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eternally--mortal · 2 years

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So I just came across this video for the first time and I wanted to say something about it —as in, I feel compelled. It was captioned with the sentence “this is the perfect response to a 4-year-old who thinks she’s ugly.” The video I’ve linked of the scenario is a little longer and is outlined fully below. It is captioned “Little Girl Says She is Ugly And is Quickly Corrected.” I’ll let you draw your own conclusions when I’ve said my piece.

The woman in this video seems to be a very loving woman who has deep and loving concerns for the child involved. I’m going to let you know what I think about how she tried to help.

Let’s take it apart piece by piece:

Hairdresser (family friend): For real, like I’m not even playing with you. You won’t even like it.

Child: I’m so ugly.

—let’s take a moment and look at the situation. The little girl seems to be looking towards the camera, possibly at a reflection or image of herself. She seems upset. Children tend to use big language, even when describing small situations of inconvenience, because they have a limited vocabulary. It is completely possible that this child does not like how her hair looks, either because it’s not finished yet or because she has decided she does not want this particular look or because she did not know how to ask for the look she actually wanted and feels that her desires were misinterpreted. It’s also possible that she feels ugly for an unrelated reason.

H: *gasps, seemingly horrified and shocked*

C: What?

—the child is obviously surprised. She was not particularly upset when she described that she felt ugly. It seems she felt she was stating a fact that carried no devastating emotional value. She does not understand why the adult is distressed.

H: Don’t say that! Don’t say that —Don’t say that. You are so pretty.

—the child seems confused, not by the words, but by the response. The adult here is employing what I call “shut down language.” She is denying the little girl’s feelings because the girl used a statement (“I’m so ugly”) that made the adult uncomfortable. The adult’s knee-jerk reaction suggests that she is insecure about this phrase and about hearing it from a child. Rather than exploring what the child feels and why she called herself ugly, the adult has chosen to deny the child’s feelings. Denying a child’s feelings is a big no-no in conversation. It discourages a child from trusting you with their emotional honesty, and it discourages them from exploring their own feelings. You have made them feel as though they have done something wrong by expressing an emotion or stating a ‘fact’. In turn, the adult escalates the situation by making it about their own distress rather than listening to the child and getting to the heart of the problem.

H: You— When you look at yourself you’re supposed to say “I am so pretty.” You are so pretty.

—here the child begins to look ashamed. She was not expressing negative emotion before. Just confusion. Now she is being made to feel as though she has done something wrong. She looks away from the woman and at the floor. The woman in question is now giving her more orders. Now the girl is being told that she is not allowed to express negative emotions about herself or feel bad about her appearance. She is only allowed to call herself pretty, even when she does not feel pretty. The adult keeps using the word ‘pretty,’ but she is not describing what she means. Children appreciate specific information. Instead this woman is repeating the phrase as though it were a condemnation on the child. Her tone suggests that the child has done something wrong.

H: Do you hear me?

—the woman grabs the face of the child and forces her to look up. She has not allowed the child to speak. She continues to escalate the situation. Her actions suggest that this child is not allowed to express any type of autonomy in an emotional situation—emotional or physical. This woman seems to be acting out of kind-hearted desperation. She does not understand how to step back.

H: You got the prettiest little dimples. You are too cute. Aww…

C: *begins to cry*

—Now the child starts to cry. Do you see how the adult has escalated the situation? What could have been an easy moment of ‘You feel ugly? Tell me about that.’ And ‘your hair? I understand. It can be really hard to feel beautiful when your hair is only partially finished. Let me show you some pictures so you know what it’ll look like when we’re done. If you still don’t like it, then next time we can try something different’ suddenly turns into a complicated situation and a child in tears. A child who was not distressed before suddenly becomes deeply confused, unexpectedly ashamed, and emotionally distressed because the adult in the room didn’t bother asking her a few questions and letting her speak. Just look at how little the child has spoken in this interaction.

H: Aryionna, oh you gon’ make me cry.

C: *cries harder*

—now the child is being told that she is responsible for this woman’s emotional distress —that if she expresses ‘negative’ emotions openly, it is going to have a negative impact on the people around her —that she is responsible for keeping her composure, or else she is going to hurt people —that she is doing something wrong by expressing distress over a situation that this woman escalated

H: You’re not ugly. Baby girl. Oh my God, Aryionna. You’re not ugly. Baby girl.

—a repetition of emotional denial and escalation, stated in a voice that is distressed and accusatory

H: You are so pretty. You look like you have this beautiful chocolaty skin, like you are just so gorgeous. You’ve got these dimples. Remember what I told you? How many people got two dimples? Nobody.

—finally we are being specific. We are identifying specific traits that a child can observe and relate to in order to help her understand what is meant by ‘pretty.’ This is positive, because it grounds the child in the conversation. The issue is that we still don’t understand exactly why the child called herself ugly, therefore the added information may only cause more distress, because all of a sudden we’re bringing up new topics that the child might not have considered without allowing the child to address the old topic. Now we’re telling the child to split her attention between processing the old information and the new, as well as escalating her emotional distress without allowing her to speak. Specifics are very positive for a child, but only when she has the chance to process them properly.

H:You got two, let me see you smile! Let me see, let me see. You got two dimples! I don’t even have two dimples! Girl, let me see your teeth. Look at them pretty white teeth.

—now a child who has been carried into emotional distress is being told by the perpetrator that she needs to smile. Have you ever been told to smile by someone when you’re in emotional distress? Because I have. It doesn’t go over well. It sends the message ‘this person has no interest in my actual emotions. They don’t want to help me process anything. They don’t want to listen to me. They don’t want to deal with me. They want the instant gratification of seeing me smile because if they can control my outward appearance and make me look happy, they no longer feel obligated to worry whether I actually am happy.’ Never tell another person to smile when they are in emotional distress. You are making the situation about you rather than attending to their needs. Even children can understand this. Emotionally, they are hurt from being told to smile, even if they don’t know the words yet to describe exactly what they’re feeling and why. I can tell you, at this moment this child is likely feeling uglier and less loved than she was at the beginning of the conversation. The adult here is trying very hard to fix the situation, but she is making it more about her than she is about the child. She feels a need to control and fix rather than to trust and listen. Emotional conversations require mutual respect. That means trusting a child to emotionally sort through something without you giving them orders.

H: No, you’re not gon’ cry.

—now the child is being told that she is not allowed to cry. She has been led to believe that referring to herself as ugly is shameful wrongdoing that leads to tears. She has been told that she is not allowed to feel negatively about her appearance. She has been told that she is required to feel beautiful. She has been told that any other feeling is invalid. She has been told that she is responsible for managing her emotions so that other people do not feel distressed as well. She has been told she needs to smile. And now she is being told that she is not allowed to cry. She needs to bottle up her emotions in order to make the people around her feel good.

H: You are a beautiful little girl. And you are pretty. You are the prettiest girl in your class. *grabs the child’s face and turns her back so the two of them are face-to-face in close quarters, even though the child is showing signs of discomfort by turning away* Boom. Tell them straight up, when you go to school tomorrow, you’ve got your hair done, you’re gonna be like, oh look at my hair. Oh, look at my shoes. Look at my clothes. Baby girl, you are beautiful. Black is beautiful, and if nobody ever tell you, I will tell you, you are gorgeous. You are so pretty.

—so now this child is being told to compare herself to the other children in her class. What if she doesn’t feel as pretty as another girl? But she’s been told that being the prettiest is what matters. She is being told to brag about her appearance rather than investigating her internal, emotional life. She is being told that her happiness hinges on beauty and that her beauty hinges on comparison to others.

H: And you are gonna grow up, and you’re gonna be everything that you can be. You are gonna be the greatest nail tech, the greatest beautician, the greatest lawyer, the greatest doctor, the greatest teacher, whatever you wanna be. The greatest speaker, the greatest entrepreneur.

—if you tell a child they are going to be the best, but you do not give them the tools to emotionally develop, you are setting them up for failure, or at least for a very stressful and possibly lonely life. It is better to offer an open ear and a willingness to help than to put pressure on a child to be the best. This child has already been told that she’s expected to remain beautiful. Now she’s being told that she’s also expected to be successful. Not to mention, the adult in this conversation is piling on topics. This is a lot to process for a little girl without letting her actually talk through it all. And we still haven’t gotten to the heart of what actually made her feel ugly. What a horrible rollercoaster ride of emotions being thrown at a child that has been rendered too emotional to properly speak about them.

H: Whatev- What you want to be? What you wanna be when you get older?

C: *draws her hands up to her face* Uhh, the teacher.

H: You want to be, uh *pulls child’s hands down* Your teacher mean to you?

C: *nods*

H: *still holding onto child’s arms, gesturing with them* So guess what, when you become a teacher, you don’t be mean. *drops arms* *points at child’s chest* You be a nice teacher. You be- You going to be Miss- Miss Cotton. That’s what they going to call you. Miss Cotton.

—so finally the child is given a chance to speak, but the adult still fights to maintain control. She holds the little girl’s arms and moves them around. She tells the little girl what type of teacher she’s going to be. She doesn’t ask the child about it and let her speak.

H: You gotta be happy *touches child’s face where her dimples would be if she were smiling* all the time because you’re a little kid. You only four, and you should not know nothing about being ugly, because you are so beautiful.

—look, I understand what she’s saying here. She’s saying that it’s an injustice for a small child to have to endure pain and suffering. But that’s not how she’s saying it. She’s giving this information to this child as an order. All of a sudden, this little girl is being told that she’s only ever allowed to be happy. The gestures imply that happiness is signified by an outward smile rather than an internal feeling. This child is being told that she’s not allowed to know how it feels to be ugly. She’s being told that beautiful people are not allowed to express emotion because they are beautiful. She is being told that this is a good thing, and that she has no say. That is not comforting. That is extremely distressing to a small child. Children don’t process logic the same way that grown ups do. The most developed part of a child’s brain is the part that processes emotions. That’s how children make decisions. This woman is telling a small child that this child is not allowed to use the most developed part of her brain — the part that needs to grow and develop in a healthy way in order for this child to live a healthy life.

H: You hold your head up *holds the child’s cheeks between her open hands and points it upward and holds it there* You hold your head up. Okay?

—the adult is still taking full control. Her words are spoken in a demanding tone. She is not asking the child what she wants. She is not even allowing the child to hold up her own head.

H: Okay?

C: *nods*

H: can I have a hug?

C: *moves in for a hug, head angled down*

—this child is obviously still upset. More upset than she was at the beginning of this conversation

H: I love you. You are so pretty. . . . And you got a beautiful heart, and you just have some good manners.

—love is tied once again directly to beauty by verbal proximity. The beautiful heart is listed almost as an afterthought. It is being mentioned for the first time in the conversation.

H: Come on, let’s finish your hair girl.

C: No, I don’t wanna finish my hair.

—this child is expressing a concrete feeling for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. It is quite possible that her feeling of ugliness had something to do with her hair. She is trying to express a truth, which she hasn’t been allowed to properly do for this entire conversation.

H: Come on, we ain’t got no choice. We ready to get out of this chair. Come on.

—the child is told that she has no choice. That someone else is making a decision for her. That she is not allowed to express her frustration, even though the adult is allowed to escalate the situation and express her own feelings of distress.

H: Girl, you just almost made me cry, no lie. Uh-uhhh.

—the video ends with the adult holding the little girl responsible, once again, for her distress and her lack of emotional regulation.

This is not how you teach a child to love herself or to feel beautiful or to regulate emotions. This is how you teach a child to believe that adults don’t care, children aren’t allowed to express thoughts and feelings, and the voices and feelings of children don’t matter. This woman very obviously loves this child and wants to help, but even loving people can royally screw up a child by not listening and by escalating emotional distress. Nearly everything said here was emotionally damaging, not matter the motivation.

I encourage anyone who struggles in conversation — whether with children or with adults — to read How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish. It’s not a perfect book, but it has a wealth of great principles for communicating with children that also extend to adult conversation. It’s a great help when you’re at a loss of what to say in potentially emotional conversations like these, but also in every day conversations. It does a great job of teaching how to help kids problem solve and personally develop and how to lessen the stress of engaging with another person. It helps us to translate our good motives into the proper methods so that we don’t hurt other people with shut down language and an instinctual need to maintain control or to seek instant gratification by forcing kids / other people to feel what we want them to feel.

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wonder-worker · 4 months

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"...Walsingham, the monastic author of the St. Albans Chronicle, was by far [Alice Perrers'] harshest contemporary critic, who in his venom has (somewhat ironically) left us with the longest and most detailed account of her background and personality, her influence as Edward’s mistress, and her subsequent trial. He describes Alice as a shameless lowborn meretrix (a word variously translated as mistress, whore, or harlot), who “brought almost universal dishonour upon the king’s reputation […] and defiled virtually the whole kingdom of England with her disgraceful insolence.” Although Walsingham was not always accurate and, specifically in this case, clearly heavily biased against Alice, he nevertheless provides a truly contemporary account, and his importance as a source should not be underestimated. Likewise, the anonymous monk of St. Mary’s York recorded that in the Good Parliament the Commons (represented by their speaker, Sir Peter de la Mare) stated that it “would be of great gain to the kingdom to remove the said dame [Alice] from the presence of the king both as a matter of conscious and of the ill prosecution of the war.” During the same assembly, the bishop of Rochester, Thomas Brinton, preached from St. Paul’s Cross that “it is not fitting nor safe for all the keys of the kingdom to hang from the belt of one wife.” Although the word wife (uxoris) is used, it is widely accepted that this is a reference to Alice.”

-Laura Tompkins, '"Edward III's Gold-Digging Mistress": Alice Perrers, Gender, and Financial Power at the English Royal Court, 1360-1377", "Women and Economic Power in Premodern Courts" (edited by Cathleen Sarti). Italics by me.

#alice perrers #historicwomendaily #my post #edward iii #@ anon who asked me how much faith should we put in Walsingham's account of Alice #Walsingham is undoubtedly vicious and prejudiced (and thus not always accurate - perhaps deliberately so) where Alice is concerned #But he is also a direct contemporary eyewitness and is thus invaluable as a source. His importance can never be emphasized enough.#More importantly however - the image of Alice as a transgressive woman with improper influence who 'hijacked' the kingdom #is not merely painted by Walsingham or limited to his account #It's how these other sources - the monk at St. Mary's and the Bishop of Rochester - depicted her as well #('it is not fitting nor safe for all the keys of the kingdom to hang from the belt of one wife' is pretty telling in more ways than one)#as did contemporary literature of the time like Chaucer's 'Wife of Bath' and William Langland's Lady Meed in 'Piers Plowman'#the whole point of the Good Parliament & the Parliament after Edward III's death was to simultaneously restrict her influence & punish her #So...I'd say Walsingham's image of Alice (unfortunately) tracks with how she was widely perceived at the time #Of course that doesn't mean that this image shouldn't be reassessed and recontextualized #Misogyny and classism very demonstrably played a huge role in how Alice was regarded by contemporaries #Ormrod has also pointed out that no matter the extent of Alice's influence she would ultimately always be limited by the practical #reality of being a woman and a commoner #'Her sex and status simply did not allow her the regular and acknowledged access to power enjoyed by politically ambitious male favourites'#It is not impossible that she was 'a symbol rather than a cause' of the crisis in Edward III's late reign #And of course it's true that WERE people who defended her publicly and privately even after Edward's death as Walsingham himself admits #She can't have been as universally detested as most people think #(we should also consider Walsingham's deriding comment about her 'seductiveness' ie: she was probably very witty and charismatic)#But ofc none of this change the fact that Walsingham's image of Alice's 'impropriety' transgressiveness was a widespread one #Nor does it change the fact that this image was fundamentally rooted in the very real and impressive power she had #Alice WAS proactive and acquisitive and wildly influential (Edward III listened to her over several of his own children ffs)#She DID have more power and visibility than any other royal mistress in medieval England #She DOES seem to have acted in ways that would have been perceived as 'inverting queenship'#*That's okay*. Alice's actions & image should absolutely be recontextualized and given more sympathy than they are #but I have absolutely no intention of diminishing or downplaying them either. That's why I love her so much.

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virigorne · 1 year

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I really does kinda suck when the least homophobic people in your family would still generally be considered homophobic

#it’s like…well-meaning homophobia? which is an insane sentence but #it’s just..they kinda support you? but don’t seem to want to listen to you no matter how much you correct them #like yeah we support you being gay but what if you want kids!! what if there’s a guy you’ll come around to!!#or talk about ‘who’s the man or woman’ in the relationship #but you can’t be the man!! you’re too ‘womanly’ to them to fit that role!!#don’t even get me started on being transgender as well

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wheelercore · 1 day

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Constantly thinking abour karen wheeler btw but in a way that makes everyone here super madsies

#my problem is that when ppl say they like their female characters problematic they mean #'i want them to have flaws that i can blame on the nearest male character' and tbh thatd so boring and also. pretty infantilizing?#tbh to the point where its like do you guys even get karens character or. anyways.#like So Many Thoughts #like shes either the narc emotionally abusive mother or a victimized angel 🥺🥺🥺 neither of which is true btw #im so pretentious i like to think that i get where karen fits in the fabric of st's themes #i think positioning her as a 'freak' kind of defeats that? bc karen to me always seemed like the opposite #shes attrative skinny formerly a cheerleader charismatic white and suburban. shes literally a white boomer named karen.#all of that is complicated by the fact that shes also a woman who was raised in the veryyy conservativ era of the 50s #shes very much someone who is smart but also follows the tides and only really rebels when its the popular counter culture to do #like her at the pool in s3 with all her other housewife friends #and its like so easy to get what ppl say about her mothering skills but it often gets pushed into very black and white discourse #like karen obviously cares about her kids but its a case of actions mattering more than words and performance #like karen will TELL mike that she wants him to talk to her and shell hug him when shes supposed to (performance) but when mike had symptoms #of ptsd? karen punishes him. but also ptsd was not super well known back then #but what im saying is that karen PERFORMS but is she actually a safe person to go to? i think thats what her arc is about #like thats why the mikekaren hug at the end of s4 was important bc not only does she hug him hut she also makes it clear she doesnt want to #lose him #its that reassurance after a traumatizing event from a parent that kids and teens need!#i think karen does what she thinks she is supposed to do but also i think shes the typical white boomer who lacks a lot of self awareness #in how she treats ppl #doesnt make her a bad person. honestly i think shes a good person #i think when all characters are humanized and flawed what separates a good person from a bad person in st #is whether they like to inflict pain (like brenner) or if theyre just a flawed human beings (good but nuanced)#girl whos been thinking abt karen all day <- me

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sunderwight · 3 months

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Headcanon that Shen Yuan was hotter than Shen Qingqiu, actually.

Like yeah SQQ being a cultivator gave him a boost to enough attributes + being in a stallion novel where everyone is either unrealistic hot or dog's butt ugly got the Shen Qingqiu body extra points, and he wasn't bad looking to begin with. Plus not being ill is vastly more important to the new Shen Qingqiu than those extra hotness points (Without a Cure notwithstanding). But part of the reason why he's kind of like, meh, at least I'm not hideous or anything, is because Shen Yuan's original body was a knock out.

I also like him as chronically ill, and, as many people know, beauty standards and sustained suffering are not as incompatible as they should be. Shen Yuan was conventionally attractive in part because conventional beauty standards seem to want everyone slowly dying all the time. But even setting that aside, the man had flawless bone structure, an appealing figure, captivating eyes, and the kind of voice that stopped people in their tracks.

All of which was a contributing factor to his antisocial lifestyle, actually. Despite the fact that Shen Yuan does enjoy company and requires a certain baseline of social enrichment for his enclosure, his internalized homophobia and closeting did not play well with overtures from interested parties (regardless of gender). The only way to minimize the odds of him being asked out on dates was to essentially become a shut-in, especially since even Shen Yuan can only make so many excuses before he himself starts to notice that he's going to a lot of effort to avoid specifically that avenue of socialization. Far better to just remove himself from any risk of it, and then vocally lament that oh no he's just too much of a nerd to get anywhere with women!

Anyway this largely doesn't matter much outside of sheer comedy potential for any situation where SY gets his old body/life back. Like imagine a reveal scenario where the System is going to transport them back to their old lives.

Shang Qinghua: well bro I guess this is gonna be the ultimate test of love, right?

Shen Yuan: what do you mean?

Shang Qinghua: our husbands are gonna see what we looked like back before we were glorious cultivators! they're going to have to track us down in our mundane, kinda shitty pre-transmigration lives! it's gonna be at least a little embarrassing, right?

Shen Yuan: *gets his old body back*

Shang Qinghua, normal human with average looks: ...

Shen Yuan, exemplary 11/10: ?

Shang Qinghua: what. the fuck?? bro what the fuck why are you hot???

Shen Yuan: don't make it weird

Shang Qinghua: make it weird??? why were you sitting at home reading my shitty novel when you could have been out there building your own harem???

Shen Yuan: stop exaggerating

Shang Qinghua: oh my god you've always been like this. this is it, isn't it? it wasn't even brain damage from the transmigration or something--

Shen Yuan: hey

Shang Qinghua: --you've just always been completely unaware, haven't you? every time I wrote a beautiful woman who didn't know her own appeal you'd be jumping down my throat--

Shen Yuan: because that's a stupid trope--!

Shang Qinghua: --JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT EXACTLY LIKE THAT but this whole time THIS WHOLE TIME it wasn't even a glow-up issue, you've just been that, personified, yourself--

Shen Yuan: look I know I'm not ugly but I'm not I'm hardly that good-looking

Shang Qinghua: YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO CRITICIZE THAT TROPE AGAIN! oh my god. how many broken hearts did you leave behind when you died?!

Shen Yuan: none, I wasn't even seeing anyone--

Shang Qinghua: yeah full offense but I am nottt taking your word for that. I bet you had a harem you didn't know about in this lifetime too. I bet you had a fan club, like an anime prince

Shen Yuan: *mumbling*

Shang Qinghua: what was that?

Shen Yuan: I said... only in high school...

Shang Qinghua: oh my god

Shen Yuan: it wasn't a big deal!

Shang Qinghua: *frantically trying to see if he can find any trace of it on the internet now*

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain #peerless cucumber #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #bingqiu #moshang #and shades of #cumplane #binghe was ROBBED lol not really though #he likes shizun no matter what form he's in #mobei's also into whatever airplane has going on #cumplane have the kind of relationship where one turning out hot is just more ways for the other to roast him

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after-witch · 9 months

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Bus Stop [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Title: Bus Stop [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve escaped from Geto–but for how long?

Word count: 3200ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, noncon sex scene, female reader, degradation

Despite everything that has happened to you within the last year, your hands have never shook so much; your breath has never been this ragged, this desperate; your chest has never heaved and pleaded with the most fervent of thoughts: please, please, for the love of everything I used to believe in, answer your door!

It feels like your knuckles will begin to bleed against the wood grain but then, the door opens so swiftly that your hand falls forward and you nearly stumble over the threshold.

A man is standing in the doorway. A man with a button down sweater and a concerned, fretful expression--well, no wonder, with the way you’d been rapping on his door.

The man is your psychologist. Mr. Mayeda. You’ve been going to him for several years–or at least, you were going to him, before everything happened. Before you were taken and kept and–

His eyes widen. He takes in your state. Oh, how you must look. Forehead beaded with sweat, eyes round and pleading.

And then there is the matter of the collar around your neck.

“Come in,” he says, sounding dazed and concerned all in one breath. “Tell me what’s happened.”

–

“Will you miss me, pet?”

You nod, and keep your eyes downcast. He likes your eyes downcast when you’re in the presence of anyone else–like now. Unless he tells you to look at him. But even when you’re alone with Geto, you’re prone to keeping your eyes glued to the floor, your lap, the ceiling. Anywhere but his face.

“Do speak up,” he says, trailing a finger possessively along your cheek.

“Yes, master Geto,” you murmur. “Please return quickly.”

He pats your head. Like a dog, like a pet. Because that’s what you’ve become, isn’t it? His pet. You even sit at his knees when he’s addressing his legions of followers, most of whom you can’t stand; and the ones you can stand only possess that particular description because you haven’t really met them yet.

This one, the woman Geto is leaving to monitor you while he’s off on some awful errand, is not someone new. She’s someone who dislikes you out of jealousy or supremacy or perhaps a bubbling mixture of both.

But there’s an advantage in that. She doesn’t try to talk with you, like some of the milder ones do. As soon as Geto is gone, she throws a disdainful glare your way and gets out her phone. She doesn’t even bother staying in the room with you; she goes into the next room and slides the door shut. She’ll talk to her boyfriend until she hears the telltale sound of Geto’s footsteps leading up to the room, then pretend like she’s been happily watching over you the whole time.

Which means she won’t notice when you pry open a loose floorboard and retrieve a backpack you’ve stuffed with papers, with cash, with a few necessities.

Which means you’ll have an easier time escaping.

Which means you’ll finally be free.

It almost seems too easy, when you make it out of the compound. You expect Geto to pounce on you at any moment. But you make it out, you do, and you make it to a bus station and slide some of the money you stole from Geto’s room over to the ticket counter.

You could call the police. But Geto would look for you there first. He would know you’d run, little rabbit that you are, to the only authority you could think of; but they couldn’t protect you. Not from him.

So your mind drums up the only address you can really remember–that of your psychologist’s office–and you ask the ticket taker for the next bus to the city.

–

Mr. Mayeda does not say anything at first.

Even though what you’ve told him sounds wild. And crazy. And wholly made up. That is to say, you’ve told him everything. About how Geto Suguru can control monsters, only they’re not simply monsters, but curses. About how he sees them and eats them and hoards them, like he’s tucking them away for some awful winter. About how he kidnapped you and kept you, how he treated you like a pet, how he wouldn’t let you go.

About how you escaped and didn’t know where else to turn.

“I know,” you say, leaning forward, arms crossed over yourself. “I know it sounds crazy. But you have to believe me.”

Mr. Mayeda frowns.

You pull your backpack into your lap and rummage through it, until

“I didn’t believe any of it myself at first.” Memories come flooding in. Those early days,, spent crying, gritting your teeth so hard that your jaw ached for a week, unbelieving everything Geto told you in the calmest, most horrible tones. “But it’s true. And–and I don’t know where to go or what to do. He’ll try to find me, and, and…” Your breath begins to quicken, your heart pounds. How could you think you’d be free? Oh, he’ll find you, and kill poor Mr. Mayeda, and then where will you be? What will he do?

You’re only barely aware of your hyperventilation when Mr. Mayeda places a firm hand on your shoulder. He says your name. He says it again. And again. And when you look at him, eyes bleary with tears, he speaks again.

“You have to calm down. I can’t help you until you calm down.”

His voice is an anchor in the storm. Help you, he said. Help.

Your hand shakily goes up to clasp his; it’s a foreign touch, the first person that you’ve touched since Geto took you. No one else was allowed to, except Manami, but that was only in case of emergencies.

“You don’t think I’m crazy?” Your voice is a hoarse croak.

Mr. Mayeda gives your fingers a squeeze, and then lets you go. He stands up and looks down at you with a sympathetic smile.

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re very upset, and need someone to listen to you.” He sighs and looks you over. “I’d like to grab your file from my office. Would you like anything? A glass of water? Food?”

“Oh–oh yes, water, please. If it’s not any trouble.” Your stomach growls, but you don’t think you could keep anything down right now, anyway.

And what does food matter, when he’s going to help you? When he believes you? You’d imagined this conversation so many times. In some of them, he escorts you out of the building and slams the door in your face. In others, he has you picked up by ambulance and committed to a hospital for delusions. In others, he yells at you for wasting his time.

But instead he doesn’t think you’re crazy and he’s going to help and it’s the best possible outcome. One that you, in your hopeless state, didn’t even foresee.

By the time he returns with a glass of water, your breathing has returned. You smile wearily and wipe your clammy hands before you take the glass. The water is cool and refreshing down your sore throat.

Mr. Mayeda gives you a few moments before he begins to speak. He has your file now, and opens it up on his lap.

“I need to ask you a few things. Just to get an idea of how we should proceed, all right? Please let me know if you feel uncomfortable.”

You set the empty water glass down and nod. What’s a few questions, compared to the hell you’ve been living?

“Have you been to your home, since you’ve left this mysterious compound?”

“No.”

He scratches the answer on the pad.

“Did you call anyone else, or contact anyone else except for me?”

“No.”

Scratch-scratch.

“So no one else knows you’re here?”

“No.” You bite your lip, and ask questions of your own. “What are we going to do? Where can we go? Do you know anyone that can help?”

He raises his hand.

“One thing at a time. First, I’d like to get everything straight on your end.”

You nod, and bring your knees up on the chair, feeling like a child in a doctor’s office for the first time in ages.

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry, I’m just…” You don’t finish.

Mr. Mayeda simply smiles, pity in his expression. You don’t need to explain to him what you are “just,” because he’s confident and calm and he knows exactly what to do. “That’s all right. I understand this is stressful. I’m going to go make a call, and then we’ll talk about what we can do next. Okay?”

You nod. You don’t want him to leave you–he’s going to help you–and worries begin to creep in about Geto somehow finding you here. Maybe you had a tracker on you that you didn’t know about. Maybe there was a curse attached to your shoulder and he’d simply sniff it out.

Maybe you were too anxious to think straight.

By the time he returns, your knee is bouncing. He regards it with a frown, and you force yourself to stop. You don’t want him to be mad at you–you want him to help you. He said he’d help you. You just don’t know what he can do to save you from Geto. What anyone could do.

But he sits down, and gets out your file again. Then he begins to go through every detail of your story, confirming, questioning, writing down notes. It’s hard–you start to cry, thinking about everything–but it’s necessary to create a plan of action. Right?

In the midst of all this, the doorbell buzzes.

He sighs, and his frown deepens. He must have forgotten an appointment–you can’t blame him, with your sudden arrival. “Let me get that. I’ll just have them reschedule the appointment.” When he gets up from his chair, he looks older in the moment; more tired and slow. Well, the stress of you dropping your predicament in his lap can’t exactly be easy to take.

You wipe your teary eyes, and grab a tissue to blow your nose. You hope he doesn’t have to reschedule too many clients because of you. You don’t want to be too much trouble. You just want to be safe and free and–

Geto and Manami walk through the open doorway of the office, and your stomach drops to your shoes.

Behind them, Mr. Mayeda looks remorseful.

“I had to,” he says, voice quavering. “My daughter–she… she’s used his services, you see.”

Geto looks back at Mr. Mayeda, who immediately shuts up and stares at the floor.

Ah. So he threw you back to the wolves to protect someone he loved. You can’t begrudge him for it. Not really.

But it doesn’t change the loss of your short-lived freedom.

–

Manami drives. You don’t have the strength to look anywhere but your own lap, at your hands curled up so tight that they hurt, resting on your thighs.

Geto hasn’t said a thing since he collected you.

“Suguru,” you say, voice shaking through the words. “I… ” You’re about to lie. He knows this. You know this. But he’s never minded you lying, before, as long as you said what he wanted. “I won’t do it again, I promise.” Still, he says nothing.

“Suguru–” you try again. He finally looks at you, a slow, languid turn of his head. His lips curl just a little. Not in a way that makes you feel good.

His voice is soft and sweet as honey. His words are anything but.

“You think you have the right to address me right now?”

He’s angry. Not just annoyed, not just mad, not just disappointed. Angry. It’s a heavy, dreadful feeling that glues you to the seat just as well as any bonds.

Gravity seems to pull your chin down, until you’re once again staring at your lap.

This time, you clench your fingernails so hard that your palm bleeds.

–

You don’t remember the walk back into the compound. You didn’t dare look up from the ground underneath your feet–walking step by step behind Geto, even though you wanted nothing more than to run in the opposite direction–to see the expressions of those devout followers. No doubt some were glaring as much as they dared.

It’s not until you’re back in Geto’s quarters and Manami has been dismissed that you hazard a glance at something other than your shoes, now dirty from your short journey outside these walls.

You look up at Geto, who is standing, silent, head tilted just-so as he stares at you. When he finally opens his mouth, he issues a command.

“Go to the bedroom.”

They are words to be obeyed, and you do.

He’s not yet in the room when he continues the orders.

“Disrobe. Lay on the bed. Spread your legs. Do not speak.”

Dread pools in your stomach, thick and slimy. It makes you want to run into the bathroom and hurl the contents of your last meal into the toilet. But you dare not deviate from what he’s said, not when the world feels so heavy; not when you know he’s angry with you.

So you slip off your clothing and lay on the bed and spread your legs. The cool air of the bedroom does nothing but increase your trembling as thoughts come one by one.

What does Geto intend to do? Something related to sex, surely. Maybe he’ll fuck you so hard that you can’t sit properly for days. Maybe he’ll make you lay here, naked, simply for his own amusement. Maybe he’ll hurt you, finally, and that underlying, coil-tight fear you’ve had since the moment you were kidnapped can finally release.

After far too long for your mental sanity, Geto finally does come into the room, stripped down to only an undershirt and thin cotton pants. Casual clothing he only wears around you, and no one else. Maybe he expects that to be flattering, but for whom, you can’t quite tell.

He crawls on the bed, his weight dipping the mattress.

He places his hands on either thigh, and pushes your legs further apart.

You wait for some pain–the pain of him entering you without preparation, perhaps, or something more insidious. The crack of his hand. The crack of a leather belt.

But you wait in vain, because instead of pain–instead of something harsh and cruel–you instead feel the soft touch of his fingers against your folds. His thumb rests softly against your clit, and begins to rub, sending an unwelcome jolt through you.

“Suguru?” You ask, and boldly prop yourself up on your elbows.

“I told you not to speak,” he murmurs, and you press your lips together. Now, you think, surely he will hit you.

But no. Instead he returns to his former ministrations, gently rubbing against your clit, other fingers gently squeezing the flesh of your pussy. It almost tickles, pleasantly. After a while, the dull pleasure begins to heighten, and you can feel a mild orgasm beginning to reach its peak.

He stops. The pleasure hovers for a moment, and then begins to fade.

He begins again.

You want to ask him what he’s doing; you want to ask him why he stopped. But his order to remain quiet thrums through your head and you merely keep your head back on the bed, staring at the plain ceiling above you.

The pleasure is different now. Sharper. Wetter. Instead of a dull, mild orgasm, it begins to feel like the ones you’ve had with him before; the ones where he spends a while building you up, getting you wet, wanting to hear you moan.

Your breath begins to catch in your throat, and you can’t help but squirm your hips. It feels good, you don’t want it, but he knows your body well enough to make it feel good.

And like before, you can feel yourself starting to reach your peak, getting to the point when pleasure becomes sparks. And–like before.

He stops.

And begins again.

And stops.

And begins again.

Until you are wet, and sweating, and squirming. Until your breath is not mildly catching in your throat but coming out in desperate pants. Until your hands are clenching the sheets.

Until you are crying out, not because of pain and a sharp slap against your skin, but the unbearable heat that has built between your legs. A heat which Geto has carefully stoked with his fingers and his mouth, and the unrelenting pattern of bringing you to the top, only to let you fall before bringing you there once again.

You know you’re not supposed to speak. But you can’t help it, you just can’t help it. Not with the way his thumb is idly circling your clit. Not with the sweat clinging to your back. Not with the way your head begins to turn side to side of its own accord, unable to deal with the teasing.

“Suguru–” Your voice is a needy whine. “Please, please–”

“Apologize,” he says, simply. Calmly. All the while continuing to slowly rub your clit with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” you croak. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

His thumb pauses, and you can feel your clit twitching against it.

“But do you mean it?”

“Yes!” You don’t hesitate. Tears leak from your eyes. Wetness leaks from in between your legs.

“Then beg.” He keeps his thumb hovered above your clit. “Beg like you’re my pet. Because that’s what you are, isn’t it?”

Your thighs tremble. Your lips quiver.

“Please, Suguru.” Your cheeks heat in shame, but what shame can you truly hold onto, when your pussy is this wet, when you’re gyrating against him so pathetically? You say everything you think he wants to hear. “I’m your pet, I won’t run again, I’ll do what you say–”

You feel half-delirious, raising your hips towards the air to try to get some friction against his finger. All you succeed in doing is humping yourself against him, teasing your swollen clit with the promise of an orgasm that can only come from his fingers.

After a while, your words trail off into a pathetic whimper.

It’s then that Geto crawls up further on the bed and plants a kiss on your forehead.

You sigh in relief.

“No,” he says. “Bad pets don’t get rewarded, do they?”

You have only a moment to think before he yanks your sweaty wrists up and ties them to the headboard with cuffs he must have put there before he even collected you from Mr. Mayeda’s office. You pull against them once before he gives you a harsh look that makes you freeze. Once he’s satisfied with your stillness, he begins to take off his own clothes.

“I would make you sleep on the floor,” he murmurs, shrugging off his shirt. “But that would be a punishment to me, to deny myself your body, no?”

You can only shake your head in response as you shift your legs, trying to catch the fleeting orgasm that has begun to fade even further from your grasp. Geto raises an eyebrow and places his palm firmly on your hip to keep you in place.

Once you stop squirming–it’s useless, you realize–he sighs and cuddles against you. It might be sweet, if he wasn’t who he was; if you weren’t in the position that you’re in. If there wasn’t an aching, warm soreness between your legs that has gone unfulfilled.

His voice is not so sweet when he whispers against your ear.

“If you ever try something so foolish again, I won’t be kind about it.”

#yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere geto #yandere geto suguru #afterwitch writes

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yandere-writer-momo · 4 months

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Yandere Head Canons:

The Wishing Well

Yandere Kraken x Fem Reader

TW: Tentacles, teratophillia, monster fucking, etc

When you were a child, you were often told about a wishing well deep within a sea cave. A well that would grant you any wish your heart desired so long as you made a deal of equal standing with the magical creature that resided in it. Yet most of your fellow villagers said the price was always worth more than what you desired… and the forest was extremely dangerous.

There was a tale about a king who had wished for more riches, yet he returned from the well with no hands so he could no longer hold the gold he had so foolishly sought out.

There was another tale of a woman who went to the well to wish for a child, yet she returned from the well with a round stomach. The villagers all said her baby was a monster.

You were told only one good story about the well. A story of a man who had went to the well to wish for his wife’s health to improve. A hopeless romantic, your peers called him. A man who successfully made a wish and had his wife healed from her incurable disease… yet he never returned from that well. The villagers all assumed the worse, that he sacrificed his own life for his lover…

These stories terrified you as child so you never really thought about the well. At least not until you reached adulthood, anyways. When your village was being threatened by orcs from foreign lands. Your village would perish if they didn’t surrender all of their women to the invaders.

Your villages population was mostly elderly people so there were only ten options of women to send off and you were one of them. You didn’t want to be the whore of an invader, you wanted to marry your lover, Valo… a handsome young man who lived by the seaside on his own. He was a bit eccentric, but you could see yourself with him.

There was only one way to save yourself and your village. And that would be to use the well.

And so you journeyed deep into the frozen sea cave on your quest to liberate your land. Your hopes high despite the small bit of dread that pooled into your stomach. The price shouldn’t be too bad… no. It didn’t matter what the price was. Because you’d rather die than lose your dignity.

Your journey took over three hours, but you finally stood in front of the old well. It was so much larger than the stories had described… and it seemed bottomless from how pitch black the water was.

“H-hello? I’m here to make a wish.” You yelped when a masked face popped up from the well. The man’s muscular upper torso leaned on the edge of the well to stare at you.

“A wish?” The man’s voice was raspy, almost as if he hadn’t spoken in eons. “I haven’t received a wish yet… okay. I’ll grant your wish if I like it.”

What did this man mean by that? Was he the creature of the well? You tried to see what was behind the man’s upper torso yet it was impossible to get around this man.

“No need to be shy. I want to hear what your wish is. You’re the first human I have seen.” Oh? But this well has been here for generations… perhaps the creature within it changed every so often?

“I’m here to save my village from invaders.” You gasped when he grabbed your jaw to tilt your head towards him.

“How noble… I don’t believe that’s all you want though. You’re hesitant.” The man chuckled at your flushed cheeks. “Are you afraid of me?”

You cast your gaze to the floor which made the man burst into laughter. “Goodness! How fun! Please be honest or else you had made this journey for naught.”

“The other girls and I will be sacrificed to the invaders to be… to be their wives or slaves.” Your voice is so soft yet it echoed throughout the icy cave. “Please help my village! I don’t want to be with someone I don’t love-“

You felt your heart stop when the man’s masked face was now only a few inches from yours. His violet eyes studied your form in interest before he sat up. “You’re not lying and I find you quite pretty.”

The man snapped his fingers and a contract appeared from thin air, the words written on it were in an olden tongue you couldn’t grasp. “I will grant your wish but you must sign this contract. I don’t want you to butt out of our end of the deal.”

“Deal?” You’re puzzled by the man who laughed at your gobsmacked expression.

“Duh. Wishes aren’t for free otherwise more people would come to me.” The man nodded his head at her.

“But what is it that you want from me?” You asked the man who merely gave you a smirk.

“I’ll tell you once your little invader issue is resolved. Until then, you’re free to go about your life.” You bit your lip but ultimately signed, the man quickly snatched up the contract as his body spun in circles in the pitch black water of the well. “I’m thrilled! It’s been so long since I’ve had company…”

The man turned to her with a grin. “You said you’ll only be with someone you love, right?”

“Yes?” The man nodded his head and snapped his fingers, the contract disappeared into thin air.

“Then it’s settled. I will collect you when the time is right.” The man then waved you away as you made your long journey home. The man was now absolutely giddy. Was this how his mother felt when she met his father all those centuries ago? He was so happy that you were indeed the one.

You did go about your life and was surprised to hear how a kraken destroyed the invaders’ ships. It was a terrifying site to see the dismembered bodies and ship wreckage on the frozen shores of your home… yet it was satisfying. Everyone was safe, just as promised.

There was no longer the threat of foreign invaders… which meant you were able to spend more time with your lover. The violet haired man beamed at you when he invited you to walk on the icy beach with him.

“Once winter is over, why don’t we get married?” Valo blushed when you took his hand in yours. “The sea is always bursting with life in the summer…”

“I’d love to.” The two of you giggled in bliss. Yet you couldn’t help the nagging feeling in the back of your mind that the man from the well would call upon you soon to pay off your end of the deal…

After that day with Valo, you were plagued with nightmares of a creature from the deep. A violet kraken that wrapped its tentacles around your small body and plunged you into the depths of the dark ocean. The tendrils would squeeze you in ways that were salacious. The violet appendages would shove their way down your throat and into your poor hole. It was such a terrifying nightmare, one that always felt so real.

You’d often wake up with sore arms, legs, and sometimes sore nether regions from these dreams. Perhaps you should spend more time with Valo? Your lover always made you feel more comfortable…

And it was now summer! The two of you were going to get married soon, anyways. It wouldn’t hurt to see Valo…

And so you went to your lover’s home on the shore. Your fellow villagers quirked a brow at you. They never knew why you went to the beach so often with a smile on your face since you always came back empty handed.

No one had lived on that shore for centuries after the fisherman disappeared to save his wife at the well in the sea cave.

“Valo?” You approach the violet haired man who gives you a bright smile. His violet eyes eerily shine under the moonlight as his body remained half submerged in the sea.

“My dear, it’s time to pay off your debt.” You freeze when you hear the familiar voice of the man from the well leave Valo’s throat. “You said you’d only be with someone you love, so it’s time for you to pay your dues.”

You scream when violet tentacles shoot out from the murky water and wrap around you. What? But… how? These were the tentacles from your nightmares. The violet tendrils that wrapped themselves skeins your pliable body when you were in dream world… the tendrils that fucked you.

“V-Valo?!”

“I’m sure you’ll love our new home… it isn’t often a kraken finds their mate.”

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va1entinesg4l · 6 months

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tan lines

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: you hate having tan lines but lando loves them.

warnings: just fluff!

Lando had just surprised you for your birthday in Florida, celebrating with your other friends. Your friends were wandering around the beach while your body was lying on the towel under the sun as your sunglasses hid your eyes.

A figure hovers over you, blocking the sun and you furrow your eyebrows, tilting your sunglasses down slightly when you see your boyfriend, Lando bringing you a bottle of champagne with two glasses.

“Champagne on a beach?” You teased and he replied with a laugh as he shook his head.

“Well it is your birthday.”

You smiled and took the bottle from him, popping the bottle before pouring both glasses. He sat next to you, pulling you closer to him, your warm bodies touching each other.

“You know i have a few things in mind for tonight, sweetheart.” He whispered in your ear with a sly grin, his lips tickling your ear. His fingers slowly moving down your back as he plays with the strings of your bikini, tugging it gently.

Your cheeks heat up with just the touch of his fingers and you hiss at him when you feel him tug the strings. “Lando! People might see.”

“That’s where the fun part is.” He replies with a teasing smile as he continues to play with the strings. You look around the beach as people enjoy themselves, your friends nowhere to be seen and you assume they’ve probably run off with some guy.

After spending half the day at the beach, you and Lando decided to head back to the resort, your phone pinging with messages from your friends to let you know they’ll be meeting you at the restaurant where you’ll be celebrating your birthday.

You needed a cold shower with the weather hot and sunny and when you pull your bikini off, you notice tan lines on your skin, causing you to frown. You touch the lines with your fingers, looking into the mirror just until Lando notices it.

He comes from behind as he kisses your cheek, asking softly, “What’s wrong, babe?”

“My tan lines. They’re ugly.” You say timidly, you were never the one to like tan lines, no matter how much you put sunscreen on or avoided staying in the sun for too long, there always seem to have tan lines. You always compared yourself to the girls who looked prettier than you did. How they never got tan lines like you.

Lando’s heart sinks at your comment. How could the most gorgeous woman he’s ever met hate her body? He moves your hair to your left shoulder with his delicate fingers, kissing the tan line that’s on your right when he says.

“I think they’re beautiful.”

You didn’t seem entirely convinced and he continues to say, “I really mean it, love. They’re gorgeous, sexy, if you ask me.”

“But no matter what, you’ll always be beautiful in my eyes. My pretty girl.”

Your body relaxes against his at his words and you smile faintly, he always knew what to say to make you feel better about yourself.

He places his fingers under your chin as he moves your face to his to kiss him. “I love you, y/n. And your gorgeous tan lines.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

this isn’t as good and it’s short since i have exams coming up but i’ll start requests if you guys want!! and pt.2 for full of surprises will be out soon!

#lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #formula one imagine #lando norris

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onlyhyunjin · 5 days

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𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒!

(♡) - my personal favorites (🔞) - CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT

NEW BEGINNINGS - @ikeuverse (flirting with your brother's brother-in-law wasn't in your plans after returning from studying abroad. it wasn't something you were going to stop either since heeseung was the epitome of beauty. but when there's another woman's name in the story. what happens? you don't want to be caught between a betrayal… or so you thought.) (♡)

MARRY ME - @ikeuverse (ever since you met lee heeseung, he told you that the two of you were going to get married. all the time, at every opportunity, he reinforced it until one day, drunk, you accepted. was he dreaming or did it really happen? it wouldn't be so bad to fall for his jokes for once.)

TIDES OF REGRET - @pprodsuga (in the year since heeseung first rejected your love confession, you've tried everything to get over him. a trip to europe makes you realize you miss your former best friend more than anything, and it makes heeseung realize he's got it all wrong.) (♡)(🔞)

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER - @i2sunric (your daughter asks heeseung to tell the greatest love story of all and he takes the chance to narrate how he met you, the love of his life.) (♡)

JUNE BLOSSOMS - @soobnny (synopsis. as the month of may ends, you wonder what june holds for you and heeseung (especially with no more need to fake date.)

LATE SUMMER LOVIN' - @4am-enha (you desperately want to spend your last summer here in town with your friends, only to find out almost all of them are away on vacation. that is, all of them but heeseung. the one friend you’d never really been that close with.)

BITE ME - @drunkhazed (“I’m kind of confused still.” You admit, anxiously shuffling to sit without making eye-contact. Heeseung chuckles plopping down by your side, arm slinging back over your shoulder to keep you pressed against him.)(🔞)

COFFEE & CREAM - @ham-st4r (one chilly night after a long work shift, you’re unfortunately forced to walk home. Cause you left your bag at work, half way through your journey you stumble across a homeless man who you naturally offer money to, and he though he refuses. You give it to him anyway, and down the road, you’ll find that those two dollars changed not only his life but yours as well.) (🔞)

IT'S CUPID, STUPID - @mygnolia (To hell with Lee Heeseung, you couldn't find someone you hated more than the boy who's by your side no matter what. You figured that maybe the summer before university would be the best way to finally let go of him, and to leave the hate you have in your childhood- but no. What do you mean you have to spend ALL summer with him?)

FUCK BUDDIES - @dimepdf (y/n and heeseung and fwb after heeseung win in his football match y/n gives him the best reward)

TEETH - @gyuuberryy (you were not thrilled about the move in of your new neighbour. mostly because he was so strange and seemed to be hiding something dark. and partly because you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him because of your unwanted attraction. you were determined to expose his dark secret and get rid of him once and for all. but, it was proving to be a difficult task because he was just so irresistible..and needy.)

PLAYER RANK: PLATINUM - @simpjaes (You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off.) (🔞)

RUDE - @4wkjun (heeseung has never loved anyone as much as he loves y/n. y/n’s father has never hated someone as much as he hates heeseung. but it doesn’t matter, heeseung’s gonna marry y/n anyway.)

I OFFER YOU MY EVERYTHING - @heegyukeluv (You never cared about sex, until you did. You grew too afraid of it, scared of disappointing the other person or showing your inexperience. But then you met Heeseung, the hot basketball captain that stole your heart and became your biggest fantasy. ) (🔞)

VERBOTEN - @heesbaby (a bad stroke of luck saw lee heeseung, your dads coworker, moving into your small apartment until he found his feet again. emotionally unavailable and a workaholic, you were going to try your absolute hardest to make him loosen up. even if it meant breaking a few of the house rules he'd set out.) (🔞) (♡)

10 DAYS TO FALL IN LOVE - @luvyeni (you and heeseung used to be bestfriends as children — he even told you he'd marry you one day. but then you went to highschool and things changed , he dyed his hair and started hanging out with a new group group of friends. through all that his love never changed for you — has yours changed for him?)

RENT A BOYFRIEND - @jayujus (in which jeon y/n is desperate to find a boyfriend ASAP because she needs a date for her family's mixer. her best friend, ningning, introduces her to a website perfect for this situation!)

CHERRY CHAPSTICK - @angelwonie (ever since you met lee heeseung, he told you that the two of you were going to get married. all the time, at every opportunity, he reinforced it until one day, drunk, you accepted. was he dreaming or did it really happen? it wouldn't be so bad to fall for his jokes for once.)

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evilgwrl · 9 days

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Arranged marriage! With ghost where she’s from a small island and ghost comes to collect taxes well the island is just a few hundred short they can make it up next year? Right?! Nah ghosts is like mmmmm I’ll take what yall call a princess mean while she’s struggling as much as the other fokes on the island so when Simon takes her way and finds out she’s never lived the simple life he makes it his mission to show her the good that can out of this arrangement smutty if you would 😭 I’m obsessed with the arranged marriage trope with ghost he’s a cutie patootie

Arranged Marriage w/ Simon Riley

Holy moly I love this…

Thank you for this idea @creepytoes88 I hope you don’t mind that I made him a king, I just wanted it to flow with giving her a better life and the tax collection <3

King!Simon Riley x Reader

Archipelago

CW: Being sold by your family to pay off debt, sharing a bath, oral sex (f receiving), orgasm bc simon knows what to do ;)

Word Count: 2,623

Twisted fingers hooked under the bark, knees scraped with stagnant flora, coiling limbs of bushy thorns blistering around the tropical plains. There was a subtle burn that sunk through your thighs, muscles gnawing at your bones before you finally settled on a thick branch, wind hissing in your ear, almost warning you. You paid no attention.

Pupil-blown eyes stared off to the view in front of you, lapping in the vicious strain of turquoise, untouched coral glistening an array of colours under the harsh sun. There was a trickle of sweat that ran down the back of your neck, your hair thrown into a rough bun as you shielded yourself with raggedy, overworked fingers.

You watched the skerries surrounding your island, a flurry of birds swooping low before nestling down on the warmth of the rocky floor. It was a peaceful sight. Nothing but the low crash of waves to be sound, the occasional calling of a fellow Islander working its way through the palms and out of the sand, before landing in your ear.

You felt the prickle of pain shoot through your feet as you landed on the ground, the grass covered in speckles of yellow dust sticking in between your toes as you hurried down to the village. Any bit of tranquillity soon disappeared as your eyes locked into the sight of the townspeople, the Island far too small to accommodate such needing families.

“Y/N! Where have you been? The King shall be here soon and you’re off running with the fairies.”

Your Mother’s tone was harsh and reprimanding, her eyes tight with wrinkles as she scowled, chucking a makeshift broom at you. You weren’t exactly sure what the difference of you sweeping would make, the life you live here, swept or not, is strikingly different to the one of a King. No matter how beautiful your Island is, your feet are permanently stained with grains of sand, skin is littered with dull scars and fresh scratches.

You understood her worry, offering her a gentle, apologetic smile as you followed her bustle of orders. Your Father was the village Chief, a wise man who led the people to survive without the worry of advanced civilisation.

You were seen as a headcase to the others. A woman whose head wasn’t fixed well enough to her shoulders. A dreamer. Your mind was amplified by the need to do more, to see more. Untouched beauty too turns mundane when you’re not allowed to experience it.

As night fell, the waves seemed to settle, burying themselves in the crops of sand that spanned around you, 10-legged creatures hiding away in the cocoon of a cracked shell. Palms slept with the safety of coconuts that would blossom into the town’s delicacy, the meat tender on the tongues of children, the water fuel for the fishermen. There was a large bonfire lit, the earthly crackle occasionally popping as a spark flew out, hissing against the cool air before dispersing into a drag of smoke.

Girls chattered around you, smoothing down their appearances as they used crushed berries on their lips and the apples of their cheeks. You were never fussed about the King, hardly paying attention to him on his previous arrivals if he even bothered to show up. You took note of his lack of empathy, normally sending one of his men in his place, unbothered by the Island that’s supposed to fall under his command.

You heard the ship pull up, wood striking against the ground as it split between the beach, a carved woman tangled to the figurehead, flowing hair etched between wood and a man’s knife as she breached the island. They were a loud bunch, deep voices echoing across the Isle as your father walked down to greet them formally.

The air grew silent, thick smog suffocating the air as your father appeared, his figure shaking as he hobbled towards you. Toughened hands gripped your cheeks, stroking the sun-kissed skin to comfort you.

“Father, what’s wrong?”

“We- We’re short on our taxes,” he gulped, a hand planted in your matted hair as you scrunched your brows together.

“But how? We’re sensible, we work harder- How?”

“Things happen beyond our understanding sometimes, sweetheart, just know me and your mother love you very much.”

“I know? Why are you-” you stalled “- Why are you telling me this? What’s going on?”

“The King needs a wife,” he hiccupped as realisation set in, spine snapping into a cold flush as you attempted to wriggle free from your father’s grip.

“No-“

“I have to, Y/N, I don’t have a choice!”

“A choice? There’s always a choice! How could you do this to me?” The strain of a sob wracked through your chest, your heart beating eerily slow against your rib cage as you wailed out for your mother who only walked away, her face concealed by strands of hair. Hands coiled around your biceps, dragging you towards the ship as you carried on, cementing your heels into the dirtied sand to anchor yourself.

“Stop resisting,” A harsh voice spoke into your ear, nails breaking the surface of your tender skin as you nipped at the air, wriggling. Your limbs felt mangled as you were thrown over someone’s shoulder, your stomach caving in with a penetrative force as you choked on the air, saline tears streaming down your face.

Aching skin collided with the sand as you were thrown onto the floor, leather boots staring back at you as your head cocked up. His figure was tall, dressed in all black with a row of medals displayed on his breast pocket. His stare was dark, irises the colour of burnt whiskey, pale lashes flickering down at you before looking back up. The rest of his face was covered by a woven garment, handcrafted to perfection, painted with a white skull.

“Did you find it necessary to throw her at my feet like she’s some dog?”

“Your Majesty she was res-“

“It is a yes or no question.”

His voice was thick with malt, a hidden arrogance underlying his words as his eyes spoke for him. A veiny hand was offered to you, light scars tracing his knuckles before he lifted you, admiring you for a brief second.

“She’ll do. I’ll be back in 6 months,” The King spoke roughly.

The sea breeze was tranquil given the circumstances, the ocean rocking your tears to a halt as you huddled yourself away in the captain’s quarters. Your body was trailed with layers of silk, dirtied clothes moulded to your skin as you sniffled. There was a vast smell of salt, almost suffocating you as it burnt through your nose and hair. You scrunched your skin, rubbing at your nostrils before nestling yourself into a pillow.

You awoke to the sound of commotion. You took in the handful of women surrounding you, their hair tied back in a tight bun, protected by a frilly cap. They wore black and white dresses, aprons attached to their fronts and smiles on their faces.

“Good evening, your majesty. Shall we run you a bath?”

You sat up, hands creasing against the sheets below you as your eyes adjusted to the new scenery. You weren’t on the ship anymore.

“Where am I?” You choked out, huffing your chest out to look more intimidating. In reality, you look cowered, skin droopy with betrayal, burst blood vessels evident under your eyes.

“In your private quarters, the King requested we come to you, settle you in.”

You scowled, “I just want to be alone.” They left in a hurry, feet skidding against the floor in a squeak as they shut the large oak doors behind them.

The room was one for Royalty. The large bed was dressed in golden sheets, red swirls detailing the plush headpieces, solid gold baubles along the edges as tall stakes met the ceiling, lace hanging from them for privacy. Your feet hit the polished marble floors; calloused skin not used to such luxury that you almost yelped in unfamiliarity. Glass trickled from the overhead chandelier, an arrangement of crystals advocating flickers of light across the room, an occasional rainbow seeping through like a diamond in the rough.

Oil paintings hung from the walls, detailed gold wrapping around them as the figurines stared at you dauntingly. A plethora of books rested on shelves, a comforting sofa tucked away in the corner, highlights of red bursting through the stuffed pillows, plucked by the finest of feathers.

The room felt suffocating, the air a terminal sickness that wove into your lungs as you realised the severity of the situation. Your father – your parents, had sold you away to the King to pay for lost taxes. You were a miserable sight as you huddled over onto the floor, chest collapsing with cries as you attempted to grip the material beneath your knees, desperate for the sensation of sand.

Simon watched you intently from the door as he cracked it open, a deafening cough sounding from him as you looked up at him, bewildered.

“I understand the circumstances aren’t the best, but your people owed me, and they chose you as collateral.”

“I want to go home,” you hiccupped, facing away from him in humiliation. His leather shoes hit the floor, striding up to you in only a few steps.

“This is your home now, and in a few weeks, we shall be wedded. Whether or not you choose to invite your family is up to you, but I shall not tolerate disrespect. If you didn’t want the maids to tend to you, that’s fine, but I will.”

You watched his stalking figure disappear into another room attached to your quarters, the heavy pour of water indicating that he was running you a bath. You rose to your feet anxiously, popping your head around the corner as you took in the room. A large tub was carved with porcelain, wide in size with golden feet, bubbles guzzling under the powerful stream as the scent of lavender filled the air.

“Undress,” He spoke as you cocked a brow.

“In front of you?” You scoffed.

“You didn’t want the maids, now you have me. Undress.”

Your clothes itched as they were ridden from your skin, bare body flushed under the light as you attempted to conceal yourself from his bruising vision. The water scolded you as you sunk in, muscles relaxing instantly under the soothing oil. It was an irregular feeling.

You heard him shuffle behind you as you turned, eyes gawking wide as you took in his naked figure, cock resting low against his thigh. A squeak slipped through your lips as you turned around in a fluster.

His mask was off, his face a welcoming surprise. His brows were thick, bulging above slit frames, his nose slightly crooked with a masculine appeal to him.

“What are you doing?” you gasped, chest tight, eyes bulging.

“Bathing,” he practically snarled, “move over.”

Your belly felt hot, the unknowing feeling of arousal seeping through your pores as you adjusted in the water, the liquid rising as he stepped in before you were pulled back against him, bottom flushed against his thighs. You were tense.

“Relax, it’s just a bath. We will not do anything until you’re ready but after marriage, I will need heirs.”

“Heirs? I don’t even know your name!”

A hand coiled around your waist, tugging at the tender skin for a moment before it rested, settling at your upper thigh.

“It’s Simon, Y/N.”

“How do you- “

“What kind of King would I be if I didn’t even know the name of the woman I’m marrying?”

The air was hazy with steam, almost suffocating you as you felt yourself relax against his hard chest, delicate twirls of hair tickling against your spine. As your body settled, Simon washed you, entwined rag lubed with delicate soap as he massaged it into the crevices of your skin, any dirt seeping into the water. His fingers were long as they massaged against your scalp, digging any knots out with a gentle force before rinsing it.

You found yourself refreshed as you settled into the sheets once more, body fresh with a floral scent, skin drenched in almond oil, the glistening reflecting against the flame of the fireplace. The bed sunk in as Simon crawled in next to you, menacing frame wracking against yours. It was silent, the usual sound of waves and birds no longer hushing you to sleep.

Your fingers twitched as you played with the hem of your nightgown, letting out a low, exhausted breath.

“I shall not hurt you for as long as you are mine, Y/N. I hope you grow to trust me and understand that I am a man of my word. If you allow me, I would like to show you who I am and the life you can have here.”

You swallowed. There was an itch inside you that couldn’t be scratched, his words only adding fuel to an uncontrollable flame as you turned to face him, cocked up on one arm. Your gown hung low, strap dangerously low on your shoulder as he adjusted his vision back to your face, lips parted with a flushed manner.

“I’ve never experienced anything before.” Your voice was low, an evident streak of self-consciousness staining it as you averted your gaze.

“Let me help you.”

Rugged fingers lifted your gown up, silk resting against your stomach in a hunched manner as Simon gripped at your thighs, spreading them lewdly. He huffed out a hum of appreciation as you jolted in embarrassment. You were so open, so exposed to fresh eyes.

“No one’s ever touched you here?” He asked. You shook your head, gazing down at him with an unspoken innocence. You felt his lips curl against your thigh as he placed a gentle kiss to it, letting it rest against the warm skin before two fingers pulled apart your lips, glistening folds presented before him.

You felt pleasure tickle up your spine as the King placed a small kiss against your clit, a mewl escaping you as you instinctively attempted to press your thighs together. He let out a tsk as he looked up at you, amused by your reaction.

“Relax for me,” he said, arms flushed around your thighs before his tongue soaked up the middle, your juices drenching his lips as you squealed, your fingers wrapping into his dusty hair as he ravaged the taste of you.

The noises you made were wanton, slopping breaths soaking the air as he worked against you, slurping you into his mouth with an aggravated need for you. His teeth grazed against your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around it before sucking, an obscene scream sounding from you as he continued the assault.

“Taste so fucking good,” he quipped, holding your belly down in place as your hips lifted, clit overstimulated by the amount of pleasure it only just began receiving.

“Sim-Simon, I feel strange- somethings happening,” you croaked, pulling at his hair in an attempt to stop him.

“Let it happen,” he growled, his tongue thrusting against your entrance as a finger pressed against your nub, rubbing it in circular motions as you began to hold your breath.

The pressure in your belly was turmoil like an unknown danger was approaching. Simon didn’t stop, the sound of your breath hicking stirring something primal inside of him as he held you down before the pressure inside you popped, a broken whine piercing the air as you came, hips rocking desperately against the King’s face as he growled against your heat.

He pulled away, spit slick against his chin, cocky smile on his face as you panted, chest rising and falling in a synchronised fashion. Your legs closed instinctively, wetness seeping between your bottom as you shivered, satisfied clit throbbing.

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart.”

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 23 days

Text

✨His Forbidden Fruit✨

Angel!Lucifer x f!human reader

Summary: You are the first woman, Eden is your paradise. Or at least it’s supposed to be. Adam has been making life in the garden difficult. That is, until a certain angel comes along…

Warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, first time

"Fine! Go ahead and run! See how far that fucking gets you!" you heard Adam shout after you as you took off into the dense forest.

You couldn’t stand to be around him anymore. The person who you were made for, the one who you were supposed to be equal with, was a vile and despicable human. Always trying to tell you what to do, how to act, what to say, it was too much to handle anymore. You pushed through the thick foliage of the garden, unaware of how long you’ve been running. After some time, you came to an opening. A beautiful crystal lake stretched across the land surrounded by large trees filled with all different sorts of fruits. It looked like a paradise, but in your sorrow you couldn’t find the beauty in any of it. You collapsed, sitting on top of a nearby rock, and you sobbed. You buried your face in your hands and brought your legs to your chest. You were alone and you felt like there was no escaping the life given to you.

But you weren’t alone for long.

“Beautiful creature, why do you cry?” a soothing voice said.

Your breath caught in your thought at the sound of this voice. It wasn’t Adam’s. You lifted your head but saw no one around you. Until you noticed you had somehow been enveloped in shadow. You raised your head further and some something, or rather someone, floating just above you, their enormous wings stretched out, shading you from the bright sun. You gasped; your body screamed at you to run but your mind refused to move a muscle.

“Do not be afraid,” the being spoke softly, “I mean you no harm.”

You gulped, clutching your legs to your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible. “Who…who are you?”

The spirit landed on the grass below and smiled brightly. “I am the light bringer, the morning star for the heavens above,” he answered, outstretching his hand. “But you can call me Lucifer.”

An angel, you thought to yourself. You gazed at his hand hesitantly and wiped the remaining tears from your face in an attempt to gain composer. “Did Heaven send you here, Lucifer?”

“Well, not exactly,” he admitted, pulling his hand away and rubbing the back of his neck. “In all honesty, I shouldn’t even be here.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Then why are you?”

Lucifer sighed and looked away from you. “I…I’m not sure. This place, this garden, it’s enchanting! But I was denied any say in how it should be…” You saw how resigned the angel was as he spoke to you. A pang of sadness stung your chest. “Heaven was not happy with any of the ideas I provided them. They never are. I just…wanted to see it for myself. But then, I saw you running, and I saw you crying. I couldn’t stand to see you filled with such pain.” He held out his hand once more. “Please, tell me what troubles you. Perhaps I could help.”

You took a closer look at the angel. His sapphire eyes were enchanting, it seemed almost impossible to look away. And his pale complexion very much stood out in the garden overrun with an abundance of different colors. You glanced at his enormous wings, white and gold in color, and how they perfectly complimented the rays of the sun that shows through the tree branches.

He was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

Tentatively, you took a hold of his hand as he helped you up from the rock you were perched on. You were about to speak, but then Lucifer let go of your hand in an instant.

"A-AH!" the angel squeaked as he stumbled backwards, tripping in the process and landing on the soft grass below. He shieled his eyes and shifted his body so he was no longer facing you.

"Lucifer, what's the matter?" you asked as you stood there puzzled.

"Oh! Umm...nothing! Nothing's wrong!" he answered quickly. "I...I forgot that when heaven created you, they left you...bare."

You tilted your head in confusion. "Bare? I don't understand." Without answering, you watched as Lucifer flicked his wrist, his eyes still avoiding yours. All of a sudden, you felt your body becoming wrapped in whatever Lucifer had just summoned for you. You looked down and realized that most of your skin had been covered in a foreign material that you have not encountered before. A part of it hung over your shoulder while the other was left untouched. It was draped down just past your knees. "What is this?" you questioned as you reached down to feel the white cloth. It was unbelievably soft and light, almost as if you didn't have anything on your body at all.

Lucifer peaked through his hands; you heard him sign in relief. He stood up and brushed the dirt of his robe before returning to your side. "Forgive me," he started, "that was a bit of an...overreaction. I'm sorry if I startled you!"

"It's alright, Lucifer," you smiled at him. "I'm still a bit confused though, what is this for? Was there something wrong with my appearance?"

Lucifer's eyes widened. "Oh gosh, no no no! Of course not! You're perfect! WAIT! I mean you look perfect! GAH NO! I uhh...it's...it's a gift! Yeah, that's it! It's a gift for you!"

"A gift?" You couldn't help but smile. "Adam has never given me a gift..."

You saw Lucifer frown as he took ahold of your hand once more. "I'm sorry to hear that, my flower. Here, follow me." Lucifer guided you to the lake's edge and knelt down, signaling you to join him. You did as he asked and fell to your knees in front of him. "Now tell me, why had you run away?"

You looked down and began to fiddle with your hands, unsure if your reason would upset the angel. "It's Adam..." you began, "He's...so needlessly demanding and harsh. He doesn't see us as equals, he believes himself to be superior to me. I've tried explaining to him that he shouldn't be acting this way, but he refuses to listen! Finally, I had enough of him...so I ran..." You felt the tears well up in your eyes once more, small whimpers escaping your throat as you tried to hold yourself together. "I know we're meant to be partners and I've sure heaven will not be happy b-but..."

"Shh, it's alright." Lucifer cooed as he wiped away the tears the fell down your cheek. "Please, no more tears. You were right to stand up to him. Adam should know better." You sighed and let your head rest in Lucifer's small yet tender hand. You glanced over at the pound when you heard an unfamiliar noise emanating from the center. You noticed some feathered creatures you didn't recognize swimming on the lakes surface. There seemed to be one that was much larger than all the others. You looked back at Lucifer and saw his face light up with delight. "Do you see those little ones over there?" You nodded. "Heaven may not have wanted my input on creation, but that doesn't mean I didn't have any."

"Are those your creations?" you asked.

Lucifer smiled and then sighed. "One of very few. Do you want to get a closer look?"

You looked back out to the water and saw the group of animals flap their wings, splashing the water in every direction. They seemed so full of life and energy, watching them play filled your heart with warmth. You nodded, albeit a bit nervously. Lucifer let out a melodic whistle; you watched as the little creatures made their way towards the lake bank. You saw them use their small wings to help them onto land and waddle towards the two of you. Initially, you stretched out your hand to touch one of the smaller ones but pulled back in hesitation.

"Don't worry," Lucifer reassured, "they are harmless, I promise! Watch!" Lucifer cupped his hands together and laid them down in the soft grass. A few of the small ones happily chippered and hopped into his palms. "Want to give it a try?"

You copied Lucifer's motions exactly and watched as the same thing happened with the remaining babies. Their feathers were bright yellow and soft to the touch. You were in awe of the little lives you held in your hands. "They're so small," you said aloud to no one in particular. "What are they, Lucifer?"

The angel lowered his hands and let the little ones go back to what you now assumed was their guardian. "I named them ducks," Lucifer answered. "The little ones are ducklings; not fully formed yet but they will grow!"

You nuzzled your cheek to the handful of ducklings; their little peeps made you chuckle. "They're beautiful!" you exclaimed, letting them down so they could join their family once more.

"Yeah, beautiful..." you heard Lucifer murmur. You looked over to see his lovely blue eyes staring straight back at you, a tint of yellow now colored his cheeks. "Uhh, I mean, umm...here! Watch this!"

A sudden flash of sparkles left you dazed, but only for a second. Lucifer had disappeared in front of your eyes.

"Lucifer?" you called out, looking to either side of you but seeing no one.

"Down here!" you heard his voice respond. You looked down and saw a small little white duck in Lucifer's top hat. He smiled at you and wagged his feathered tail. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh, what an adorable little creature," you fawned playfully, cupping your hands once again and allowing him to hop in them. You brought him to your cheek and nuzzled him as you did with the others. Lucifer quacked in excitement. "I didn't know you could change forms!"

"It's not something I do often," he admitted. By the tone of his voice, it almost seemed like it was something that had been discouraged. "But I don't mind making a special exception for you!" You noticed the sun began to dip over the horizon, the fleeting sunlight shimmering off Lucifer's pristine white feathers. It would be night soon, and in that moment you realized you didn't have anywhere else to go. Lucifer noticed the change in your demeanor, tilting his head. "Is something the matter?" Before you could open your mouth to speak, a bellowing call could be heard from the tree line.

"Where the fuck could she be?!" you heard the voice ask, filled with annoyance. Adam. You saw the man push past the foliage and make it to the clearing. His eyes immediately found yours, and you felt as though your heart had nearly stopped. You let Lucifer down gently before standing up.

"Stay here," you whispered to him. "I'll talk with him."

"But-" Lucifer tried to refute, but you shook your head intensely.

"I don't want to risk angering heaven," you responded. "The last thing I want is for you to be punished for my choice. Please?"

Hesitantly, Lucifer nodded in agreement, making his way to the water to join the other ducks in an attempt to blend in. His little hat vanished as he started swimming. You sighed and turned to meet with the brute of a man who was already towering over you. His chest heaved; his breath was short. You could already tell this may not end well.

"Where the FUCK have you been?!" he began to shout, raising his hands in the air out of frustration. "I've been looking for you for way too long, you know that? Making me walk everywhere to find you? Fucking ridiculous!"

You took a deep inhale and let it out slowly before responding. "I'm sorry, Adam," you feigned an apology.

"Whatever," the man spat back. "You've had your temper tantrum, now let's g-" Adam paused, his eyes staring at the length of your body. "The fuck is this?" he asked grabbing the sleeve of the cloth that hung off your body. In your worry for Lucifer, you'd forgotten about the gift he had given you. You smacked Adam's hand away and wrapped your arms around yourself.

"It doesn't matter," you answered curtly.

You watched as the man's eyebrows furrowed at your non-compliance. "I don't have time for this," he reached out once more and took a firm hold of your wrist. "We're going back. Now!"

You slipped your wrist out of Adam's grasp and took a few steps back, your feet at the end of the lake. "I..." you started, your voice threatening to crack. "I'm not going back with you! I'm tired of your behavior and your disrespect. I'm not your servant, Adam, and I refuse to live the life I was given as your slave."

Adam snarled at you, stomping closer and closer to you, forcing you back into the water as you tried to avoid him. But it was to no avail. He was quick to grab your arm and yank you from the lake pulling flush against his bare chest. "That wasn't a suggestion," he spoke through gritted teeth. You tried to pull away but his grip on your arm was far too strong. "Like it or not toots, we're the only ones in this place. You have nowhere else to go and you know it! And frankly, I'm tired of these stupid games! Now, quit acting like a bitch and move your-"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" a booming voiced roared. You felt a hand take a firm hold of the one that was trapped by Adam and watched as another tore Adam's own hand away from you. Lucifer appeared in front of you after separating you from the man. The angle floated off the ground, his wings spread out wide as he moved swiftly towards the startled man. "How dare you!" Lucifer growled. "How dare you put your hands on her like that! How dare you speak to her like that! You have no right!"

Adam held his hand in pain, shooting daggers in Lucifer's direction. "Who the fuck are you?!" He took a step closer, not waiting for an answer. Even as Lucifer hovered over the ground, Adam still towered over him easily. "You know what, I don't care! Listen, short stack, I don't know who you are or why you're here, but you need to get the fuck out of my way. She's my wife and I can do whatever I want to her. She's mine, got it?"

Adam curled his uninjured hand into a fist and took a swing at Lucifer, only for him to fall flat on his face as Lucifer easily dodged his attack. "Nice try," the angel taunted, "and by the way, the name's Lucifer." You let out a small laugh. Fire burned in Adam's eyes as he lifted his head.

"Shut the fuck up!" he yelled at you. But Lucifer would not accept this response. He latched onto Adam's arm and lifted him of the ground like he weighed nothing.

"What did I tell you about speaking to her like that?" Lucifer threatened. He tossed Adam against one of the trees that stood at the edge of the clearing. The man groaned in pain, attempting to pull himself up and lean his aching body against the tree. Lucifer quickly swooped down, acting as a barrier between the two of you. "You've shown me who you are, Adam. You are a monster, a disgrace. You treat this woman like the dirt you walk on and you expect her to stay with you? To love you?" Lucifer hoisted Adam up, pinning him against the truck. "You will never see her again; do you understand me? You're going to leave this place and never come back. She is under my protection now. And if you ever so much as come within a mile of her, I will not hesitate to turn you back into the dust you were formed from." Lucifer released his grip on Adam and watched as he took a few steps back into the forest. "Leave. Now!"

Adam wiped the small amount of blood that dripped from his lip and laughed darkly. "Fine, keep her!" he yelled. "She doesn't mean anything to me! Who would want a slut like her anyway!"

"GO!" Lucifer bellowed.

Without another word, Adam took off into the trees. Lucifer flew high up in the sky within seconds, his arms stretched out on either side. The ground beneath you began to shake violently and you wanted to call out for Lucifer before you realized that he was the cause. Seemingly out of nowhere, large rock formations began rising from the earth, rock tumbling down as the mountains grew. As soon as they reached Lucifer's height, they stopped.

And then there was silence.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you tried to stop yourself from shaking. Overwhelmed by the situation that had just unfolded, you fell to the ground and began to cry softly. But it wasn't as quiet as you thought. In a flash, Lucifer had flown to your side, holding you in a tender embrace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to you. "None of this was your fault. You're safe now." You clung to the angel desperately, not holding back any of your tears. He pulled you closer, letting his wings wrap around you, completely covering your trembling body. Your breathing steadied the longer you held onto him; this was the first time you had ever felt safe. He pulled away from you slowly, wiping away the last of your tears. "I have to go," Lucifer continued, "but just for a little while. I need to tell the others what happened." He looked behind him and sighed. "They're not going to appreciate my new renovation to the garden," he turned back to you and smiled, "but they can stay upset for as long as they want. Those mountains are permanent; this is your haven now."

You sniffled and took ahold of his hands. "Thank you, Lucifer," you managed to utter.

Just then, a glowing portal formed behind Lucifer. He stood up slowly, but not before plucking a feather from his wings. "Here," he spoke softly, handing it over to you. "This is my promise to you; I will be back for it. Can you keep it safe for me?" You nodded. With one last grin, he turned and made his way through the portal that closed behind him. The quite had once again returned.

And for the first time in your life, you were left alone.

****

The sun had set a while ago. You knew you should probably sleep, but your head was filled with too many thoughts for you to even consider it. You sat against the tree by the lake, waiting patiently for your rescuer to return. You stared at the feather for what seemed like an eternity; it emanated a subtle glow of light, a brilliant golden color that rivaled the setting sun. You continued to turn over today's events in your mind. How did this happen? Did I ruin heaven's plan? If Lucifer is punished for what I've done I will never forgive myself...

"Lucifer..." you mumbled to yourself. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get him out of your mind. Why were you forced to live with a man like Adam when someone like Lucifer existed? How could the creation of the first man have gone so wrong? You didn't understand. But your jumbled up thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Yes, little dove?" Lucifer answered sweetly. Your heart skipped a beat, not expecting him to show up so soon. Nevertheless, you smiled as he sat down next to you. "I heard you say my name. Did you miss me already?"

Your cheeks felt increasingly warm all of a sudden at his question. "O-Oh, no...I mean, yes! I did. I was just thinking out loud, I suppose." You looked down at the glowing feather in your hand. "Here, you can have your feather back."

He took it from your hand and gently placed it behind your ear. "It's yours," Lucifer responded with a soft smile. "I know you'll keep it safe for me. And don't worry about losing it; I made sure it'll always find its way back to you."

You crawled over to the lake and stared at your reflection, admiring the new accessory. It suited you. You sat back down next to Lucifer, shifting so you were almost at his hip. "What did the angels say?" you asked hesitantly. "Were they angry?"

Lucifer rubbed the back of his neck, gazing down at the ground. “Well…they weren’t happy.” Your face fell at his words. He glanced at you and took ahold of your hand. “Don’t worry, they won’t force you to be with Adam. They’ve come up with a different solution…”

Your head fell to the side, curious. “You don’t sound happy about it.”

Lucifer shook his head. “They’re going to give him another wife. I advised against it, but after the stunt I pulled today, they weren’t very keen on listening to me. Not that they ever do.”

Your eyes drifted down to the ground, the guilt bubbling up in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you breathed, “I caused this. I shouldn’t have run away, I-”

“No!” Lucifer cut you off, “No, this is not your fault, you did nothing wrong. What Adam did to you was cruel. I won’t let you blame yourself for his actions!” He gripped your hands tighter as he spoke. You nodded wordlessly, almost too stunned to speak.

But as you found your voice, something else had caught your eye. Tiny little creatures all around you, lighting up the night sky. They were hard to spot until a little yellow light flickered intermittently to indicate where they were. Lucifer noticed your distracted stare and turned to see what had caught your attention. You didn’t notice at first, but the little creatures started to float closer and closer to Lucifer, as if they were drawn to him by some unseen force. Or…maybe you could see what exactly had caused them to swarm.

“They glow like you do,” you commented, watching them land on Lucifer’s robe, clawing up his sleeves slowly.

Lucifer chuckled and scooped up one from his arm and held it in his hands. “They’re fireflies,” he closed his hands around the one he caught, only leaving a tiny little gap. “Here, take a look.”

You leaned down to peer into his hands and watched as the little bug lit up its dark surroundings. You smiled and Lucifer opened his hands to let the little one fly away. “Why do they glow?” you asked curiously.

“That’s how they communicate!” he explained! “The creatures of this place can’t speak, so they have their own way of talking to one another.”

You let out a soft hum. “Well, I’m a little envious of them. And you.” Lucifer raised an eyebrow at your peculiar statement. “What I mean is, they can fly. Fly away to wherever they please. They seem to have more freedom than I do…”

Lucifer frowned but smiled after only a moment. He stood up straight and extended a hand down to you. “Perhaps I can give you that freedom, if only for a moment.” You took his outstretched hand and pulled yourself up. Without warning, Lucifer scooped you up in his arms, eliciting a small yelp from you. For his small stature, he was incredibly strong. You should have realized after you saw the way he handled Adam. You wrapped your arms around his neck in anticipation. “Hang on tight!”

With one powerful thrust of his wings, you two were airborne. A small scream escaped your throat as you hovered in the air high above the ground. You buried your face in the crook of his neck reactively. However, this caused Lucifer’s breath to hitch, which did not go unnoticed by you. You peered up at him curiously and noticed the familiar dash of yellow that covered his cheeks. He let out a deep breath and glanced back at you sheepishly. “I-It’s alright! I’ve got you.” You lifted your head more, looking out towards the seemingly endless sky. The moon above provided some light that shown on the earth far below, and from here you felt as though you could see everything. The once tall trees seemed like insignificant plants now, the newly formed mountains felt like little stones you could easily pick up and toss in any direction. If this is what the angels could see all the time, it’s no wonder they never left the sky.

Well, except for one.

“It’s amazing, Lucifer!” you exclaimed. “I never could have dreamed the world could look so lovely.”

“It pales in comparison to...” he started to say but stopped when you looked back to gaze into his eyes. “I mean…n-never mind that! I want to show you something else! Ready?” You smiled and nodded. Suddenly, Lucifer dive down at an incredible speed and stopped just before you hit the sparkling lake. He readjusted the way he held you and gripped your waist firmly. He held you like you weighed absolutely nothing. You locked your arms around him once more to secure yourself, but Lucifer shook his head. “I’m going to lower you down now, is that alright?” he asked sweetly. You were hesitant, afraid of being dropped. But you took a few deep breaths before nodding. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do!” you answered vehemently.

Your body dropped towards the water. You closed your eyes, expecting to be enveloped by the water. But you remained perfectly dry, except for the bottom of your feet. Lucifer held your palms as he floated above you, his smile brightening the night. You gripped his hands with all of your might. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes I’m alright,” you stuttered. “Just a little startled.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I should have given you a better warning. But here…” his calming voices soothed your anxiety almost immediately. “Can you try taking a step forward?” You looked down at your bare feet at the grazed the water below you. You placed one foot in front of the other, creating a small ripple of waves. You took another step. And another. And another. Before you knew it, you were walking on water with Lucifer guiding you every step of the way. His wings flapped along silently as you two made your way to the edge of the lake, towards solid ground. But the cool water below you felt almost as solid as the grass you were used to when Lucifer was by your side.

Before you knew it, Lucifer swung down in front of you, still lifting you effortlessly. He took your one free hand and placed it on his shoulder, letting his own find the small of your back. Your other hand became intertwined with his.

“Lucifer? What-” you tried to ask, but the man began to twirl you in a circle before you could finish.

“May I have this dance?” his sapphire eyes shone brightly as he held you, still leaving the slightest bit of space between the two of you.

“Oh…” you mumbled. “B-But I’ve never…”

“It’s alright, flower,” he smiled, “just follow me.”

With that, you felt yourself began to spin over the crystal lake below. You and the angel stayed suspended there for a minute or two, dancing under the pale moonlight. In a hushed tone, you could hear Lucifer hum a melodic tune as he clung to you, his wings fluttering with every motion. You couldn’t take your eyes off the angelic being in front of you. Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest, the pounded invading all of your other senses. You don’t know what came over you when you began to lean closer and closer to his angel’s face. But all of a sudden, you stopped spinning. Lucifer had frozen, his song halted, with both his mouth and eyes squeezing shut. You pulled away only slightly, before leaning back in and planting a small kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Lucifer,” you breathed.

Lucifer exhaled harshly as if he had been holding his breath, staring back at you in utter disbelief. He swallowed hard before speaking again.

“I-I, uhh, I…” he tried to utter. “You’re welcome. We…we should go back now.”

The two of you at last flew back to the bank of the lake, leaning against the large tree once again. A small shiver ran down your spine. You were so distracted by the wonders Lucifer had shone you that you didn’t realize how cold the night had become. Lucifer noticed your trembling and wrapped his large wings around you, shielding you from the wind. In an instant, you felt warmer. And protected. And safe. And loved. You smiled up at him, snuggling against his velvet- like feathers. He did his best to reciprocate, but you watched as his face fell.

"I can't stay," Lucifer lamented.

You sighed knowing in the back of your mind that this would be the case. Although you had really hoped deep down that he could. "I understand."

"I want to, though," he added. "I'd spend every moment I had with you down here if I could. But they..." he paused, shaking his head, "they weren't happy that I was down here to begin with. But they're not going to keep me away. I refuse."

"Lucifer?" you chimed in. "You said that the angels would be giving Adam a new bride." Lucifer nodded. "Then...will I get a new husband?" You were afraid of the answer. If Adam was the best heaven could come up with, how much worse would another one be?

"They wanted to," he began, "but I somehow managed to get them to reconsider, at least for the time being. I convinced them to watch how Adam behaved with the new woman before they gave you another man..." Lucifer seemed to trail off, unable to look you in the eyes anymore.

"Do I have a choice?" Lucifer didn't respond to you; he didn't even seem to register your words at all. His silence was answer enough.

A wave of drowsiness hit you suddenly; it was a long day and your body finally decided it needed some rest. "Well..." you yawned, scooting a little closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder without thinking, "...I know who'd I choose if I did." Lucifer froze once more as he felt your body go limp as you leaned against him.

"W-Who'd you choose?" he repeated back to you, attempting to get a response. But you didn't answer; you laid peacefully against your rescuer without a care in the world, your even breathing soft and peaceful. You only heard one final message before you drifted into unconsciousness...

"Sweet dreams, my starlight, I'll see you when you wake."

****

You woke up the next morning with a start. Memories of the previous day washing over you. It hadn’t been a dream…it was real. You were no longer under Adam’s control, you were free. And you owed everything to…

“Lucifer?” you called out to him, lifting your head from the grass. but there was no response. He told you last night that he couldn’t stay, but deep down you hoped that he would have.

Before you was a small glowing fire. It cackled against the dawn of the morning, welcoming you to a new day. Lucifer must have left it for you, and you were thankful since Adam was always the one who made the fire when you two spent the nights together. You shook your head, trying to force those unpleasant memories back into the recesses of your mind. You never had to think about him ever again.

The morning came and went, peaceful and uneventful. This was the first time in a long time where you felt hopeful for the days to come. You spent most of the early hours picking the various fruits from the trees that encircled your new refuge. After sampling the delicious treats, you decided your favorite was the bright red ones with a unique shape and subtle sweet taste. You didn’t have a name for them yet, but you were sure Lucifer could tell you.

The fruits themselves became harder and harder to reach as you gathered all of the ones within your reach. You tried to jump a few times but only the tips of your fingernails were able to graze it.

“One more time,” you told yourself as you pushed off the ground with all the strength you could conjure. But as you felt as though you could reach it this time, a pale hand reached across and snatched it from the tree. You landed on the ground with a thud and looked over to who had taken your prize, and then you smiled. Lucifer floated next to the tree, tossing the fruit back and forth between either hand as he laughed. “How long have you been watching me?” you asked with a smirk.

Lucifer rubbed the back of his head and landed gracefully on the ground next to you. “Only for a minute…or two…” He handed you the fruit which you gratefully accepted.

You took a bite of the delicious food. “What are these called, Lucifer? I think they may be the best things I’ve had!”

“Apples, dear one,” the angel replied. You continued to eat the apple until you got to its core.

“And these little black bits in the middle?” you questioned; your mouth still half full.

“Seeds!” he explained. “Oh, but don’t eat them! You’re supposed to bury them in the ground. With the proper care and patience, these little seeds can grow into large trees like this one!” Lucifer went on to explain the process of growing food, and you clung to every word he spoke. Listening to him was like a melody only you could truly understand.

Over the next several days, the two of you spent as much time together as possible. Lucifer showed you everything there was to see in the garden; the animals, the plants, the flowers, and all of the wonders this place had to offer. He had to leave every night, but he was able to show you how to make a fire on your own so that you could keep warm when he could not be there. Like clockwork, Lucifer would visit you the same time every day and leave to return to heaven just as you fell asleep. You knew the great risks he was taking to spend time with you and you made it known how much you appreciated his sacrifice, showering him with praise and appreciation every chance you got. You found it adorable how he would try to hide his face with his hat or his wings when complimenting him. It was sweet in a way you couldn’t fully articulate. All you knew is that it made you happy, and so did he.

But one day, Lucifer was late.

You paced back and forth beneath your apple tree, the one you would always meet him at. But he didn’t show up today. Terrible scenarios bombarded your thoughts; what if he was caught sneaking away? What if heaven forbid him to ever come back? What if you never got to see him again?

You inhaled a deep breath, trying your best to steady your heartbeat. You knew he’d be back; he’d never leave you here. Maybe he was just late today, perhaps there was nothing malicious happening. You had to keep this mindset lest you go insane with worry. You decided a dip in the lake would calm your nerves. You always found a certain tranquility there.

After disrobing, you stepped carefully into the crystal lake, letting the warm water flood over your body, your muscles relaxing and your mind now at ease. A small family of ducks floated not too far away from you as you submerged yourself up to your shoulders. You threw your head back, your hair soaking up the clear water, as you listened to the little ducks flap their wings, spraying water every which way.

But your unanswered prayers were finally heard as you heard Lucifer's voice ring out, laced with concern.

"Songbird, where are you?!" you heard him shout, his hands holding on tight to the robe he had gifted you.

"Over here, Lucifer!" you yelled from the water waving your hand back and forth excitedly, your worries quickly dissolving after seeing he had come searching for you.

The angel froze where he stood, staring blankly at the tree horizon off in the distance instead of you. "O-oh, thank goodness, you're alright!" he seemed to be saying to no one. You found it odd that Lucifer had not looked in your direction. “I-I’m so sorry I’m so late, I had some trouble escaping Heaven’s eyes today.”

You smiled sweetly. “It’s alright, Lucifer, you don’t need to apologize.” He still hadn’t moved since you started talking. “Is something the matter? You seem distracted.”

Lucifer clung to your robe even tighter. “Nope! No! I’m perfectly fine!” he tried to lie, but you remained unconvinced. He looked stressed and his golden flush did not go unnoticed. What he needed was to relax.

“Come join me, Lucifer,” you invited him, “you don’t look so well. The water is nice and warm! Perhaps it’ll help you feel better.”

You started making your way out of the water to offer your hand, but his reaction was far from anything you were prepared for. Lucifer had dropped your robe immediately, his wings now nearly covering his entire body. You stopped your movement entirely.

“N-No, I promise I’m fine!” he continued to fib. “Could you…maybe, possibly…take a few steps back…please?”

You did as you asked and sank beneath the water once more. You had no idea why Lucifer was acting so strangely; your happiness had almost instantly turned into sadness and guilt. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, “have I done something wrong?”

“Oh! No! No, of course not! You haven’t done anything wrong!” He seemed genuinely concerned after hearing your apology which made you feel even more confused than you already were.

“I don’t understand,” you explained. “I must have upset you. You wouldn’t have asked me to step back otherwise. Even now, you’re hiding yourself from me.”

Lucifer peaked through his feathers and saw you had gone back to your original place in the water. His wings unfolded immediately, finally looking you in the eyes. “You haven’t upset me, I promise you. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had, please forgive me. I…It’s hard to explain…” His voice trailed off as his eyes shifted to the ground. He inhaled deeply, then sighed heavily. “I never want to be the reason you're sad. Never. I’ll join you…if you still want me to.”

You gave him a weak smile and nodded slowly. You could tell something was still off with his behavior, but you knew he would never want to upset you. You knew him. This was his way of atoning. You decided not to push the issue further, at least for now. Whatever he was talking about, it was clear he was uncomfortable.

“Could you…turn around for a moment?” he asked quietly. Another odd request, but you did as he asked, your back now towards him. After only a moment or two, you hear the gentle swashing of the water behind you. And only a moment more before he spoke up again. "O-Ok, you can turn around now."

You did so, but it was clear that he was still maintaining his distance much to your disappointment. He smiled awkwardly at you; the water coming up just about to his torso. You caught yourself staring at his chest, his bright pale skin reflecting off the water. You took a single step closer, not wanting to scare him off.

"You can come closer, you know. I won't bite," you teased him.

Lucifer chuckled nervously. "I-I know you won't, but uhh, I think it's best for the both of us if I stay right here!"

You rolled your eyes at him, "Ok, well then, I'll come to you!"

He noticed as you took another step towards him and he mirrored your actions by taking a step back. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, dove. I..."

"Don't be afraid, Lucifer," you cut him off. "Let me help you. If you’re not comfortable looking my way, why don't you turn around for me." Hesitantly, he obliged, now facing the shore line. Slowly, you approached your friend. When you were finally close enough, your arms stretched out and rested on his shoulders. His whole body tensed at your touch. He's never responded to you like that before. "It's alright," you cooed as you began to work your fingers into his muscles. Lucifer let go of the breath he was holding, his shoulders relaxing as well as his wings.

"This...this feels nice," Lucifer admitted. "Thank you. And I'm sorry again."

"For what?" you asked as your hands continued to work on his stiff body.

Lucifer sighed. "For being late. For acting strangely. And especially for upsetting you."

"You don't need to apologize," you reassured him. "I know you would never want to hurt me intentionally." You watched as his wings twitched under your delicate touch. The water slid off of his feathers easily as if they we resistant to it. The urge to reach out and touch them was growing increasingly harder to ignore. "Lucifer, may I touch them?"

He knew what you were referring to; he cocked his head to the side, still not looking at you directly. "I-I, I mean uhh, I suppose…you can. Just...be gentle, please. They can be very sensitive."

With the most delicate touch, you began to stroke his soft feathers between your fingers. Almost instantly, a breathy moan could be heard from Lucifer. You continued your ministrations, admiring their unearthly beauty. Your hands made their way down further to where his wings had sprouted from his back. You gently pinched the base of his wings, causing Lucifer to jolt away in surprise with a yelp.

“GA-AAHH!” he cried, almost falling face forward into the water. “Ok! I-I think that’s enough of that! Thank you, b-but I think I’m good to go!” The flustered Angel started to make his way to the shoreline but you were quick to grab his wrist before he could get too far.

“I’m sorry, Lucifer,” you spoke softly, “I didn’t mean to cause you any pain. Please stay…”

A flash of panic flashed across his face. “No! No, I’m not hurt! It’s just…” his head fell, gazing at the water beneath him, and gulped. “I have to go! Please forgive me for this…” His wings stretched out behind him, and with one giant flap, caused a more than forceful splash of water in your direction. You let go of his wrist to try and shield yourself from his attack. Water doused you, with some unfortunately finding its way into your mouth. You coughed furiously, trying to expel it. You were blinded for a few seconds before rubbing your eyes and finding Lucifer who was nearly dressed again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he called out to you, but his apologies didn’t stop you from trying to chase him down. Enough was enough, you needed an explanation. With his back turned, he had no time to prepare for your counterattack. Just as he turned to see you had gotten within inches of him, you pounced. You knocked him hard to the ground with a thud and pinned his arms above his head. He squirmed beneath you but you would not relent.

“Lucifer, what’s the matter with you?” you demanded. “You’ve never acted like this before, what changed? Please, tell me what I’ve done wrong!”

Lucifer continued to struggle against your grip. You found this odd, knowing full well he had every chance to overpower you. But he didn’t.

“My flower, p-please,” he begged, “please let me go!” His eyes trailed to your bare chest only for a brief moment before forcing himself to stare back at you, his entire face a shade of pale yellow.

You shook your head. “You can free yourself, why don’t you?”

“…I can’t risk hurting you…I won’t…” he murmured.

Your grip loosed on him slightly as your body began to tremble. "You hurt me by not being honest. I don't understand! I-" Your rant was cut short when you felt a sudden jab in your abdomen. Almost as if a bump had suddenly formed underneath you. You glanced down and noticed precisely what had caused the odd sensation. "O-Oh..." was all you could mutter.

Lucifer's whines had only increased with your discovery. "Please..." his voice was barely audible now. "You have to let me go..." You watched as a single tear fell from his eye, sliding down his flushed cheeks. You didn't know angels could cry.

Wordlessly, you finally released your hold on him, backing away slowly and sitting on your knees. Your garment that had been given to you the first day you let Lucifer laid next to you, wrinkled and disheveled. You grabbed it and pressed it tight against your chest, not wanting to upset Lucifer further.

You understood now.

A portal opened up as Lucifer stood to his feet, not daring to look in your direction. "I'll...I'll be back later tonight," he spoke softly, "I owe you an explanation, you deserve at least that much. But right now...I can't. I have to go. I'm sorry, starlight. I'm so sorry." With his solemn apology, Lucifer disappeared into the portal behind him.

You sat there in the grass in silence, refusing to move for the longest time. You went to tuck your hair behind your head, but your heart stopped. Lucifer's feather: it was gone. In a panic, your head swiveled, looking in every direction you possibly could when you finally spotted it. His feather sat alone in the calm water. Shakily you stood up and reached down and held it delicately in the palm of your hands.

And in that moment, all you could do was cry.

****

Hours had passed and Lucifer had still not returned. Night had fallen not too long ago and you found yourself huddled up next to the fire you had made. Tonight was particularly cold. Your legs you pressed tightly you your chest as your arms and head rested in your knees. You didn’t even know what you would say when Lucifer did eventually arrive, this was all…such a mess. A part of you just wanted to be left alone, but the other had a burning desire to hold him as close to you as possible. The two sides were raging war within you when you finally heard the familiar sound of another portal opening behind you. You didn’t dare to turn around.

Silently, Lucifer made his way over to you, sitting down next to you, but far enough away where there wouldn’t be any contact. You finally turned your head to look at him. The angel removed the hate from his head, fiddling with the brim. He looked so…defeated.

“I know I’ve said this way too often today,” he began to speak, “but songbird, I am deeply and truly sorry for what happened. You are not to blame for any of this. And if you told me that you never want to see me again…” he paused, not wanting to finish that thought.

“Lucifer?” he looked up at you, his eyes glossy. “My world was changed because of you. I’m safe because of you. And…I’m happy because of you. Why would I never want to see you again. That’s not a life worth living, not to me.”

Lucifer wiped his eyes, the smallest smile forming on his lips. “How can you be so understanding, so forgiving? Even some of the angels in heaven don’t show the kind of mercy you do. I mean, what happened today was…”

“Not your fault,” you finished his sentence. You shifted closer to him, Lucifer remained unmoving. “I know I haven’t existed for very long, and you don’t have to explain, I know what happened to you.” He buried his face in his lap at your confession. “Lucifer, you don’t need to be ashamed. It’s natural, is it not? It’s just a, what’s it called…a physical reaction? I just wish you would have been honest with me from the start.”

Lucifer only shook his head in anguish. “How could I?” he choked out. “It’s only natural for humans, that’s the way it’s supposed to be! This…this is forbidden amongst angels! Who am I to defy their orders when I’m already on everyone’s bad side! He stood up suddenly and began pacing back and forth. “This is a disaster! The last thing I wanted to do is hurt you and that’s all I’ve done! No wonder Heaven doesn’t take me seriously, all I do is cause trouble! It’s just mistake after mistake after mistake with me! Maybe…maybe they’re right…” He plopped back down onto the ground and stared up at the stars. “I’m just a foolish seraphim who’s in way over his head…”

You crawled over to him tentatively, your face hovering over his. You shoved away his messy hair away from his eyes. “Do you think finding me in the garden that day was a mistake?”

“No…”

“Do you think saving me from Adam was a mistake?”

“No, of course not!” he sat up straight.

“Then, do you think this is a mistake?” You leaned in too fast for Lucifer to react. Your eyes fell shut as your lips connected, but only for a moment. You pulled back only to realize that the angel became a statue, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desire. “Lucifer, are you alright?” He didn’t respond, he only continued to stare blankly at you, almost as if he were in a trance. “Maybe one more could bring you back…” your body fell forward once more, but this time Lucifer’s arms caught you, pushing you back at your shoulders.

“Y-You…” he began to stutter, “you kissed me…” You nodded sheepishly. “But why?…”

“Because I love you, Lucifer,” you blurted out without much thought. “Because you make every day in the garden better. Because I couldn’t imagine my life now without you in it! I don’t want you to think those terrible things about yourself because they are not true! I don’t care what anyone in Heaven has said, they are wrong! They wanted me to live my life with Adam, do you not think that they are capable of making mistakes? I thank my lucky stars that I never laid with him because that would-”

“Wait, wait, slow down!” Lucifer interjected. “You never laid with Adam?!”

You stuck your tongue out in disgust. “I would never. He’s heartless and cruel and wicked. Everything you’re not.” Lucifer gulped, trying to steady his breath. “I was blessed that he never tried to force me, but I knew he didn’t care for me. All he saw was a servant, someone to take care of all his needs without ever considering mine. But you…” you pushed back against Lucifer’s arms, trying to get closer. His resistance weakened but you could tell he was still hesitant.

“Wait…” he breathed. You sat up straight and grabbed a hold of his hand, interlacing your fingers. “This is…a lot to process, flower. My mind is pulling me in so many different directions…” He grabbed your other hand, now squeezing both, and turned fully to face you. “If…If we go through with this, there’s no going back. If Heaven ever learns of this, there’s no telling what they might do. But I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to protect you. Are you willing to take that risk?”

You gripped his hand tight and leaned your head forward into his. “I am. But only if you are too.”

“Nothing on Heaven or Earth could keep me away from you.” With his confession, your lips collided once again, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Everything around you disappeared, all that mattered in that moment was you and him. His kiss was tender, delicate; he kissed you as if you were made of the most pristine glass. But you didn’t want it any other way. “I love you, my little dove,” he whispered between breaths. “My live for you is far greater than all of the stars in the sky. Do you believe that?” You nodded and smiled, pulling him into another kiss. You found yourself lying flat on the ground, Lucifer hovering over you as he continued to devour you. His hands slowly traced down the sides of your body, stopping at your hips. You needed to feel him.

“Can I remove this?” you asked him, pulling on your garment.

“M-Mhmm,” he mumbled. “O-Only if you’re comfortable.”

“Promise not to panic again?” you joked. His face flushed as you sat up and removed your clothing. You watched as Lucifer shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. “It’s alright, Luci, you can look.”

He peaked with one eye and exhaled the breath he had been holding. He let his other eye open, and all he could do was stare. You felt no shame as his eyes finally fully examined your body for the first time. His breath hitched as he climbed back over you.

“Beautiful,” Lucifer sighed. “So, so beautiful…” He leaned down to kiss you once more, but you pressed a finger to his lips playfully.

“I think it’s your turn,” you suggested.

Lucifer laughed nervously. “R-Right, right. Only fair, I suppose.”

He sat up straight and ever so slowly began to unbutton his robe. You noticed his fingers shaking more and more with each button that came undone. In your mind, he couldn’t look that much different from Adam; he’d never worn anything to cover himself. With Lucifer last button undone, he finally let the sleeves fall from his arms, his robe falling to the ground. When you finally saw him, you knew it was the most beautiful body you had ever seen. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at his very apparent erection. For once, you found it difficult to find the words to say.

“I…I umm,” you stuttered out. Your face felt hotter than it ever has been before. Something in your stomach ached. It wasn’t a pain, but a craving. “I didn’t know they could be different sizes! Yours is bigger than Adam’s…”

Lucifer’s wings instinctively covered his body at your remark. “Sorry, sorry! Instincts!,” you heard his muffled voices through the feathers. “I just…angels do not undress in front of one another. It’s very much frowned upon.”

You crawled over to him, sticking your hand through his feathers to see his flushed yellow face. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not an angel then, isn’t it?”

Lucifer’s first set of wings unfurled from his face, flashing you a cute but embarrassed smile. “But you are,” he retorted, “the most beautiful angel to ever exist!”

The rest of his wings fell back, he pulled you close to kiss you once again. You let your mouth fall open in desperation, and Lucifer took that as a sign to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid past your wanting lips and found yours which was more than eager to please. His hands settled on your hips once more, but that wasn’t enough. Carefully, you reached down and grabbed his hand and placed it on one of your breasts. Lucifer squeaked in surprise and pulled away from the kiss.

“You’re so cute,” you cooed, kissing his forehead. “Don’t worry, it’s alright. I-I want you to feel me.” Lucifer sighed heavily and started gently kneading at your breasts. The way he touched you felt so good, so right. You couldn’t imagine a better feeling. You laid back down while Lucifer continued with his motions, your nipples now being pinched between his soft fingers. Quiet moans escaped your throat while Lucifer began kissing down your neck and chest, sucking on your delicate skin. He ventured down to your breast, taking your nipple into his mouth, his tongue making circling motions around it. He switched to the other one after a little bit, giving your other breast the same attention. You began to whimper, it felt good. So good. And you needed more. Lucifer raised his head and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“We’re going to take this slow,” he promised. “I’m going to help you get prepared for what follows, is that alright?” You nodded eagerly. He couldn’t help but chuckle just a little bit. One hand held your head while the other wandered down your body and hovered over your bare sex. “If you need me to stop, please promise me that you’ll tell me immediately. This…shouldn’t hurt, but I’m not taking any chances. I’ve never done anything like this before, but…I do know what should be done. Do you promise?”

“I promise, Luci,” you smiled. “I trust you.”

He blushed. “I like that name…Luci. Your Luci…” He kissed you once again as you felt his fingers finally touch your womanhood. You gasped at the contact, and his hand pulled away instantly. “Are you alright? Did it hurt?”

You shook your head furiously. “No, no! It didn’t hurt! It’s just…surprised me is all. Please, keep going.”

With a nod, he leaned back in to kiss you, his hands finding its way back down to where it was previously. At last, his fingers found your sensitive nub; he began to rub it. Very slowly at first as to not startle you, but slowly he began to speed up rhythmically. His lips captured your moans. The pressure in your stomach was something you had never experienced before, it felt as though the feeling kept building and building inside of you as if it was aching to release. You felt his fingers trail down just a little bit further, stroking your already soaked folds. He pushed one finger inside, and you yelped. Not in pain, no, but in pleasure. Lucifer took notice and almost took his hand away before you stopped him.

“I-I’m fine, I’m fine…just…felt good. Please don’t stop, Luci…” He did as you asked and inserted his finger fully inside you once again. Pumping it in and out, in and out, in and out. Your body conformed to his movements; your whimpers filled the night sky as he added a second finger into you. That pressure you felt was building even more now, something in your stomach felt as though it could snap at any moment. Unfortunately, Lucifer removed his hand from you and a pathetic whine fell from your lips.

“I’m sorry, starlight,” he apologized, “I just…I want to see something…” You watched as he licked the fingers than had been ravishing you. All of a sudden, his eyes became wide, and he stared down back at you. “My love, your taste is…absolutely divine. I want to try something if you’ll allow me.” You blushed at him, nodding in agreement. Lucifer made his way down your body and settled his face directly between your thighs. You felt your heart threatening to beat out of your chest as he peered up at you. “Let me know if you need me to stop at any point.”

Before you could respond, you felt his tongue drag itself up your drenched slit. You nearly screamed at the sensation, but this time, it didn’t deter Lucifer. He began to devour your pussy like a man starved, his tongue skillfully moving along your folds and your clit. He added his digits back into your heat as his mouth continued to consume you. It was so much, almost too . That pressure was back and you felt it even more than before.

“L-Lucifer,” you cried out, “Lucifer I-I feel s-something, I don’t…I-I can’t…” you words failed you as you felt that odd coil tighten to the point of no return.

“It’s okay, little dove, it’s okay,” Lucifer reassured you between his sloppy licks. “Your body’s responding to the stimulation. Relax your body as much as you can. Your body is building towards a climax. It'll be euphoric, I promise."

You did as Lucifer said untensed your muscles which made his continued ministrations even more intense. You mindlessly gripped his hair as wordless moans filled the air. You felt your body coming closer and closer to its release. You tried to warn him but no words could be formed in that state you were in. With one final cry, you felt your muscles clench around his fingers, your release spilling out of you at a rapid pace. Lucifer refused to move however as he lapped up everything your body had to offer. When the spasms stopped, your breathing slowed. Lucifer crawled back up your body with a lovestruck expression, the remainder of your release still shining on his chin. You couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

"What...what was that?" you asked still catching your breath.

"An orgasm," Lucifer explained. "It's what happens to the body when it's receiving extreme pleasure. Are you okay though? Was that too much?"

You smiled up at him. "No, it wasn't too much. It was perfect. Thank you..." You sat up to kiss him, the faint taste of your release on his lips. "So, does that mean your body is capable of the same thing?"

Lucifer suddenly became flustered. "O-Oh, well, I mean yes, b-but it's a little bit different in my case. What I mean is, it would be the same as any other man."

You pushed on his chest gently so you could sit up properly. "Can I try to return the favor, then?" Lucifer's wings fluttered behind him as you watched his face change into the deepest shade of yellow you had ever seen. "Oh golly...that's...that's very kind of you, but you r-really don't have to do that. I...It's uhhh...oh, heaven help me..."

You giggled at his reaction, shifting yourself to your knees. "You made me feel so good, Luci, let me make you feel good too. Please?"

"O-Okay," he managed to whisper. Your shifted your gaze down, finally getting a good look at his girthy length. It was impressive to say the least, and in all honestly you felt a little intimidated. It stood firm as you carefully wrapped your soft hands around the base. Lucifer's breath hitched at the sudden contact. "D-Do you know what to do?"

Your face shifted into a slight scowl. "I think so. I had the misfortune of catching Adam doing this to himself more times than I'd like to remember," you recalled and shook your head. "But from what I remember, it went like this..." Your hand finally shifted around his cock, pumping him slowly. Immediately, Lucifer's head found your shoulder as he whimpered against you. You relished in the feeling of having an all-powerful angel at your mercy with a few simple strokes. Your pace quickened after a short while, your pumps becoming more and more rapid, but never rough. Lucifer cried into your shoulder as you continues to touch him.

"M-My flower, o-oh my...it feels s-so good. Y-You feel so wonderful...please don't stop, please..." You happily did as he asked, feeling his lips press against your neck. Your hand continued its motion when you felt something drip onto it. You looked down and noticed something clear was leaking from the tip. Curiously, you took your other hand and wiped it up, bringing it to your mouth for a taste. It was...strange, but not in a bad way. All of a sudden, you had an idea. Without warning, you leaned down and gave a tentative lick to the head of his cock. Lucifer gasped as if he couldn't breathe. "W-What are you doing?!" asked in a panic.

"I wanted to taste you like you did me," you responded innocently. You took another lick, this time pressing on his slit. The cry that erupted from Lucifer's lips were heavenly.

"Love, p-please," he begged, "you don't need to do thaaaahhh-t" you silenced his protests as you wrapped your whole mouth around the tip, your tongue swirling around it furiously. You hand didn't stop its movement either as it worked in tandem with your mouth, carefully avoiding the use of your teeth. You felt Lucifer buck his hips a few times, but not enough to overwhelm you. You could tell he was getting close to his release as his body began to tremble with every little motion. But just before you know he would come undone; he pulled you back gently away from his now leaking cock. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I-I had to stop you..."

"Oh," you sighed, "Did I do something wrong?"

Lucifer shook his head. "On the contrary love, you did everything right. Almost a little too well. I was almost on the verge of...you know."

You tilted your head in confusion. "Then why did you want me to stop?"

Lucifer laid you down again, his glassy eyes never leaving yours. "Because...I need you. I need you now. I know how selfish that sounds, b-but please...I-"

You cut him off with a kiss to his lips, his eyes falling closed. "I need you too, Lucifer. I want to be yours."

With little hesitation, Lucifer lined his cock up against your soaking entrance. He held your face in his other hand and pressed his forehead against yours. "Are you sure about this? Is this what you want?"

"I want you Lucifer, all of you. I love you."

With that, Lucifer smiled down at you and pulled you in for a kiss. "I love you too. I'm going to push in now, alright. If you feel any pain, tell me and we'll stop." You agreed. With one final shaky breath, Lucifer began to sheath himself inside you at an agonizingly slow pace. You felt your walls adjust around his girth, the familiar pressure returning once more. At last, he bottomed out inside you, the both of you finding it hard to breathe at this moment. "How are you feeling? Does it hurt?"

"N-No," you answered quietly. "I...I feel whole."

The angel couldn't help but smile. "I feel the same way. As if you were made for me. You tell me when I can move."

You gave him confirmation, and with that, Lucifer dragged himself out of you lethargically to the tip just to push in again slowly. IT was perfect he was perfect. You never felt more alive and you wished you could never leave this moment. Lucifer's hips picked up the pace, his cock dragging in and out of you. Both of your moans filling the night sky.

"Luci...Lucifer..." you whimpered in between thrusts. "Feels so good, so good, I-I love you Lucifer! Please keep going, please! I feel it again...so close..." You wrapped your arms around his back, touching the base of his wings which caused him to yelp.

"Oh heavens..." Lucifer whined against you. "You're squeezing me so tight, my dear, feels...oh my...feels perfect. I love you too...so so much..." His thrusts increase to an almost inhuman speed. The coil you felt before tightened once more, you felt yourself coming undone fast. And by the way your lover was crying out, he was too. "I-I'm close too, love, very close...I...I...I can't...HNNGG-GGAAAHHHH!" With his final cry, you felt Lucifer empty himself into you as you spasmed around him at the same time, your juices mixing together inside of you. HIs wings fluttered as you felt his cock continue to twitch inside of your gummy walls. You found yourself in a complete state of ecstasy as you clawed at his back at the peak of your release.

Lucifer nearly collapsed on top of you as he finished, his breathing staggard and labored as yours was. After a few minutes, he removed himself from you and laid next to you, his wings falling over you in a soft embrace.

"How do you feel?" Lucifer asked quietly as he pushed the hair that had fallen in your face away. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

You smiled and shook you head. "No, I'm not hurt. I feel...so wonderful. Thank you, Lucifer."

"As do I," Lucifer murmured, returning the smile. "Can I...hold you?"

"Of course you can," You shifted your body as close to him as possible as he threw his arms around you.

"I've wanted to hold you since the moment I met you," he confessed, "I didn't feel worthy of you. Of your love. I was a fool."

You responded by planting a small peck on his lips and watched as his face flushed again. "You're more than worthy. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." You smile faded as you realized what time had come. "I supposed...you have to leave soon, is that right? I don't want Heaven to-"

Lucifer's arms wrapped around you even tighter, forcing your head against his chest before you could finish speaking. "No, not tonight. Not ever again. I don't care what Heaven has to say. Not anymore. I'm yours now and nothing will ever change that. Whatever happens, we'll face them together. And I swear on my soul, I will not let them take you away from me."

You felt tears run down your face as you held Lucifer close. He was yours now, and you were his. You knew that whatever was to come, he would never leave your side. You two were bound together now. For all of eternity.

~~~~

IT'S FUCKING DONE, I HAVE SURGERY TOMORROW, GOODNIGHT EVERYONE, I'LL SEE YOU WHEN I'M CONSCIOUS AGAIN!!! PLEASE EXCUSE ANY MISTAKES, I'LL FIX THEM WHEN I CAN!!

EDIT: SURGERY WAS A SUCCESS! 💜

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#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut #my writing #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #IT'S DONE AT LAST #THIS SHIT TOOK FOREVER AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH #OF COURSE AO3 IS DOWN WHAT THE FUCK MAN LMAOOOOO

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gghostwriter · 26 days

Text

Knots of Yearning

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer lies by omission or in which Spencer acts like he doesn’t know how to tie a tie just to get you to do it for him Trope: Yearning/Angst; think season 1 Spencer Reid w.c: 1.3k a/n: when i thought of this idea, i was thinking it would be some cute light hearted fluff but when i started writing it, it became angst, filled with pining and tension so I dunno what happened but i finished writing it and thought it would be a waste not to post my rambly written fic. I might write a part 2 for this just to close it out to a happy ending. Let me know if that would interest you. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗

Two halves of a whole, the perfect pairing and yin & yang. Those were just some monikers that Spencer Reid had heard describing his partnership with you that started during the academy. He, being a genius in all things academic and psychological but severely lacking in the physical and combat department. You, on the other hand, filled those gaps—acing all physicals and being well known for being a shy but killer shot. Not to say you were lacking in the other categories, no, you came only second during written exams.

So it came as a no surprise when graduation came and you both were cherry picked to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Spencer being chosen by SSA Jason Gideon and you being selected by Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner.

The two geniuses of the BAU and the apprentices were added to the roster of nicknames.

Ever since then, he had traded in his standard issued trainee uniform to a button down and a matching tie—a tie that he badly struggles with or so Spencer made you believe. He didn’t mean to lie at first—didn’t mean it to go this far but by the time he felt the need to tell the truth, it had been too late. Each moment you’ve spent close to his space, invading it really, had become the highlight of his days and fuel for his nights.

He often wondered if you catalogued his reaction just like how he did yours. Did you notice his staccato breathing just like how he noticed your subtle inhalation of his perfume? What about the reddening of his cheeks and neck in contrast to your trembling fingers? Or how about his eyes that convey his utter devotion as yours focus on any exposed skin in between his tie and collar?

It seemed like a dance between him and you, to see how the other reacts and to figure out who would cave under the mounting attraction that had been building since the first ‘hello.’

With his choice of tie for the day hanging loosely on his neck, you would shyly smile and as if spellbound, he would shuffle to your orbit in silent plea for help that he needed.

Each glide of your finger made his encompassing thoughts about the mundane stutter into a halt. How his mind would then bombard itself with questions as to how the universe created such perfection. Each loop of your hand became vivid imagery of his own nimble fingers caressing your palm and all its engraved lines as if they contain the maps to all hidden mysteries of the world. And each tug to secure the knot transformed into a loud beating of his chest, encased within it’s cavity, with chants of waxing prose on how your very being, mind, body, and soul, call to his in a way that even his expansive vernacular could never explain.

But no matter how much he wished for time to slow down for these intimate moments to last, it never did comply. So here he stayed, lying by omission—yearning for you to notice him, memorize him, and end his pining for the woman who seemed too unattainable for his clumsy, stuttering self.

———

You accepted the lie well. Maybe too well.

The first time a blue striped flimsy piece of accessory hung around his neck, a sudden burst of courage took over, bringing you to a stop in front of his lithe, towering body and hands reaching up to whisper caresses on the silk to mold it into a secure neck tie that centered itself on his reddening neck—the color matching the one that bloomed on your cheeks as you realized what you’ve done.

Your mind had rationalized someone as smart as he knew how to fix a tie but your body had moved on it’s own, having have spotted a once in a lifetime chance to invade his well protected space—the same way he had invaded your mind in every waking and sleeping moment.

That same chance turned into a routine. A blessing that you had come to look forward to, your steps having a bounce in them as you enter the bull pen and spotting a different pattern tie hanging undone on his neck every work day.

You knew, with no backing evidence that Spencer has to be doing it on purpose but didn’t want to spiral much into thought as to why he would leave that intimate action up to you.

Did he take note of every reaction you had to his presence the same way you did? The slight rocking on your heels as he inhaled your carefully chosen perfume? The biting of your lip as you felt his honey dripping eyes on your face? If he felt the same, you wondered why nothing has been done and if you had another burst of courage, would you have acted upon the tension?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Maybe that was why you settled for accepting his poorly crafted lie of not knowing how to tie a necktie.

It wasn’t really a lie if the other party knew the truth, right? Or was it a double lie now that silence has stacked between you and him?

If you were being slightly honest with yourself, Spencer Reid had always fascinated you. Among the sea of gym built muscles during the academy, his gazelle stature has stuck out like a sore thumb and that intrigued you. How was it that a male, younger than any of his peers, that looked like he could grace a runway was in an institution that reeked sweat and masculinity? That very same question answered when you found yourself seated beside him in a profiler career talk. His intellect, that was why and although it seemed to alienate the others, not once did you feel inferior beside him. Rather, it pulled you in more. His quiet, unsure demeanor was the next to capture your attention. It was an invisible coat that he wore everywhere he went, sewn from years of bullying and ostracizing—similar to your experiences of having skipped a grade. Here was a comrade you thought and so, you silently orbited around his gravitational pull until he took notice and uttered the words ‘hello, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid’ in a low, trembling voice.

You didn’t know when that same fascination turned into adoration. There was never a specific moment in time that you could pinpoint when it all changed. It just happened, one day you woke up and the past truth had transformed into a half truth—and the whole truth now being, you falling and yearning for a man who had a bright future in reading people’s actions but seemed too oblivious to the call of your aching heart.

———

Morgan and Elle shared an exasperated look as they noted the two youngest members of the team silently flirting in the middle of the bullpen, yet again. They didn’t get how obtuse the two smartest people in the room were with their feelings for one another.

“You think we should give them a push?” He whispered to his female partner.

Elle scrunched her face. “At this point, we might just have to confess for the other.”

And in that moment, another moniker was added to the roster. The dense lovers of the BAU, a nickname that the remaining members use only behind both the duo’s back as they become bystanders to what could be a match made in heaven. If only one would admit to the other.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader

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fangswbenefits · 1 year

Text

Tiny Spider

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Your daughter has a few questions, and you suspect Miguel might just open a portal to another dimension.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader

FLUFF. No warnings. Just ‘how are babies made’ and 'where do babies come from’ with Miguel and his daughter :)

"I can sense you, tiny spider."

Your eyes darted upwards only to find your daughter of six dangling from the celining by a single thread, wobbling slightly from side to side.

She stuck out her tongue, visibly distraught that she got caught.

"It's time to eat something. Come down now," you urged, pointing to the empty seat at the table.

As stubborn as her father, she wasn't easily convinced and merely dropped a little lower until she eye-leveled with both of you.

"I think Mayday is a terrible influence," you said. "Don't you think, Miguel?"

He was giving her the glare, but it wasn't enough. "No webs at the table."

"But, papá—”

Miguel remained unmoved. She wouldn't win this battle, but he wouldn't either unless you interveened.

"Eat your breakfast," you told her once again, sipping your herbal tea.

She was getting the hang of physics and motion, but it would take her a while to do so effortlessly and gracefully.

Swinging lightly, she managed to flip her feet down and land on the chair nearby.

Now the three of you could finally enjoy breakfast peacefully.

"Where did I come from?"

Miguel instantly frozen and you nearly dropped your cup of tea.

You offered her an understanding look, unsure of how to approach the topic. It's a topic that is bound to be brought up sooner or later, but one that both you and Miguel would rather have to touch later rather than sooner.

"What do you think?" you asked, exchanging a glance with Miguel who looked like he was one second away from imploding.

"Uncle Hobie said a big spider brought me here," she said excitedly. "That mamá and papá wanted me, so a big, big spider came here!," she gesticulated enthusiastically, arms up in the air to emphasise the proportions of said creature.

Miguel grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Uncle Hobie... of course."

"Well..."

Her eyes darted from you to Miguel, waiting for confirmation.

You went first. "That's not what happened. Uncle Hobie isn't to be trusted with stuff like this, little spider."

"Or trusted at all," you heard Miguel mumble more to himself.

The thing with children is that they tend to be very expressive and transparent, so the moment you watched her smile drop, you knew something was wrong.

"You... didn't want me?" she whispered, bottom lip quivering into a pout.

"No! I mean - we did!" Miguel promptly rectified. "No big spider brought you here..." his eyes met yours seeking reassurance. "We did."

"That's it?" she asked, resring her elbows on the table and placing her jaw on both palms of her hands.

She looked... unimpressed.

Miguel nodded, chopping an apple into slices with one of his talons so she could have a bite.

"Pffff," she groaned. "Boring!"

Miguel O'hara wasn't one to be left speechless very often, so you figured this had definitely caught him off guard.

"Sometimes the truth can be boring," you said with a chuckle. "But we both really wanted you and that's what matters."

Your daughter didn't seem to care much about that and, in that moment, the flash of defiance and arms crossed in front of her chest reminded you of Miguel.

"So how did you bring me here?"

"Huh..."

Miguel glanced out the window as he cleared his throat.

Did he expect you to tackle this by yourself? He should have known better.

"Your father will be more than glad to explain," you said, leaning back in your seat, earning a death glare from him.

She was growing impatient by the second, eyes fixed on him as if awaiting a bedtime story.

"Go on, Miguel," you teased with a devious smile.

"Tell me, papá!" she suddenly banged both hands on the table. "I want to know!"

Miguel frowned. Deeply. If looks could kill, you reckoned you'd be six feet under by now.

But he wasn't getting off the hook easily.

"When two people like each other very much... that can happen," he said, not bothering with details.

"But how? How?" she was bouncing in her seat at this point.

You gave him an encouraging smile.

He sighed in defeat. "Hmm... I placed a tiny seed inside your mother one day," his voice was gentle and he seemed more confident now. "You grew and grew and, many months later, you were here with us."

It was an easy enough explanation.

But...

"Inside mama?"

"Yes. Like an egg," he said warmly, wrapping his large hand around her tiny one.

"A chicken egg?" she gasped, turning to you and you immediately noticed a front tooth missing already. Kids. "But... I'm not a chicken."

Her genuine innocence was so endearing that you couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Miguel..."

"Maybe I should have said spider egg?"

"Woah! Now that's cool!" she beamed and her eyes widened like a kid who had just been told they could have unlimited supply of candy. "So I'm really a spider!"

"A tiny spider, yes," he said with a faint smile.

Warmth filled your insides at once. Miguel was always meant to be a father. He was just a natural when it came to children.

He suddenly shot a single string of red web to land on the chair where your daughter sat, sliding it closer to him. She burst into laughter from the motion before putting on a forced serious face.

"No webs at the table!" she tried to mimic his tone, her index finger in front of her face.

He planted a soft kiss on it before bringing her into a tight embrance.

"No more hanging around Uncle Hobie unsupervised," he whispered into her ear.

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n

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onsomenewsht · 2 months

Text

'cause everybody knows something I don't wanna know

About when, despite the victories and the defeats, you still talk a bit too much, but all the questions are answered

《 read part 1, I just wanna feel something, tell me where to go

》 Alexia Putellas x fencer!Reader

》 words count: +4.5k

》 move mountains [idiom]: to do something that seems impossible, particularly when love or belief makes one feel determined to succeed in something incredibly difficult to achieve

“En garde!”

The weight of the blade in your hand is familiar, well balanced as you adjust the position of your feet on the piste.

“Prêtes?”

A cocky smirk appears on your opponent’s face, somehow not disguised behind the mask tinted with the Hungarian flag. It just sparks more determination inside you, fuelling a fire that will burn ‘till the very last point.

“Allez!”

You know she’s coming even before her body moves in a leap, the sabre twitching to surprise you with a low line attack. A quick step on the side is enough to gain the space you need for a clear defense, deflecting her blade away from the target and sliding your own on her back.

A red light turns immediately on, firing up your side of the fencing piste.

The referee gestures in your direction to confirm the touch, the score is now 10-13.

With not much time left to catch up to your opponent’s advantage before the end of the second period, the need to start another assault overcomes the joy of the successful hit.

Three points behind, you can’t concede anything, you know that, but every single person in the arena thinks you’re desperate to land as many touches as possible.

However, you’re not desperate.

You’ve never been desperate in your entire fencing career, and you’re not tonight, at the dusk of your Olympic experience.

For once, for this last dance with the gods and goddesses of the sports, it’s all about being present and enjoying every moment.

“Look, this could be us if you let me take you out on a date”

Barely awake to register your words and definitely not enough to deal with your overexcitement this early in the morning, Alexia just takes the phone you unceremoniously put on her face as soon as you spot her eyes opening.

The article on the screen reports about "the 9 couples who competed at the Olympics together and won" with great details and pictures. She’s definitely not going to read it.

“We don’t play the same sport”, she states.

“Not the point of the article”

“We don’t even compete for the same country”

“Still missing the point”, you roll your eyes unimpressed, knowing she’s once again just avoiding the topic.

Or trying to annoy you for the abrupt wake up.

“We’re not together–”

“Yet!”

The footballer isn’t able to hide the smile that rises on her lips, yours is always so contagious. She hands back the phone, turning on her side to face you properly. The light sheets now barely cover her body, exposing a couple of darkening marks.

Not letting your gaze wander is, ‘till this day, the greatest display of strength and self-control you had to perform.

And you came back from the Olympic Games just a couple of months ago.

“We’re not together yet ‘cus you don’t let us go out on a proper date!”

It’s Alexia’s turn to roll her eyes, but the redness that tints her cheek is much more difficult to hide than your disappointment.

The two of you meet a few times since the Closing Ceremony, both with medals hanging from your necks and a strange force in your chest pulling one towards the other – despite everything.

Despite the older woman insisting it can’t work.

Taking advantage of a moment of distraction, you push her back onto the bed, sliding one leg over her body and successfully holding her hands above her head. The blush spreads on her face and your grin grows, but when you find her eyes, you make sure she knows you deeply mean what you’re saying.

“I just need a chance, Alexia”

“I’m–”

“Just give us a chance”

Fencing is a strange combat practice.

“En garde!”

Doesn’t matter how many times, how hard, or where you’re hit.

“Prêtes?”

You’re immortal.

“Allez!”

The only touch that kills you is the 15th one.

You launch yourself at the Hungarian girl, knowing that to win the game she just needs to land two more attacks or rely on your mistakes. She’s pushed to the very end of the piste, her sabre desperately circling around yours to defend her target, while her foot is moving quickly to avoid a step behind – a step that could mean one more point for you.

An idea comes up as you intentionally let your attack fall short, fooling your opponent to advance. Her front leg extends in a forward motion, pushing with the back foot to create more energy and gain space from the end line.

She’s exactly where you need her.

With a clean parry, deflecting her blade away, you successfully withdraw her line and gain right-of-way to attack. Now vulnerable and off balance, you just have to press the tip of your sabre on her shoulder.

The piste lights up with a vivid red and, a second too late, bright white reports her no valid touch.

11-13.

In your corner, your maestro is nodding his head slowly and suggesting you the next move with rapid motions of his hands.

Not a man of many words, someone could say, but you like him like that.

He knows exactly when to spur your competitiveness and hunger to win, when to keep your feet steady on the piste, and when to let you be.

“You know, I think I wasted my entire life”

Alexia moves her hands from your back to your shoulder, raising a sceptical eyebrow at your statements but now used – and resigned – to your questionable sense of humour.

“I’m made to be a wag”

As her head drops down and her eyes light up with pure amusement, you can’t help but think you want to be able to do this for the rest of your life. Managing to make her laugh so openly and carefree is still one of your biggest accomplishments.

“I have to say, you do look good”, the footballer points to the jersey you’re wearing, blushing a bit at the thought of her name on the back.

She can just hope you will not notice, blaming the effort the past 90 minutes demanded from her.

“Better do, I don’t know how much longer I can keep rocking Barça merch for”

“Good for you, there’s only one game left”

“Bold to you to assume I’m stopping at the Champions League, Putellas”, you reach out to drop one arm around her shoulders to hold the Catalan in an embrace you’re now really familiar with, “There’s a World Cup title to defend next year, I’ve already cleared my schedule”

Coming from a family of respected and accomplished athletes of the sport, the road ahead of you is marked out with the characteristic arch of a fencing blade since you’re old enough to hold the weapon properly.

Probably even before that, knowing your parents.

“En garde!”

The techniques of parring and thrusting, the movements of feet dancing on the piste, the special feeling of the blade as an extension of the body. You master all before you’re actually ready to admit the desire to make fencing a living, not just a passion passed on or a demanting hobby.

Hating the sport could have been so much easier, blaming the ‘nepo baby’ status either you succeeded or you turned out not to be up to it.

“Prêtes?”

But you love fencing.

“Allez!”

And you’re damn good at it.

A couple of steps into the assault, you take advantage of a moment of hesitation in the Hungarian’s preparation to perfectly timing your next move. Pushing from your front leg with impressive force, your body flies high to quickly cover the gap that divides the two of you. The jump allows you to deliver the attack slightly earlier than expected, striking your sabre against your target with no mercy.

The red light turns on as the crowds erupt in cheers, 12-13.

“Shouldn't I be the nervous one?”

Alexia’s hand finds yours before you’re even able to register her comment, stopping you from biting your nails off. She pulls it away and kisses your knuckles, keeping her eyes on your tense body.

The drive through the countryside’s streets is slow and calm, giving the footballer the time to appreciate the view but also a clear idea of how little you want to arrive at your parent’s villa.

A summer break under the Italian sun looks like a great idea, taking your girlfriend to your favourite hidden gems all around the country and finding together new places for new memories is just what you two need.

And it’s perfect, until your mother calls to invite you to spend the weekend with them.

“It can’t be that bad”

“You know my parents”

“I don’t, actually”, she argues, honest but not unkind.

It’s not like you don’t want Alexia to meet your family, she had bumped into them on several occasions and had brief conversations with them when their paths collided in your life.

A formal meeting though? Two entire days with your parents at their summer house? Sounds like hell to you.

“They’re going to be obnoxious and stern without reason”

“I can deal with them”

You stop at the side of a deserted road, too close to your destination for your own liking. Needing some time to prepare yourself and your girlfriend for the upcoming and unnecessary drama, the unplanned break looks like the best compromise over turning the car the other way altogether.

“I know you can deal with them, I don’t want you to”

That sounds wrong.

Alexia’s face contorts slightly, even if you’re perfectly aware she’s trying to understand you without just assuming you don’t want her to enter your family’s bubble.

“I’m not making any sense”, you state, taking a long breath in and relaxing at the feeling of the Catalan’s hand still holding yours.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to”

“No, I– Ale, my parents aren’t bad, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they are good. I told you what my childhood looked like. I had everything I’d ask for, and I’m grateful for that, but–”

When you meet her eyes you find complete support and desire to know how to take this pressuring weight out of your chest.

You never felt more cared for in your life.

“I met your family, I’ve been in your house. It feels like home, warm and lived, and– I can’t explain, but your family feels like a hug. My family?”, you scoff, trying to find the right words, “My family feels like a distant pat on the back on the good days. I don’t want you to feel like that, I want you to feel all my love”

She doesn’t let your hand go to gently hold your face with her free one, her thumb wiping away the traces of tears from your cheeks.

She makes sure to have all your attention, she makes sure to convey all her love for you.

“I’ll be your hug”

The protests of the younger opponent are cut short by the referee, who gestured for the two of you to take the centre of the piste.

“En garde!”

An old maestro, one of the unfortunates who had to train you when you were an annoying and reckless teenager, demanded from you absolute control of your reactions every time you landed a hit.

“Prêtes?”

You used to never celebrate any point but the last one.

“Allez!”

You don’t hold back anymore.

The Hungarian’s steps are now more calculated, jumping forward every now and then but keeping a fair distance from you and your sabre.

Fencing has taught you a lot about discipline and respect, you’re grateful for how much you’ve grown thanks to the sport. It was a long way from a tiny hyperactive kid, who just wanted to win and couldn’t accept any decision against it, to where you stand now.

Sometimes you still feel like that kid.

You hold your ground, you don’t rush the action just for the sake of it. Keeping up the pace of the assault, your blade finds the opponent’s one in rapid motions of attacks and responses without any real commitment to push for the point.

Other times you wish you were still that kid.

Suddenly, you both launch forward – aiming for a different target but with the same purpose. While she uses her front leg and an elusive movement of her arm to find your shoulder, your back leg slides and your body extends lower, trying to catch the other fencer by surprise.

The blades collide several times in a rapid succession of parries and responses until the piste lights up and you both pour out in celebration, claiming the touch.

You don’t hold back anymore, you have nothing to prove.

You don’t have to prove you’re worth your family’s name, you don’t have to prove you’re good enough to compete with the bests of the world in the biggest stages.

You don’t have to prove anything to anyone but yourself.

When both signals indicate the hit, it rests upon the referee to decide which fencer scores the point – retracing the entire action and giving their interpretation of it.

If they say the point isn’t yours, you have to accept the decision.

It goes without saying that you are not happy with it when the referee indicates your opponent when conferring the point.

12-14, it doesn’t look good for you.

Your pacing around the rooftop is frenetic, quite comical if seen from outside.

A gust of wind makes your exposed skin shiver, blowing your hair and completely ruining the intricate style you spend almost an hour on. It could also be your nervous hands making, but you’re not going to blame yourself for that too.

“Can you just stop?”

“No, Alexia, I cannot!”

The footballer covers the distance between the two of you in a few, determined steps. Her dress moves in a way that perfectly highlights the curve of her body and the definition of her muscles.

You could be fixed on your fiancé, devoting your attention completely to her, if you’d not be too preoccupied with freaking out.

“It’s not working”, you state.

“You really think that?”

Another shiver runs through your back, this time caused by the thought of the ending of your relationship with Alexia. Do you really think it’s over?

“We’re planning a wedding and we’ve never been in the same city at the same time for more than three consecutive months”

“Since when has that been a problem?”, she asks, holding you by your arms and never dropping her gaze, “We deal with the distance just fine. We go on dates and spend time together, we communicate and we are honest, we are there for each other when it matters”

“I want to be there when it doesn’t matter too”

“What does that even mean?”

The desire of stability and an everyday life that can grow into a future is something you both crave but are too scared to admit to the other.

“I want to be there when you’re back from training and you just want to watch a wild nature documentary, I want to be there for the daily and boring errands like doing the dishes or going to the supermarket just because we’re out of toilet paper”

It’s difficult to build your lives together far away from each other, to then meet and intertwine your paths, just to say goodbye and start all over again.

But the life you’re building is so beautiful.

A life that now looks like a carefully planned date in a stunning location, set up months in advance, or like a spontaneous surprise just because you have a free weekend and a pull from your heart that cannot be ignored.

But a life that soon will look like a walk out with a dog in the middle of the night because you forgot to do it after dinner, or like a weekly double date with your friends at the same restaurant.

A life that now looks like expensive gifts and flowers sent from a different country, but a life that soon will look like an electric bill with both your names on it.

A life that now looks like a shared calendar to make sure you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, exactly at the right time.

But a life that soon will still look like a shared calendar to make sure you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, exactly at the right time, just for completely different reasons.

A life you are already building, already living.

“Do you remember when you asked me to give us a chance? Well, now is my turn”

“Alexia, I–”

“Just give us a chance, amore mio”

“En garde!”

As a smirk reappears on the Hungarian’s face, you take a deep breath and remember your journey to this very fencing bout.

Your fourth Olympic Games, your fourth Individual Final for a medal.

“Prêtes?”

This could be a poker of victories or a bittersweet send off to the biggest sport stage.

“Allez!”

Sabre is the fastest and most aggressive of the three fencing disciplines, both parts rushing their opponent from the moment the referee commands to commence action. Just to secure a touch as soon as possible.

That’s why sabre fencers purposely take the defensive approach just in really particular situations.

You make a couple of steps forward, faking a lunge, as the young girl let her blade circle around yours without a real intention to engage. The exchange goes on like this far longer than you wish for, you know it’s a matter of moments before someone has to stir the combat.

Learning to understand when to attack and when to wait has been a challenge your entire life – not just professionally-wise. A maybe too talkative kid, a maybe too reckless teenager, a maybe too presumptuous woman.

Always maybe a little too much.

There’s a fairly big distance between the two of you, the Hungarian’s back leg shakes in subtle desire to close the gap and take the initiative.

It’s the hint you need.

Learning to understand your feelings and your emotions, accepting them as they are, doesn’t matter how strong or uncomfortable, has been the real challenge.

A battle you still fight against yourself, against your own mind. A battle no one can really see or comprehend.

You accelerate and move forward, stamping your front foot to the ground and extending your hand, both fainting an attack and disguising your defence stance. The motion is quickly followed by your opponent’s launch, but, tricked by the fast movement of your blade, she completely miscalculates the actual distance between your bodies.

She falls short, and, without time to recover, she has to take your punishment.

A battle you face with yourself, but with people in your corner ready to cheer for you despite the outcome.

Once again, the only light turning on is the red one – the score is now a compelling 13-14.

“Oh”

Looking up from the paperwork you’re proofreading, you notice how Alexia stops in the middle of your bedroom with a cup of coffee in one hand and a startstrucked gaze fixed on her face.

“We have to make another one!”, she whisper-shouts as she doesn’t seem able to look away from the baby currently sleeping in your arms.

It’s not the most comfortable position, but it’s too early for you to deal with your six-month old daughter’s fussing and your wife’s quite emotional state.

“We make another one”

“No, now hand me my coffee, please”, you lay the papers on the bed to make some grabbing gestures towards the cup – still in her very still, very far away hand.

“We have to replicate, we have to make another one”

“No, we really don’t”

“Look at her!”

You don’t look at her, finally reaching for your coffee as Alexia comes sitting next to you to gently caress the little girl’s face.

A smile rises on your lips, the picture of your growing family is always able to warm your heart and make up any doubts in your running mind.

Being loved and taken care of is not as hard as you thought it’d be.

It’s simple, it’s comforting.

It’s the hug she promised you, and you feel it wrapping all around your body when you need it the most, and also suddenly, out of nowhere and for no reason at all, in mornings like this one.

“She’s like a white rhino or the Amur leopard”, she doesn’t need to look at you to feel your raised eyebrow, “We fell asleep watching a documentary about the rarest and most critically threatened animals on the planet”

“I can’t leave the two of you alone unsupervised, never again”

“She’s rare, amore mio. We need to create more so the world could be a better place”

Holding back your laughs is getting more and more difficult, restrained just by the idea of waking up the baby still fast asleep. At least the Catalan is keeping her voice down as her enthusiasm runs wild.

As soon as she starts kissing her cheeks you know you’re done.

“Leave her alone, let her sleep”

“I can’t, look at her!”, she pumps your daughter’s nose with a finger, making her steer in your arms with a too-cute-for-your-own-good face.

She’s always reacting to Alexia’s soft touches and whispers.

Your wife’s basically tearing up at this point, too overwhelmed by the moment. At least you can blame the post partum hormones for your now emotional state.

The happiness you feel all around your home? That’s all Alexia’s making.

The crowd is loud and beaming, excited for the last tale of this fencing Individual Final and to see who will come out as the winner.

“En garde!”

A quick look at your maestro, he nods with his arms crossed. That will do.

“Prêtes?”

Breathing in and out, you savour every second of this as you find your position. A good preparation means everything in fencing. It’d make the difference in any moment of the assault, in any moment of the entire bout.

You learnt that a good preparation means everything in life too.

“Allez!”

The younger girl moves fast, launching herself forward as soon as the referee gives the go. But you’re prepared.

A good preparation gives you time to watch your opponent, ready to move in either direction you need to. You’re ready to move forward or take a step back, you’re ready to jump or to slide low. You’re ready to do everything you need to not get touched.

You’re prepared for this to be your last time fencing at the Olympic Games, you’re prepared for this to be your last time fencing all together.

The Hungarian tries to take you off balance with a quick sequence of attacks, going for the high hit and then aiming at your exposed target. You parry every single one, predicting her movement with impressive precision.

There are different ways to prepare – the posture, the speed, the steps can be varied, depending on the style of the fencer and on the opponent. There’s no right or wrong way. But you’re prepared for anything tonight.

When you see her going deep, you know how to move to anticipate her blade, rotating yours against it and leaving her target open just enough for you to breathe out and press the tip of the sabre in the middle of her chest.

The red light turns on before the green one, the score now announcing a draw at 14.

“This one looks comfortable”, you tap Alexia’s foot, waking her up efficiently from the nap you find her taking.

How can she manage to fall asleep in the most unhinged positions, it’s something you ask yourself to this day. Your daughter takes after her, obviously.

That’s how you find the two of them on the sofa with a National Geographic’s documentary on.

At least the girl immediately stirred up at hearing you coming back home after a couple hours out to run some boring errands.

“I was just resting my eyes”

“Sure”, you bend down smiling, kissing her forehead, “You have training in an hour, coach”

“Plenty of time”

A firm hand finds the back of your neck, holding you in place for a proper kiss. Alexia’s lips are soft and taste like fresh tomatoes and kid’s chapstick – the latter probably your daughter’s doing.

Said daughter now alone and unsupervised in the kitchen.

You reluctantly pull back from the Catalan, leaving a light peck at the tip of her nose as soon as she frowns unhappily about the loss of contact.

“You used to like me”, she complains.

“Good old days, mi amor”

Eleven seconds left may be the entire time of a race or may count nothing in some other sports. In fencing, eleven seconds may be the longest time ever or not quite enough at all for a point.

You’re not going to drag this into the final round.

“En garde!”

Breathe in.

“Prêtes?”

Breathe out.

“Allez!”

Smile.

As soon as the referee gives the go, you rush forward with your hand held back – quite a vulnerable move if not for the four metres distance the starting positions guarantee. You bounce a couple steps, staying very high against the Hungarian’s low stance, building speed and momentum to lunge upwards without giving her any clear clue of what type of attack you’re going to choose.

Your blade slides on the target before she has time to realise where you actually hit.

There’s no doubt, no hesitation.

The red light turns on in what feels like the longest time ever, the crowd erupts in cheers, and the mask falls off your head as you celebrate like never before in your entire career.

Taking the centre of the piste, you point your sabre in a really specific direction, aiming at a very specific person.

Two, actually.

You mimic a bow and the audience goes wild.

It’s for none but the two people you can’t keep your teared up eyes off.

After that, it’s all a blur.

Saluting the opposition and the referee is a natural gesture. You manage to give the younger fencer your sincere compliments and some words of advice she takes more gracefully than you could have ever done at her age.

Your maestro holds you in a big hug, he says it’s been an honour, and you will not start doubting him now.

Someone drags you for a quick interview, asking questions you have been asked your entire life. You answer sincerely, but the desire to get this over with as soon as possible is clear as the smile on your face.

“It’s a bronze medal, how do you feel about it?”

“Honestly? I think this is the most important and beautiful of them all”, you politely say your goodbyes to run in the opposite direction.

Finding Alexia has always been easy, your eyes lock in the middle of full rooms despite everything and everyone. A warm hug envelops your body when you’re close enough to fall into her open arms, feeling tiny hands holding onto you at the same time.

“We’re so proud of you, amore mio”

“Thank you, for the chance”

fine.

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso #alexia putellas #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #ap11 #here we go again #espwnt #spain women's national team #sefutbolfem

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