he almost folds in half, barrel-rolling on his broom to dodge it. The move makes Sirius and a few of their other teammates gasp to see James scrambling back onto his broom.

“Oops! Looks like I missed.” you deadpan, balancing midair as you whack another one where it rebounds off the Gryffindor seeker and back towards James, hitting both of them in the gut.

“THIS GIRL’S GOT AN ARM ON HER! Though might I say her hits look a bit targeted…” The commentator says worriedly, and everyone in the crowd is leaning in their seats trying to get a better view.

“Merlin, are you trying to kill me woman?” he yells in outrage.

“I’m trying to finish the game. Your big head is in the way,” you say with a straight face as Sirius bats towards you, and you spin on your broomstick without shifting your posture. The smile on your face as you taunt him should be considered criminal, but he’s looking at you in a new light.

Yeah, now he’s paying attention. The other Gryffindor players can’t seem to figure out your next move and you bat another bludger towards Potter’s extremely large target of a head, and all of a sudden he’s freefalling through the air as his teammates fly to catch him, one by one. His nose still makes impact with the ground before Sirius catches by the ankle like Achilles taking a dip in the River Styx.

“AND (Y/H) HAS CAPTURED THE SNITCH! Good job to their Seeker, Appleby! Congratulations on a job well done, so that we can all finally go home.” The commentator cringes as McGonagall swats at him to leave the podium.

Who even is she, taking over the game and stealing his win like that?

He’s walking up from the sidelines with a bloody nose, going to shake Whithall’s hand and you’re standing behind him, a malicious grin plastered between your rosy cheeks, windswept and almost ethereal while he looks like he got flattened by a hippogriff. Fuck, she’s pretty. You look like you floated down from the heavens, and by the looks his team gives him, he may have just crawled out of the earth.

“Congrats,” he grumbles, turning to you. Really pretty. It’s even worse that you’re devastatingly stunning up close— with sweat glistening on your brow and a pearly white smile, he takes a good moment to really look at you and memorize the flutter of your eyelashes. He’s unsure if he’s concussed or maybe it’s his astigmatism, but there are actual stars in his vision as he peers down at you. Your confidence is actually kind of sexy.

“You look…um…you ride well.” He stutters, shaking his head from his personal reverie.

“Excuse me?” you say, your little mouth agape in what he hopes is not disgust. He looks pathetic, blood sopping down to his jersey as he looks at you like he’s only seeing you for the first time, acknowledging you closely. Something about seeing him flail makes you crinkle your nose as you stifle a grin.

“I mean…Um…” Damn.

Sirius pulls his best friend away before you can bite back your laughter, all of your teammates leading you away to celebrate.

“Mate, what the shit was that? Are you alright in the head?” Sirius says, and if James’ nose wasn’t already bleeding he was going to slap him silly.

“Just…Didn’t see that coming…” he mumbles, and his mind, along with all of Gryffindor is in disarray as they walk back to their tower. He’s got a lot of thinking to do on what his next move will be.

—

James Potter goes through life in three methodical ways: 1.) creating a strategy, 2.) making a scene, 3.) and dragging his friends into it— in that particular order, every single time.

Now notice how considering consequences is not part of said process.

His ego wouldn’t let him rest after a girl, much less a very pretty one that he’d never noticed before—beat him at what he does best; quidditch! In fact, the next few nights were void of sleep and filled with thoughts of you. The way your hair looked so soft in the sunlight, how your lip turns almost Gryffindor red when you bite it in concentration, and maybe how your delicate hands would look as they tightly grasp onto his bat...ahem…your quidditch bat. Some dirty delusions aside, if looks could kill, he’d be dead seven times over, but honestly? He’d probably thank you for it.

James’ new mission was to figure you out, and if that was his mission, it meant it was the rest of the Marauders’ too. For the sake of winning the Cup, of course. That’s what he tries to tell himself until his mates catch him ogling you again at breakfast.

“So what is it with you and girls that inflict you nothing but pain and humiliation?” Remus muses, as the Marauders watch James laugh at a joke you told your friends at the (Y/H) table across the Great Hall. He looks at you like someone who stares at the sun, squinting and burning himself as he ponders on why he’s unable to look away.

James fumbles a response, shoving Remus as they all laugh. “Listen, I’ve got a bit of a masochistic streak, Moony. Just…There’s something about her…”

Your friends are pointing at him now, and as you turn to meet his eyes, you lift a brow inquisitively and flip him off. Sirius’s face pulls up in shock at James’s growing smile at the interaction as he mumbles, “Maybe you’ve met your match, Prongs…”

The boy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, anything to try to see you clearer as he leans over to put his head in his hands, sighing dreamily. His friends are not as easily amused.

“A match made in heaven, you reckon?”

—

“Match made in hell, more like!” You spit, almost choking on your scrambled eggs at your friends’ insinuations. Your back is as stiff as a board, shoulders tight at the notion of you ever liking James Potter triggering your fight or flight response. When it comes to someone as pompous as him, only the word fight comes to mind.

“Oh come on, love… He’s popular, funny, and quite handsome…It’s James freaking Potter we’re talking about!” your roommate gushes, but you're not the least bit impressed.

“Is that supposed to do anything for me? I can think of a few F words that middle initial can stand for…” Eyes rolling, you peek back at the Gryffindor table to see said boy wiggling his fingers at you teasingly until he accidentally smacks Peter in the face with his toast. Idiot.

“Only hot people get away with stupid shit. I mean look at the four of them!” you continue, gulping down the rest of your coffee. “Potter’s the worst out of all of them though. Big ass head must compensate for a lot of things." You say, shaking your head at your friends.

"And yet, here you are, talking about him for the fourth time this morning," your roommate replies, smirking. " You’ve been Potter crazy since you helped us beat Gryffindor in the semi-finals! Are you sure you don't have a crush on him?"

"No!" you say too quickly, too loudly, that the shrill noise of your voice makes your ears hurt and the shit-eating grins on your friends’ faces reflect how desperate that came off. You slump onto the table, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You wanna kiss him, don’t you?” they tease, and you push away their puckering faces as you scoff, “With an uppercut, maybe!” Almost makes you want to stomp over there and wipe the stupid look off his face…and maybe sit on his lap. You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. All this aggression really needs to go somewhere, but unfortunately, James Potter’s lap is the only destination you have in mind.

“He’s just really punchable. I get so annoyed by the sight of him I just want to… ugh!” you groan, your hands shaking as you try to convince them (or yourself). Your friends cackle at the sight of you pretending to squeeze his curly-topped, mothball-filled head, but your brain changes course and you imagine what it’s like to hold his hand. Your fingers flex cautiously at the idea, wondering what his touch would feel like. Grabbing a glass of water to cool your thoughts, your peripherals reveal he’s still staring at you like you make night turn into day. His gaze is searing, and as you put your lips around your straw, he licks his lips slowly. Shit.

—

Availability bias is one hell of a mindfuck. If only they taught psychology at this magic school, maybe the wizarding world would have way fewer problems and more people would be straightforward and not.. Dead. James decides he can categorize his life now as before you, and after you.

Before you, well… he honestly wasn’t even sure if you were a student at Hogwarts until he saw you marching down the pitch, but now… You’re everywhere. He can spot your voice in a crowded hallway, and who was going to tell him you’ve had three classes with him this whole term? Even down to when he shuts his eyes, he’s convinced his eyelids are branded with the imprint of your silhouette. Every conversation he strikes with you ends with you laughing at him, and he’s unsure if that’s a step up or down from the many boisterous rejections from Lily Evans over the years. He sort of wishes you’d laugh with him, and do a number of other things, (heck he’s got a list of ideas he’s wanked off to), and well… His soul is tightly wound with thoughts of you and Godric, listen to this guy…. maybe the boys were right…. Maybe he really does need to get laid.

It’s funny how fate works, two people who’ve barely interacted in the past six years at Hogwarts are now paired together for a History of Magic essay worth 20% of the term grade. You’re trying to get this done as fast as possible, he notices, mapping out ideas and trying to discuss how to piece it all together, yet James does everything but that to get you to pay attention to him. He fills your head with mundane little questions, asking you what your favorite fruit is to the childhood bedtime story your parents told you as a kid.

“What’s your middle name, Potter?” You muse, finally entertaining him after endless chatter. His eyes trail to the exposed skin of your collarbones as you stretch in your seat, and well… you don’t look as menacing as you always do but did it seriously have to be this question? He scratches the back of his head, silent for the first time in the two hours you’ve been trying to craft this essay for the sake of both your grades.

“What? I can’t just go around calling you James Fucking Potter. Spit it out, you know too much about me already.”

He clears his throat, a blush creeping up his neck. “It’s… that’s an intimate question, love… I…”

Your laughter at his response makes his senses shut down. “Oh, so it’s bad. What is it, Franklin? Fabio? Come on, I won’t bite.” A part of him wishes you would, your face equally flushed and so close to him right now, almost leering at him for an answer. It’d be easy to just lean over…

“Fleamont.”

Your lips quirk, until they pucker like you’ve guzzled a lemon. The blush on your cheeks intensifies, and the sound explodes out of you. You laugh so loudly Madam Pince kicks you both out of the library, James carrying both your knapsacks, a hand around your waist as you rush out of there. Your body is firm under his touch, pupils unfocused and dilated looking at him now that you know his dirty little secret. James thinks that if you keep looking at him like that, hell, you can call him anything you want.

—

Fleamont.

What a prick. A really attractive, clueless prick. The memory makes you giggle as you get ready for the Quidditch Cup and your team charges out onto the field to face Gryffindor again, as you’ve both advanced to the finals. He’s not as much of an asshole as you originally thought. It’s undeniable that something pulls you towards him, whether it be hormones, concern, or the fact that it’s actually adorable the way he writes his mother back weekly, or admirable how he moved Sirius out of Black Manor himself last year. Maybe it’s endearing the way he goes out of his way to make first-years smile or heartwarming how even Filch can’t find reasons to hate him. The golden boy. You get it now, why people get trapped in his web, and why many are unwilling to leave.

You pass him outside the locker rooms, bumping shoulders as he smiles almost bashfully. The golden boy, loudmouth, ball of energy is reduced to a nervous pile of teenage ineptness at the sight of you, every time. You could take him (not in a fight). In an actual fight, maybe you could land a few solid hits before his nice muscly arms hold you do—

“Ready to finish this, darling?”

Your eyes refocus when his hand nudges the small of your back, right above your hip. “Mhmm,” you clear your throat, “Ready to lose, Potter?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He moves closer, slowly backing you into the wall.

“Eyes on the prize Potter, I’m in this to win it.” You say, looking at the closing distance between both your chests. James nods, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment, even when the announcer calls out the imminent start of the game.

“WELCOME TO THE HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH CUP OF 1977 GRYFFINDOR VS. (Y/H)! I hope you are all excited as our last match between these teams was quite thrilling at the end of it!” The announcer says, hyping up the roaring crowd as your teams parade onto the pitch.

His eyes are still on you when he shakes Whithall’s hand and the whistle blows. It’s intense, and makes you feel like you’re burning, even if the wind is blowing like crazy today. You bat the bludgers toward anything red on the field that even dares to move toward your teammates. James won’t stop staring at you, and you both lock eyes across the pitch.

“What? Flirt with me later, Potter, I’m trying to win!” you yell.

He’s got you transfixed, and it’s crazy how his timing is always wrong. You bat the bludger away from your captain but don’t notice James flying towards you to respond as you give it your hardest swing, making the impact against his huge target of a head all the more painful.

Holy shit, did you kill him?

He keels off his broom like a shot bird and then he’s falling, and you’re the one chasing the Gryffindor chaser as he flaps his arms like the idiot you know he is as you push forward to catch him before he splits his skull open.

“I’msofuckingsorryJamesareyouokay?” You blurt out as you land, soft hands moving over his broad chest and quickly swelling face. He’s wearing that stupid grin again, and you think you may have finally broken Gryffindor’s team captain.

“You know my name?” he sighs happily, comfortable in your lap and maybe it’s the brain damage you’ve caused him or the way his glasses are bent beyond repair but you will every magical predecessor you can think of to stop you from punching him in the face right now.

“Are you fucking dense?” You scream, shaking your head, and jostling him as his arms try to reach out to swipe the hair away from your face.

“Must’ve hit him so hard you knocked his filter loose..” Sirius muses after he lands next to you two on the grass.

“POTTER’S TAKEN A HIT FROM (Y/H) and it doesn’t look good ladies and gents! Gryffindor calls a timeout to check on their captain!” The announcer calls out, and there are so many eyes on the two of you as James is simply giggling like a prepubescent schoolboy. Fuck, you’ve maimed the golden boy.

“Y’know, sweetheart. You’re…really sexy when you’re on top of me like this,” he says breathily, and you really can’t hit him, so you jab Sirius in the gut instead when he tries to laugh at his best friend’s stupidity.

—

James wakes up in the hospital wing with a blinding headache until someone gently pulls the curtains closed, stroking the hair off his sweaty forehead.

“Poppy you always take such good care of me…” he mumbles. A punch lands on his chest and his eyes rip open, not expecting to see you at his bedside.

“Idiot,” you mutter. “You’re always in my way and now look, you almost got yourself killed and it would’ve been my fault! How dare you, James…” The red is crawling up your neck like a brushfire as you berate him, and he takes it with a grin as you jabber on, putting his arms behind his head.

“Were you worried about me, love?” James smiles cheesily, catching your arm at its half-hearted attempt to slap him across the face.

“I was not. Stubborn people like you are hard to kill. I’m more annoyed that I can’t morally punch your face in since you have a concussion. Madame Pomfrey’s already healed your cheekbone.”

“That you broke,” he says matter-of-factly, taking a chance to kiss the palm of your hand. This concussion is working like a bottle of Felix Felicis. It’s endearing to see you taking care of him, whether you like it or not (even with the punches he’s sure it’ll come with).

“You’re sick in the head.”

“For you. I was trying to come tell you that I never took my eyes off the prize, but then of course you bludgeoned my face in before I could get sweet on yo—”

Your lips crash down on his, and nothing about it is delicate. It’s a month’s worth of yearning, imaginations coming to fruition as he grabs the back of your head to deepen the embrace. Your lips on his are hot and heady, and he could be easily convinced that he’s stuck there, cauterized to the shape of you.

“I know. I could feel you watching.” You breathe into his mouth, leaning up on his chest. His lips chase up again to meet yours, biting down on your bottom lip as you groan. He might like that noise better than the sound of your laughter. It’ll be fun to find out.

“Who won the Cup?”

Laughter spills out of your red, kiss-swollen lips as you pat his cheek gently, fingers grazing over his healed cheekbone.

“Not Gryffindor. But listen closely James, if you be a good boy and get past this concussion, I’ll make up for it by showing you how well I ride…”

He likes the sound of that, Quidditch Cup be damned. You see, James Potter never loses, ladies and gentlemen, not really—and well... there’s always next year.

—

“I like the way

you look at me

like you are

going to talk to me

or devour me

and I am fine with either.”

-N.R. Hart

taglist: @jsjcue

#made by ma1dita ♥︎ #marauders x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #marauders era #james potter x you

[punching-pentagrams]

Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 6

Hi lovelies! Please be warned that this is a heavier chapter that discusses trauma and depictions of violence! I'm sure I'm going overboard with the warnings, but I'm just wanting to make sure I cover all of my bases here! xoxo, Dany

Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|Chapter 6|Chapter 7|Chapter 8|Chapter 9

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 5.3k CW: Slowburn, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, cuddles, depression, anxiety, protective "not-boyfriend" !Trigger Warning!: Physical violence, abuse, neglect, vague mentionings of underage sex work, drug use, torture, and drug dealing

The next couple of days seemed to creep by more slowly for the both of you, nothing drastic, just... slower, more... unpleasant. It could have been because of how good everything felt to be with each other, but at least for you, there had been another new factor.

You had still been seeing other clients while working for Lucifer, and sure, he took up the largest amount of time, but there were still others, some one offs and some regulars, and a handful of new clients. Most of them didn't give you much grief, but one of your newer clients had taken quite a shine to you, and wanted to see you more often. He was... ok...ish... not really. He was a little selfish, which was fine, but he also had an aggressive personality, and not the fun kind. He had not done anything "bad" to you yet, but he toed the line and that made you nervous.

This had not been as much of an issue until someone tipped him off that you did house calls it was Cynthhhhia, and in the last two days he had asked for you to go to his place, and he seemed to push the boundaries more outside of the brothel. Larry had always told you that if anyone made you ladies uncomfortable, that you could put them on your "No Kiss List", basically being banned from being scheduled with you, and depending on the intensity of the issue they could also get banned from the Lounge entirely.

Again, at this point, this newer guy, Jethro, had not done anything yet, so you still felt like you could handle him, but he was still a cause for some stress. The night of your next visit with Lucifer was a welcome one. When you got too Lucifer's, you pulled him into a tight embrace. He welcomed your hug, but noticed that it felt a little different, a little heavier than usual.

"Well hello to you too! Haha! Hey, you doing ok?" he said, looking at you with soft concern as your released him from your embrace.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" you smiled, trying to hide your stress from the day.

"Oh nothing, you just uh... felt a little tense is all," he said sheepishly.

"Oh! Haha, ya it's nothing. Just a long day. Lots of clients, lots of... you know," you said trailing off.

"Of course! Haha, how silly of me! Do you, uh... need a minute? Do you want to, like, take a bath or shower or something?" he asked, "By yourself of course! I'm sure a minute to yourself would be nice. Plus, I still need to finish up with dinner," he added nervously, he felt his checks tint pink.

You chuckled, you thought it was funny when Lucifer would overthink his statements and felt like he needed to clarify something.

"That sounds nice, I might just take you up on that," you smile.

"Great!" he smiled, "Chose any bathroom you like, dinner should be ready in like 30 minutes."

The two of you part ways as you headed to one of the close-by guest bathrooms and Lucifer headed back to the kitchen. Lucifer had some updates that he had wanted to tell you about from Charlie's meeting with Heaven, but he figured that could wait a little longer. Plus, he was now preoccupied by his own dumb comment.

'"You want to take a bath or shower or something? By yourself, of course!" no duh, you idiot! She understood that's what you meant, why did you felt like you needed to clarify that?! Why do you gotta be so weird sometimes?!' he scolded himself as he made his way to the kitchen. Lucifer definitely had people that would cook for him, but he liked that it gave him something to do sometimes while he waited for you to get there in the evenings.

Meanwhile, you drew yourself a bath and slipped into it. You examined the bruises on your legs and chest from where your earlier guest had bitten and grabbed you. You were normally all for kinks like these, but these feel more forceful, and therefore made you upset to look at. You hid your legs under the water and just floated in the big tub for a while.

You smiled to yourself again as you thought of Lucifer stumbling over himself 'You want to take a bath or shower or something? By yourself, course!' followed by that little nervous smile. It was cute, and it was funny that he kept forgetting that he could just request that if he wanted to. You wouldn't have minded, you honestly would have liked it. He would be so warm and soft, snuggling into your chest in the warm water. You realized you had only ever seen him down to a barely opened shirt, while he has seen you down to your lingerie, for a fleeting minute.

How odd it was, that he had been one of your longest running and most consistent clients and yet, you too had not been sexually intimate at all. It was nice, but also... a little disappointing? Why was that disappointing? Why did you care? And why did you actually like the thought of bathing with him?

Your thought process was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Uhh... occupied?" you said.

"There you are!" you could hear Lucifer through the door. "Jesus Christ, darling why do I have so many bathrooms?"

You shrugged, "Uhh.. cuz you're rich and its funny?"

"Hmm... That is true..." Lucifer chuckled on the other side of the door, "Anyways, dinner is ready whenever you are!"

"Ok!" you called out, and you started to get ready. As Lucifer walked away, he paused for a moment, thinking about how you were naked on the other side of the door.

He shook his head and kept walking, "Dude, stop it," he said quietly to himself.

A few minutes later, you were out, a toweling off your hair, back in your earlier clothes.

"How are you feeling?" said Lucifer as you entered the room.

"Much better, thank you," you said with a smile.

You and Lucifer sat down to eat, and Lucifer was finally able to tell you about the whole ordeal of setting up the Heaven with meeting the exhausting bureaucracy and drama of it all, and then... the aftermath of Charlie's meeting. Charlie had gone up with Vaggie, met with a bunch of the angels and seraphim, including Adam, the first man and leader of the yearly exterminations, and his right hand exorcist, Lute, and... it did not go well. Charlie had gotten them to start actually start thinking about the whole issue, then Adam dropped the whole "extermination" thing on the counsel, and most of the angels in the room knew nothing about the extermination of souls in hell! Consider the tea, spilled. Then on top of that, the council said their was not proof sinners could be redeemed, and Adam basically declared war on the Hotel.

Well, this was very stressful, but in a way that made you care more and made you forget about your worries from earlier in the day. You thought about Lucifer, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel... everyone at the hotel... You were wondering how they were feeling, how they were going to get out of this. So much for your idea about moving into the hotel. You chuckled to yourself.

"What is it?" Lucifer asked.

"Oh... it's stupid," you say with a wave of your hand, Lucifer gives you a look. You sigh, "Just... puts a little damper on my daydream to try out the hotel."

Lucifer cocked his head to the side, "You were thinking about moving to the hotel?"

You sat back and shrugged, "It was... a passing thought. Nothing serious. I realize that probably would have made things complicated, it's probably just easier this way."

Lucifer studied your face, "Maybe after the next extermination, see what happens. I just don't want you to get caught up in all of that right now."

"Ya," you say, staring off. Your worries returning back to thoughts of Charlie and the others.

Lucifer read the concern on your face, and placed a hand over yours. You looked up to meet his soft smile.

"It's gonna be ok..." he said with hesitation. "I don't exactly know how it is going to be ok, I would be lying if I said it wasn't nervous... but I trust my daughter... and her friends seem to be good people... outside of Alastor," his glared off to the side at the mentioning of the Radio Demon.

He was right, maybe not all hope was lost, maybe Charlie would figure out something. You smile at the face he made, then looked down at his hand on top of yours. Your face shifted in thought in response to something he had just said, "her friends seem to be good people..." Did he really believe that? Did that visit really change his mind that much? That's not what he had made it sound like the other day. You had forgotten about that comment, and now the reminder left you with a bitter taste.

Lucifer looked over and caught your expression, "What's on your mind?"

You look at him sideways, "Do you really believe that? That her friends are good people?"

"Well... as far as I have seen, why do you say that?" he said with worried confusion.

You look up at him, "I just thought that sinners were all violent psychopaths, hell-bent on causing as much pain a destruction as they can."

Lucifer froze, shit did he really say that the other day to his daughter, in front of you and all of Charlie's friends? Yeesh.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Jeez, I really did say that didn't I?" You gave him a slow judgmental nod. He sighed, "I... I was wrong, I shouldn't have said that... I'm sorry... I realized that I have never really taken the opportunity to actually get to know many sinners, and I've passed a lot of judgement on them the last... 10,000 years. They are not like that... you, are definitely not like that... Honestly, meeting you has made me really confused on the matter of how they decide who ends up here entirely."

Your slight distain turned you curiosity, and you raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

Lucifer took a minute to try and find the words, "Uhh, well... fuck, ok... I guess I just don't understand why you are in hell in the first place. The way you treat people puts people I used to know in Heaven to shame."

You blow a puff of air out your nose in a laugh, "Maybe the way I treat you and hotel people, I'm not like this with everyone, you know?"

"Well ya... but still..." Lucifer held back his next question a moment, he didn't want to say anything to upset you. "Can I ask... um... how you ended up here?"

You prop your head up on your hand and thought, being alive felt so long ago. Lucifer waited nervously for you to answer, but he was pretty sure you didn't look mad at the question.

"You really wanna know?"

He nodded.

"Well... I was the oldest child of drug addict parents, who had no right having any kids, spent much of my life fending for myself and my siblings, my parents would not stop having fucking kids and I was basically the only parent for them. I had to do... whatever I could for them, steal from neighbors, stores, random people's cars, anything to get food and money for my siblings. When I was older, my grandmother got custody of us and it got a lot better, but we struggled a lot mentally and it was hard to shake the old habits. She had to knock some sense into me to stop stealing, but I could never get past the idea of needing to be the parent of the house. I didn't go to school until end of middle school, and when I started it was hard, I skipped school, never finished an education. I wanted to... but I was way too far behind by that point, and with so many kids, grandma couldn't get all of us caught up. I encouraged her to focus on the younger ones. I tried getting a normal job, but I ended up meeting shitty people and I get ended up selling drugs and my body to get by. It wasn't great but it made me money. I had bad and sub-par relationships, nothing great. During my last relationship, I was actually starting to learn about boundaries and shit, feeling like it might actually go somewhere... and then I was killed during a bad drug deal," you looked back at Lucifer casually as you finished your story.

Lucifer looked at you with so much heartbreak in his eyes. No pity, no belittlement, no tears, just sadness. "How are you still so full of kindness then? After all of that?"

You smiled, "Partly cuz I can act, but mostly because... everything stupid, reckless, or "sinful" I ever did... it was for my siblings. I always thought that I would damn myself to hell so that they didn't have to." You shook your head, "I sure did damn myself to hell, but... I don't know how successful I was, my siblings always seemed mad or annoyed with me... but... I just loved them all so much."

Lucifer stood up and wrapped his arms around you as you remained sitting, your head at his chest level. You were taken by surprise, but hugged him back, "What's this for?"

He released you slightly from his hug, and held your face in his hands. "If you gave your siblings even an ounce of the care you have shown me, I know you were successful, and I know they will never forget the sacrifices you made for them."

Your eyes go wide, 'Could it... could it be? Could he be right? Could you have saved them? Saved them from the same pain you endured? Could your actions have changed the course of their lives? Could you have saved them from a fate in hell?' Tears started to form in your eyes. 'No. No. No no no no no. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, no crying in front of Lucifer.' You rip your face away from Lucifer's hands and wipe your face before the tears fall.

Lucifer ached to see you tear yourself away and wipe your tears. Until this moment, he had never realized how much of a wall you had up, how much you protected yourself, how much space you gave to him and how little you gave for yourself. He knew the dynamics were weird, this not being a normal friendship and all. Those dynamics were starting to make him so frustrated, he just wanted to hold you every night and tell you how much he cared about you... but things were way too messy now. He had no idea how to untangle this, and emotionally vulnerable conversations did not seem like the best idea right now with everything going on.

"Sorry," you say as you finish wiping your tears, "Thank you, really, I mean it. I'm just... not used to that."

Lucifer smiled, "Well... I hope this can be a good... beginning to that..."

'Nice job Lucifer, fucking nailed it, idiot.' he thought you himself.

You laugh, he laughed with you. Alright, enough of that, time for some tv and snuggles. You also remembered another question you had for Lucifer from you day at the hotel. You asked Lucifer about how he could teleport, and asked if the driver was necessary or if he could just pick you up from your apartment for your evenings together. He didn't know why he hadn't thought about that before, he had been worried about people following the car back to his place, or bothering you, and that would make him feel better. Plus, it would be cool to see your place. You guys made a plan for him to just teleport in to grab you in the future.

______________________________________________________________

The next couple of weeks were a weird mixture of fun and stressful, Lucifer started teleporting in to get you right at your set meeting time and he got to see your place. It was... small, really small, and there wasn't much to it. He made a comment oh how "minimalist" it was, but you just said you didn't need a lot, you weren't used to much, which wasn't completely a lie, but you didn't want to worry him with images of the other girls trying to break into your room.

Outside of that, Lucifer had the added stressors of worrying about Charlie, the hotel, and the upcoming extermination/war with Adam. You would go a visit the hotel crew with him often, but it only seemed to ease his mind while he was there. He started to complain again about struggling a little with sleep, he would fall asleep fine, especially with you there, but he started having nightmares that would wake him up in the middle of the night and would make it hard for him to fall back asleep. You were frustrated that you did not know how to help him with that, but you also knew he could take care of himself. You couldn't fix all of his problems.

You on the other hand... had reached a boiling point with Jethro. He continued to ignoring safe words, become more controlling, manipulative, and aggressive, until one day you had enough. You stopped the scene you were in and told him that he would not stand for his behavior anymore. Jethro did not like this, and you left his house with a black eye, as well as several other bruises across your body, may be even a sprain. You ran back to the Lounge as quickly as you could, trying desperately not to cry in public.

You got into the Lounge and ran up to your room to hide. Luckily, one of the girls you were closer to saw you, and told Larry. Larry texted you, asking what happened and if he could come up to talk to you. You agreed. Larry came up to your room, you opened the door for him to see you in tears, covered in bruises, trying to ice your eye. You told Larry what happened, and he told you he was putting Jethro on your "No Kiss List", banning him from the Lounge, and that he would handle Jethro if he tried coming back in.

You thanked him, he patted your shoulder, and asked if you wanted you clients canceled for the rest of the day. You asked who was left for the day, and the only one left was "Lance". You shook your head, just asking that no walk-ins get scheduled with you between then and now so that you could be ready by "Lance's" appointment. Larry agreed, and left you to your wounds. You had no idea how you were going to pull your yourself together and hide this all from Lucifer by tonight, but you had to try.

You went into the bathroom, ran a bath, played some music, and cried, partly from the pain, partly from fear. You were so in your head from the experience, that you did not do as well keeping track of time. Before long, Lucifer teleported into your room. Lucifer was a little shocked to not see you in your room, but then he heard the music from the bathroom. Oh ok, you must have been just running a little late.

He want to go knock on the door so that he knew you were there and didn't surprise you, but then he heard something else from the bathroom that made him stop. Was that... crying? Was that part of the music or was that you? He waited, the song changed, and the crying continued. That was definitely you. He finally knocked.

You were startled by the sound of the knock, "Uhhh... occupied?"

"It's me darling, I hope I didn't startle you," you heard Lucifer's voice through the door. You picked up your phone and looked at the time. Shit! You quickly got out of the tub.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, uhh... I must have lot track of time. Busy day. Lots of clients. Uhh... I'll be out in a minute!" you say has you hurried to get dressed. Luckily, you had already brought your clothes into the bathroom with you, so Lucifer wouldn't have to see all of the bruises.

"No rush! You take as much time as you need," Lucifer called back, then he went to go take a seat on your couch.

His words made you feel a little better, but you did not want to keep him waiting any longer than you already had. You quickly did what you could to put on makeup to cover up the big bruise around your eye, you could cover the coloring just fine, it was the swelling you were worried about. It had gone down a little, but it might still be noticeable.

Part of you wishes you had canceled on him, but that would have made you sad more than anything else, and it probably would have worried him. That is if he actually cared about you. Errrr... stop that. Lucifer is not like Jethro or the others, he actually does care, at least... to some amount. You just did not want anyone to see you like this, but especially him.

Eventually you finished your makeup and looked at yourself, it would have to be good enough for today. You painted your best sweet smile on your face, and walked out the door.

"All done! Ready to go?" you said cheerful.

"Yup!" Lucifer said, trying to match your cheerful tone, but he was worried. Why had you been crying? Why were you now trying to hide it? Why were you wearing so much make up today? He hadn't seen you wear this much make up since the first few appointments you guys had. He remembered that Charlie once said girls sometimes wear more make up when they were sad because "If you look better, you feel better", so he didn't comment. He just smiled, wrapped an arm around you, and teleported you both back to his place.

You were already more relieved to be back at his place, the stress of the day still held tightly to you, but it was better here. You swung your arms around Lucifer, enveloping him in a hug. Lucifer held you back tightly, softly but firmly. He was so comforting and soft, you wanted to live in that embrace.

He didn't know what was making you so sad that day, but he wanted to do everything to make you feel better. He had your favorite dinner and dessert made, grabbed you your favorite blanket for when you guys would cuddle on the couch and watch tv later, and he was going to find that tv last that you said you used to like to watch sometimes when you were alive, "The Office."

At one point, during desert, Lucifer looked over at you and saw a strand of hair flop down front of your face. He reached over to tuck it behind your ear, but because of the angle, you didn't see his hand until it was almost near your swollen eye. You flinched and practically jumped out of your chair, shouting "No!" and covering you eye with you hand, the other was wide with panic.

Lucifer flinched his hand back, and stayed still. What was that about? You had never reacted like that before.

"Darling, is everything alright? I didn't mean to startle you," he said softly, worry painting his face.

You realize you had misunderstood what he had been trying to do and panicked, 'Shit! Shit, shit, shit!' You couldn't tell what was the greater emotion in that moment, the shame of reacting to Lucifer, or the fact that the emotions from earlier where about to bubble up again. 'Do I try to push it down? Do I run for the bathroom? Shit. There is no hiding it, is there? He is going to find out about it now.'

You start to sit back down, still covering your eye, "I, uhh... I'm sorry... I don't... I didn't mean to yell at you like-"

"(y/n)" Lucifer said firmly, you look at him with your uncovered eye, tears starting to fill up the edge of your vision, "Please. Please tell me what's wrong. Why are you covering your eye? What made you jump so hard?"

You start to breathe heavily, "Are you sure you want to know?" you say with tears in your voice.

"Yes, my darling, I do. More than anything," Lucifer said, standing up slowly to come closer to you.

You look down, breathe, and lower you hand. Now that he was looking right at your eye, he could see how swollen it was under all of the make up.

"Is that... a black eye?" he said panicked. You nodded. He started to put some context clues together.

"Someone did this to you?" he asked, a little more sternness in his voice. You nodded again, the tears were starting to fall. "Someone from the Lounge?"

You nodded, "A client," you whispered.

"Did he do anything else?" he asked, trying to hold back the growing anger in his voice. You nodded. "Can you show me?" You froze, looking down, more tears falling, "Please don't be mad at me, I didn't want you to know, this shouldn't be something you worry about-"

"Darling," he says cutting you off again, "I am not mad at you, I am however mad at the sick fuck that did this to you. And I will worry about you, because I want to. Do you understand me?" You were not used to hearing him talk like this, it was scary, but in a comforting way. His words were growing in anger, but you understood it was not at you, it was for you.

You look up at him to see that his eyes had changed color, basically inverted, black slitted pupils now surrounded by golden irises and deep blood red sclera. They were terrifying and beautiful at the same time. You nodded, finally answering his question, and you started to take off your sweater. Lucifer saw your arms and torso littered with different sizes of bruises and deep bite marks. At the sight of them, horns grew out from his temples and a tail lashed out from his back. Again, he looked scarier, but for some reason, you were not afraid. You actually felt... safe? You had never seen someone so mad for you before.

Lucifer gently and slowly reached out for your arm, trying to make sure not to scare you further. "Is it like this on your legs too?" You nodded. You were about to ask if he needed to see them, when he pulled you into a tight hug. You were confused, but welcomed it. His hugs were always nice but this one felt, even better? All of your bruises and bites started to feel, lighter, and then the pain was gone. Lucifer released from your hug, and you looked down to see all of your marks were gone.

'He could heal too?! Fuck, is there anything he can't do?'

"Better?" he asked. You nodded. "Good, now. I'm gonna need a name and location. Now." he paused, "please."

You hesitated, you weren't supposed to tell anyone who you had been meeting with. But... he had not specifically asked for digression, and he was banned from the Lounge, and it would probably save Larry and the girls some trouble, and... fuck it, it was hell! Who cared!

"What are you going to do to him?" you asked. He smirked with a wicked smile, carefully reached out to softly hold your chin, and with a demonic resonance to his voice, he whispered, "Why darling, I'm going to make him suffer in a way that this realm has not tortured and tormented a soul in EONS, I am going to rip him his own dimension of time and space where he will be able to experience his body being ripped apart, piece by piece, and put back together, over and over again, for the rest of eternity."

You had no idea how to picture that and you didn't care... it was terrifying, but Lucifer's power was fucking HOT.

"Uhh... Jethro Hanson. Big house out in Pentagram city, near the inner city, very bright red, can't miss it," you spit out. He smiles, unfurls his six, big, beautiful wings from his back, gives you a soft kiss on the hand and says, "I'll be right back," before opening a portal above him and flying into it. It closes behind you and leaves you alone, in the dining room.

Your heart was racing, there were too many feelings swirling inside your mind, joy, sadness, rage, fear... lust. God, his full demon form was hot, what the hell? After a few minutes, the adrenaline wore off, and you found yourself on the couch starting to cry again, but this time... it felt GOOD. These tears were cathartic like nothing you had ever felt before, a hard, powerful cry.

After about 15-20 minutes, Lucifer reappeared, the same as he looked when he had left, just wiping his hands on themself after a job well done, as you would after a job well done. Lucifer heard your cries and ran to you, getting in his knees in front of you on the couch and cocooning you in his wings.

"Darling, what's the matter? I'm so sorry, did I scare you?" he said with words full of worry.

You shook your head, smiling and pressing your forehead to his, "No. Not at all. I'm just... I'm good. Really. I'm just not used to... feeling cared about, and... protected..." You choke out, before continuing to sob.

'Shit, shit, ok, what do I do?' he thought to himself. Then he remembered. He retracted his horns and tail, set his eyes back to their normal color, picked you up, laid down on the couch, and positioned you to lay on top of him, your head on his chest, wings wrapped around you. As you laid there, he rubbed your back as you continued to cry. "And as long as I am here, you will never have to know life without that, ever again," he said softly, so softly that you couldn't make it out over the sound of your own sobs.

Slowly, your tears started get get quieter, and your breathing started to slow. As Lucifer laid there with you on his chest, he started to card his fingers through you hair. What a dream you were to him, he had be so cared for by you, and now he was able to give that care back to you. That was honestly all he had wanted, was to have someone to be cared by and for. To have... someone to love.

Love?

Love.

'Oh my god... do I love her?' he thought at he looked down at your soft face. Studying the features of your face as you laid on his chest with this new idea, everything suddenly made sense. The nervousness, the desire for closeness, the way you lit up his world, the way your smile would wash his cares away.

He loved you.

That was about to make everything wayyyy more complicated.

______________________________________________________________

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[todomochi-uwu]

Who (5/?) J. Y & S. M

Pairing: Poly! Jeong Yunho x reader x Song Mingi

Genre: Angst, Smut

Warnings: This content is for a mature audience

Synopsis: You can't remember when was the last time you spent time with them, the last "I love you", the last time any of them kissed you.

Other chapters: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

NOTES: This was a nightmare to write, between the holidays and writer’s block, I wanted to die. I hope you like it. If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee . I promise next chapter will contain SMUT, so beware of that.

“What are you doing, Y/n?” Said Yunho as soon as he dragged you out of the club.

“What are YOU doing, Yunho? How the fuck did you know I was here?” You stumbled backwards, anxiety and alcohol are not a good combo.

“I came to talk, Minho brought me here. I have spent every single day of the last three months trying to find and talk to you, and all this time you were doing this?” Hurt in his voice, his face red and eyes glossy. You examined him for a second, deep dark eyebags sunken his eyes, his lips cracked and pale, and his once broad chest now looked thinner, bony. He looked so different, you almost couldn’t recognize him.

“It’s not like that…” He cut you off.

“Then, how is it? Because to me it looked like you were making out with your so-called best friend. Explain it to me, Y/n.”

“I don’t have to explain shit to you.” You stomped, getting closer, “You have a lot of nerve coming in here and accusing me of anything,” You jabbed your finger against his chest again and again. “We are not together. You drove me away. You broke my heart.” Tears of anger streamed down your face, and your wounded heart disintegrated with each word.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry, please come home with me, we can talk and…”

You turned around when you heard Han coming out of the club, Minho right behind him, following a very angry-looking Christopher.

“Bang Chan, calm down!” Said Minho.

“What are you doing here, Jeong?” Chan intervened, pushing you behind him.

“This doesn’t concern you, Chan. Please let me talk to her.” He tried going past Chris.

“Why don’t you leave her alone? She doesn’t want to see you. Fuck off.” Chan’s voice laced with venom, alcohol and rage ran through his veins, clouding his judgment.

“Chan.” The taller man tried again.

“Fuck you, Yunho. Where were you before when she needed you, huh?” Chris pushed the taller man, “Where were you when she spent every single night crying herself to sleep?” Push. “Where were you when she felt worthless?” Push.

“Chan, stop. You are drunk.” Han said.

“That’s right. You were not there, but guess who was? Me. I spent every single minute comforting her, reassuring her that it was not her fault, and helping her move on.”

“Oh, I am well aware of how much you would love for her to get over us, I’ve known it for a long time.” Yunho pushed back, “But I’ll be dead the day I let that happen.”

“Yunho, please stop.”

“I fucked up, okay? I’m not saying I didn’t, but I want to fix it. If I have to get on my knees I will, if I have to beg I will, whatever you want me to do I’ll do it. Please give me a chance.” Yunho said kneeling.

“Yunho.” You said in tears.

Chan scoffed, shaking his head, “Why should you get a second chance?”

Minho physically cringed, he knew it wasn’t about Yunho and Mingi getting a chance to redeem themselves, it was about Chan not getting the same opportunity.

“Chan, buddy, please back off.” He said while grabbing his friend by the shoulders.

Chan shook him off. He looked at you, “Y/n you know best. Please don’t go back to them.” He pleaded with what little strength he had left. But you could only see a begging Yunho on the floor, a mix of emotions reflected in your eyes, anger, fear, but on top of them was longing. He could feel his heart break all over again, he would never be at the receiving of those feelings. The door had closed a long time, and even if you didn’t know it, he did, it would never open again. He needed to get away from the scene. A knot forming in his throat, all his bottled-up love dying in his chest, he was going to throw up.

“Y/n, please come home, we can talk, we won't pressure you or anything, just please, please come home.” Yunho extended his hand your way.

You turned to look at Chan, but he no longer was there. You found Jisung’s eyes, looking for an answer in them. On one hand, your heart craved him, wanting nothing more than for him to take you in his arms. But then the more rational part of your brain reminded you of the hell you went through in the last months. Could you go back to them? And if not, could you live without them? Your best friend looked you in the eyes, worry and uncertainty filled them, but in the end, he simply nodded.

Yunho was waiting for you, silently begging for you to take his hand, to come back to them. And when you finally did, you could see the way his entire body relaxed, you couldn’t blame him, a part of you also felt at peace after all this time.

“This doesn’t mean we are back together; I hope you know that.” You whispered to him.

“I know.” He looked around for Minho, “We are taking a cab, I don’t want to bother you anymore.” He nodded back.

Jisung approached and gently embraced you in his arms. “Call me, okay?”

“Hannie, about Chan…” He cut you off.

“Don’t worry about him, we’ll take care of that.” He gave you a weak smile, before turning to his husband.

-------------------------------------------------------

Yunho opened the door as soon as the cab arrived, sat next to you and told the driver where to go. Your heart was almost beating out of your chest, sweaty hands gripped the ends of your skirt, and eyes that didn’t dare look away from the window.

“Are you cold?” He said, already taking his jacket off to give it to you.

“No, no, I’m okay.” Your brain made a connection a second later, “Wait, where’s…”

His phone went off like crazy, texts and calls showed up all at the same time, he pulled out of his pocket revealing the contact, “Shit.” He pressed to answer.

“Hey, Mingi, did you…” You could hear the exasperated voice of the younger man behind the phone, not being able to make out what he was saying.

“No, Mingi, I’m…” Cut off again.

“I know, but please…” Again.

“Will you …” And again.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. Oh, how you missed them.

“Mingi, will you please just shut up?” He whispered, “Listen, go home, I’m on my way there.”

Mumbling.

“You can leave, umm she’s, umm she’s with me.” He said as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

Mumbling.

“Go home, we’ll meet you there.” He hung up.

An uncomfortable silence filled the car, you didn’t know where to look, or what to do or say. Yunho was in a similar situation. Twice you caught him almost putting his hand on your knee, before remembering the situation you were in, muscle memory it must have been.

You knew the streets on your way to their place, left turn here, right turn there. A convenience store you used to walk to late at night to get ramen when you couldn't sleep. A dog park they swore you would go to with a new puppy when things “calmed down” at work. It made your heart sink to remember what you used to be, what you used to have.

So lost in your head, you didn’t notice the ride had ended, Yunho handed the driver some money and immediately took your hand, getting out of the car. The nerves getting worse each second, you could feel yourself shaking. The alcohol in your stomach bubbling threatening to make its way back up.

And then you saw Mingi.

He was sitting outside the door, his head between his knees, gently rocking himself back and forth, and you could hear some mumbling but couldn’t quite get what he was saying. He looked so small, so fragile, and while it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. Without thinking you approached him, kneeling by his side.

“Hello, Mingi.” You whispered.

He had been so into his thoughts he almost fell back when he heard you. His chest went up and down quickly, trying not to choke on the anxiety, his eyes doubting who they were seeing, but he tried to compose himself. “Hey, Y/n.” His hands shifted, but he tensed to prevent them from touching you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

A few moments went by, neither of you knowing what to say. “Why don’t we go in? We have a lot to talk about and it's freezing cold out here.” You had almost forgotten Yunho was also there.

“Okay.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Minho and Jisung didn’t have a clue what to say on the ride back home. Chan was in the backseat, His head resting against the window, small tears threatening to come out of his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them, not until he was sure no one would see him.

“Chan.” Jisung tried.

“Don’t, just don’t.”

“Chan, you know this is for the best. They need to solve whatever is going on…” Minho started but was quickly cut off by the older man.

“And you were so eager to help them do that, weren’t you?”

“Chan, that’s not…”

“Leave it alone, Minho. You’ve done enough.”

Jisung didn’t want to give up just yet, “Channie, please. Minho would never do anything to hurt you, but you know she’s still in love with them, and…”

“Don’t you think I know that? I have seen it every single day for the last few months. I have seen her cry every goddamn night because she missed them. I’ve seen her reading their conversations again and again. Hell, I have heard everything single fucking detail about those two, I did it then and I did it now. But tonight, for a single moment in almost six years, she didn’t think about them, she didn’t see them in me, it was only me and her. She kissed me. She wanted me. For once, she was mine again.”

Minho felt bad for what was about to come from his lips, but it needed to be done, “Then why did she leave with Yunho?” The car stopped.

And Chan got off, slamming the door on his way out.

-------------------------------------------------------

­The three of you were sitting on the floor of the living room. Yunho was leaning against an old couch Seonghwa had gifted you when you all moved in together. Mingi was next to a shabby coffee table you used to use as an “everything” table when you couldn’t afford anything else. You haven’t lived here in months, yet it still felt like home.

You had rehearsed thousands of times what you would say to them if you ever were in this situation. All the things that they did or said that made you die on the inside, you would cry and scream all you wanted and they would have to listen. You would tell Yunho how much you hated how cold he had turned. Tell Mingi how tired you were of him always coming home in a bad mood. Tell them how much you had missed them emotionally, and also physically, how they hadn’t stopped to look at you in months, let alone even touched you.

But as opposed to all the scenarios in your head, your mouth was dry.

“I’m sorry.” Mingi was the first who dared to speak, you wouldn’t have been able to hear him if you weren’t sitting next to him. “I’m so sorry about everything we did, I’m sorry for taking you for granted, I’m sorry about neglecting you, I’m sorry I was not there when you needed me, I’m sorry for not listening, I’m sorry for making you leave, I’m sorry for…” And so, the word vomit began, it came laced with months and months of tears Mingi didn’t know he had yet to spill.

“Okay, okay. Mingi, calm down.” You moved closer to him, wiping his cheeks.

“Nothing’s okay if you are not here, Y/n. I’m not okay if you are not here, Yunho is not either.” He pointed to Yunho.

You turned to look at the taller man, only to find him in an equal or worse state than the man in front of you, “I’m so sorry, my love.” He said between gasps.

Seeing them like this was enough to put you in the same state.

“I miss you so much, Y/n,” Yunho said while coming close to you. Both of them surrounded you, trapping you between their arms and sobs. “I’m sorry for being an asshole, for not making you my priority.”

“We will do anything, whatever you want you’ve got it, just please don’t leave again, please,” Mingi begged.

“Okay, let's talk, please?”

They both nodded and so the night began.

-------------------------------------------------------

“You have to talk to me about how you are feeling, you cannot bottle up and expect me to be okay with not knowing what’s going on in your life.” You said leaning against the couch, playing with Mingi’s fingers.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to trouble you.”

“It doesn’t bother me. Yeah, I may not know all those fancy law terms you and Jongho use all the time,” He giggled, “but I want to know if things are going well, if you are having trouble with a client or if you are stressed about a case, and not find out by Jongho calling me to tell me how much of an asshole you are being at work.”

He groaned, “That fucking brat always tells on me.”

“And you,” You looked at Yunho, “when are going to stop that childish rivalry with Minho? You are both grown adults, he’s married and you are engaged, for god’s sake.” You spoke without thinking.

“I’m still engaged?” He looked at you, a little smirk on his face.

“You know what I mean.” You nudged slightly. Mingi was looking at you with the same look on his face, making you blush deeply.

Between laughs and memories, Yunho’s bright look decomposed. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips tightened in a line, he straightened himself and cleared his throat, “There is one thing I want to talk about.”

Both of you looked at him.

“Back at the club, and I know I don’t have any kind of right to complain, but,” He gulped, “What is going on with Chan.”

Oh, right. That.

“Um…, I…, um…” Trying to find the right words. Mingi straightened himself, confused about what Yunho was talking about.

“We won’t be mad; I only want to know if something is going on.”

“Well, um…, Han noticed I was a little distracted tonight, he knew I was still thinking about you two. And until that point, I didn’t know if we were over for good. So…” You scratched your eyebrow, “he suggested it may be time to move on, and that Chan could help me with that.” You mumbled that last part.

Silence.

“I thought Jisung liked us,” Mingi said, trying to lighten up the situation.

“And he does, he was just trying to be a good friend to me.”

“Did something else happen?” Yunho said directly. He needed to know.

You shook your head, “No, it was barely even a kiss.”

“If I hadn’t been there to stop it, would it have turned into anything else?”

“Yunho.” Mingi tried to stop him.

“It’s not fair of you to ask me that.”

“So, it would have.”

“Yunho.” Mingi tried again.

“I don’t know, okay? I have no clue what would have happened.” Your voice escalated.

“Did you think about it?” He kept going.

“What?”

“Did you ever think about doing it? Tonight, or any other night?”

“Okay, that’s enough. You have no fucking right to reproach me for anything, we are not together.” You got up, needing to get away from him.

“I have spent every single night crying myself to sleep because you are not here, Y/n. It hasn't even crossed my mind to move on from you.” He stood up.

“Don’t act like I’m the one who fucked up like I cheated or something.” You grabbed your bag and pulled down your skirt, “This was a mistake, I never should have come here.”

That’s when Mingi saw red sirens in his head, “No, no Y/n, please. Yunho, calm down. Please, let’s calm down.” The poor thing was a mess.

“I’m not going to stay here to hear him accusing me of things that never happened.”

“Yunho’s sorry, tell her you didn’t mean it.”

Yunho’s shoulder slumped, defeated, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. It’s… When I saw you two, I thought I had lost you. I saw all my fears from back in college coming true.”

“What fears?”

He looked at Mingi, who only nodded back. “Back when we had just started dating, we were a bit worried you felt like this relationship was… too much. You would want something more conventional. A relationship where people wouldn’t turn their heads to know why three people are holding hands and kissing. Or one where you didn’t have to answer, how does it work? Over and over again.” His voice cracked at the end.

Mingi took over, “You never told us about Chan, we found out because Jisung talked about it once when he was drunk. We worried there was something else there, some unresolved feelings, I don’t know. And that someday you would go back to him. Throughout the years that fear dissolved, but when we knew you were staying with him. Well, we didn’t know what to think.”

“Whatever I had with Chan ended the day I met you, I’ve only wanted you since that night. Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“As you’ve seen, we are not the best at communication.” Yunho let out a nervous laugh. “I’m so sorry, for all the things I said. It wasn’t my place to ask.”

You got closer to him, “I’m sorry for getting so defensive.” You took his face in your hands, caressing his lip with your thumb, “I love you, Yunho.”

“I love you too.”

“And I love you.” You said taking Mingi’s hand in yours, “but I want you both to understand things are not completely okay because I’m here. I need to know what I’m getting myself into, I can’t go back to feeling like that. I need to be sure it won’t happen again, I get you both being busy, but neglecting me is a whole other story. We’ll go step by step, okay?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Mingi, we talked about going slow.”

“I know, I know. I can’t believe you are back here.” He leaned closer, “so, can I?”

And you may be aching,

“Yes, please.” You whispered against his lips.

But you were also weak.

____________________________________________

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[ichorai]

spiderling ; peter parker.

sequel to particles!

pairing ; peter parker x stark!reader

synopsis ; peter was supposed to find you after strange wiped everyone's memory of him away. instead, you found him.

words ; 2.0k

themes ; angst, mild fluff and comedy

warnings / includes ; lots of feels crammed into this, peter is a flustered mess, reader is an insanely smart kid of tony’s, mentions of may and the rest of the spidey gang :(

main masterlist.

Ever since Peter had asked Strange to wipe the entire world’s memory of him, things had been… uneventful to say the least. He studied, he worked two boring jobs for a low minimum wage, and he visited May’s grave every afternoon. 

There wasn’t much else to do when nobody knew him as Peter Parker. 

Sometimes, he’d go out in his itchy, make-shift spider suit that he’d fashioned with bright fabrics from a corner store that also sold his most favorite orange-flavored popsicles, stopping common crime as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Other than that… he slept. He played Crossy Road on his phone—or he’d rewatch the Star Wars movies for the billionth time. 

He thought of his best friends, Ned and MJ. He thought of his brothers, Peter 2 and 3. He thought of his Aunt May, and Happy, who visited her grave almost as frequently as he did. He thought of the closest thing he had to a father figure, Tony Stark. He thought of Mr. Stark’s oldest kid—which he used to refer to as his significant other. 

The love of his life. 

Y/N Stark.

Peter missed you. He missed you more than anything in the entire world. He missed your wide smile and the specific way you’d throw your head back and laugh so hard you’d be grabbing onto his arm, gasping for breath. He missed how you’d press your chest into his back and kiss along his neck while he did his physics homework, quietly mumbling corrections to his calculations when he’d distractedly scribbled down the wrong formula. He missed how Mr. Stark would pull him to the side to give him the ‘Responsible Dad Talk’ just about every time the two of you hung out together, and how you’d have to tell your dad that you could make your own decisions and you didn’t need him to hover over the two of you.

Besides, you used to say with a soft smile, it’s Peter. You know Peter. He’s… he’s Peter. He’d never hurt me, pops.

But he did hurt you. He erased all the memories you had together—he completely wiped himself out of your life.

You loved him—and he had taken that away from you. 

“I love you,” you had whispered into him as you hugged him tight, a tear slipping down the corner of your misty eyes. Peter wrapped his arms around your waist and held you all the closer. “Come back to me, Peter. Or… or I swear to fucking God—I’ll find you myself and—” 

Your words died on your tongue as he surged forward and kissed you, hard and desperate. The kiss tasted of salt from your tears, of coppery blood from his throbbing, split lip. Neither of you cared.

You hiccupped a sob when he reluctantly pulled away, pressing one last kiss to your grimy forehead, before letting you go entirely. He turned before he could see you crumpling into MJ and Ned, who had roped you into a pained embrace, your shoulders trembling with wracking cries. 

That was five months ago. Five months after Strange wiped everybody’s memories of him.

He’d wanted to find you again—he really did. Obviously, you were an extremely busy person, not only being the oldest kid of Tony Stark, but also a genius student, a researcher, the heir of an entire company, and an older sibling to Morgan. But, if he was completely honest, he didn’t really know what to say.

Hey, I’m Peter Parker and I’m in love with you, but I never got the chance to tell you because this wizard that’s sort of a friend of your dad’s erased everyone’s memory of me because the multiverse broke and a bunch of bad guys from other universes slipped into ours because I ruined my friend’s chances of getting into their dream college—

Yeah. That wouldn’t really work out, would it?

So he put it off. 

Put it off for a week, which rolled into two, which became three, which became three months.

All of a sudden, it was summer, and he still hadn’t seen you. 

He made sure to go to the coffee shop MJ worked at, just to see how she and Ned were faring. From what he heard while he eavesdropped—they were doing great at MIT. 

Peter tried his best to keep up with you through those news articles that kept flashing him ads like You Wouldn’t Believe What This Celebrity Looks Like Without Makeup! or Learn All About Steve Rogers’ Exercise Routine! 

There wasn’t much that he could find about you, other than a couple pictures of you with your little sister, Morgan, chowing down on cheeseburgers at McDonald’s. After all, you’d always been a rather private person, which was the one jarring difference between you and your infamously public father. 

Your social medias were, expectedly, all privated. Peter doubted you’d accept his follow request, anyway.

It was an ordinary Tuesday—Peter had a shift at a car garage in a couple hours, which left him quite a bit of time to burn. He had ACDC softly playing in the background—a band that both you and your dad had been completely infatuated with—half a dozen books spread out around him as he multi-tasked studying new chemical compounds for his web fluid, and rotational mechanics for an upcoming exam. 

Then, much to his surprise, the doorbell rang. 

It’s probably the landlord, Peter thought with a grimace, thinking of the old woman who always had a cigarette between her coarse fingers, despite her own strict policy of no smoking in the building. He turned the music down to a low thrum, before swinging the door open.

And… there you were.

Peter could feel his heart drop to the floor.

You were… God, you were beautiful. There wasn’t much about you that changed—you got a new pair of glasses, he could see, and you’d cut your hair shorter. There was a tattoo peeking slightly out of your loose-hanging t-shirt etched over your skin, depicting a sketch of an arc reactor, in memory of your late father. 

Besides that, you were the very same. The same bright, intelligent eyes, the same lips that puckered ever so slightly to the side in thought, and the same brows that knitted together whenever you were concentrating. 

Your hands were shoved into your jeans as you cocked your head, studying him with narrowed eyes.

“Erm,” Peter started, mouth opening and closing as his brain struggled to comprehend that you were here. In the flesh. Fuck, you were gorgeous. “Wh… Y/N?”

Your eyebrow arched high up, closer to your hairline. “First name basis already, huh?”

“I’m—”

“You’re the Spiderling, aren’t you?” you asked abruptly, nearly giving him whiplash. Before he could say anything else, you were swiping your phone open, a hologram of a Youtube video playing right in front of his face. The video displayed Spider-Man swinging from building to building, stopping a car from ramming into an elderly woman crossing the street with nothing but brute strength. Peter didn’t even remember that happening. To him, that was just an ordinary day. “That must’ve been, what—like, thirty-five hundred pounds, about fifty miles an hour? Impressive.”

“Wh—”

You brushed past him into his tiny apartment. Peter cursed himself for not throwing away the pizza boxes stacked on his kitchen counter, and for leaving his sketches of web shooters out on his desk. 

A small smile graced your lips as you spotted the blue and red scrap fabrics discarded into the trash can. “Hm. You make your own suit? My dad did, too. God—are those goggles?” You picked up his vision goggles from his unmade bed, peering through them as you snorted in amusement. “How on earth do you see anything though these?”

“I—”

You turned to him with an intrigued grin. “I’m sure you already know who I am, seeing as you knew my dad. It’s nice to finally meet you, Spiderling.”

Peter blinked. The overwhelming sense of deja vu washed over him like a tidal wave—you were behaving eerily similar to when Mr. Stark had approached him to go to Germany back in 2016.

“I… how…”

“What’s your name?” you asked, gingerly stepping over his textbooks to stare at his pinboard, where his calendar hung. 

“Peter,” he finally mumbled in reply, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “And it’s Spider-Man, not Spiderling. What are you doing here? I mean, not that I don’t want you here, but, uhm—how did you find me?”

You looked over your shoulder with a knowing glint to your eyes. “I keep tabs on everybody my dad used to work with. Honestly, it wasn't too difficult to track you down—given the radius of where Spider-Man usually frequents and his response times to local crimes, it was easy to pinpoint where you lived. After my AI ran a couple voice recognition tests and estimated bodily proportions, that led me right to you.” You leaned against his rickety wooden desk with a curious grin. “Thought you’d be a bit older, though. Looks like you’re around my age.”

“I… that’s… wow.”

Wrinkling your nose in amusement, you turned back to his full calendar. 

Peter prayed you wouldn’t flip over to your birthday month—he’d circled your birthday with bright red sharpie and drew loopy hearts all over the little square. Thankfully, you stopped skimming through, pausing at the relatively empty weeks where he had nothing planned other than a few work shifts.

“Looks like you’re free from school in a couple weeks,” you said. “I know this is really sudden and very abrupt of me, but—I’d love to offer you a job at Stark Labs. You must be crazy smart to design synthetic webs with a Young’s modulus that’s off the charts. Could really use that brain of yours at my company. Plus, you’ve got a lot of work experience in the bag.” 

There was a beat of silence. Peter stared at you with parted lips. 

A bit more timidly, you added on, “And… it’d be nice to work with someone that knew my dad.”

Well, Peter didn’t want to brag, but he’d definitely say that he didn’t only just know Tony Stark. But you didn’t need to know that right at this moment. 

“Yes,” he blurted out, a bit louder than necessary. “Are you kidding me? That’s… that’s amazing! Yeah, oh my God, I’d love to! Thank you!”

Before he could stop himself, his body moved out of pure muscle memory and excitement, stepping forward to wind his arms around you, squeezing you tightly. Your familiar perfume made his eyes well with tears—fuck, he missed you so fucking much.

“Oh—” you began to say, muscles tensing. “Okay, then. You’re welcome, pal.”

Rouge flushed hotly over his cheeks as he realized that you weren’t his significant other anymore—in your mind, this was the first time the two of you were meeting. Quickly, he let you go, backing away with a grimace. 

“Sorry,” he winced. “Sorry, I just—”

“Have we met before?” you asked, cutting him off. “I don’t know… it just feels like… nevermind. I’d probably remember a cute face like yours.” 

Peter’s face burned an even brighter shade of red. 

“Here’s my contact information. I’ll send you any contracts, NDAs, legality issues, dates for any research projects you might be interested in joining, payment negotiations, all that jazz,” you told him, placing a card onto his desk. “I look forward to working with you, Patrick.”

“Peter,” he corrected.

A smile played with the corner of your lips. “Right. Peter. Nice music taste, by the way. I love ACDC—I can see why my dad liked you so much.” 

With that, you ambled over his scattered belongings on the floor, flashing him one last beam, before striding straight out the door. 

Peter stared at the open doorway for a minute—or was it an hour? He really couldn’t tell. 

He collapsed into his bed, the goggles you’d dangled digging into his back. He arched up just enough to pull it away, clutching it to his chest with a goofy smile.

You found him. 

Against all odds, you’d found him.

Fuck, Peter loved you so much.

Telling you though—now that was a different story entirely. One that Peter knew was going to take time. 

But for you… 

He’d wait centuries.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x you #marvel fanfiction #peter parker angst #marvel angst #mcu!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #mcu!peter parker #mcu!peter parker fanfiction #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader #spiderman fanfiction #spider-man fanfiction #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #peter parker x stark!reader

[cleabellanov]

"But Lokius isn't even canon! Stop making everything gay!"

...

The Loki series isn't just about romantic relationships and shouldn't be seen as so. However, there is a lot of subtext. Maybe this ship is not canon, but it was intended to be seen as so by the fans.

If Lokius isn't canon, then why were the last two shots of the series showing Mobius and Loki?

If Lokius isn't canon, why would there be so much touching and scenes so physically close to one another? (believe me I know they're friends. that just offers a solid base for something more)

If Lokius isn't canon, why is there an OFFICIAL track named like that?

Why is said track played or incorporated in different scenes of the series? like

-the first McDonalds meeting with Sylvie,

-the back-in-time conversation with Kang

- the ASCENSION to the throne?

Why is the Sylvie and Loki kiss never mentioned, by the producers, in the series per se, or even in the season 1 recap?

Why is Mobius the only one looking at Loki when he leaves down to the temporal loom?

And the other way around, why did Loki only make eye contact with Mobius in that scene?

Why is Mobius the only one to notice there is something wrong when Loki is still trying to fix the Loom?

Why did Mobius/Don on the original timeline, mention he's single, trust a complete stranger, invite him for a drink, AND offer to sell him a quite personal jet-ski?

Why did Loki, the LITERAL GOD OF MISCHIEF stutter and fix his hair and coat for no one else but Mobius (who by the way is just a jetski salesman on that timeline)?

Why is the timeslipping Loki had to go through directed to Mobius twice, him being the the only one he doesn't need a TemPad to "recruit"?

Why would Loki bring up Thor and Jane if it wasn't to mirror him and Mobius? (because, as he already was talking to Sylvie, he certainly wasn't implying it's about her. They were arguing, AND Mobius was implied in the conversation. Loki defended him in front of Sylvie, in case you forgot.)

Why would Mobius's voice be the one to echo back to Loki on his throne? let time pass time pass time pass

Why the RAINBOW?

WHY DID LOKI LOOK AT MOBIUS RIGHT BEFORE THE FAMOUS LINE "IT'S ABOUT WHO"? (important mention: Sylvie was behind him when he said that. why didn't he just turn around when saying it? nope, they know what they're doing)

Why is the shot cut to Mobi after Loki's "it was more about what I wanted" line?

Why the shot where 7 characters could've been showed (Mobius, Loki, Sylvie, B-15, Casey, O.B., Victor Timely) there are only 2: Mobius and Loki?

Why is Mobius the only one to tell Loki he can be someone good, and the first one Loki actually believes despite his tendency to do the other way around in the past?

Why does Mobius finally find insight, and reinvent his whole life at the TVA because Loki helped him do so? (they're not even the first Loki variant he faced, but something clicked this time)

Why does the bloody sleeve, representing Loki being hurt by Sylvie just because he "wore his heart on his sleeve" disappear on episode 2? (because he finally understands who he needs to be next to)

Why did Mobius risk his life on the first episode?

Why did Loki go to past Mobius for the final advice, not to the present one, not to Sylvie?

Why did Loki ultimately sacrifice his life for the ones he loves?

And why is Mobius left alone, with the door locked, after Loki leaves in the Loom's radiation?

Why would there be so much endearing looks, and smiles at each other, if not for a conscious acting choice?

Why why why why why if it isn't canon?

Nothing is for nothing. Especially in television, where everything counts from the light to the angles and the way the lines are spoken.

We don't need to see two characters kiss to know they are made for one another. In fact, I think implied canon is so much better for now, because it leaves free interpretation for the fans, and nothing to strike on for the haters.

Of course, that doesn't change the fact that the ending is still tragic, although it holds its sweet from bittersweet. But remember: there aren't tragedies without love.

#yeah that's my rant about these two because we can't just ignore how implied canon they are #there is probably much more I didn't grasp #loki series #lokius #marvel #mobius #loki #owen wilson #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston loki #comics #art #cinema #mcu #writing #fun #a tragedy #with nothing greek in it #midnights #miss minutes #sylvie #sylvie laufeydottir #frigga #odin #variants #lady sif #theater #time theatre #queer community

[reiding-writing]

may i request getting stuck in an elevator with early season Spence after hours at the BAU and the lights go out and obviously him being terrified of the dark he starts panicking and reader has to comfort him until he eventually explains his fear of the dark in relation to something happening in his childhood. just some angst and hurt/comfort ig? I live and breathe your content <3

malfunction [ s.r ]

Summary:

You and Spencer end up staying late to finish some paperwork after a case, when you finally vacate into the elevator to leave it breaks down, revealing some secrets harboured by both of you and strengthening your relationship in the process.

WARNINGS: claustrophobia, nyctophobia, arachnophobia, mentions of spencer’s bullying

pairing: s1!spencer x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 3.2k

masterlist!!

a/n: glad i’ve curated an audience of angst and hurt/comfort enjoyers <33

It was late.

12:06AM to be exact.

Silence riddled the bullpen, making the usually bustling office stand completely still.

You might’ve found it a little disturbing if not for Spencer sat a few desks down from you, his mere presence stopping your mind from running rampant with irrational fears of ghosts or demons that might lurk in the dark corners of the room.

It was a little stupid sure, your lanky book-genius of a coworker held no chance of being able to physically protect you from whatever your brain could conjure up, but the mind works in wonderous ways, and he offered you an unintentional blanket of security nonetheless.

You could hear the loose papers of his files rustle as he closed the manilla folder, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses with a sigh.

Looks like Spencer was done for the night. And by that logic, so were you.

You mirror Spencer as you shut your file, packing it away in your messenger bag and tucking your chair under your desk as you stand, the two of you silently acknowledging each other’s presence as you reach the elevator.

You could practically feel the fatigue surrounding the both of you as you stepped inside, your tiredness bouncing off each other and making you more desperate to crawl into bed and knock out for the night.

It didn’t last for very long.

A loud clunking sound echoed through the metal walls of the elevator, followed by it jolting to a stop, and you had to grip onto the metal bar lining the wall so you didn’t lose your balance.

Your eyes turn first to the small screen above the door, flickering between the numbers 2 and 3 as if it can’t decide what floor you’re currently on.

Then they turn to Spencer.

Spencer's breathing is uneven and his body tense, eyes darting around the tiny enclosed space with a distinct air of panic.

“Reid? Are you alright?” You raise an eyebrow at him, your expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

"N-No, no! I am not alright! This is my worst nightmare come to life." Spencer presses himself against the far wall, as if plastering himself to it will make him part of the elevator and therefore unable to be injured if something goes wrong.

“You do know how unlikely it is to actually get any sort of injury from an elevator accident right?”

"One out of ten point five million. I know that. But this isn't about logic this is about fear." He turns away as he speaks, taking a few breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. "I'm-I'm claustrophobic. And this is not helping."

“Okay- okay- let’s just calm down for a second,” You hold up a hand in Spencer’s direction. You never took him as somebody to have irrational fears like this. You always figured that he’d just use his knowledge to rationalise what was happening and move on. Apparently not.

Spencer looks back at you and nods, taking in another deep breath.

“I'm trying. It's just-“ The elevator makes a rumbling sound that elicits what you can only classify as a whimper to leave his throat. “I can't do this. I can't be stuck in this tiny space for an unknown amount of time. I can't. I just can't. Please. Please, someone. Someone has to know we're in here. They have to.”

“Reid- Calm down.”

You let go of the bar you were holding onto to walk over to Spencer, placing your hands cautiously on his shoulders.

"I-I'm trying. I'm trying."

But he doesn't actually seem to be any better than he was before. His body is shaking, his breaths shaking and uneven.

He's getting very close to having a full blown panic attack.

“Sit down,” You push gently against his shoulders to encourage him to sit, following after him yourself to sit in front of him with your legs crossed underneath you.

Spencer lets out a trembling breath. "What if we die in here? What if no one comes? What if something goes wrong?"

“We’re going to be fine,”

You hold out a hand palm up in your lap as open invitation for him to take it if he needs to.“just take slow breaths Reid,”

"I-I'm trying." He looks down at your hand and almost reaches out for you, but hesitates before yanking his hand back.

He looks away and forces his breath to slow down again. "What if we're in here for hours?"

“Elevators have failsafes Reid, it’ll sort itself out don’t worry,”

Spencer takes a shuddered breath in through his nose, closing his eyes as he repeats your words in his head.

It’ll sort itself out. He doesn’t need to worry.

He meets your eyes with a small nod and you sigh, giving him a sympathetic smile that reassures him he’s going to be fine.

Unfortunately, all of your efforts to calm him down are quickly reversed as the lights cut out, sending the elevator into complete darkness.

His sudden blindness brings a startled cry from Spencer, his body instinctively trying to protect himself and in that split second of shock he grabs your hand.

He clutches at it tightly, eyes squeezed shut.

“Everything’s fine-“ You return his startled grip with a light squeeze of your own.

The grip around your hand feels firm and shaky but the contact helps to ground him, bringing some of his panic down a notch or two.

“It's not f-fine. It's dark. I don’t like the dark . I hate it.”

“You’re scared of the dark?” You sound more surprised than you mean to, and although you can’t pinpoint all of his features in the shadows, you’re sure you can see his eyebrows knit together.

“11% of the US adult population is afraid of the dark.” His tone carries an air of defensiveness through his fear, although he doesn’t seem offended enough at your comment to sacrifice the physical comfort that your hand is offering in his.

“Oh- no- I didn’t mean it as a bad thing-“ You shake your head despite the fact that he can’t see you, tightening your hold on his hand as an offer of reassurance. “I just- didn’t see you as somebody to have a fear of the dark is all-“

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You can hear the slight waver in his voice as he speaks, clearly trying to distract himself in your questions so he doesn’t have to think about his current situation.

You’d also wager he has his eyes shut, as ironic as it is.

“I just meant- you know- your brain rationalises everything so quickly that I figured you just wouldn’t have fears like this?”

He chuckles nervously, the sound echoing in the darkness. "Well, even the most rational minds have their quirks, I suppose. Fear doesn't always follow logic." The tension in his voice begins to ease, and he opens up a bit more.

“Is there a reason you have a fear of the dark?” You could understand his claustrophobia to a certain level, but nyctophobia wasn’t something very common in adults, especially ones who work as field agents for the FBI.

“I uh- it was just something that happened when I was younger, it’s stupid really-” Spencer skirts your question with a half-truth, not divulging any details of his seemingly irrational fear of the dark.

He shifts slightly, adjusting to find a more comfortable position on the floor, his hand tugging yours and in the process forcing you to change your seating position as well.

You squeeze his hand gently. "Do you wanna talk about it? People usually find it easier to rationalise their fears if they voice them to another person,” You use Spencer’s own intelligence against him in the hope that it’ll get him to open up.

As much as you had learned about him in the past two years, you still knew surprisingly little about Dr. Spencer Reid and his life outside of the office.

You knew all about his academics, how he liked his coffee with as much sugar as humanely possible, how under normal circumstances he would rather lick a toilet seat than shake someone’s hand.

But you didn’t really know him; And you figured this might be a good place to start.

“I… It’s not something I like to dwell on,” He tries to shut down your questioning once more, clearing his throat to try and rid of the lump that forms when he thinks back to the origins of his fears. “It’s not exactly a nice thing to remember,”

“I get that, some of my childhood memories aren’t the best either,” You let out a breath that could almost constitute as a laugh of exasperation. “But it might help, and i’m sure that just getting it off your chest will give you piece of mind nonetheless,”

You can hear Spencer take in a breath through his nose, and through the small adaptation your eyes had made to the darkness you could just barely see his lips purse into a line, debating whether or not to divulge his childhood to you.

It’s not like he didn’t trust you with it. Quite the opposite. He’d come to enjoy your presence over the time you’d spent working together.

You didn’t judge his intelligence, nor did you reduce him to it. You just saw him as another person and it was something that he was incredibly grateful for.

He knew you wouldn’t make fun of him if he told you, but he wasn’t worried about that. He was worried that you’d pity him.

That you’d treat him like some fragile object that would break if you spoke too loudly in its presence.

That’s something that he’d never want.

“I- don’t want you to think of me differently…” His voice was still laced with fear as he spoke, but this time it wasn’t a fear of the dark metal box he was trapped in; It was a fear of how your view of him would change.

“Reid…”

“I don’t want to be pitied or have people walk on eggshells for the sake of hurting my feelings…” You can practically feel his apprehension through the way his hand tenses in yours.

“Reid-“

“I’ve just managed to get people to treat me normally and I don’t want all of that to go down the drain-“

“Spencer.”

You can see his eyes snap upwards towards yours as you raise your voice, and you pull his left hand into your own to hold both of them in your lap, eyes chasing his in the darkness to maintain eye contact. “You’re human. Humans have fears and they have bad memories, and it’s not going to change anything about how I treat you.”

“Tell you what,” You give his hands a squeeze, leaning forwards slightly towards him to try and get a better look at his face. “I’ll tell you one of my childhood tragedies if you tell me yours, deal?”

He goes silent as he ponders your offer, ending with a small nod that you can only half see. “Okay…”

“Okay,” You return his nod with your own, running your thumbs over the backs of his hands. “So, i’ll go first,”

“When I was eight, my cousin thought it’d be a good idea to let his pet tarantula crawl all over my face whilst I was sleeping, and I woke up with it half in my mouth,” You practically shudder at the memory. “Needless to say I developed arachnophobia after that,”

You laugh breathily, shaking your head slightly. “It was not very fun,”

“Why would he do that?”

You shrug slightly, arms moving enough that he can feel it where your fingers connect. “He was a bit of a bully if i’m honest, but he’s matured since then thank god,”

“Are you- still afraid of spiders?” Spencer’s eyes practically shine in the darkness, big, round and glistening with curiosity as they scan your face from beneath his glasses.

“Promise not to make fun of me?” Your question is answer enough, but he still nods softly nonetheless. “I think they’re terrifying,”

“Almost 20% of the US population has arachnophobia, it’s a very common fear to have,”

“So is a fear of the dark,” You bring the conversation back to Spencer’s fear once more. “Willing to tell me its origin story yet?”

Spencer sighs, his shoulders slumping and his head leaning back against the wall of the elevator. “It’s-“ He exhales through his nose, his eyes diverting from yours to stare at your interconnected hands.

“When I was in school I was bullied a lot…” He purses his lips and you nod. As sad as it is you’re not exactly surprised.

Someone as insanely intelligent as him was unfortunately bound to be tormented by those who were academically inferior to him, it’s a by-product of jealousy.

“They uh… stripped me down and tied me to a goal post, and- then they just left me there-“ Spencer’s throat catches as he speaks, and you can see through the way his eyes flicker around that he’s replaying the memory in his head.

“I- managed to untie myself after a while, but I spent over an hour searching for all of my clothes and ended up walking home in the dark half dressed…” Spencer’s lip quivers as he reaches the end of his explanation.

“I don’t think i’ve ever been more scared in my life…”

“I’m so sorry they did that to you…” Your eyebrows furrow with sympathy, and you shift your hold on his hands to intertwine your fingers with his. “Nobody should have to experience that…”

Spencer exhales, and you can hear the shake in his breath. “I thought if I just buried it that i’d forget, but I still remember it like it happened yesterday…”

The curse of an eidetic memory you suppose. Destined to remember every detail of the worst experiences you’d ever had.

Although you’re sure that Spencer wouldn’t need an eidetic memory to have what happened to him burned into his brain.

“Spencer…”

“I’m sorry-“ Spencer shakes his head, attempting to pull his hands out of yours. “I told you it was stupid-“

“Hey. No.” You close your hands around his to stop him from pulling away. “That is in no way stupid at all.”

“You went through something awful and developed a fear because of it. That is the furthest thing from stupid Reid,”

“I just-”

You cut off Spencer’s attempt at a rebuttal with a pull of your hands in his, separating them only to wrap your arms around him in a hug. “No excuses.”

Spencer is stiff in your embrace, unsure of what exactly he should be doing. Should he hug you back? Should he pull away to regain his personal space?

He wasn’t exactly sure. He did however, feel like he was going to cry.

He could feel the tears welling up behind his eyelids, squeezing his eyes shut to stop them from falling down his face and hiding his face against the curve of your shoulder so that you wouldn’t be able to see the shadow of his expression.

God he was pathetic.

Sat in his coworkers embrace because he was scared of the goddamn dark.

On the verge of tears because of something that happened twelve years ago.

A twenty four year old man. A fully grown adult.

His shoulders begin to tremble as he thinks about it, and you can feel the way his breath catches in his throat as you bring your hand to the back of his head to hold him closer to you.

“This is pathetic i’m sorry…” He shakes his head against your shoulder, hindered slightly by the way his glasses sit on the bridge of his nose.

“Shhh,” You shake your head in tandem with his, leaning your cheek against the side of his head as you rub your hand over his back. “Don’t be silly,”

"You're not pathetic, Spencer," You reassure him, your voice gentle. "Everyone has their own fears and struggles. It takes strength to open up about them."

He takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to compose himself. "I just never thought I'd be so affected by it for this long."

"Trauma doesn't have a set expiration date," you say softly. "It's okay to still be working through things. And you don't have to face it alone."

Spencer finally relaxes a bit in your embrace, allowing himself to accept the comfort you're offering. "Thank you," he mumbles, his voice barely audible against the fabric of your shirt.

“No problem-“ You don’t finish your sentence before the lights come back on, causing you to squint from the sudden brightness.

The sudden light flooding the elevator exposes the position the two of you had found yourself in, your legs tangled together as Spencer sits in your embrace with your arms around his torso and his hands resting limply by your waist.

“See?” You pull his face away from your shoulder gently, leaning back to finally get a fully clear view of his face. “Nothing to worry about,”

“Yeah…” He nods softly, eyes still a little red from holding back his tears, and he sniffles as he pulls away from you properly when the elevator starts moving downwards again.

“Do you want a ride home?” Your invitation is obvious as you two of you pick yourselves up from the floor, your eyes silently encouraging him to accept your proposal.

“I-“ The elevator came to another halt, this time thankfully opening its doors on the ground for the two of you to leave.

He had his train ticket in his pocket, but he was willing to forget it for now.

“That would be great, thank you…”

“No problem Spencer, let’s get outta here,”

He tries to brush aside the way he feels when you call him by his first name, nodding softly with pursed lips.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here…”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #mgg #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #asks 🫶

[normspellsman]

A Lesson in Pinky Promises

part one | part two (wip)

pairing: jake sully x daughter!reader

genre: angst to fluff & comfort (from jake to reader)

word count: 3.3k+

warning(s): mentions of reader being bullied for looks – reader has 5 fingers, kids being mean, physical + verbal harassment, reader being sad, reader feeling like she doesn’t fit in, jake calling reader babygirl (cuteness overload fr), mentions of self inflicted injuries, mentions of children hurting you, reader looks up to jake + feels unworthy of being the heir of the olo’eyktan title, jake being angry, cursing, both jake + reader crying, & reader having self-loathing thoughts / being mean to herself

request details: here!

taglist: @aonungsmate @optimisticblazetrash @dearstell @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @minkyungseokie @universal-s1ut @goodiesinthecloset21 @amortencjja @blushhpeachh @sweetirilly @liyahsocorro @arminsgfloll @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @bigdikzaddy @cheyehc @ihave500hubbiez

word bank: sempul — father, sempu — daddy (term of endearment), ‘evenge — girl, sa’nok — mother, eywa / great mother — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in, toruk — last shadow; large winged creature jake rode in the first film, syulang — flower, & ‘angtsìk — hammerhead titanothere

note: the reader is the eldest child of jake in this fic & is around 11-12 years old. set wayyy before the events of atwow. there will be a part 2 to this since someone requested something similar to this but w/ lo’ak & i couldn’t pass up the opportunity 🤭. be on the lookout for part 2 <3

You wished that you were more like your Father.

Your Father held this kind of confidence wherever he went. You guessed being Olo’eyktan would do that to you over time. He took every insult and objection to his rule with stride. You wanted to be like him one day, especially since you were the next in line for his position when he decided it was time for him to step down.

But it was hard. Really hard. The children around your age loved teasing you for your ten fingers and ten toes. They often pulled at your pinky and tried to pry it from your hand, giggling at how it looked and your reaction to it, hissing in pain as they basically almost dislocated the finger. They also reached out towards your hairy eyebrows, plucking at them to observe the strange hair further. Many had also called you demon or fake due to your mixed heritage. They loved making your life hell and took joy in hurting your feelings with their harsh words. Of course they never dared to do anything like that around your parents or siblings, deciding to do it whenever you were alone or training.

You felt insecure about your five fingers, often trying to hide it or make it look more like the other four fingered hands of your fellow acquaintances. You’ve injured yourself a couple of times trying to hide your pinky, bruising it or spraining it multiple times. You never meant to hurt yourself but it always happened whenever you did it. You just wished you looked more like the children your age than your Father.

You absolutely loved your Father and looked up to him so much. But it was hard looking like him when his past kind had caused so much pain and suffering to your Mothers people. It was a constant reminder that you had to work twice as hard as compared to your younger brother, Neteyam, to get the acceptance of The People. They always had their eyes on you, watching your every move, ready to criticize everything you did wrong. Nothing was ever good for them. Not good enough to live up to your Father, to be the next leader of your clan.

You never told your parents about how you felt or what the children your age did, dealing with it yourself. It wasn’t very good that you kept it to yourself but you felt like you had no choice. You didn’t want to worry your parents with what was happening, didn’t want to seem weak in front of them. You wanted to be strong like your Mother and Father, strong heart like those before you. Surely both of your parents experienced more traumatizing things throughout their lifetime than what you were going through. You could handle it yourself.

But, alas, you failed at having it handled.

Hours prior to where you were currently, crying as you cradled yourself with your knees to your chest, was probably one of the worst things you’ve experienced throughout your whole twelve years of life.

The regular group of bullies that teased and hurt you had taken it to the extreme, encircling you as they pushed you around and yelled insults at you, eventually grabbing at whatever body limb they could and punching it with as much strength they could muster. At the end, you were covered in bruises and bloody. You were pretty sure your right pinky was broken, it being stepped on by a kid you sure was named Keno.

You limped all the way to your secret hideout, delaying going home as much as you could. You had the plan of cleaning and patching yourself up with the limited supplies you had stashed away before going home late into the night. You were probably going to stay hidden for another hour or so, way past when you’re supposed to be home and were probably going to do that for the next couple of days before you healed completely. You didn’t need either of your parents to fret after your every move if they found out.

What you didn’t know was that your Father had seen you rush out into the thick foliage of the forest, calling out your name, which you didn’t hear. So, he followed you.

Jake had tried his best to stay quiet, expertly stepping over rogue twigs and sticks that were strewn across the forest floor. He kept his breathing steady as he urged forward, staying far enough behind you so that your enhanced senses couldn’t sense his presence but close enough to still see where you were going. He knew that he probably shouldn’t be following you, but his Father instincts were telling him to follow after you. There was something clawing at Jake that told him you were not okay.

Growing up, you told your Sempul everything. There was nothing that you kept from your Father and he felt his heart swell every time you ran up to him, bouncing with excitement as you hurriedly told him everything about your day or something new you just learned in training. He’d always scoop you up in his arms and tickle your belly before lending a listening ear to you, hanging on to every word you spoke. Jake missed the days where you would come to him and just talk. Recently, your visits had become few and far in between. Of course he acknowledged that you were growing older and needed to keep some things to yourself, but he couldn’t help but feel that there was something else that was keeping you from reaching out to your Sempul. And he knew that following you to wherever the hell you were going was most likely going to reveal the reason why. At least, he hoped so. He just wanted to help you. You were his little girl and he’d do anything to make sure that you were safe and sound.

You stopped before a small clearing, discreetly checking over your shoulders in paranoia. You knew that no one had seen you rush out to the forest, but still, you needed to make sure of it before continuing on. Once you were satisfied that no one was around, you continued forth.

Jake wasn’t necessarily shocked to say the least when he saw where you were going. He was pretty sure that some kids came out here to do whatever the hell children did, but didn’t suspect you to be one of them. Lo’ak seemed to the one who would.

A few years back, when still dealing with the aftermath of the RDA’s equipment and all the shit they left behind, the clan had decided to leave alone some of their labs or established campsites, marking it as outskirts of the forest where children were not allowed to visit. And you had claimed the closest one to Home Tree. Well, it wasn’t completely yours but you were the one who frequented it the most so you found it suiting to call it your hideout.

The Olo’eyktan shook his head as he watched you open the metal door with a small grunt, walking inside while holding your side in a pained expression that Jake missed as your back faced towards him.

Every inch of your body ached. You were more than certain that multiple bruises covered your azure skin and that scratches from your bullies' pushes and nails littered its expanse. It sucked. Being treated this way by people who you were supposed to lead one day. Feeling like you weren’t enough to become clan leader when the Great Mother deemed it necessary. It all made you feel like perhaps Neteyam was more deserving of the title, albeit him being only eight years old. In your eyes, he was the perfect image of what a true Na’vi should be. Four fingers on each hand and foot, no eyebrows on his brow bones, and he practically oozed confidence and leadership whereas you, you were you. A five-fingered freak who will only ever be seen as outcast, alien, and a monster. Your entire existence was a reminder of what the sky people did to the natives of Pandora. Of what they stole from them. Of the lives they greedily took. How could you be a leader to people who only ever saw you as such? Who didn’t even want you there in the first place?

“Fuck!” You hissed, hot electric pain shooting up your entire body as you attempted to clean the wounds scattered across your skin. It didn’t help that you only had one working hand as well. It hurt too much to move your right hand, your pinky always wanting to follow its fellow fingers in whatever movement you did. So, you opted to just use your left for addressing your wounds, which was a much harder task than you thought.

Fucking pathetic, you thought, getting angry at yourself. You couldn’t take one little beating without crying and groaning in pain. What kind of future leader are you? You’re supposed to be strong. Take beatings in stride.

You were abruptly pulled from your self-loathing thoughts with a loud cough, making you freeze in your spot. As your eyes slowly traveled to your Fathers figure in the doorway of the metal infrastructure, you knew that you were fucked. Like, really fucked.

Anxiety exploded within your chest, causing you to gulp, trying to swallow it down so you didn’t seem weak in front of your seemingly impenetrable Father. He was everything you wanted to be. Everything you couldn’t be.

“What is this?” He asks, voice surprisingly calm. He hadn’t been able to properly see your figure when he followed you through the dark forest, not seeing the full extent of your injuries. He didn’t even know that you were injured.

“Uh, nothing, just…got done with sparring and needed to clean myself up,” you responded, eyes never meeting those of Jake’s. You knew better not to. For if you did, you’d spill everything that happened to you and how you felt. You could never lie to your Sempul, which is why you tended to avoid him whenever you got into another scuffle with the other children.

Jake puts his hands on his hips as he stands there, not believing your words. You knew he wouldn’t. Your Father was great at knowing whether or not you were telling the truth, the avoidance of his gaze being one of them. His shadow from the door seemed towering and all consuming as it nearly reached your dangling toes from where you sat atop of a metal table.

“Do not lie to me, ‘evenge,” he grumbled, face scrunched into an unreadable expression. “What happened? Why are you bleeding?” He continued, serious concern laced within his voice. Jake didn’t even need to take a handful of steps before he was in front of you, kneeling to match your height.

You refused to speak, eyes looking everywhere except for your Fathers face. You just couldn’t. You needed to be strong, strong heart at this moment. For if you didn’t, you’d feel as if you were too weak for your birthright.

The man in front of you sighed out, moving his head to try to catch your gaze, “Baby girl, please. Tell me what is wrong so Sempu can fix it,” he pleaded. He was so desperate to help you, you could hear it evident in his voice.

You shook your head as tears stung your eyes, tightly screwing them shut to prevent them from spilling out. But, your Father pleaded with you again.

“Please, baby girl. What happened? Why are you hurt?” He softly asked, tears pricking his own waterline as you refused to tell him anything. He felt like he did something wrong for you to not want to tell him what happened. Like he failed at being a Father. Was he not there enough for you? Did he say something to you that made you scared to open up to him? He racked his brain for a million things.

Hearing the crack of emotion within his voice is what persuaded you to break in front of your Father, tears continuously falling down your cheeks as they escaped from the corner of your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jake cooed, bringing you into his arms, now fully seated on the cold floor as he brought you into his lap and wrapped his arms around you, gently running a hand through your hair in hopes to calm you down. Sobs racked your body and Jake felt helpless. He wanted to help you so badly but he couldn’t do anything without knowing the reason you were upset. It broke him to see his little girl like this.

“It’s okay, princess. Whatever it is, I swear Sempu won’t be mad. I just want to make it better,” he whispered, gently and slowly rocking from side to side, something he did frequently when you were a toddler and had trouble falling asleep. It never failed to make you sleepy and passed out in his arms when you were smaller.

Eventually, you caved and told him everything. How mean the other kids are. How they like to pull and tug at your pinky. How they routinely pick at you and beat you. How they beat you an hour prior and probably severely hurt you. How they love calling you colorful names. How small and insignificant they made you feel. You told him how inadequate you felt as the heir to his title. How much of a freak you were and how the People deserve a true leader, someone like Neteyam. How it felt like the whole world was on your shoulders. You let it all out. And by the end, you ran out of tears to cry and your body stopped shaking, hiccups escaping past your lips as you laid there wrapped up in your Fathers arms.

Jake listened as you cried and sobbed out how you felt and what was going on. How you felt like you had to hide what was happening in order to seem strong and worthy of being a leader. How you wanted to be strong like him and Neytiri. How you felt like you needed to deal with all of this on your own in order to feel like you deserved the title of heir to the Olo’eyktan throne. The more you spoke, the more Jake felt his heart break into two. He felt awful for not noticing how you were struggling. He was your Dad, he was supposed to know when you weren’t feeling well and coke comforted you. But instead, he became too consumed with his duties to the clan and neglected you in the process.

“Oh, my little star, I am so sorry,” Jake utters, tears falling down his face as he finally got you to break and bare your troubled spirit to him. He felt saddened at how you felt but angry towards the children who relentlessly teased you about your differences.

“You are not a freak or a monster. You are my daughter. A product of your Sa’nok and I’s love. You are a part of me as you are your Mother. You are a result of a story that will forever be known by the people of Pandora. You are the new hope for the future. You are every part Na’vi as the rest of your siblings. You are the fruit of those who came before you and proof that you are meant to be here, to be the next leader of your people,” he gently said, tone firm and serious. He meant every word that he said.

“Your spirit is strong, so is your heart. Strong heart,” he added, making you pull away from the safety and comfort of his neck to face him. You’d never thought you’d ever hear those two words come from his mouth. You never thought you were worthy enough to bare those words on your shoulders like your Mother and Father did. You felt comforted by his words, validated by them.

“I need you to promise me that you will tell me the next time you ever feel this way again, baby girl,” he commented, bringing up one of his hands as he extended his last finger and balled the rest up into a fist, “Pinky swear it.”.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the action, not knowing what it meant or what you were supposed to do. “A what?” You questioned, voice hoarse from all the sobbing you did.

“A pinky promise,” Jake answered, a small smile on his face, “It’s something humans did back on Earth. They did it to make promises together and ensure that no one breaks it.”.

You nodded in understanding, bringing out your non-injured pinky and wrapping it around your Father’s, giggling as he slightly tugged your intertwined fingers to make sure that the promise you made him was stable and unbreakable.

“You cannot break this promise, ‘evenge, or there will be consequences,” Jake commented, tone mixed with playfulness and seriousness.

“What will happen if I break it, Sempu?” You asked, slight worry laced within your voice. Your Mother always warned you to stay away from tawtute things, or things that were foreign in general. So Jake introducing something human to you made you nervous. A million things ran through your head as to what could happen to you if you broke the promise you just made with your Father, temporarily distracting you from your chaotic thoughts.

Jake smirked, the tip of his fangs poking out from his lips and catching on the flesh of the bottom one. “If you break the greatest oath there is, the pinky promise, then the great toruk will come down and snatch you up!” He exclaimed, head going in between your neck and shoulder to blow raspberries into your jugular, causing you to shriek out a giggle.

Your feeble attempts at trying to push away your Father from your sensitive neck were all for nought, shrieky giggles escaping your lips as he continued his attack on your neck as he brought up his free hand to tickle the side of your stomach, his other one still intertwined with your pinky.

“Okay! Okay!” You panted, finally pushing your Father from your poor neck, “I won’t ever break our pinky promise!”.

Jake laughed at your reaction, smiling as he brought up your still connected pinkies, “Good, I’d hate to lose you to the mighty toruk.”.

You giggled out in response as well, wiggled your small finger from your Fathers much larger and stronger one, placing it back into your lap. You had a big smile on your face, matching the one of your Fathers as he lovingly gazed down at you.

The relaxed atmosphere didn’t last for long though, your face dropping once the painful throbbing in your body returned. You forgot about the events that happened hours prior, your Father being a great distraction. But nothing sweet lasts forever.

Jake seemed to catch onto your now saddened mood, frowning along with you. He hated seeing you in pain, whether that be physically or mentally. He hated it.

“Want me to help you clean up, syulang?” He softly asked, pushing some of your braids away from your dropped face, hooking two of his fingers underneath your chin so you looked up at him.

You only nodded in response, wrapping your arms around the back of your Fathers neck before placing your head on his shoulder, seeking his warmth as comfort. Your body was no longer running on adrenaline and all of your injuries seemed to hit you like an ‘angtsìk. Pain and sleepiness was the only thing you were able to feel in the moment, letting out a little yawn against your Fathers azure skin.

“Okay, baby girl,” he whispered, putting one of his hands behind your head as he began to sit up, “I got you. Just sleep, okay? Sempu’s got you.”.

And sleep you did. You soundly slept as Jake quietly and gently cleaned the blood and dirt off your skin, promising to deal with the children that did this to you. No one would hurt his little girl and get away with it. He’d personally see to it that they won’t.

#avatar #avatar imagine #atwow imagines #avatar x reader #avatar: the way of water #atwow #atwow x reader #atwow x you #angst #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x daughter #jake sully #jake sully imagine #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x you #jake sully x daughter reader #jake sully imagines

[vrisrezis]

Atsv characters taking care of s/o in pain

Fun fact I deal with physical pain a lot bcuz my health is shit. I have been in so much pain I couldn’t even sleep for the last 2 days. Was especially bad today so here’s smth kinda self indulgent.

(Hc portion)

Gwen is insistent on having miguel or jessica check you out to see if they could possibly ease your pain. Miguel is from the future technically, there has to be something. She hates the idea of you being in so much pain you can’t even lie down comfortably, you can’t sit still, you can’t sleep, or even worse if you start crying? She feels awful. She has heating packs to help you ease your pain if it helps, and she keeps you on a strict schedule with taking medication so that your pain is as limited as possible. She does everything she can for you, especially given the lack of knowledge she has on this typa thing.

(Small fic portion)

“I hate seeing you like this” she sighs, kissing you on the forehead, pressing the big heating pack to your stomach. There is instant relief, even if that relief is short lived and your once again reminded of your pain, she still feels you relax. Even if only slightly. “I’m sorry I can’t do more for you.” she frowns, feeling guilt.

“Nonsense” you say, giving her a weak smile, putting a hand on her cheek. She puts her hand on yours, holding it in place on her cheek. “You being here is enough for me. You did everything you could. This is just… how it is, yknow?”

She sighs, taking your hand off her cheek so she can kiss your knuckles. “But it shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I wish I could just take this pain away from you.” she presses her forehead against yours, and for a moment, even if it was brief, you feel peace.

(Hc portion)

Miles is so unsure how he can help you but damn if he isn’t determined as fuck to help ease your pain even if only slightly. He is extremely sympathetic towards you. He genuinely cannot imagine how it must be to constantly go through pain to the point you can’t even get proper rest. He will try to get you to relax your muscles, which can be difficult granted the pain you’re in, but he knows if he’s able to succeed with that you can at least get some sleep. Back massages or even massaging the places that hurt, he’s all on it. Always has medicine with him, might even ask his mom to watch over you for him while he’s gone doing Spiderman stuff, even if just to check on you.

(Short fic portion)

“You didn’t have to do this miles,” you say, chugging down your third dose of ibuprofen today. “Thank you though.” you say, before lying back down.

“Of course I had to do this for you babe!” he says with a roll of his eyes, annoyed you’d even suggest he didn’t have to help you out. “If I can’t be here for you in your time of need, what’s the point in being your boyfriend, your best friend for that matter.” he continues to speak as he lies down next to you. “Roll over.” he commands, which you aren’t quite used to him doing. He’s been acting rather motherly towards you lately, but you can’t exactly blame him with the state you’ve been in.

You follow his orders and do so, and he begins to message your back, and you audibly sigh without meaning to. He laughs as a result, making you laugh too. “Shut up.” you roll your eyes, and he can’t help but laugh even more. “Hey I’m glad you’re just finally relaxing.” he says before kissing the back of your neck.

Somehow you’re boyfriend always knows how to make your agonizing pain a bit more bearable.

(Hc portion)

My man hobie somehow manages to get his hands on morphine. You will not be dealing with this pain on his watch, he will find a way. High key hates the fact you’re going through this and does everything he can to ease it or prevent it. Might talk to you about random shit, about his day or about other people or crazy shit that happened, anything as a means to distract you. Though this can prove to be difficult, hobie has a relaxing voice and he’s able to soothe you no matter how bad your pain is. Might sing ya to sleep with his lovely voice.

(Small fic portion)

Your quiet as you listen to hobie hum. While his music tastes consisted of punk (obviously) he was a bit of a metal head as well, and it’s not that you didn’t like that genre of music but it was far from relaxing. So you had calmly asked hobie if he could please sing something that wasn’t so intense.

Soft shit was not his thing but if it eased your pain, who is he to complain?

He had his arms around you, your head on his chest and you felt it rumble as he quietly sang to you.

“Cariño, eres un amor”

“Something about you babe.”

“Something about you babe”

he finally finishes, and you smile for the first time today.

“Thank you, hobie.” you whisper, and he kisses the crown of your head. “Anytime hun”

(Hc portion)

Pavitr feels terrible omg bless this boy he does everything he can. Buys you a lot of fattening foods as tribute. He knows he shouldn’t make it a habit especially if you’re pain is like constant and happens a lot but he cannot help himself. His baby should not be in pain! Sometimes kisses the spots your in pain and likes to rub the spots in an attempt to soothe you and your pain. Buys a lot of medicine and pain relief creams. May try to distract you with watching movies and stuff, but also will straight up ask you if there’s any other way he can help you. Definitely makes you peppermint tea to help ease your pain.

(Small fic portion)

You drink the last of your tea, placing the empty cup on your end table and lay all the way back next to your boyfriend. He offers to put the cup in your sink and clean it, but you shake your head. “It’s fine I can do it tomorrow.” you say, before resting your cheek on his shoulder, “besides I want you here with me.” you admit, and he smiles at your little confession before wrapping is arms around you in an embrace. “Aww babe!” he says, before smooching you on the cheek with an annoyingly loud, “mwah!”

you laugh as he attempts to kiss you more all over your face, putting your hand on his face and pushing him in an attempt to get him to stop smothering you. “Baby cut it out!” you laugh, “why? I just wanna love youuuu!” he whines, and you giggle, “because I’m trying to watch the movie!”

Your boyfriend sighs before conceding. “Fine.” he says, and you finally turn back to watch the movie.

“Just kidding!” he says quickly, attacking your neck with little kisses this time, making you laugh even harder than before. “Oh babe Cmon!”

He’s just glad he succeeded in distracting you from your pain, for a little while.

#pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr x you #pavitr x y/n #pavitr x reader #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderverse x reader #hobie x y/n #hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy x reader #spiderwoman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader #spidergwen x reader #gwen stacy x you #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader

[mydearesthrry]

right back home to you - h.s.

a/n: had a hard time deciding if i wanted to put this out since im not too happy with the outcome but i wanted to feed u guys. in the future ill probably go back in and edit it but for now i hope you all enjoy this little angsty girl xx im also working on part 2 of love in secret !!!!!!!!!! she should be out fairly soon <3

wc: 4.8k

warnings: none, angst, fluff, flight anxiety

“Hello? ‘M home,” Harry shouted into the cold house. Not that he would even notice, but the air was dull and the atmosphere was still, hues in the normally vibrant house now gray and lifeless. “Baby?” 

“Oh, hi Harry,” A dulcet smile was on her face as she walked around the corner with sweatpants and a baggy hoodie on, a baseball cap on top of her head. She had her dirty and beat up air forces on her feet that Harry loved to make fun of, small dollops of paint on the soles of the shoe. She also had a pair of sunnies that lay stagnant on the dark blue visor, a tell tale sign for Harry that she was going out. “I didn’t hear you come home.” 

Harry hummed, holding his arms out for her to walk into. She did, but only embraced him with half of her body, one arm curling around his waist loosely while the other stayed swaying by her side. In both of their opinions, it was way too short to even be considered a hug, not even close to being an embrace, but Y/N did it purposely. Harry frowned, feeling a twinge of hurt at her unusual lack of affection. “Um… Are y- are y’going out?” 

She laughed falsely, shaking her head and turning her body to face the large windows in their apartment. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” 

Harry was still confused. “What d’you mean?” 

It’s now or never, Y/N thought, and mustered her bravest smile as she pivot turned to face him again. “I’m leaving, Harry. I’m going up to New York to stay with Eliza. I don’t know when I’ll be home, but I’ll be sure to let you know in advance, is that okay?” 

A few beats pass, Harry staring at her in disbelief. “What the fuck? No, no, s’not okay! Why- why are y’leaving? Y’didn’t even tell me? When were you planning on telling me y’were leaving?” 

“I’ve been planning on leaving for a long time, Harry. I was actually meant to leave before you even got home, really, but you’re early.” She sighed, rubbing at her temple and knowing the fight that was about to ensue. 

“Why are y’leaving?” Harry’s voice started to grow in volume, becoming harder and harsher as he tightened his hands into balled fists, trying to channel his feelings in another way rather than yelling at his girlfriend. 

“I’m leaving because I can’t do this anymore, Harry. I cant keep arguing with you every day, it’s just not fair to me. And it’s not fair to you either, really, so I’m just… taking the stress off of the both of us and making the bold decision to leave.” She explains, moving to grab her suitcases from the hallway and roll them into the living room. 

“That’s wha’ this is about? The fight we had last night?” He asks, eyes widening and mouth drying at the sight of her multiple suitcases. 

“Um— not entirely, I guess. I’ve meant to go up to visit Eliza, if you remember, we were going to but you had um— a party, that you needed to attend. So I just decided to book a flight last night after you went to sleep.” She's as quiet as a mouse, her words not staggering but it was physically obvious that she was nervous. 

“So what now? Is that it? You’re just… throwing away four years of my- of our fucking life?” Harry spat. She’d started to shrink into herself quite a bit, sweaty palms running over the now warm black handle of her small suitcase. 

“I’m not throwing away anything, Harry. We had a fight, you and I both said some nasty things, and I’m just going up to my sister's house for a little bit to clear my head. Like I said, I was meaning to go up anyway. This isn’t really about you, Harry, as much as you think it might be. I’ve been miserable here all alone and all I want is to be with someone who I know can provide me with love and attention right now, which is what I need. You need it too.” She tried to hold her ground but the tremble in her soft voice made her feel weak. 

She and Harry had gotten into a multitude of arguments within the past weeks that he had been off tour. It started from little things, like a sock being thrown over the laundry basket and not inside of it, or one of them leaving their dirty tea mugs on the counter when the sink was right there! But as small and insignificant as these things were, they also grew into arguments about bigger issues. One of the more nasty arguments had pushed her to pack her bags and book a plane ride up to her sister’s house in New York. 

The argument on the table this time around was that whenever Harry was home after an elongated amount of time on the road, he would treat Y/N as if she was his friend and not girlfriend of three years. She’d had a problem with this seeing as all she ever wanted him to do was love her and take care of her, and for some reason she couldn’t help but feel he found that hard. 

“Bullshit. I know y’leaving ‘cause your feelings got hurt or whatever, but you know y’don’t have to leave, pup. We can resolve this, don’t we always?” He grumbles, taking a few small steps forward to meet her where she stood by the door. 

“It’s entirely different this time, Harry.” She sighed, bending down to sit on the floor since she knew they’d probably be there for a while. 

“How?! How could this be any fuckin’ different? We’re jus’ arguin’ are we not?” Harry runs a stressed hand through his hair, trying to channel his energy away from his voice. Though he tried to refrain from allowing his anger to seep its way into his voice, his girlfriend could still pick up on the edge that lined his vocal chords. 

“No, baby. We aren’t just arguing. This is me trying to tell you how I feel, and you keep pushing it aside. So this isn’t just us arguing anymore, I guess I’m surrendering. I’m tired of doing this with you whenever you’re home, Harry. I’m alone every day, 24/7, and then you come home and it’s like nothing has changed. Which I love, I love how we can just bounce back, but sometimes I need more love or attention when you come back, and I just…” She starts to gnaw on her lips, trying to word her next thought carefully. “I’m tired of being treated like your friend rather than your girlfriend.” 

“What?” 

“Mhm. Besides me being alone all the time, whenever I do have you— or people around, you only ever want to keep me at arms length. The whole world knows we’re together, Harry. You’ve posted on my birthday and it’s no secret to anyone anymore. I… I just can’t understand why you do that, really. It makes me feel like I’m just your friend and not your lover.” She pauses, inhaling a sharp breath of air and willing her tears away. 

“What do you— what do you even mean? I’m always with you whenever I’m home, I bring y’everywhere w’me?” His anger just kept growing and growing, but this time he noticed that the weight of guilt that was sitting on his heart had gotten heavier with every breath he took, the weight of the pull almost being able to bring him to his knees.

She lets out a wet laugh, shaking her head before dropping it in defeat. “Harry… I hate to bring it up but— you’ve been home for what, three weeks now? We haven’t had sex, we barely have cuddled, you don’t put your arm around me in public or kiss my cheek. I— I feel like I’m losing you. It’s so hard to love you when you won’t let me. I’ve tried to be understanding and just trying to accept the fact that you’re readjusting to our normal life but… I miss you. The only time we talk for longer than a few minutes is when we fight, and that’s not okay. You know how much you mean to me, but I just can’t keep trying to love someone you aren’t anymore. It’s just too destructive to me and I just can’t. I’m sorry, Harry. I hope you can understand, and I’ll be back whenever we’re ready.” 

Harry’s now shaking with sobs. Uncontrollable, messy, heartbreaking sobs. Her words were finally making sense to him. All of the arguments had finally made sense. She was arguing with him just so he would talk to her. He thought he could die with the amount of guilt squeezing his heart right now. 

“I love you, isn’t that enough?” He whispered. 

“I don’t think it is anymore, Harry.” Lifting herself up to her feet, she rolls her suitcase to stand behind her, taking a few small steps to be inches away from her Harry. “I’ll be back, H. I promise.” 

Placing a kiss to his wet cheek, he watched her walk away with a damp smile, and against his will, engrained the image of her leaving to his mind. 

This wasn’t how he imagined they would end. 

He didn’t even entertain the thought of them ever ending; but now he feels like he just lost every single atom of his being in the quickest of moments. 

—

It was hell. 

Harry could say with full conviction that it was absolute hell to be in that house, that big house on the beach, alone. 

Nothing felt right. From the second he woke up in the morning, to the minute he slid his legs under the covers at night, he almost felt nauseous because of how unusual he felt. How unusual everything felt. 

And it was all his fault. 

Picking up his phone, he goes to text his sweet girl again when he decides to scroll up to find the reprieve of gray amongst the sea of blue. 

Harry: Please text me when you land. 

Harry: I love you, please don’t forget that. 

Harry: Take all the time you need, Angel. I’m here if you need me. I’m so sorry.

Harry: I’ll be waiting for you when you get home. Just say the word and I’ll get you a ticket. 

Harry: Take your time though, please be safe. I love you.

Harry: Again

Y/N: just landed. kinda busy rn, talk to you later bug

Harry: That’s okay, be safe. ❤️

Y/N loved this message

Harry: I love you 

Y/N: yeah love you too h

Allowing his head to drop onto the back of the sofa, his arm fell limp onto his thigh, his green eyes scanned the interior of the living room, twinges of pain and guilt panting in his chest whenever he’d land his gaze on something that was proprietarily hers. 

Her growing orchids in a handmade pot that they’d painted together on their first Valentine’s Day as a couple. 

The godawful mirror she thrifted from a random corner store back in her hometown that she begged Harry to put up. 

A small canvas filled with tiny paintings of inside jokes and memorable dates that she gifted to him last Christmas. He allowed himself to trace over that painting for a little longer than the rest of the small things placed among their living room. 

11/29/19. The first time they met. 

1/16/21. When Harry asked her to be his girlfriend. 

4/07/21. The first time they said I love you. 

12/25/22. When Harry surprised Y/N on Christmas with a down payment on a house. The one he was now residing in, alone. 

A red convertible figurine, the car they first kissed in. 

A coffee cup and a teacup, symbolizing the first date they went on, where he learned she hates tea and preferred coffee, which led to an argument on whether coffee or tea was better. 

A small tulip, representing the first bouquet of flowers he ever bought her. 

And a small pearl ring, an exact replica of the promise ring Harry had given her on their 3 year anniversary. 

He didn’t even notice the streaks of tears beginning to run down his face until he felt a teardrop fall onto his inner wrist, making him look down. 

But as he canvassed the room once more, he perked up at the sight of a small snow globe that she brought him back from New York, and that was when he got an idea. He knew it was dramatic, and a bit of a stretch, but who said he wouldn’t go to extreme lengths to get his soulmate back?

Yeah, no one ever. 

To: Eliza

Harry: Hey Liz, got a sec?

—

Harry hated flying alone. 

Since he was a teenager and stepped foot on his first plane, he was anxious even being next to someone he barely knew even though his friends were two seats away. Though he would claim that he’s always been a bit anxious and just chalking it up to flight anxiety, he knew that the real reason why he hated flying alone was because he always feared that something bad would happen on the ground when he was in the air and vice versa, and that was always his greatest vice. 

His hands began to tremble nervously as he looked out the window of the airplane, seeing nothing but fluffy white on the exterior and the soft red light of the aircraft’s wings blinking every so often. His headphones were placed over his head, smushing his curls down flat onto his head, a mask covering the bottom half of his face. His hood was pulled up as well, trying to conceal himself as much as possible. He hadn’t brought much, just a little carry on and a small tote to shove under the seat in front of him. It was wishful thinking that he wouldn’t be there for a long while, but he brought the keys to his apartment in New York anyway. 

He kept his head hung in nausea, the speed of his shaking hands increasing tenfold. The pit in his stomach grew and he had to beg his own body to allow his eyes to not stray to the window next to him. Sure, he could close it, but he feared if it was too dark he would become more anxious than he was right now. The mask covering the bottom half of his face now felt constricting— as if he was being suffocated by the thin layer of fabric. The light douse of perfume that danced around the sunflower print of the mask couldn’t even distract him, and it only pained him more that his senses were fully encompassed by her. He bit down on his lip to distract himself by the whirling feeling of nausea that now swirled around in his throat, willing away the sick that begged to come out.

The rest of the flight was the same, his anxiety only decreasing when he allowed himself to take a small nap. However, when he woke up, his nerves had heightened when he flickered his gaze from the window to the screen in front of him, reading only 20 minutes until he was set to touch down. Grasping his phone from his hoodie pocket, he aligned it to his face then rolling his eyes when he remembered he had a mask on. Lowering his phone he typed in his password— Y/N’s birthday— and pulled up their messages again. 

Harry: Good morning baby. I love you. I hope you have a good day today!! 

Y/N: thanks h love you

He couldn’t lie and say that her being short with him didn’t hurt his feelings, because it did. He wasn’t going to avoid the fact, but that didn’t mean that he liked it regardless. He felt like a fool checking his phone so often, especially when he knew that she wouldn’t be making an effort to reach out first, but he could be hopeful, right? 

At least that’s what he’s telling himself. 

The plane landed safely, nerves rolling off of his back in waves and he was more than happy to leave his flight anxiety on the floor of the plane, relieved to not be miles high in the air. There was a lull that was obvious to Harry, and he felt himself switch to function in autopilot, waiting mindlessly to enter the aisle to retrieve his bag from the overhead compartment. 

The nippy New York air was the first thing to snap Harry out of his trance. Looking down at his phone, he felt a soft buzz and soon after felt his heart beat almost fast enough to eject from his chest. 

Y/N: saw this in a store earlier, thought of u

Y/N: Attachment: 1 Image 

Eliza: waiting near terminal b for you, lmk when you get outside 

Harry: I’m outside, can you see me?

Eliza: yep. be there in a sec

Swiping out of Y/N’s sisters messages, he went to click on Y/N’s before a black car stopped in front of him, averting his attention from his device to the car that just screeched to a halt. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he trudged forward and grabbed onto the door handle, prying it open and avoiding Eliza’s deathly stare. “Um- hiiii.” 

She scoffed. “Hi, H.” 

He throws his tote to his feet, awkwardly buckling himself in and turned in his seat, avoiding eye contact but making sure she knew that conversation was open if she’d wanted to make it. “How— um… How are you?”

Silence follows his words for a few seconds, making him heat up in embarrassment. “Good.” 

“Oh- that’s good… I, um— haven't seen y’in quite a while, Lizzy,” He says softly, guilt evident in his voice. “I missed you.” 

Eliza was basically Gemma’s best friend. They were attached at the hip the first time they met, bonding over being the eldest sisters, and shared secrets. Y/N and Harry’s family had always been interconnected, close with each other even if Y/N and Harry lacked that communication. 

They were basically soul tied in every sense of the phrase. 

“Yeah, I missed you too, H. But,” Eliza starts. “You’ve been a right dick to my sister.” 

“I know,” He whispers. 

“Do you? Fuck, H, my fucking baby sister came to me crying because of you. And you know how much I love you, truly, you know I do, but I love her more. So, I just have to ask,” She pauses, gnawing on her lip and clicking her blinker on to signal her turn. “What the hell happened?” 

“I,” He sniffs, trying to contain his emotions already begging to come out. “I don’t know.” 

Eliza snorts. “Bullshit.” 

“I— I really don’t, Lizzy. I guess I was really in m’head about… well, everything. I lo- love her so much,” Harry’s voice cracks, his facade shattering into more microscopic pieces than the most delicate sheet of glass ever could. 

“I know you do, H. That’s why this is so confusing to me. To Gems. And most importantly, to Y/N. What happened, Curly? How’d we lose you?” She begs, trying to get him to explain where he was mentally. She loved him as she would Y/N, which was the hardest part. It hurt her as much as it hurt him to confront him about the issue. 

“I don’t want her to hate me! Okay?” Harry sobs, chin falling to his chest in weakness. “I don’t want her t’hate me for being away all the time, and I’m so fucking scared. ‘M scared because the press is doing nothing but talking bad about me and I don’t know if I can equally protect her as much as she does me when this happens. When it happens t’me I jus’ ignore it, but I know she can’t do that. I know it, Lizzy, and so d’you.” 

“I know, H. I know.” She whispers. 

“I jus’ wanted to keep her as far away as I could so that if she did decide she didn’t want me anymore, it wouldn’t hurt as bad.” He murmurs so quietly, he himself even doubts if he said it out loud. 

Silence followed the rest of the car ride, the only sound filling the space of the vehicle being the soft splatter of rain on the glass windows and windshield, paired with the crackly static of the stereo. The sun even seemed to be hiding away, the sky dark with clouds, little to no light making an appearance to greet Harry’s arrival. 

Pulling up to her driveway, Eliza parked the car, keeping her ignition on so she could drive away after Harry got into the house. Turning to Harry, she chewed on her bottom lip as she traced his side profile with her eyes. “You need to tell her exactly what you told me. Word for word, Harry. You can’t keep her in the dark. She doesn’t even know I went to pick you up. So, just promise me that you’ll tell her exactly what you told me.” 

“I promise.” Harry’s voice cracked in a broken whisper, vocal cords thrumming against each other as if they were rusted. “Love you, Lizzy. Thank you.”

Stepping out of the car, he knocked on the door thrice, and tapped softly on the doorbell for good measure. His hands had gone cold with anxiousness, but he wrote it off as the stark cold weather of New York. 

“Harry? Oh my god, baby, get inside,” Y/N pulled him in immediately, pushing his thick puffer jacket off of him that was shiny with rainwater, hands coming up to pull his baby blue beanie from his hair, revealing his soft curls. They shared no words as she pulled him to the living room, where she sat the both of them down and covered the length of their torsos and legs with a big fluffy blanket. Y/N didn’t waste a second before she threw her legs over his thighs, grabbing his hands and rubbing over the cold and cracked red skin, trying to exude as much warmth from her own as much as she could. 

She’s always been warm. 

Her hands have always been graced with heat and more significantly, she always tended to carry around an aura as sweet as honey and as warm as a hug with her wherever she went. Bringing their hands up to his lips, he presses kisses all over the back of hers, kissing her knuckles and fingertips that moved erratically over his own. She could feel the dry chap of his lips on her hands and down to her wrists but she didn’t care. She didn’t mind one bit. She would rather commit the feeling of his lips on her hands to memory rather than not know what they felt like at all. 

“What’re you doing here, baby?” She asks, concern etched in her face as she lifts her head to look at him, her movements on his hands not staggering or slowing. 

“Came t’see you,” He whispers weakly. “Couldn’t bear it. I need t’see you, hold y’again… Fuck, do jus’ about anything to be near y’again.” 

Her heart twisted with the most intense emotion that she could only describe as heartbreak. “You— you got on a plane by yourself just to come see me?” 

“Would do jus’ about anything f’you, sweet girl. Of course I would go on a plane jus’ by myself if it meant I could hold you.” He admitted. He avoided eye contact with her, keeping his eyes trained on their conjoined hands that now lay stagnant on the soft fabric of the blanket. 

“Harry,” She whispers. “Why are you here, my love?” 

“I felt too guilty t’let you leave like that,” He says, gnawing on his bottom lip to will away the tears begging to escape. “I couldn’t let y’go without telling y’I loved you. And I didn’t…” He pauses, struggling for air as he over explained. “I didn’t even explain m’self. I didn’t tell you I loved you. I didn’t kiss y’back. I didn’t even tell y’to be safe.” 

He’s fully sobbing now, Y/N tracing his side profile with his eyes, jittering with fear and anxiety. “It’s okay, hey, baby, listen,” Grabbing his chin with the tips of her fingers, she turns his head to hers, resting his forehead atop of hers. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I just needed time to think and I didn’t want to lash out on you because I didn’t have time to. We’re okay, baby. I promise.” 

He shook his head while she spoke, tears falling on the fluff of the blanket with every movement. His eyes were clenched as if he was in pain, and uneven erratic breaths fell from his mouth. “Nonono. I should— should’ve listened to you. I did- didn’t mean t’treat y’like tha’,” Harry’s accent had gotten heavier with how much emotion he was feeling, stumbling over his words as if he was drunk. 

“And I should’ve explained myself more. It’s not your fault, H. Please baby, breathe,” She begged, tightening her grip on his hands as she pleaded with her nose slotted next to his, every whispered beg pushing her lips forward to lightly brush against his raw-bitten ones. “There, that’s it.” 

His breaths began to even out, just the slightest bit. His hands still shook dramatically, veins in his neck that once protruded from the force of his cries now retracting. “I’m sorry.” 

“Harry, stop apolog-“ 

“No. I have t’say this before I leave because if I don’t, I don’t think I ever will. I— I didn’t mean t’push y’away. I was trying to protect m’self but I didn’t see that it was hurting y’too. It wasn’t my intention, and now I realize it wasn’t the right thing t’do.” He sniffles, pulling back from her face to hold eye contact for the utmost emphasis on his words. 

“I tried to keep you far away because if you ended up resenting me for being away all the time it would hurt less if you decided to leave me. Paired with everything that’s being said in the media about m’right now, I tried t’keep y’as far away as I could so that if everything came crashing down on me, I would’ve had to cope with losing y’less than everything else. And I kept picking fights with y’so that if— or when y’got too fed up w’me, you’d leave me yourself instead of something else forcing y’to leave me. I think it was all subconscious, seeing how I freaked out on y’when y’told me you were leaving. I guess I didn’t really prepare myself for when it was really going t’happen. I’m really, really sorry, Angel. I really do hope y’can forgive me.” 

She’s silent. It scares him, he can’t lie. He takes her silence as an answer and pulls his hands from her grasp and moves her legs softly off of his thighs, standing up and brushing off his pants in an attempt to stall. She’s still mute, and he takes it as his cue to go. There’s still tears streaming down his face, but they’re silent. Like he doesn’t even want to acknowledge that they’re falling at all. 

“I love you.” He whispers, before turning and walking to the door. Placing his hand on the knob, he turns it, and his heart follows the motion with a sharp twist that he thinks he feels in his entire body. He’s gnawing in his lip to avoid breaking down in front of her, even though she’s arguably seen him at his worst and most vulnerable times. Opening the door, he’s greeted with the harsh cold air, biting at his skin so aggressively he feels like his tears have now frozen to his face. Bearing the pain, he forced himself to take the step out the doorway and onto the porch, on autopilot as he let his feet decide his motions. 

“Harry, wait,” Y/N pleaded, running out behind him, meeting him in the middle of the driveway in nothing but tiny shorts and a stolen crewneck of his that she'd haphazardly stuffed into her luggage. “I love you. I love you more than I could probably ever explain, and I— I just need you to know that. If you’re done with me or done with this, that’s okay, I just need you to know that I love you.” 

“I love you. Always.” He whispers, lips trembling with sadness. 

“You know I always will, right?” She asks, placing a warm hand onto his wet and cold cheek.

“I know, baby. I do.” He says. 

“I’m here whenever you want me. I promise.” She pleads, coming up to reach his lips, placing a soft kiss to his cold ones. 

“Come home, please.” 

“Always, H. I’ll always come right back home to you.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles imagines

[lanadelnegan]

Crush - Part 2

Gym Teacher Negan x Female Reader

read part one here

Summary: Coach Negan finds you smoking and decides to punish you.

Warnings: smut, 18+, nsfw, extreme sexual tension, smoking, choking, rough face-fucking, negan degrading you, praising you and calling you "good girl"

final part coming soon!

The majority of your final week of high school has been spent replaying the imagine of your teacher fisting his cock in his hand while moaning your name.

Your feelings are still slightly hurt from the comment he made before you hurried out of his office that day, but you've had a few days to recover from it. You've found that smoking cigarettes helps calm you down, so you find a way to sneak off a couple times during your school day to light one up.

You lean your head against the brick wall outside of the gym as you blow a trail of smoke from your mouth, daydreaming of your new favorite memory. You'll be late to P.E. again, but what's new.

You've dodged Negan as much as possible the last two days, avoiding any possibility of him bringing up the awkward moment of you walking in on him. As far as he knows, you've forgotten all about it. Although that couldn't be further from the truth.. it's all you think about actually. Especially at night in bed when you touch yourself.

You feel an ache between your legs as you stand with your back against the cold brick wall. You have to physically restrain from touching yourself right there until the sound of the gym doors swing open, grabbing your attention.

When you turn your head, Negan's eyes are on you as he saunters towards you. You secretively hold the cigarette down by your side, not wanting to draw his attention to it.

"Being late is one thing. But smoking on school property? Have you lost your damn mind?"

"You've done worse." You say, blowing the puff of smoke you were holding in your mouth directly on his face. He grins sarcastically, placing his right hand above your head on the wall.

"Such a smart ass little mouth."

Your gaze drops to his lips when he speaks, and the smell of his minty breath makes your knees weak. His grin widens knowingly at the sight of you staring at his mouth before he reaches for your cigarette, stealing it from your fingers and bringing it to his own lips. He draws in a breath, inhaling the smoke before blowing it out directly into your mouth. Your lips part slightly, accepting it without hesitation.

Somehow it feels even more intimate than kissing, as you breath in each other's air and gaze lustfully at one another. His hazel eyes drop to your mouth as his body leans closer, trapping you against the wall.

You can feel his hard bulge through his jeans and you cry on the inside, wanting to slap him for not choosing to wear basketball shorts today.

You slowly reach for the front of his pants, but he grabs your wrist gently, pushing it against the wall beside you. He brings his mouth close to your ear and the side of his neck is temptingly close to your lips. You imagine darting your tongue out and licking it, wondering what his skin tastes like.

His deep, raspy voice fills your ear, sending chills down your body to your toes. "If I catch one of these in your mouth again..." He drops the cigarette, crushing it under his shoe. "I'll replace it with something much bigger. And as pleasing as that probably sounds to you, I will not make it enjoyable."

Your body visibly shutters at his words and he backs away, leaving you shaky and desperate.

"Get it together, y/l/n." He chuckles, suddenly back in character and putting on his best Coach Negan voice while entering the gym doors.

Fuck. You gather yourself enough to follow behind him a few minutes later. When you enter the gym, your peers are lined up on the court doing their stretches and you fall into place, finding a spot in the back. You sit down, stretching your legs apart and out in front of you while leaning forward and struggling to reach your toes with your fingertips.

Negan approaches you chuckling. "Oh, darlin'.. I know you can stretch further than that." He crouches down directly in front of you. "Need some motivation? I'm right here... Reach for me, doll." He taunts, whispering the last part for only the two of you to hear.

You lock eyes with him and reach forward, finally grabbing your toes as your face comes closer to his. "That's my good fuckin' girl." He smirks proudly before standing to his feet and cockily walking off.

Your face reddens as you feel more wetness pool in your panties. You've never been so horny and desperate for a man's cock in your life and it almost brings you to tears. Knowing how big and thick he is behind his jeans just makes you crave him more and you can't help but stare. He's bigger than any boy you've been with before and you know he would obliterate you.

"Something on your mind, y/n?" He calls out, making your classmates turn their heads to look at you. Your eyes widen and he winks at you, resting his hands on his hips.

"No sir." You say back, avoiding his gaze.

"Alright, we're gonna do something fun today since tomorrow is sadly our last day together." Negan announces, looking towards you at the end of his sentence. Your heart aches a little at this words.

Since tomorrow is sadly our last day together.

"Since only a handful of you showed up today, we're gonna do a scrimmage game." He bounces the basketball lazily while he goes over the rules, and your heart races with nervous excitement.

He chooses a team captain to play against him as they both take turns choosing their players. You wait patiently for Negan to say your name, but find yourself disappointed when moments pass and the others have been picked while you and the only other girl in class stand alone.

To even more surprise, Negan says the other girl's name while simultaneously grinning at you and you scrunch your brows at him angrily.

Okay. If that's how he wants to be.

"Man to man." Negan says, not taking his eyes off of you, claiming you as his.

Negan disappears into the locker room to change and you practically drool when he comes back out in basketball shorts and a white t-shirt.

Your team has the ball as you stand close by the goal next to Negan, who casually guards you. Neither one of you are that into the game, but more focused on teasing each other.

Negan stands directly behind you, pressing his body lightly against yours and you let yourself sink into him. His mouth leans next to your ear like before and all you want is to reach your hands behind you and feel him.

"Pay attention, doll. You seem distracted."

You don't have time to respond before your teammate passes you the ball and you turn, trying to shoot. Negan keeps his hands by his sides as he lets you attempt your shot.

Surprisingly you make it and you look to Negan, expecting him to talk trash, but instead he grins proudly.

"That's my fuckin' girl."

He says, running past you to the other side of the court. You follow him closely and his player passes him the ball quickly. Negan steps back, bouncing the ball and giving you the chance to get in front of him.

He bites his lip, loving your enthusiasm as you're determined not to let him score. When he attempts to go past you, you step in front of him and push your body into his roughly but it only causes you to lose your balance and stumble. You grab onto the front of his shirt, bringing him down with you as he falls on top of you, catching himself with his hand before crushing you.

His mouth is right above yours as he smirks. He goes to stand up, not wanting to make a scene in front of everyone, and subtly thrusts his hips into you before standing to his feet and lifting you up with him.

"Well obviously that's a foul, guess I get a free throw." He stands at the line to shoot, but misses the first shot, shocking all of you since he never misses unless it's on purpose.

"Something on your mind, coach? You seem distracted." You tease and he shoots you a warning glare.

He makes the next shot, looking to you. "Not at all. Takes a lot to get my attention." He smiles, running past you.

The game comes to an end when he makes the winning shot.

"And that? is how it's fucking done." He laughs, dismissing you all for the day.

Your classmates head to the lockers to collect their things and you follow behind them before Negan stops you, grabbing your wrist.

Your pulse races at the two of you being the only ones left standing in the gym.

"Don't be a sore fuckin' loser, baby." He teases, looking down at you.

"Maybe I let you win."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just fuckin' better than you." His head tilts as you look into his flirty eyes before pushing past him and joining the other girl in the locker room.

"He wants you bad." The girl says, changing into her clothes.

"What?" You ask, sitting on the bench next to her.

"Coach Negan.. It's so obvious, don't play dumb." She laughs annoyed before grabbing her bag and leaving.

You watch her leave, wondering if you two were really that obvious. Does everyone else see it too?

You decide to undress, turning on one of the showers and taking advantage of the empty locker room while you can. Most of your friends can't wait for school to be out, but the thought of never coming back here makes you depressed.

You light a cigarette to make yourself feel better, taking a few puffs while you lean against the side of the shower and wait for the water to heat up.

You press your cigarette into the counter, laying it there for later as you step into the hot shower. You lean against the wall, letting the water run over you as your favorite image floods your mind. Your hand drops to your pussy, finding your clit and rubbing slowly, imagining Negan between your legs.

"Negan.." You moan out, opening your eyes and quickly jerking your hand away when you lock eyes with Negan, who’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed disappointedly.

"Wanna explain?" He asks and you blush as you try to cover yourself unsuccessfully.

"I was - I just.." You stutter, looking down at yourself.

"Not that. Hell, I was even gonna let you finish." He explains before holding up your cigarette. "This.. remember what I said?"

You nod, gulping noticeably as your heart beats hard with anticipation of your punishment. He flicks the cigarette in the trash before stepping in the shower with you and you back away slightly, giving him room.

"What are you waiting for then? On your fuckin' knees."

You stare at him wide-eyed, watching the water soak through his white shirt as it clings to him, revealing his toned body and dark chest hair. You slowly drop to your knees, trying to get comfortable in the small shower as your ass rests against the back of your legs.

"Take it out, sweetheart." He says, staring down at you as you obey him and pull his pants down to his ankles and off his feet, not taking your eyes off his hard length in front of your face. You eagerly lean forward to take him in your mouth, but his hand grips the back of your hair, urging you to look up at him.

"Not so fast, remember this is a fuckin' punishment, doll." You try looking up at him but the water sprays against his stomach and onto your face.

He grips the base of his cock, guiding it to your mouth and tapping the tip against your lips until you open for him. He pushes past your lips as your mouth stretches around him and you moan, closing your eyes as the water runs down your face.

His hands rest behind you on the shower wall as he leans over you, thrusting his hips and pushing himself deeper down your throat each time. You gag around him and try to pull your head back but his hand falls to your head, holding you in place.

"You're gonna take all of me, baby." He breathes out heavily, holding your head down until your nose is pressed into his soft dark curls. You struggle, unable to breathe as his length completely obstructs your airway.

You push on his thighs, panicking as your eyes water. He finally pulls back, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at him as he bends down, hovering his face over yours.

You inhale a deep breath, taking in all the air you can get while you have the opportunity. Water drips off his wet hair, running down his face as he stares at you through dark, wet lashes.

He's so fucking pretty. You think to yourself as he grins, squeezing your face tighter.

"You are so fuckin' pretty like this." He says, echoing your own thoughts. "I am no where near down with that mouth, doll. I've waited so long so see you take my cock. Gonna fuck your face until I goddamn ruin you." He whispers aggressively before spitting directly into your mouth.

You swallow his saliva, secretly loving his roughness. He notices your slight grin and his face turns cold and serious.

"You enjoying this, sweetheart?"

You nod desperately, eager for him to use you.

"Can't have that, baby. Guess I'll have to try harder, huh?"

Fear washes over you, not knowing what's to come as he suddenly leans back up into his original position.

Without warning, he slams your head back against his cock completely, making you choke around him. His other hand is back against the wall behind you as guides you using your hair and roughly fucks your face. He angles your head back slightly, letting the shower waterboard you and you struggle.

He thrusts into your mouth relentlessly, until your jaw aches and you turn almost blue from lack of oxygen.

“Fuck” He grunts, pulling his dick out of your mouth quickly at the sight of you almost passing out, before squeezing his large hand around your throat and pulling you up off your knees.

You feel dizzy and disoriented, but he presses his body against yours, pinning you to the wall to hold you up. "Hey, breathe, baby. Breathe." He lightly slaps your face as you slowly regain consciousness.

Once he knows you're okay, he wipes the mascara running down your cheeks with his thumbs and grins proudly at you.

"You gonna touch another fuckin' cigarette?"

You shake your head no, trying to slow your breathing and calm down.

"Good girl." He praises you. "Finish up and get dressed, doll. Don't want your parents wonderin' where the hell you are."

You hear him chuckle as he exits the locker room with a towel wrapped around him, leaving you with panting and aching painfully between your legs.

And you realize.. that’s the real punishment.

Final part coming soon :)

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #jdmorgan #jdm x reader #negan fanfiction #twd negan #jdm fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jdmfanfiction #negan smith #negan imagine #negan smith x reader #negan x reader #negan smut #negan x you #negan au #the walking dead negan #twd #negan fanfic #jeffrey dean morgan x you #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jeffrey dean morgan fanfiction #jdm smut #jdm fanfic #jdm imagine #daddy negan

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

Passion Hurt Pt 2 - LN

Part 1 here

Summary: Y/n Vettel has made it to F3, pressure is there being one of the only girls and the younger sister of a legend leaves her feeling pressure she hoped to avoid. Dating an F1 driver doesn't help with the scrutiny. However, reality likes to slap people in the face even when it's the last thing they need.

There was no doctor's approval for her to get back in the car for the last race. She'd well and truly lost the F3 championship anyway but not being able to finish the season has ruined everything for her.

Lando can't reach her to pull her out the depth of her hurt.

Tensions have been growing and they're both struggling with it.

"Baby, there is always next season-"

"What if there's not? What if it hurts too much? What if I crash again? What if the doctors say no?" Y/n snaps stepping back when Lando tries to hold her. "Don't touch me. I'm fine."

Her hands are flat against the counter as she takes some heavy breaths. It's not the first time she's struggled to breath and felt pain. The doctors said it can happen in the recovery of a collapsed lung. But her rejection of Lando's help stings.

"I don't know what I can do for you, y/n. I just want to help and you're pushing me away." Lando admits hating that he's being so vulnerable about it. But he needs to keep the communication open and he knows that.

"There isn't anything you can do." Y/n mutters then opening her eyes after having closed them to try and endure the pain. "I think I'm going to visit my brother for a bit."

Aka leave Lando and no attend at least the next race with him. But with no specific time frame, Lando knows he might be saying goodbye to the most important relationship in his life right now.

-

The whole team could tell there was something off with Lando. Singapore was good weekend but it really started to show in Lando's attitude out of the media that he's struggling without y/n there and while they've continued to be in daily contact.

It's not like it once was and that is making his chest begin to ache.

The Media begins to notice by Qatar that y/n is very much absent and Lando is really beginning to rip into himself, using his driving in Qatar and the deleted lap time for qualifying as a reason but those truly close to him know what this sadness and harsh attitude on himself is about.

"You have tortured him enough, y/n. You should be there for him." Seb states while y/n remains curled up on his sofa. "You miss him and we can all see that you only left because you don't want him to see you hurting."

Y/n swallows thickly, her whole body feeling so impossibly empty. She loves her brother and he does well to comfort her but he's not Lando and she realised in less than 24 hours after being there that life sucks without him.

"Go to him." Seb demands making her finally sit up and nod knowing her brother, annoyingly as many times before, is right.

-

Lando isn't usually the type to wait at an airport but when he got the tearful phone call from y/n asking if she could come and be with him. He jumped at the opportunity to see her.

And when he spots her, she is running towards him. Her body slamming against his and tensing in physical pain but it doesn't stop her kissing him several times.

"I'm an asshole. I'm so sorry. I'm so so so sorry." Y/n states kissing again.

"Don't be so harsh on yourself, baby. You've done enough of that." Lando sighs while y/n swallows thickly leaning back to properly look at him for a moment. "Please don't cry."

"I'm trying not to...but I body slammed you and it kind of really hurt." Y/n laughs a little earning a smile. "Have I mentioned how much life sucks when you're not around?"

"No, but it makes me feel a lot better." Lando admits earning a small laugh. "F1 has missed you, baby. All the boys have been asking where you are and what you're doing...if you're ok."

"So what I'm hearing is, everyone prefers me over you." Y/n jokes before giggling.

-

Y/n's reappearance in the paddock for the firs time since her accident. Everyone, and I mean everyone, was eager to see her. From the fans to the media to the drivers themselves.

"Y/n is back, you seem happier than ever. How is it having her back at the races?" The media asks making Lando nod and smile.

"I've missed her so much but I think she did need some times away to rest and just find a way to get over losing out on the F3 title. It really hurt her and being around this, it was hard." Lando admits since he'd talked to y/n and she said it was fine for him to address it.

"I think we all know that y/n has been the best driver in F3 and her crash was nothing of her own doing-oh y/n! Y/n! Could we pull you in for a chat with Lando?" The interviewer asks spotting y/n walk up to the entrance of the media pen clearly waiting for her boyfriend.

"Baby, come on. They want to talk." Lando smiles before she moves taking his hand then flushing when Lando holds her waist gently to keep her in front of him.

"Y/n, Lando was just telling us how you're feeling. But it's always good to hear straight from you. How are you? And where have you been these past few weeks?"

"I've actually been with my brother, Seb. But I'm feeling much better, still sore and the doctors still want me to take it easy, but I'm definitely going to hopefully be back next season. So watch out for that." Y/n nods though she doesn't know for certain and it's going to devastate her if she doesn't make it.

"That's great to hear. We were all very worried when we heard no response on your radio. It had Lando here very upset."

"Yeah, I haven't actually...uhhh...seen any of the footage like onboard, from the broadcast or anything. So I haven't actually got to see anything that happened. Guess I have some catching up to do." Y/n laughs a little before clearing her throat and shifting then feeling Lando's hold tighten on her a little to try and encourage her not to lose her confidence. "But yeah, just building back up to health."

-

It took a lot of talks, a lot of conversations and at some points y/n had her doubts over her physical progress and recovery allowing for her to race at all in 2024.

But...

"Mark the date down, because today is the day is has been announced that Y/n Vettel is driving for Prema racing in Formula 2 for 2024. Apparently the seat was completely dependant on her physical health but with doctors have said she's good to race and the FIA are happy to give the go ahead. What we all want to know is how long is it till she's in an F1 seat and could she be racing against her own boyfriend within a couple years too?"

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #norris #lando norris fanfic #Lando Norris one shot #lando norris fluff #formula 1 imagine #mclaren #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren racing #mclaren f1 #ln4 #ln4 fic #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #formula 3 #formula 2 #formula 3!reader

[punching-pentagrams]

Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 12

Hey! I'm so sorry that this chapter took a while! This week was a lot and smut takes a lot of energy for me to write because I care about the details and all. But now it is here! Also, I was gonna put a more cute/loving gif of Lucifer for for this one but then I saw this was and I couldn't stop laughing, so here we are. Enjoy~

Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|Chapter 6|Chapter 7|Chapter 8|Chapter 9|Chapter 10|Chapter 11|Chapter 12 (FINAL CHAPTER)

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 5.3 k CW: Slowburn, Angst, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, depression, anxiety, insecurity, kissing, SMUTTTT (penetration, oral, handjobs, sub/dom, sex toys)

By the end of the day, all your things had been moved over to the hotel. Lucifer had offered to put your things in his room, but you had asked for your own, both because you wanted to have your stuff separate for now... and part of you wanted a separate place to be if you after Lucifer ever had issues come up. You didn't anticipate it happening, but the anxiety that came with a new relationship, especially your first healthy one, left you needing some time to adjust. Lucifer, being the good man that he was, respected it, but not without a little pouting, but you reassured him that you would still be spending every night sleeping by his side.

By the end of the day, you were tired, and honestly, so was Lucifer. The physical and emotional toll of the day had caught up to the both of you and you went to bed early that night. Snuggling up in each other's arms.

The next morning, Lucifer woke up early, excited, with a plan for the day. Lucifer got up and got dressed for the day, gave you a swift kiss on the lips as you laid half awake in bed and whispered, "I have some things I need to do today, but see you later. Ok? You're booked out with me starting dinner time, got it?" You nodded sleepily. He kissed you again, deeper this time. "I love you, Duckie." And then he left to go pick up supplies for his plan with you later.

A little bit later, you finally woke up and laid in Lucifer's- Lucifer and YOUR's bed... that would take some while to get used to. You heard a faint sound of commotion down in the lobby. You decided to get up to see what all the commotion was about, throwing on a basic shirt and shorts. It had been forever since you had gotten to have a slow day and wear clothes that weren't required to make you look like a sex toy, the change was really nice.

You skip downstairs to come face to face with a couple of familiar faces... some of your friends from the brothel! Gemma, Natalie, and Katrina, had all come also wanting to move into the hotel and give redemption a try. They saw how Lucifer and the others had fought for you, and they wanted in on that kind of support, even if they were still going to work at the brothel. You hugs them all and cried happy tears.

"You, uhhh... wouldn't be willing to spare one more hug, would ya, Babydoll?" You turned around at the familiar voice to see Larry standing behind you.

"Larry!" you hugged him, "What are you doing here?"

"Well.." he said sheepishly, "Truthfully, I've been losing the heart to run that brothel over the last several decades... Although business is already up a lot since it got out the Lucifer used my place, haha! We will see what happens... I am still running it, but... I might not be trying to find any new girls is all. Learning about this hotel here... gave me something else to try out... if... you are ok with me being here... that is..."

You smiled at Larry and hugged him again, "Of course I am! Every sinner is welcome here! Just one thing though... my new boyfriend might not be too fond of you calling me Babydoll anymore."

Larry laughed, "Fair enough, wouldn't want to upset him, I already know what that looks like, yeeshh," he said playfully pulling at his collar, "How about just 'doll'?" You nodded with a laugh, "That should work". You helped Larry and the other girls move in most of the day. Luckily you were distracted enough that you did not see Lucifer pop in and out the the hotel several times with supplies.

Eventually it came dinner time and you went off to your own room, to shower and get dressed for the event with Lucifer that night. You walked into your room to find a beautiful black and red dress with matching shoes and a bag next to it with a note saying:

Got you a little something for our first official date, I hope you like it. Love, Luci <3

Your heart swelled, you had no idea how your life had ended up like this, but you were the happiest you had ever been. You sighed happily and went to take a quick shower, did your hair with simple makeup and put on the dress. It fit your dimensions perfectly, like scary perfectly, and had no tag.

Did he have this made for you? This was going to be a lottttt to get used to, you were dating a King. Oh my god, you were dating a King. No... you were dating Lucifer, he could have been a sinner just like anyone else and it wouldn't matter to you. He could fall to an even darker pit of Hell and you would follow him. This must have been how Lilith felt all those years ago. You finished getting ready and you heard a knock on your door at your usual time.

You went to go open the door and saw Lucifer standing in front of you, wearing a more simple suit that was still just as sexy as his normally outfit, but with more black and red details to match you. As you catch his view, he catches yours, and you both look at each other with jaws agape as you take in each other's beauty. Lucifer was so happy that the dress fit you, and in all. the. right. ways. He gave you a prideful smile.

"I'm glad I got the measurements correct," he said with a smirk.

"So it was custom made, how did you know my dimensions?" you smirked back at him.

Lucifer raked his eyes up and down your body, "I'm just... good with spacial awareness." He wiggled his eyebrows.

You chuckled and nodded with a cheeky smile, "Wow, I never thought such a nerdy sentence could sound so hot~" you purred.

Lucifer got a little flustered, "Oh shut up," he grabbed your hand and putted you into a deep kiss. You two stood in the kiss and embrace for a few minutes before Lucifer pulled away, breathing heavily.

"I don't want to get too ahead of myself, we have an itinerary to keep to" Lucifer says as he taps his cane on the floor. Before you can ask what he meant, he teleports the both of you to a secluded room with large windows that overlook the Pride Ring, music softly playing in the background, Swan Lake.

You looked at the view and smiled, "All this for me?" you ask.

"Oh this is just the beginning of our night, my love. And yes, you deserve this and much much more," he kissed both of your hands before taking you to your chair. You and Lucifer ate dinner together, spent hours listening to music, flirting, and eventually got up and started dancing together. This made Lucifer think about how things used to be with Lilith, but he could appreciate that it was different, it was with you.

He dips you and kisses you deeply, running his hands down your frame. His body had been aching for yours all day during the preparations for the night, but he knew he had to be patient just a little longer. We wanted so desperately to claim you, but also, to fill you with all the love and pleasure that he could muster. It was the least you deserved.

Lucifer pulls his head back to be able to look at you as you look up at him, his eyes full of love as he smiled down at you, "I love you my darling, and from this day on, I will make sure you never go a day in your life where you doubt that."

You felt tears well in your eyes, "I love you too, King of Hell, King of my heart. I will do everything in my power to be by your side and love you." You kiss him again as he ends the dip, standing you back upright.

"Are you ready for the rest of the evening?" He said with some flirty mischief in his eyes, wiggling his eyebrows again.

You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, "Oh I am."

Lucifer tapped his cane and you both teleported back to the hotel, in front of your door. "I have one more outfit for you tonight, get changed and come to our room in ten minutes," he asked trying to hide the excitement in his eyes at his plans for you. You nodded.

Lucifer kisses you again, deeper than all of the others, barely able to keep himself from taking you right there in the hallway. He parts and walks back to the room he called both of yours. You smiled and watched him walk away before going into your room. On the bed was another new outfit, who had put that there while you were gone? It was Angel, Angel wanted to help

On your bed, was a simple but elegant robe, the type of robe you would find at a spa or something, and nothing else. What was he up to? Before putting on the robe you also put on a set of lingerie that you had gotten a while ago, just for him to see if he had ever wanted to have sex with you back when he was still paying for your time, but now he got to see it for free, and that made you even happier.

You slipped on the robe, and after ten minutes, you walked down to your shared room with Lucifer and knocked on the door. Lucifer called for you to come in, and you opened the door to the room filled with lit candles, rose petals on the floor, a table over on the side that had stuff on it covered in a cloth, and Lucifer standing near the side of the bed, also wearing a robe that matched yours, this hat and cane off to the side. All you were able to see was his chest exposed down to the V in the robe and his black arms up to his elbows and his black legs to to the knee where they started to transition to white.

You laughed as you walked into the room towards Lucifer, "What is all this?"

Lucifer looked you over, Hells he wanted to rip that robe off of you, "Well... I wanted this all to be special. I know I could just toss you on the bed and probably have my way with you but... I want this to feel different... I don't this to feel like just another job... I want it to feel like love."

His words left a pang in your heart, you got close and cupped his face "You don't have to do all of this for me to feel like that, everything about you makes this feel like love... frankly... I struggled most of the time to see you as just a client... after a while I hated that you were because I wanted for it all to be real."

"Just for both of us to find out it was real the whole time," he said as he nuzzled into your hand, "I love you, and I'm going to spend the reset of the night and every day after showing you just how much I do." Lucifer then pulled you into a deep kiss. Both of you start to explore each other's bodies with your hands a little before Lucifer stops you again.

"Hells, you make it so hard to stop, but I have a plan here," he clears his throat, he is already shaking a little out of excitement and nerves, "You have spent a lot time using your body for others and I want to make you feel good, so I was going to give to a message. Does that sound ok?"

You melted, hell he was sweet and really hot, how could he possibly get more hot? "That sounds amazing actually..."

Lucifer's eyes lit up, "Great! And then uhh... whenever we move on to other activities... I may have uhh... gone with Asmodeus to get like... a bunch of new toys! Hahah... we don't have to use them now, if you don't want to. I just wanted us to have options..." he said pointing over at the covered table on the side.

You looked over at the table and then back at him with lust and mischief filled eyes, tucking a hair behind his ear, "We should probably get the massage started before I start perusing those toys," you purred.

Lucifer's face turn red and his loins stir, he gulps hard as he walked you over to the bed. As you laid down, you looked at Lucifer as you slowly shrugged off your robe and tossed it to the side, leaving you in only your lingerie as you laid down on the bed with your back and ass to the sky. Lucifer raked his eyes across your body and gulped hard again, this is the first time he had seen you this exposed since the night you met, and the memories alone did not do you justice.

He jumped up on the bed beside you, swiping your hair away from your back and covering his hands in massage oil before starting to rub into your back, and beginning his goal of feeling every inch of your body with his hands. He started to work his way down your shoulders, neck, lower back, and it felt amazing for him to touch and for you to experience.

As he moved his hands around your curves, he looked for points of tension and pain, and used a little magic to help in aiding his hands in relaxing you and making your body feel good. His touch feels incredible to you, even without the magic, and you can't help but moan and sigh as he worked your muscles. The attention he gave your back alone was already enough to get you turned on, even though you already had been pretty turned of from all the kisses, but you felt yourself starting to get more wet.

Lucifer held back a moan as he hear you start to sigh at the pleasure of his hands on you. He loved that he was making you feel good, making you feel pleasure. He wanted to worship you, your body. Your body was the alter to the entity that he now wanted to worship for the rest of his life. He felt himself already start to get drunk off the feeling of your soft skin, your beautiful muscles and curves. His hands started to explore more down an arm, down to your hand, working at your palm and trailing kisses down from your shoulder to your wrist before moving to the other arm and repeating the process there before doing the same down each leg.

You continue to moan and sigh as he moved across your body. The massage felt so good but your pussy continued to ache for him, every time he got close to your entrance, you started to shake and moan more. This was not lost on Lucifer, he loved seeing you quiver beneath him, and he wanted to badly to just dive into you... but not quite... he needed to torture you a little more.

He quickly snapped the back of your lingerie top and before you had time to talk, he quickly flipped you over and got on top of you. He straddled you as he slowly undid the tie on the front of his robe and slipped it off of him, leaving him completely exposed above you. You were now able to see the entirely of his well sculpted body, chest, back, hips... and his cock that was already hard and erect for you. Hells it looked incredible, you just wanted it in... so many places... He gave you a long and passionate kiss, with some exchanging of saliva between your mouths, tongues exploring each other before he starts to work to massage to front of your body.

The touch on your front was much more sensual thought than it had been on your body. Lucifer slowly kissed down your neck, your collarbone, your chest, down to you breasts. Lucifer removed the lingerie top the rest of the way before massaging around your breasts, playing with your nipples, kissing and nipping around one, before putting his mouth on it and sucking on it. The nerves in your nipples felt like they were on fire and that each flick of his tongue made your loins start to throb as you groaned. You started to weave you finger though his blonde hair tugged at it a little. He took his time before moving over at repeating the process on your other nipple.

You felt like you were going crazy with lust at this point, you had never been so desperate for someone to enter inside of you. You opened your legs a little, hoping for him to take the hint to just dive in... to devour you.

Lucifer chuckled to himself as he felt your legs shift open, he decided it was time to start ending your torment. As he finished his attention on your second breast, he traced a hand down your stomach and down to your mound, moving the fabric of your thong out of the way before starting to tease your entrance.

You start to pant and groan louder, "Luci, baby please... Please touch me... put your fingers in me... I can't take it... Mmmm.... pleas-uhhH!!!!" You moan louder as he cuts you off mid-plea by sliding a finger into you, and starting to pump it in and out. He was now able to feel just how wet you were.

"Mmm, all of this wetness for me? With how much fucking you do, I wouldn't think you would be such a dripping mess for me, I'm so honored," he purred as he stared up at you from your chest, mischievous lust dancing across him face, burning in his eyes. Slowly, Lucifer added a second and then a third finger into your dripping hole as he continued to finger you and he continued to kiss and nip his way down your stomach and down your thighs. curling his fingers up into your G-spot making you cry out with pleasure.

As soon as his mouth reached your thighs, he removed his fingers, getting better access to bite and kiss his way up your thighs towards your dripping mound, he was pussy drunk just looking at your gorgeous entrance. He looked up into your eyes as be positioned his mouth just above your folds.

"Oh my love, every inch of you is the most exquisite and radiant treasure... are you ready for my tongue to ruin you?" Lucifer growled.

"Yes... Luci, yes please... ruin me... eat me..." you whispered.

Lucifer gave you a wicked smile, "Good... because I've been starving since the day I met you, and it's time for me to eat my fill." Lucifer then enclosed his mouth around your folds and starts to swipe his tongue up and down your entrance before plunging his tongue deep into you.

You let out a scream of pleasure as his tongue assaults your entrance, it was incredible and he had barely started. Every touch from him set your body on fire. You grabbed onto Lucifer's golden locks as he lapped at you with a vicious hunger, as if he had not eaten in eons and your juices were his only source of food. Your screams of pleasure made him rock hard and he started to grind his own crotch against the bed to alleviate some of the need.

Seeing this, you make the decision that you wanted to take a more active role in the pleasure. You figure out how to flip Lucifer on his back, which caught him my surprise, and then you crawled up onto him so that you were hoovering your pussy over his face and were able to get access to his dick.

Lucifer grinned wildly at the sight of your mound hoovering above him, and grabbed both of your thighs to encourage you down until his mouth locked onto your folds again and his tongue was about to gain access to the inside of you again.

At the same time, you reached down and grabbed his dick, which caused Lucifer to moan deeply beneath you. As you started to stroke him more, Lucifer moaned more, and started to thrust his hips up into your hand. You guys try to match each other's pace with each other's pace of licking and pumping.

Lucifer pulled out his favorite trick, which was elongating his tongue inside of you and snaking it around until he heard you sharply inhale, indicating that he had once again found the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you. He locked in on that spot and gave it as much attention as he could muster, even though he was finding it a little harder to focus due to the incredible feeling of your gorgeous soft hands on his throbbing shaft.

You and Lucifer continued like this for a while, an symphony of moans and sighs building between the two of you until you couldn't take it anymore, you needed him inside of you.

"Luci... uhhh... baby I need you... Oh hells... I need to feel you inside of me.." You sighed. Without another thought, Lucifer moved his hands up to your stomach and pushed you back onto the bed. He flipped around and crawled up to you, giving you a deep and hungry kiss as he spread your legs apart, finally ripping off your thong completely and discarding to the side so that it would not be in the way anymore. You loved getting lost in the taste of your juices on his tongue.

He broke off for a moment, panting, readying himself, teasing his cock at your entrance. He looked up into your eyes, a fire raging of lust and love as he growled.

"I've wanted this since the moment I saw that gorgeous sinful body of yours, since the day that the divine powers made it so that you were the one that ended up at may door, above anyone else. And now here we are, you naked in my bed, begging to feel the blessings of my cock inside of you? Oh well then I will RUIN you like this every day for the rest of your life, you hear me? This is your eternal punishment now, in my bed, slobbering, drunk off of my cock. Now tell me, darling, tell me what it is you truly desire?!"

You cried out, "I want you to fuck me Lucifer Morningstar!"

And at that, Lucifer started to slide into your entrance. You both moan loudly as you make connection with each other. Lucifer could on contain himself as his wings started to unfold from his back as he railed you. He looked down to see your head thrown back and your eyes rolling, and again he could not contain himself as his demon form emerged. Horns sprouted from his temples, eyes red, claws sharp, and a sharp black tail twisted out from behind him and wrapped its way around one of your thighs.

You looked up to see the new view of his, his angelic an demonic combination of features were so beautiful and terrifying in the sexiest way possible. His hands glided and squeezed along your body, kissing your legs as he held them up. You felt yourself starting to unravel.

"Luci-, oohhh... baby... it's soooo goodd.... I... I'm gonnnaa..." you tried so hard to hold yourself together a little longer.

Lucifer looked down at you with red eyes and growled with a smirk, "Cum for me, baby... let me finally claim that pleasure of yours... I'm so close..."

At his encouragement and growl, you threw your head back and moaned loudly as you felt yourself completely unravel, cumming and contracting around his beautiful cock. As you scream and your walls tightened around Lucifer, he felt himself also come undone as he felt waves of pleasure take him over at he hit his climax, emptying himself into you.

Lucifer then collapsed and rolled over to you side to breathe, "That... was... amazing..." he gasped.

"Ya... it was... fuck..." you weren't ready to had your hands off of him. You pulled him close and started kissing and making out with him again. He rolled back into your embrace to kiss your lips. After a few minutes, hands started to trail around each other's bodies again and you both started to let kisses roam as your bodies grinded against each other. You guys were both ready for another round.

You took Lucifer's shaft back into your hand and you started to pump un and down on it, and it did not take long before it was rock hard again in your hands. You then flipped onto you hands and knees at you continued to stroke his cock, still glistening and wet from your juices. A bead of pre-cum started to form at the tip, which you swiped off with your tongue, causing Lucifer to let out a pitiful moan and grab onto your hair.

"Oh baby... please.." he begged. All of the dominance and power he had earlier was gone, leaving the submissive desperate man you remembered meeting the first night. This reminded you of your plan from that night, you eyes glittered with mischief.

You slid your mouth around the head of his mouth, swirling around the tip before taking as much for his dick into your mouth. Lucifer was already losing it at the tip, but when you dove deeper around him he let out a long pitiful moan.

"Fuccckkkkkkk babyyyyy... ahhhh!!!!" he cried. You continued to pump your mouth up and down his mouth, some times removing your mouth completely to lick up the side from base to tip, and taking his balls into your mouth before returned back to filling your mouth with his cock. After several minutes of this, you stopped and slipped you way off of the bed.

Lucifer looked at you confused and in a happy daze as you walked over the the covered table and removed the cloth. The table was filled with more toys than you had ever seen in your life. The options were limitless, but you were looking for one thing in particular. You scanned the table until you found that you were looking for.

You grabbed a strap on and held it up, and gave a sly smile over to your prey that was still a slobbering mess over on the bed. Lucifer's eyes lit up and he gave you a dazed nod. You then took the strap on and started to secure it to you before strutting back to the bed, letting the shaft sway from side to side.

Lucifer slipped off the bed and got in his knees in front of you, taking the plastic phallus in his mouth to kiss and suck on it as well as the surrounding skin of your hips. You enjoyed the view of Lucifer on his knees in front of you for a minute, before you reach down his hand to tip his face up and make him you up at you.

You smirked at his submissive gaze up at you, "Up. On the bed," you commanded.

Lucifer nodded and scrambled onto the bed on all fours, his back arched and and up and ready for you. You grabbed a small tube from the table before slowly making your way back to the edge of the bed, putting a dollop of lube on your fingers before starting to massage his entrance. He gawked and moaned in response, especially he you started to work a finger in, and then two. It had been forever since Lucifer had been pegged, and hell did he miss it. He loved being at someone else's command, not needing to think for a minute. It was pure bliss.

You then started to spread some lube around the plastic of the strap on tip and shaft, making sure there was enough as not to hurt him. You positioned yourself to tease his entrance while you reached forward and grabbed around his throat, pulling him back, and you whispered in his ear.

"Now... are you ready for me to take you back to Heaven, darling?" you growled in his ear.

"Y-yes... yes mommy," he whimpered before you let go of the grip on his neck and slowly eased yourself into him. Lucifer let out a long moan as you slid into him. He dropped back down to all fours, and as you started pumping, he matched your pace in response. He felt so full and high on the feeling of you inside of him. As he got used to it, you started to pump faster and faster, his moans getting louder and louder. You waved your fingers through his hair, griping it and pulling his head back as you railed him, the grip of his hair making him moan and cry even louder, tears of pleasure running down his cheeks. Lucifer reached down and started to stroke himself as you pounded him. You took his other arm and held it behind him, forcing his face with squish into the bedding, muffling his cries.

After a while, Lucifer couldn't take it anymore, "Baby...oh hells... I need... mmmm... I need to fuck you... I beg of you." It made you so wet to see him like this, to have this power over him and to be pleasuring him in this way.

You cocked your head to the side and stopped you momentum while inside of him, and you pull him back up so you could whisper in his ear, "What is the magic word, Luci?" you purred.

"Mmmm... ahhh... p-please?" she whined. You obliged, removing yourself and replacing him on the bed on all four. Lucifer made quick of work of getting you in the same position you had just had him in, but with both hands behind your back as he quickly entered you and began pounding you again, screaming and moaning. You were sure the whole hotel could hear you, but you guys didn't care. It didn't take long until you both were reaching climax again and came at the same time before falling on the bed again in an exhausted heap.

Once he caught his breath, Lucifer pulled you in close, to cuddle against your naked body. Your bodies felt like magic against each other. He wanted to do nothing else other than hold you the rest of the night, you guys had the rest of time to try out the rest of the toys. He found your hand and laced his fingers in with your as he looked in your eyes. All you saw in each other's eyes was love and joy.

"y/n, I love you so much. Now and forever."

"I love you too, Lucifer."

You pulled Lucifer into another passionate kiss.

As you drifted off you sleep in Lucifer's arms, you whispered "I'm so happy we found each other, found love... in a hopeless place."

THE END

(unless?)

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Thank you all so much for the love I have gotten for this story! This is beyond anything I ever thought I would see from this and I am so happy. Some people are interested in a 2-5 years later chapter, would anyone be interested in that? This would be a chapter 13 that I would probably be posted in a few weeks. Let me know in the comments. Also! I will be starting my next Luci x Reader story in a few days, "Talk to Me", which will focus on a Fallen Angel Reader. Let me know if you want tagged in Chapter 1 of that! xoxo, dany ❤️

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