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wandixx · 2 days ago

Text

You'll never find the aswers ch.4

Words in this part: 5547

Story summary: M'gann was having an amazing day. She met with her civilian friends, drank an amazing smoothie, saw a cute dog. For a few hours, she didn't have to think about problems that took more than 20 minutes to solve. For a few hours, she could just be Megan.

And then there was a scream of a woman, mother, who thought too loud and faded too fast and M'gann wasn't enough to save her and it made her whole world come crashing down

And then Danny found her, with a soft smile and patient voice. He kneeled beside her to pick up the pieces.

And shards cut them both in the process.

This part summary: M'gann and Danny hold a funeral ceremony

Trigger warnings: Mention of Character Death (should I still put it in chapter tw with... everything this fic is?), (Made up) Funeral Traditions, Referenced Cultural Appropriation (I think? I'm not sure. He means well, he's trying but he just couldn't learn everything)

Please let me know if I forgot to put something here

first chapter, previous chapter

M'gann's hands were trembling. It didn’t make any sense since she was sitting in a relatively warm room and just trying to force herself to do her homework. But her hands were trembling and her head was empty. She pressed her pen to the paper anyway and wrote her human name in the corner to at least have something. It looked wrong. Her handwriting always looked weird when she was holding her pen so hard.

Mountain was unusually quiet. Most of the time it was just her and Conner here, and neither of them were particularly loud, but usually there was something to be heard. Rooms were soundproofed to give people with super hearing some chance to rest and everyone else some privacy, but M’gann almost always left her door at least cracked. It still was too quiet. Like there was nobody there in a fifty mile radius around her. Her ears were ringing just enough to be counted as a sound.

Artemis said once that when she couldn’t think of a way to start writing an essay, she would try to find a definition of the key word in the topic. It apparently was a good way to get started.

M’gann stared at the printed sentence for what felt like milenia and still didn’t know what she actually read, let alone identified a crucial part of it. Her brain just felt disconnected a bit. Not quite like she stood next to herself but like she leaned back a little.

She sighed and threw her head to stare at the ceiling for a moment as if it held answers to any of her problems.

Knock… knock, knock, knock-knock-knock!

Danny was at her door, knocking on the frame. At some point or another, way back when she thought she could actually help and save people and be a hero people expected her to be, back then Danny would come around to her room a lot and along the way they created a knocking system. This pattern meant something important.

She really didn't feel like she had energy for important.

Knocking repeated. She got up and opened the door fully. Her telepathy felt harder to use lately, as a side effect of overall impairment of psychic powers Martians typically experience at the times of great distress. In her case it depended on a day. Sometimes she could use her powers like nothing happened. Sometimes, like today, even the easiest tasks felt out of reach.

Danny smiled solemnly at her and slowly held out his hand. There were two colorful spheres in it, a bit smaller than a ping pong ball and imperfect in shape as if they were handmade by someone inexperienced. Her fingers brushed on the uneven surface. Breath caught in her throat, her lungs stilled. She recognized the colors, she recognized the texture, she recognized the scent.

Those were mourning orbs.

“Everything is ready” he announced earnestly, whispering as if it would be an utter sacrilege to speak any louder. She nodded. She looked back at her room, her eyes darting around anxiously. She was supposed to prepare urns. She didn’t even think about touching it.

“It alright, I've got it” Danny placated seeing her fear and shifted his bag to bring her attention to it. He was so gentle that M’gann wanted to cry a bit. What did she do to deserve it?

He held her hand now, soft and tender. There was an unexpected comfort coming from his familiar calluses rubbing against her still bruised skin.

“Are you ready? We can do it another time if your not”

Her vision blurred a bit but she nodded, exiting her room. They began walking, Danny leading the way to the place he found. She couldn’t bring herself to wonder where it was. Contact helped her stay more firmly in her body but her thoughts were still fuzzy around the edges. Their footsteps weren't making any sound. Danny most likely shared his intangibility with her, to make sneaking around easier. She was familiar with the tingling of her skin it caused.

He was careful but sure in his route. His head was slightly tilted, like always when he was continuously using his enhanced hearing. He was probably making sure they won't bump into anyone, even if they could turn invisible the moment someone showed up. If they wanted to disappear at all, in theory nobody should stop them from just coming outside.

She appreciated it. She didn't want to see anyone else right then.

She rarely thought about how harsh lights in the Mountain were and how intense smelt the lemon detergent they used for floors. Silence around them was heavy, overwhelming, loud in a way that didn't make any sense. Main room was staring when they crossed it, despite being empty.

She wasn't sure why she was able to breathe a little deeper only when they were by the door. Mountain was her home. She liked it. She felt safe there.

She felt like tearing her skin off until they left.

She had to blink a few times when the sun hit her eyes. She didn’t even realize how much darker it was inside. She didn't like the thought that it was her first time outside since she came back from school on Friday. It was late Sunday. Danny stopped and only continued after making sure she was alright. He let go of intangibility, letting their feet break twigs on the ground and brush along the soft grass.

It was warm outside, sun low enough to begin painting the sky in yellows and oranges and pinks while most of it stayed light blue. M’gann breathed in the scent of earth and leaves and overall life outside that felt too strong for how dry the past few days were.

“We're almost there. I hope you'll like it“ Danny said with a reassuring smile when she slowed down to take it all in. They stopped walking for a moment.

M’gann tried to return his smile but it felt wrong. Like she was possessing her own body and had to almost manually pull muscles for every gesture, continuously using wrong controls.

“I'm sure I will,” she said. She realized with a strat that it was the first time she spoke that day. Her voice was scratchy and uncomfortable. Judging by the concerned glance Danny sent her way, he caught it too. She cleared her throat like it could change anything. Her hand was lightly squeezed. They went deeper into the forest surrounding Mount Justice.

They walked a bit more, slower than before. Despite released intangibility that would indicate they didn't need to sneak around, Danny was careful to not break too many branches and M’gann followed suit. Here silence wasn't suffocating but sacred. Gentle wind was rustling leaves above their heads while a few birds sang. It was late enough both in the day and the year for them to appear after doing whatever they did the whole day outside of mornings and evenings full of music. Before… before the accident, she sometimes woke up early to watch the sunrise and listen to them, before heat became unbearable even for Earth born beings. She too wasn't too keen on the heat of summer.

They stopped in the clearing small enough that most of it was still in the shadows of surrounding trees. Only some rays of golden sunlight made it through the leaves, illuminating a miniature, fragile looking bush in the middle. The earth around it was freshly disturbed.

“We're here” Danny explained, barely louder than the breeze “You said you wanted something human to it and we usually put flowers so I took liberty and planted it here. Maybe it was too much. If it is, just tell me, I don't think it's settled enough to not survive uprooting. Sam helped me pick it, she mentioned something about flower language. I don't know much about it but I can try expla–”

“It's perfect, thank you” she choked out, not really listening. It truly was.

“Oh, okay. Okay, cool”

Sun was peeking in between leaves, marking their faces with golden flecks. Any other time she would say it looked almost magical. She felt alone all of the sudden. Of course Danny was there, silent and solemn but other than that, outside of this little clearing stopped in time, the whole world could stop existing and she wouldn't realize. She wouldn't care.

Mourning orbs somehow made their way to her hand, accompanied by a traditional necklace to carry one of them. Both of them already had some emotional residue in them, like all handmade things tended to. She liked it. Her heart felt warmer sensing utter devotion that sinked in with the time Danny spent working on them. It was too faint for him to catch, sincere as one could get.

Traditional necklace meant to hide one of them was clinically clean, made by some professional.

Danny put his bag on the ground, and took out a set of two urns. M’gann winced internally. They weren’t made by him, obviously. It wasn’t a problem. Process of creating urns was too complicated for even an untrained Martian to replicate, let alone human who had two weeks to learn. It was a sophisticated art, specifically cultivated by White Martians in their workshops. Urns Danny brought weren’t wrong in any outright visible way. They were clearly made by someone who knew their craft, a bit wider than normal but not enough to be incorrect. Clearly, the big rim was a part of the design for some reason. If she focused enough, she probably could even guess from which artist family they came. The urns were frankly stunning, painted with rusty reds, some oranges and muted yellows and white, the color of death and danger, bright yellow like Priest’s skin to signify how sacred the item and ceremony in general were, barely there smidge of hopeful light blue and saturated red like royalty’s skin to tell anyone who could see it, how important the person mourned was to the people attending a funeral. They held weird green tinge to them and M’gann carefully didn’t consider what most likely caused it, focusing on the a bit too complicated, ornate shapes and perfectly even surfaces. If she had a chance to get a traditional funeral when the time came for her, she’d like to get urns almost like these.

But they were dead. Carefully kept from being polluted by foreign feelings. M’gann knew it was an industry norm, almost no one wanted stranger’s feelings on their gift for the dead. But it rubbed her the wrong way. She wanted feelings on her gifts, even stranger’s would be better than this unnerving emptiness. She couldn’t stand that something so personal was so dead. It didn’t make sense on a level so fundamental she couldn’t quite express it in words in her own head. Her urns should be ingrained with her tears and if not, with anything else, they should hold someone’s passion for the craft or annoyance at weird request or something, anything really.

Many others shared her opinion on the matter, so often in between getting a finished product from a workshop and the funeral itself, there was a set time when family and others that were supposed to attend the main ceremony would meet to fill urns with their feelings.

But obviously Danny couldn’t know that. So his urns were empty, perverted, wrong like a macabre funhouse mirror. off just enough to make people unsettled while being right enough to immediately recognise yourself in a distorted image.

“Do you want me to leave or do it with you?” he asked, bringing her back from her mussing.

Did she want him to leave? Not really. It felt intimidating for some reason. Overwhelming. Lonely. She didn’t want to be by herself while pouring her heart out to the world. She wasn't supposed to be on her own while doing it.

On the other hand, despite his clear, enormous effort, Danny didn’t know what it was supposed to look like. If anything, this slight mishap with urns proved that there was so much he had yet to learn and she didn’t want his lack of knowledge to profane the ceremony. Especially since he didn’t have any connection, any reason to feel anything towards the woman in whose memory they even did it.

But he seemed earnest in his respectful silence, ready to give the unknown dead person all of the reverence they deserved. And she didn't want to be alone.

“Stay please“ she breathed out, so softly she wasn't sure he heard her. But he nodded, taking out two other orbs from his hoodie pocket.

“These were the trial runs,” he explained hurriedly “I took them just in case. I didn't plan on using them. And I only have two urns. I’ll get another two later, I promise”

“It's alright. You put a lot of effort into it all. Thank you”

Danny stared at her with a look somewhere between offended and absolutely appalled.

“You can't halfass preparations for the funeral, it's like, the most basic decency!“

There was some sort of weird longing and jealousy(?) that flared up when she said that, strong enough that her impaired brain picked it up. They should talk about that later. It was potentially something she could do to at least partially repay him for all the effort he was putting in helping her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad-”

“It’s okay, you did nothing wrong. I’m just a bit touchy about this stuff. It’s not even a ghost thing, just a me thing, really. You had no way of knowing, it’s okay”

They’ll definitely have to talk about it later. Not now though. They had other things to get done at the moment.

“Alright. I’m still sorry”

Danny just sighed and went back to searching his bag.

With gritted teeth M’gann changed back to her true form. After so long in Megan’s body it felt wrong, too stretched out and squeezed in all of the uncomfortable places, but she stayed like that. There were no lies to be told at the funeral.

Some part of her wanted to scream and rub the skin off of herself.

“Should I switch to Phantom?” Danny whispered.

“It depends. Which form do you consider the true you?”

Halfa hadn’t said anything, furrowing his brows, analyzing her question from all the angles by the looks of it. After a long moment his face smoothed over again and looked her in the eyes.

“I’m here as your friend not as a hero. Tell me when you’re ready to start”

She nodded and with an unpracticed gesture she put one of the Mourning Orbs in the necklace. She took a few steps to stand at an appropriate distance from the bush. Under normal circumstances, in its place would be preserved brain and ashes of the body, or if it wasn’t possible, something truly personal to the dead person. They had neither. Even little bit of blood that got on her clothes wasn’t available as it disappeared the moment she switched clothes. It still made her sith when she thought about it. Her ectoplasm was useless two, covering M’gann in a way that even Danny couldn’t reverse.

Boy stood on the opposite side with a grim expression on his face, holding his a bit shapeless orb like it was both a lifeline and the most precious thing he ever encountered.

She wasn’t ready. She was terrified. The memory of the dead body in her arms was just at her fingertips and she wasn’t ready to actually remember. Her breath hitched. Danny nodded with an encouraging twitch of emotions.

Let it all out~ he seemed to say. His voice and that of her home sang in unison and she could only do so much against their joined forces.

First tear ran down her cheek, quickly joined by next and next.

She held the body in her hands, staring as the life slowly left it, each desperate thought getting quieter and quieter, more hopeless as M’gann tried her best to put crushed ribs back together based on telepathic touch alone because she didn’t have an x-ray amd the family was getting broken in front of her and she wasn’t sure if the gut wrenching sobs she heard came from her or from the little boy whose smile she saw in his mother’s dying thoughts. She destroyed this little boy and his family and she couldn’t do anything to fix it and an apology would be pointless but she was going to do it anyway. She was powerful and yet, she couldn’t save life in front of her and it was so unfair that her shortcomings hurt these innocent people.

She would switch their places if she could because they deserved to be happy and together and she could stand that they weren’t because of her and her knees hit the ground much stronger than she would think was possible in relieved memory. There was blood on her hands and she spent countless nights trying to wash it off, even though most of the bleeding was internal. Three was cheerful little boy waiting for his mom and she would never get to him because she was dying on M’gann’s lap and it was her fault and why wouldn’t world punish the responsible and not the bystander and she was choking, her chest tightly squeezed and it didn’t make sense because she didn’t need to breathe as much but earthly air still felt to thin and a woman on her lap drowned in her own blood and how could M’gann let it happen and, and, and…

And now she was using her friend who was already stretched thin and she kept worrying him and others and she was trying to get better and help people like she was supposed to instead of adding to their workload. But she couldn’t force herself to appear alright enough, not in front of Danny, being naturally more intune with emotions, and it was only a matter of time before they left because she was too much to deal with and was too weak and too useless to justify all their effort. She couldn’t get alright but she had to because she was supposed to be better and she trained more to get where she should already be but her mind and body kept slipping, kept betraying her and she was dead, the woman was dead because M’gann didn’t, couldn’t save her and now she was dead, she was dead.

She was dead, she was dead, she was dead…

Only when she couldn’t cry anymore, and when she got too tired to feel, did she open her eyes. With some surprise she realized she actually fell to her knees, back in the form she had that day. She shivered and quickly turned back to her true form. It wasn’t something that was supposed to happen.

Danny solemnly stood where he did before, fiddling with his hands like he did when he was stopping himself from doing something very intently. All of his feelings were kept tightly in his grasp, undetectable without an almost violent pressing. M’gann knew from experience how straining it was and it had to be undeniably harder for someone as unused as him.

She was almost sure he did that to not overwhelm her even more. She probably wouldn’t be able to tell him how thankful she was for that.

Curiously enough, despite how well he hid at the moment, she could sense the tangled mess of feelings he let out just before. She wasn’t in the right headspace to wonder or read what these emotions were but she knew they were strong. Much more intense than she expected of him. After all, he never even met the woman. He knew her only as a victim of M’gann’s shortcomings, taken from the world too soon. He wasn’t obliged to feel anything, to work on the whole memorial and yet he did, with more respect than she saw during some ceremonies she witnessed back home.

“Now we should burn it,” she said, her voice not raising above the quiet rustling of the leaves above their heads. In her White Martian form she could probably brush on them with her head if she stood straighter.

Burning was a complicated part. It had to be done calmly and slowly, with a confident hand so none of the ashes ended up outside of the small urn. Back on Mars, there were Priests and Priestesses, Flame Tamers who trained for ages to get rid of natural fear of fire and control flames before they caught anything they shouldn’t. Anyone inexperienced would taint the ceremony. Obviously they didn’t have anyone experienced anyway and they were both quite susceptible to the heat alone.

Flame Tamers always had a set of heavily ornate tools, that only ever they were allowed to touch. One of them, probably most important, was a stick with a funnel on the one end. It was still really precise to work with, but from what M’gann understood, it significantly facilitated the task. Danny took out a thin metal stick, from his seemingly bottomless bag. It looked like it belonged to chocolate fountain assorted silverware but she couldn't really judge him on that. She wasn't sure if there was punishment great enough for someone who would pervert such a sacred tool and gave it to anyone.

“Sorry, that's the best thing I could find”

No matter how he got everything else, there was no way he could get it too. It would be both too good and too unsettling. She was already uneasy from the horrible contrast between the calm, warm, beautiful day in the forest near the place she wanted to call home and the ceremony from her cold, unforgiving past, which was always held in the coldest of the caves, ones with the thinnest air. The most inhabitable ones.

“That’s alright”

Danny winced, looking like he wanted to disagree but didn’t say anything. They both stayed quiet for a long moment, on a lonely, quiet clearing.

“How do you want to do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I only have a really vague idea how this part looks. Nobody wants to tell me how it looks. What do we do now?”

Of course nobody told him. She was surprised he learned this much anyway. He shouldn’t. How the ceremony goes was supposed to stay secret from anyone and everyone who didn’t attend it. It was too vulnerable an event to share anything outside.

But now Danny needed to know. Someone had to tell him.

M’gann explained even though her tongue felt too big and too dry in her mouth.

She wished she could just put information in his brain. She knew far too well how Danny would react to that.

“Oh, alright, alright. Do you want me to do it or…”

“You. I wasn’t trained.”

I still fear fire, she didn’t say.

It will hurt less if it’s you who messes up, she didn’t say.

He heard it anyway and responded with a nod.

He stabbed the mourning orb with a stick (M’gann didn’t wince, M’gann didn’t wince) and fished out a lighter from his hoodie pocket. It was the lighter, night sky blue one, patterned with golden stars. The one he almost never used because it was too precious to him. Gift from someone he couldn’t bring up without tears, let alone mention them by name.

M’gann felt like crying again.

He kneeled, doing his best to stabilize his hand over the urn and let a flame lick an urn until part of it turned warm gray and started crumbling. If Danny used the right materials (and he did, as far as she could tell by texture) it didn’t need to be on fire the whole time. Just this starting nudge.

Smoke smelled like iron on the surface. Just right.

She started whispering prayers around the gulp in her throat, their soft melody rolling easily off her tongue. She should be louder, they were meant to be heard, because how else can gods know to help her traveling to whatever was her place to rest. She should be louder because her song was lost in between chirping birds and quiet wind.

But the prayer was never meant to be sung by one person. There was never supposed to be anything else that could be louder. (She wasn’t sure if she remembered words right).

This woman had her own gods anyway. Martian ones didn’t need to guide her.

She sang a little louder anyway.

She was on a very poetic passage about promise to never forget and always grieve when Danny’s hand trembled. Ash almost got over the rim of the urn, almost got polluted. M’gann flinched and stopped singing.

Up until this point he was doing surprisingly well. Maybe even suspiciously if she didn't know he had no way and no reason to actually train it. But there he was, almost as sure and precise as some Flame Tamers were.

Whoever designed the urns probably suspected that. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if they were standard size.

Even from the height of her ‘true’ form she could see tremors running through his body and a way his face was screwed to contain crying. The way he seemed to carefully measure each breath. He caught his wrist with other hand, his grip so strong that his knuckles turned white.

“Sorry about it. Don’t interrupt yourself” he muttered, his voice hoarse from unshed tears.

Some dark part of her mind wanted to listen to him, but the thought lasted no longer than half a second, drowned by guilt. Up until this point M’gann had never really considered how attending a funeral would affect Danny. He just seemed so ready and almost�� excited for the lack of a better word. Eager to help like he always did. Never uncomfortable, even a slightest bit, with an idea, other than the first time when she wrote it off as overall stress from consoling her right after the… right after.

But she wasn’t really looking for it either, was she? How many things she missed because of her stupid impaired brain or because she was too self centered on her own pain or because he tucked it fast enough to consider it her mistake. But he was clearly not fine and his orbs were filled to the brim and everything filling them was just tad too personal.

“Are you sure you’re alright? We can take a break. Or I can finish on my own.”

It wasn’t really supposed to happen but really, there were so many rules they broke. It wouldn’t change anything if they broke one more. Danny’s wellbeing was more important anyway, plus it’s not even that she needed Martian gods to help the woman. He said himself, it was mostly to help her and she wouldn’t feel any better if her friend worked himself to breakdown.

“I’m fine Meg” he muttered, hiding his tears a bit better “Just… It’s a beautiful prayer. I got moved by it” he explained, not lying but not telling the truth. There was another pang of jealousy that slipped his control. She made sure to remember it. They couldn’t talk about it at the moment, but they had to speak about it later “You can finish, I’m fine”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Sing Meg. I want to know how it ends,” he said softly. If his tone was a bit less sincere he would sound demanding. He didn’t. She knew if she really dug her heels in she could stop and Danny wouldn't fault her.

She sang again, this time it didn’t feel like she had to fight wind to be heard. She was singing for the victim and Danny both. Yes, they both had their own gods but Martian ones could lend their hands. Maybe that’s what they both needed to rest.

This time it felt like a soft breeze carried her voice, like chirping birds turned a bit more solemn and they complemented the simple but powerful melody. Words rolled off her tongue with ease. Last bits of her devastation and grief were unsticking from her soul, leaving her body with each line, each sound.

It was cleansing.

She looked up at the sky when she finished, pinks and oranges familiar in a beautiful and terrifying way.

She heard rustling when Danny stood up. She didn’t realize she zoned out long enough for him to finish burning the second orb. It wasn’t important. He smiled at her, small and comforting, craning his neck to look her in the eyes. He rummaged around his bag again and took out intricate containers that usually held the brain and ashes from the rest of the body with some solvent. They too were created by a clear master of the art.

She really needed to ask Danny how he got all of this.

“Where do we…?”

Before he could finish, she gently took both objects out of his hands. It was something she needed to do on her own.

She carefully put them in the same distance from the anemic bush that marked the center of the grave circle. Usually the remains of the dead were placed first thing first during the ceremony, but in cases like this, when there was nothing, the reminder of it was put as almost last. There was no place for lies during the funeral. Even if the lie was just to make it hurt a tiny bit less.

Then she fixed the placement of the urn, in the circle around the brain. She carefully didn’t think about how it should be half circle, about to be finished when everyone moved on, and not mere two lone urns.

“To finish we need stones that’ll mark the border of the grave,” she explained, looking for anything sufficient. Usually funerals were attended by enough people so there was no problem with making a consistent circle but there were only two of them. Stupid tears filled her eyes. She wished she could do it properly. There was no way they could do all of the steps correctly and she knew from the start. It went better than she could expect.

She still felt an urge to throw a tantrum about everything that was wrong, wrong, WRONG!

Danny fished out two big stones, almost squares, a bit less than foot wide, about four inches tall. She knew that he had enhanced strength but it still looked unnecessarily heavy. Especially when paired with everything else he had to carry.

“Do you try to get a hernia or something? There are other ways to skip training, you know?” she joked, drying her eyes with her wrist.

Danny stayed silent for a moment, as if he was looking for words, with empty eyes and blank face. M’gann didn’t know if it was an angle or new light or something totally else, that made dark bags under his eyes more pronounced. He seemed a bit paler, too.

“Nah. But you two deserve all the best things I could get for you,” he muttered softly. He raised both stones higher, pointedly closer to her hands. He smiled at her, earnest and solemn.

Was he trying to make her cry again? If he did, he was doing a great job at it.

“Yeah?” she choked out around a sudden gulp in her throat.

“Of course”

They put stones across each other, small, missed twig snapping under the weight. Birds kept singing cheerfully and wind kept blowing as if to spite them, as if to remind them that the world was still moving forward and even things closest to them wouldn’t stop for even a second.

It should be silent. Why wouldn’t it be silent?!

M’gann finally turned back to her green form. Danny quietly opened his arms, a quiet invitation to the hug she could reject if she so wanted. She threw herself into it fast enough to make the boy grunt.

It wasn't an all encompassing type of hug, they were too similar in size for that. But it was warm, soft and unyielding in all the right places. She was safe in it, separated from the outside world in a way no walls could ever manage. Like the most beautiful song, she could hear and feel life in Danny’s body, each deep breath and small twitch of muscles and subconscious moves of his head that made his hair tickle her cheek. She wasn’t exactly tense before but her body uncoiled the longer she was being held. It wasn’t hard to tell that Danny did too.

Neither of them mentioned hands fisted on the backs of their shirts. Neither of them mentioned how the deep breaths turned just a bit more shallow and hitched. Neither of them mentioned how tender grass cushioned their fall.

M’gann couldn’t tell she felt better, with a tension headache and all of her emotions just too close and raw.

But she felt lighter and that was probably the first step.

******

I love this chapter, it's probably one of my favorites, but god damn was it pain to write. I liked writing it, but I was getting to it like dog to a hedgehog. I just had to be in the right mood to write it, y'know. It's probably kinda why I didn't finish rewriting before I had to start posting and why I run out of backlog hah (and right at the part that I think needs the biggest rewrite and cannot bring myself to it. Though now I have college deadline maybe I'll manage to procrastinate in a productive way)

And I had absolute blast comming up with these traditions, @audhumla-sailor can confirm that

But yeah, I love this chapter, I hope you like it too thanks to or despite a bit more... poetic way of writing

Drink something and check in with yourself if your binge reading

AO3 link

Next part

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdcbang2024 #g&g24 #danny fenton & m'gann m'orzz #wandixx writes #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

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scottyfreaks · 5 months ago

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grinds against his leg grinds against his leg grinds against his leg grinds against his leg grinds against his leg grinds against his leg grinds agai

#Thx Astra for sending the ss #I didn't even process what was in it when I first saw the story #But now 💋💋💋 ty for the food Scott ily #Scotsmajr #Rpf

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fallingforyouforeverr · 4 months ago

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𝐍𝐚𝐩 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐏𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢

summary: Oscar misses a team meeting, but when Lando goes to look for him, he gets a surprise

author's note: i finally published my first f1 fic!! sorry it's so short, but I have a bunch of other drafts I'm working on rn that will hopefully be finished soon. also, i literally wrote this at midnight inspired by a picture i saw on Pinterest so it's kinda bad but oh well

warnings: none, just fluff (600+ words)

• f1 masterlist • youtubers masterlist •

It was no secret to anyone that Oscar was a clingy boyfriend. The other drivers loved to compare him to a koala because of how often he would wrap himself around you, pulling you close to him and resting his head on top of yours. Although he often annoyed others by getting distracted by you, they couldn't even blame you for it and even Zak had to admit his clingyness was actually quite cute.

Today however, it was annoying – especially to Lando who had spent the last 20 minutes searching for his teammate after he failed to show up to the team meeting. He had already checked everywhere he could think of and was beginning to contemplate calling the police and reporting the younger boy missing when he heard a faint snore coming from a small room on his left. Slowly pushing open the door, Lando was met with the sight of you and Oscar sleeping on a sofa, your limbs so tightly wrapped around each other that it was hard to tell where you ended and he began.

As quietly as he could, Lando took out his phone and snapped a picture of the two of you and posted it on his story. He slid it back in his pocket, wondering how to wake his teammate without disturbing you, when Oscar stirred, stretching out his long limbs and opening his bleary eyes.

"Wakey wakey sleepyhead," Lando teased, causing the other boy to groan.

Oscar wriggled his arm out from under you, bringing it up to rub his eyes. "What time is it?" He asked.

"It's almost 2"

"WHAT!" Oscar shot up, accidentally waking you in the process, "shit I missed the meeting didn't I."

"Oz? What's wrong?" You spoke as you sat up, voice still slightly scratchy from sleep.

He froze, looking at you with wide eyes and a guilty expression. "Um... I forgot to set an alarm and I kinda slept through the team meeting."

"Oscar!" You scolded with a laugh, " Zak is gonna be so mad!"

Lando chuckled, making you jump as you hadn't realised he was there. "Oh yeah, he's pissed by the way."

Dragging a hand down his face with a sigh, your boyfriend reluctantly pulled himself out of your arms and stood up. "I'm gonna go catch up with the team," he announced, raking a hand through his hair as he rushed out to the garage.

"Oh I can't wait to see what Zak is gonna say about this" Lando began, a grinning cheekily at you. Narrowing your eyes at him in response, he held up his hands in surrender. "Ok, alright, I'm going!"

Smiling wryly at his childish antics, you began packing away your stuff, knowing that Oscar would be finished soon as he tended to become antisocial when tired. Just as you finished putting the last item in your bag, the Australian appeared in the doorway, affection laced with exhaustion in his eyes as he observed you. When you had finished, he held out his hand for you to grab as he led you through the McLaren hospitality. You had almost reached the exit when a familiar voice rang out behind you.

"Ah, Oscar, there you are!"

You both turned around guiltily to come face to face with a less than pleased Zak Brown. "We missed you in the meeting earlier, mate. I hope that nap was worth it."

"Oh yeah sorry I was um-" Oscar paused, a frown overtaking his features as he realised what the older man had said. "Wait how do you know about that?"

Zak chuckled, calling over his shoulder as he walked away, "Let's just say a certain someone isn't very good at keeping secrets."

"Lando, that absolute muppet!"

#oscar piastri #op81 #formula 1 #f1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #op81 x reader #op81 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #landoscar #mclaren #cariad rambles

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raysrambles · 6 days ago

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on the day the election results got announced, one of my friends wasn't at school. she was the friend that I had the most classes with, and I remember as the hours ticked by the painful knowledge that she wasn't sick, not physically, but that she just couldn't bear to be there that day.

i overheard classmates talking. "how are you?" asked one; in a broken voice, another: "I don't know".

"I'm scared," was the most common sentence I heard that day. "i can't live like this," said someone in the hallway; "we've still got each other," said another in what I desperately wanted to believe was hope.

"I prayed last night for the first time since I was five," said a friend of a friend; I looked out the classroom window at the cloudy sky and wondered if there was a god, and if he had heard them.

I watched people break down crying in the middle of class. by the end of the day, several kids had left school early.

"I need to get out of here," I said to my friends at lunch. "we're not going to make it another four years," said one of them grimly. how dystopian, how orwellian was it that a group of seventeen year olds were so casually discussing their escape from the country they had grown up in, the country that had raised them only to throw them to the dirt before they were even able to vote?

after school i drove to another school for a debate tournament. one of the judges who I hadn't seen in a year and with whom I'd only had one or two conversations came up to me and asked "how are you doing?"

"could be better," I admitted, "but I'm surviving." that was a bit of an understatement; there were tears in my eyes even as I spoke.

"I'm here," she told me, this woman who I hardly knew, and I realized that she was asking because she remembered one of our only interactions, a year ago, where I had casually mentioned being trans--

--and her gaze flitted down to my shoes, where back then I had had beads in the colors of the trans flag, beads that weren't there anymore, not because of any change in myself but that of the world around me.

"I'm here," she said again, and we stared at each other for a few seconds. I managed a "thanks", not trusting myself to say anything else.

that night I went onto Instagram. someone I hadn't spoken to since we fell out over a year ago had texted me a simple "I love you and am with you" type of message. all of my friends and even people I hardly knew were posting about the election, and I remembered

back when Biden was elected, the Republicans I saw online reacted with hatred, disgust, doubt for his abilities

but now all I saw from the ones who had lost this battle was fear

when the other side lost, they had the privilege of hatred

now that we've lost, all we can do is fear.

terrified sixteen, seventeen, eighteen year olds, in flurries of messages to long-gone friends and frantic posts. I had never felt more united, and yet I could not relish in our closeness because I knew it was not the closeness of friends but the closeness of soldiers too young for war, huddling close as their imminent death rained down from the sky, searching for some last comfort at the end of their too-short stories.

"I won't pretend this isn't as bad as it is," I typed out, "honestly I'm freaking scared. But we owe it to ourselves not to let this be the end of our beliefs.

"We still know we're right, even if the government doesn't agree. We're still all in this together.

"Love to everyone who's affected by this. I'm right here with you. Stay safe everyone."

I posted the Instagram story, praying to a god I didn't know that the words were true.

the next night when the house and senate election results came in, I cried, and it was not pretty crying, it was a child wracked with sobs in the dark on the floor of their room because they were only seventeen and terrified for their future.

I spent a long time writing that night, something I do to process my thoughts when everything is too much. I will simply offer this passage, which I think speaks for itself.

"Shall I tell them I am afraid because of the election? Shall I tell them that all day I have felt like a child masquerading as a man, scared of the boogeyman as i am scared of the fascist-like creature whose grasp is tightening and whose claws never cease, closing in on lives like a predator its prey? That I am a child scared of insignificance, of a fate I did not choose, of becoming a meaningless name among many, not of democracy falling but of not being the one who felled it?"

So to everyone celebrating the election, I'm glad that you're happy, truly I am. But I ask you to think of me and my friends, still children, most of us not quite old enough to even have our say in this country, as you laugh and rejoice and mock all of us who you defeated.

How many times must we cry, must we fall, must we watch each other die before enough will be enough?

Will it ever be enough?

#us politics #american politics #us election #election 2024 #2024 presidential election #donald trump #politics #kamala harris

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slushycoookie · 9 months ago

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My Husband Has a Symbiote! Pt.1

Relationship: Symbiote! Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Content: Smut, definitely smut, p in v, oral sex, overstimulation, belly bulge, breeding kink in FULL display, fertility issues, Minors DNI!!

Summary: You find out Miguel has a symbiote for the most unexpected reason.

A/N: I kept thinking about Symbiote! Miguel and I just had to do it. If yall saw that recent concept art of him, he looks fucking huge. So as a birthday present to myself, I wrote this. Something to get us by while I continue writing the Valentine's Day one.

Miguel had a symbiote.

You knew the first day he got it. He was acting strange. More aggressive, energetic, and driven to his Spider Society cause. Also rough. You knew it when he pulled you in for a passionate goodbye kiss.

Plus, he was huge. You didn't think it was possible for your husband to get a bigger size in his suit. It oozed a foreign entity. He was rougher with his enemies. Causing them to be bruised and bloody at the end of the battle. Your Miguel showed some restraint. You weren't sure what this Miguel was.

Jess told you at the end of the day, confirming your suspicions. “He has a symbiote.”

“I figured…” You played with the necklace that had your wedding band between your fingers. “How did he get it?”

“No clue. One day, he was his grouchy self. Next day, he was extra grouchy.”

“What can we do? We have ways to get rid of it.”

Jess gave you a knowing look, “You know it's not easy with symbiotes. The wearer has to get rid of it on their own. Part of the-”

“Canon event. I know…” You sighed. You weren't going to get scared. Be afraid for your husband's life. You would take the knowledge you knew now in stride, even if that meant dealing with the fact that your partner had an alien on his body.

You didn't confront him about the symbiote. You saw no need to. Ben and Jess were informed. You wanted them to watch him so he wouldn't go too far. But you didn’t like how he was acting. He never took it out on you, but everyone else was a different story. It was hard for you to sleep, knowing your husband was in control of an alien.

One night, he came home late. You were still awake, watching his hulking form linger throughout the house. If you were normal, you'd be terrified.

“Miguel?” You called from the hallway. He turned towards you. His mask was still up. The eyes were sharp, filled with an unknown emotion you couldn't grasp.

“Our wife.” His voice was deep, rumbling to your core. Sharp teeth and a long tongue caught your eye. He inched to you like a predator. You backed up, mind playing out hundreds of backup plans you had once you found out about his new form. You jumped when hitting a wall. Cornered as Miguel hovered above you. His head trailed up and down in fascination. “So pretty. To eat.”

“I said we're not eating her.” Half of Miguel's face appeared, causing you to relax a little. He was still in there. To a certain extent.

“Not the type of eating we were talking about.” The symbiote sized you up even more. You didn't know how to take that. Miguel entirely took over, his face in view.

“I'm sorry. I'm still getting the hang of this.”

“Why did you do this?” You motioned to all of him, “For a man who doesn't play when it comes to canon events, you go ahead and play around with an alien.”

Miguel sucked his teeth, “I had a good reason, baby.” You blinked, waiting for him to come up with a good explanation. He shifted, his large form shaking the photos on the wall. You couldn't see any reason for him to form with a symbiote.

“I thought…it would help in our process of trying to have a baby.”

You froze. The extensive trials you and Miguel went through in trying for a baby were unsuccessful. He knew about your fertility issues. He knew before you got married. You didn’t expect him to go and fuse with a symbiote to boost the rate of being able to have a baby.

“The symbiote enhances my body.” Miguel explained, “Maybe we could try to use it to help us conceive.”

“Won’t the symbiotes…genes get in…?” You placed a hand on your stomach, not believing that you were considering it.

“No. It won’t affect any of our genes. It just increases the output.”

You scoffed, “So you would have super sperm?”

“In a way.” Miguel shrugged, hovering over you. You noticed how small you were compared to him. Your thighs squeezed together at the sight. “We should try it. See what happens.”

Common sense was starting to leave the window. Just having Miguel’s hulking frame above you, his eyes lowered in lust, was not helping. You were curious yourself. Would the symbiote help you finally be able to conceive? So your family can get bigger?

“You want me to have sex with the symbiote?”

Miguel chuckled, face down to your neck, taking in your delicate scent. “It’s still me. I promise.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders. His suit was sticky and you felt restraint when tried to remove your hands. You had no idea what you were doing. But it was your husband. You trusted him, knowing he wouldn’t harm you. So you had to take a leap. Literally. Miguel was so large you had to jump to even kiss him.

Your body flushed against his own as his tongue dove into your mouth. You were so caught up in kissing him, absorbed in how his hands groped and felt you, to realize you were in your bedroom.

You yelped when landing on the bed. Miguel's form hit the ceiling, standing at the edge. Waiting.

“Strip.” The voice was back again. Low, deep, and commanding. You blushed at how much that turned you on. Even with the monstrous teeth and all. You weren't wearing much besides a t-shirt and shorts, tossing them into darkness. Only remaining in your panties.

Miguel cupped himself, eyes trained on the prize between your legs. “All of it.”

You slid down your underwear at a slow pace. Even if you were about to get bred by a symbiote, you knew Miguel would still go crazy over your teasing. Pride swelled in your chest as his breathing became ragged. Every ounce of resistance he had in fucking you into the ground was waning. It wasn't until your panties were thrown aside that he pounced on you.

The bed creaked at the extra size. Miguel's symbiote used its long tongue over your neck, tasting the slight sweat. Your breasts, twirling at one nipple while his fingers pinched the other. Before going down to your stomach and over what he wanted most.

“We deserve to know how you taste…”

If you could squeeze your thighs together right now, you would. But your partner kept them separated. Spread wide enough for him to get a full view of your dripping sex. The tongue was back as it was his turn to tease you. Gliding along your inner thighs, not touching an inch of your cunt. You whined at how close he was. You tried to move your thighs to get him where you wanted but to no avail.

“Please…” You swallowed, heaving at the lack of touch. “Don’t tease…”

A guttural growl resonated in the room, which made you quiver even more. “You're so pretty when you beg.”

His tongue was heaven. Taking turns licking at your sensitive bud, thrusting in and out of your hole. Slurping sounds letting you know how much he loved tasting your cunt. You weren't sure if digging your hands into his covered head was a good idea so your hands fisted the pillows. Head back and unable to control your sounds of pleasure.

“Miguel…oh my…” You felt that familiar sensation rise in your stomach. Not stopping as he continued to please you. And you accepted it, climaxing for him. This was different from your normal Miguel. While he did make you see stars, this one was determined to make you see God. The way he didn’t stop after you came for him, eating your pussy like a starved man. When you tried to have the strength to pull away, his hand placed flat on your stomach. Overstimulation crept in as you shook under his hold. Thank goodness he pulled away, showing you his mouth glistening in the moonlight.

“We need you. Now.”

Your eyes widened when seeing his cock on full display. Miguel was big. Very big. Cock enlarged, veiny, pre cum beading around the tip. He was going to kill you if he put that thing inside.

“Where?” You gulped, pushing back your rising fear.

Miguel sat back against the headboard and settled you into his lap. Your back lay against his chest, staring at the gigantic cock. He grabbed a hold of your thighs, lifting and spreading you as wide as he could. You bit your lip as his dick slid against your sex, coating himself in your arousal. You couldn't do much in this position. Besides lie back and take it.

You shook as he entered you. Arms around his neck and digging into them as you sank down. Your mouth gaped, but nothing came out.

“Come on.” Miguel pushed, his own voice coming out a little tense. “You can take more…”

You clawed at his neck, sinking down further. It was to the point where there was a slight bulge in your belly. Which has never happened before. Once he bottomed out, he gave you time to adjust. You knew Miguel was being gentle, his arm muscles tense as he didn’t want to hurt you. You nodded when you were ready and he took control. He slid you all the way up, only leaving the tip of his cock inside before thrusting up into you.

He was massive. Easily filling you up while he pumped inside. Tears brimmed in your eyes. There was no coherent thought in your mind. With each intoxicating thrust, you couldn’t think. All you wanted was for him to keep going. To use you like this as long as he wanted.

Your eyes rolled back when his cock hit a perfect spot. Not feeling any of your lower body. “M-Mig…”

“We have you. Pretty little thing…” His face snuggled against your head, still maintaining the hard and sharp thrusts. Miguel’s suit made a tendril, slithering over to you to give more attention to your aching clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation. The familiar burning of your release was quickly rising again into something more. You struggled in Miguel’s hold, wanting to move away and escape your impending doom.

“Don’t…You’re gonna make me…” You whined, frantic breaths escaping.

“We want you to do it.”

There was no room for negotiation. Between the exhilarating way his cock stretched you and the advance on your clit, you were going to explode. You cried for your husband while soaking his cock with your fluids. Tightening around him for his seed. Aching to have him breed you. Miguel’s grunts turned into growls. Grating noises that shook the entire room. His thrusts were rough as now he was chasing his original goal. To pump his cum into you.

You didn’t move, watching your husband desperately paint you inside. There were one, two, three more thrusts before he let out a roar. His seed filled you up perfectly. It was so much that it was leaking out, even as Miguel tried to thrust more in. You didn't know what else to do if you didn’t get pregnant by this.

Once Miguel had his fill, he slipped out, placing you to the side. His face was back as he peppered your own with soft kisses.

“You okay?” You hummed, your throat a little sore. He held you close in a protective way, not wanting to let go for a moment. “Hopefully this works.”

“If it doesn’t…” You struggled to say with your raspy voice, “you’re getting rid of that thing.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o hara x reader #slushycoookie writes

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baby-yongbok · 9 months ago

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Don't Go Insane

Neighbor!Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✧Genre - Smut ✧Warnings: Unprotected piv (Wrap it up ya'll) ✧ Masterlist ✧

A/N: I have never ever written a fic in this format but it was the only was for my brain to process the idea😭This is a product of those fucking SINFUL photos that Chan took for Nylon Japan. I'm sorry if it sucks, I'm trying to get back into writing again so I might suck for a bit, sorry! Hope you enjoy! (not proofread)

You weren't expecting to actually like your new neighbor since your previous one was such a dick but when you meet Chan he's more than kind to you.

He always greets you in the hallway, helping you bring your bags up to your place when you get home from shopping and checks in on you when he hasn't seen you for a couple of days

You find yourself going out around the same time that he would usually get home from his morning workout just so you can talk to him. He's so sweet and charming and hot. Oh so hot.

He brings you food when he's made too much dinner to fit in his fridge which is code for he wanted an excuse to talk to you and gave you 50% of his meal just to see your face.

You invite him in to eat the first time that he brings you food and it quickly turns into spending Sunday nights eating together and laughing at his stories. It's your favorite day of the week now.

You drop by his place to ask if he needs anything from the store every time that you go now. He's memorized the pattern of your knock and jumps to his feet every time he hears it.

You're in line at the store one day when a magazine catches your eye. Is that…Chan!? You grab it, looking through with wide eyes before buying it and nearly forgetting about the rest of your items.

You don't tell him that you saw it. He never said what he did for work and yeah he's hot - Oh so hot - but you never thought that this would be his occupation and you defiantly didn't think that this is how you'd find out.

You flip through the magazine all night. Staring at his beautiful chocolate gaze and his perfectly blushed lips. How is he even real?

You may have also stared at his shirtless pics for an hour too long. No one has to know that though.

He brings over a new recipe that he tried this Sunday. Setting up your usual spot on the living room floor when his eyes land on a familiar photo on your side table. It's him. You bought his magazine? He tries to act normal about it but his red ears and blushed cheeks give him away.

You catch on when he glances at it for a second time and you internally body slam yourself for forgetting to put it away. You both eat quietly, blushing and trying to find the right thing to say next.

“I'm sorry about that.” You speak first and he glances up quickly, straightening himself up with a shy smile. “It's fine, I'm just embarrassed I guess.” He's shy about being hot?? Why does that make him hotter?

“Are you always the shy type?” Your question was genuine but your tone was suggestive, almost teasing. It creates a shift in his demeanor that makes you shiver. “Not always, no.”

You don't know how it happened. It's all a blur. One second he was talking to you, confident and sweet. He was telling you about the shoot for the magazine when he got to the topic of the shirtless photos. The air around you thickened and the words that started it all slid off your tongue.

“You look so good it could drive me insane.” You chuckled but his eyes darkened in response.

“Do you want me to?” His eyes are on yours, his gaze is heavy and intense. “What?” You drop your fork, swallowing hard. “Make you go insane?”

That's how you ended up with his lips on yours. He swallowed each and every strangled moan and replaced it with one of his own. His hands explored your body, fast yet cautious. A gentleman.

He pulls you into his lap, one of his large palms gripping your ass over your leggings and the other cupping your cheek to keep you still for him. He pulls you close, chest to chest. He's been waiting to feel you since the moment he first saw you. He feels like he's dreaming and he prays that he never wakes up.

His breathing picks up when you plant sloppy kisses along his jawline. Mind numbing groans and hisses falling from his lips. “You're gonna make me go insane, fuck.”

His lips feel like heaven against your skin. Soft and all-consuming. He leaves marks along your collar bones, sucking and flicking his tongue over the delicate skin. Your head is spinning as you take him in. This beautiful man that you've been dreaming of for months finally has his hands on you.

You grind against him, his fingers digging into your hips as he presses up into you. The way that he looks up at you with his lip caught between his teeth is intoxicating. “You're so fucking beautiful.” He smiles at your compliment, blinking a blush away and trying to keep his composure. “Took the words right outta my mouth.”

You pull back, sitting on the shaggy rug and frantically undressing. You're desperate, antsy, absolutely insatiable and Chan isn't too far behind but you could never tell by how composed he looks. How does he have that much self control?

He moves to sit on the couch and watches you as you strip. Taking in every beautiful inch of your body while he makes himself comfortable. You look up at him as he sits, man spreading at the edge of your couch and giving you the perfect view of his aching cock straining against his jeans.

Fucking sinful

"Crawl to me, baby. Come here." He beckons you with two fingers that you're dying to be acquainted with. The smile on his face while you follow his order is enough to make you explode already.

He leans forward, cupping your face and kissing you with such soft hunger. So much passion and desire. A promise, like his kiss is asking you to be his. You palm him softly over his jeans earning a soft moan from him. "You want it?” He leans back, resting against the back of your sofa, giving you full access to his zipper and button. “Go ahead, take it, princess."

His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he watches you free his cock and his eyes roll back when you fist it confidently. Pumping him at a deliciously slow place. You want to drag this out. You don't ever want this to end.

He puts his hand over yours once he gets fed up with your teasing. He loves how your hand feels around him but he needs more of you. He taps his leaking cock against your lips and you allow your spit to dribble down his shaft. "Stick that tongue out. There we go, baby. That's my girl. Look at that.”

He holds your hair back as you slide his length into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. His fingers massage your scalp softly making you hum around him. He's a gentleman, a filthy one.

He couldn’t wait to switch places with you, falling to his knees so fluidly that you couldn’t help but to groan at the sight of him. His gaze never left yours. His eyes were constantly asking for permission to continue and you eagerly granted it every time.

He ate your pussy like a fucking starved man. Lick and sucking the expanse of your cunt like he’d never see you again. Your moans encouraged him as he lapped at you, he wanted - no, needed - you to cum on his tongue. It’s all that he’s been dreaming of for the last month.

He made you cum twice and had to hold back the urge to keep going. He’s definitely found his new favorite thing.

Nevermind, kissing you is his favorite thing. The way that you sigh into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue and biting his bottom lip drives him wild.

You’re seeing stars as soon as he slips into you. His strong arms on either side of your head as he hovers, kissing you softly as you adjust to him. “Fuck, you’re a dream come true, ya know that? I’ve dreamt of this, princess.” You can hardly reply once he fills you to the hilt but you try to anyway, moaning out as your vision blurs. “Wanted you so bad, Channie.”

That was enough to break him. He snapped his hips into you, giving you everything that you ever wanted, ever needed, from him. He fucks you deep, speeding up gradually just to hear you moan his name a little louder. He wants to be gentle with you but with a cunt that feels this amazing he can’t help but want to make you fall apart underneath him.

You always imagined being on top when you finally got to be with Chan but it looks like that’ll have to be another day. The way that his cock is splitting you open makes you feel like you might have to call out of work tomorrow.

“Look at me, babygirl. You liked seeing my pictures, huh? Did you touch this pretty cunt while looking at them?” You nod your head with such urgency that you’re positive that you look absolutely pathetic but Chan thinks that it’s cute, he’s in love with how fucked out you look drooling under him. “All you had to do was ask for the real thing.” He rolls his hips into you and your eyes roll back right after.

He holds both of your hands as he slows down a bit, he wants to make love to you. Wants to treat you like the precious gem that he knows that you are but your cunt keeps fucking squeezing around him. He curses under his breath as he tries to compose himself but it’s no use. He watches as he disappears inside of you, groaning when he sees just how perfectly your pussy is taking him. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby. You’re too much. Too good.”

Much to his surprise you cave before he does, chanting his name like a prayer while he rocks into you at the perfect angle. You feel dizzy as you unravel under him, nails digging into his strong arms and your legs wrapping around his waist in a desperate attempt to feel grounded.

The way that you look cumming on his cock drives him over the edge. He picks up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm while he’s chasing his. The overstimulation draws out your climax causing a new wave of pleasure to hit you harder than the last. “Yeah yeah yeah, oh fuck such a pretty girl cumming on my cock like that, that's it baby.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying but he doesn’t care he’s so close so so so close.

You forced your eyes open when he pulled out, you needed to watch him stroke himself over the edge and cover your stomach in his cum. You need to take in the way his eyes squeeze shut and his brows furrow while he moans for you. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.”

The giggles that you share after may be Chan’s new favorite part. He cleaned you up and wrapped his arms around you. Pressing kisses to your hair as you both talk about what just happened with smiles on your faces

“This is a bit backwards but uh, can I take you out? Maybe next weekend?” The butterflies in your stomach go crazy as you blush into his chest, nodding happily and answering with a muffled ‘yes’ that makes Chan chuckle. “Maybe afterward I can fuck the sense back into ya, since I drove you insane tonight.”

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katescorner · 3 months ago

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thinking about olympic athlete!oikawa tooru today who made it to the paris olympics, representing argentina (proudly, he might add), and his whole story leading up to the games is full of drama and expectations because of course fate would line things up perfectly for the two nations he held in his heart to rival each other on the world's court.

he hears the cheers of fans and friends along with the jeering boos from the locker room, and he thinks, has he really betrayed his birth country when "home" no longer feels like home? with rising pressure, competition tastes like a bitter word when the opposition is all familiar faces. but he didn't make it this far by being sentimental. he trained for this. he sacrificed for this. he—

"the world is watching, tooru."

your voice is soft, but it cuts through the static of his thoughts. it parts his negativity with gentle movement until all he sees is you, and suddenly, he can breathe again. so he does. he draws in a long, deep breath, and you wait for him to speak to you.

"i'm scared," he whispers. "i don't want to disappoint anyone."

his admission is proof alone of how far he's come already, willing to admit insecurity and allowing vulnerability in difficult moments. oikawa tooru is not the same man he was when he left the land he'd known all his life (leaving claw marks into the grass and ground of his hometown; they forget he was only eighteen when he uprooted himself in the name of his passion) and when he let his mother tongue fall flat so he might have a chance at becoming the best (people forget that learning languages isn't some indirect relationship, when one rises, the other does not always fall; he remembers the words he came from, the intonation and the vocabulary, the slang and the meaning of it all; he remembers, still).

oikawa tooru is not the same man he was when his childhood friends saw him last. he's grown in his time apart from them; they all have. he's miles tallers and his horizons have expanded. he's changed, but that doesn't mean he's a stranger to himself.

(i'm scared they won't recognize me.)

"you are still the person they all befriended and the man i fell in love with, and i am so so proud of you," you answer his underlying question with a kiss to his cheek, a reminder of your love. "you aren't disappointing anyone with your decisions."

"but the people of—"

"the people will cope. they'll have to." you shrug. "what else can they do? what you do isn't up to them. it isn't up to the public because the roster that made it all this way and achieved this much lists oikawa tooru, starting setter, not the guy in the eighth row calling you names, not the displeased broadcaster with a combover, and certainly not anyone else."

you take his hands into yours. you're careful because these are the instruments of his success. his fingernails are always cut short and his skin is soft except for the pads of his fingers which are rough but not calloused. he doesn't let anyone else handle him the way you do, drawing circles and hearts into his palms and pressing kisses into his joints.

"as long as you are happy with the decisions you've made to get here, no one can take that away from you." you look into your fiancé's eyes. "are you happy, tooru?"

and he thinks about the uneasiness he felt landing in argentina, the finality in not buying a return ticket, and the eagerness for volleyball that earned him an easy spot under the guidance of jose blanco. he thinks about the sleep that he lost from being hungry in an unfamiliar country, missing his mother's cooking and the smell of yakitori and takoyaki when he walked down crowded streets filled with vendors.

but he also thinks about the first word that he learned in argentina, hermanito, tossed around during practice when he didn't even know how to ask for a pass because he didn't lose a brotherhood when he left japan, he just gained one in argentina. he thinks about the grueling process of overturning his birth citizenship, the uproar he caused in a country across the globe and the apology he almost let slip for it because everyone thinks it was just for volleyball. oikawa tooru, the athlete who doesn't know loyalty, but what do they know of the open arms he received in argentina when japan turned him away?

he thinks of how stress melted from him that first night after receiving his new passport, walking to your shared apartment with his stomach grumbling at the smell of choripán and alfajor as he hummed along to lamento boliviano. he thinks of how joy spilled into him, realizing he was finally home.

so he nods at your question and he draws stuttered hearts into your palms and he presses a kiss to your temple.

(thank you for seeing who i am.)

"i'm happy."

#the olympics make me emotional sorry #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa toru x you #haikyuu blurbs #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq x you #oikawa drabble #oikawa headcanons #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x you #oikawa fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfic #the olympics

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abbyfmc · 2 months ago

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Yandere Yandere (Fatherly) Emperor and Empress (Maternal) x Daughter! Reader:

Think about it.

I imagine that after a long line of princes, the yandere empress finally has a princess, and both parents are delighted with her, since she was the first daughter after many years of trying. Your father, the emperor, agrees that you be raised under the care of the empress (your mother).

From the moment you were born, you were never left alone for a single minute. When the Empress wasn't with you, the Emperor himself was. Your mother always made you follow her everywhere she went, as well as sharing her tastes and hobbies, since having only had princes prevented her from doing that. You had a close mother-daughter relationship, and with your father it was something more or less similar.

As you grow up, your parents become more overprotective of you, so much so that they even limit your contact with your older brothers, the princes. Not only would they give you nice gifts, but the best teachers, doctors and servants would be at your disposal (even better than those of your older brothers), although your brothers would probably be jealous of you.

They wouldn't let you walk alone for even a second.

If your father has a harem of consorts and concubines (like other emperors), then the empress will be more paranoid about you, since even though princesses do not inherit the throne, she knows that her enemies can harm you.

Once, when you were five years old, a maid broke a porcelain doll that your father had given you after returning from one of his trips. Unfortunately for that maid, the emperor was returning with you just when the doll broke, so he saw it and got SO angry that he asked his butler to take you out to the garden for a walk, so that you wouldn't see your father the emperor whip the poor maid to death. All this because he considered that maid to be reckless in daring to do that to your things, even if it had been an accident.

Even if more princesses were born, you were the object of your parents' overprotection and adoration.

Even your older brothers didn't dare to do anything bad to you. Once a new maid spoke ill of you (even though you hadn't done anything), and the empress herself slapped her in the face.

They hired servants who document your EVERY move.

The Emperor adores you so much that he will delay any kind of engagement or marriage alliance. He will reject any proposal, and silence anyone who mentions the subject. He does not want you away from him.

If it were up to them, you would stay locked in your room all the time so that nothing would hurt you, and they would tell you that they do everything for your own good.

You were punished by being locked up for an indefinite period of time, followed by the classic punishment of writing the same sentence repeatedly for a long time.

No trying to escape from the palace. The emperor would have experienced guards and servants around you to prevent that.

And if you do get married, then your parents will make sure that you have no choice but to live near the palace, no matter what.

They would be capable of killing if something happens to you.

If you fall ill, they will make sure you rest and eat well, even if it is against your will. If you were to die, they would both go mad with grief, especially the empress.

If you were to die, they would use your chambers as a sanctuary to you, where they would go to pray for you, and in the process force EVERYONE to mourn you.

Your emperor father would not let you have any contact with his family, as there is a power struggle going on where even his own brothers, cousins and uncles could be his enemies and would do ANYTHING to get the throne; even if that includes kidnapping or killing you just because you are the emperor's daughter. Your mother would know this, and every time her brothers-in-law come, she will make you stay with her in the central palace.

With the Empress's family it's a different story, since there are no problems of inheritance of the throne, things are easier unless there is someone who tries to hurt you or pressure you like they do with your mother.

-The End.

What do you think?

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foxfirexo · 3 months ago

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hi its my first time writing a lil story like this, I hope it's not too long and you like it!! ^^

*THIS STORY IS ABOUT TRANSFEMS*

you're at a party and you don't know why you thought this was a good idea. it's not some insanely big party, just a group of friends but you only know a few of them and aaaaaaa it's still enough to be loud and overwhelming. you cling to the wall, not knowing how to join into the circle of conversation happening in the middle of the room without disrupting its flow.

this is stupid. why are you even here? you're terrible in this kind of situation. might as well just use the bathroom and then leave, not like anyone will notice-

wait, did that girl just look at you? no, not just that, did she just stop mid sentence and- and did you imagine it, or did her jaw clench and her lips curl into the subtlest of smiles when she saw you?

no no no no you say to yourself as your cheeks flush bright red. you abandon your drink on a side table and flee the scene, now needing to find the bathroom for multiple reasons...

you search the halls desperately trying to find the bathroom, wanting so badly to hide. damnit why do you have to be too shy to just ask somebody where the damn thing is? it's not helping that every time you close your eyes even just for a moment you see that devious little grin and that gorgeous face- wait

you blink a few times. this time your eyes aren't closed but the gorgeous face is staring mischievously at you anyway? you blink a few times, surely you've finally gone insane and this is a hallucination

"going somewhere, darling?" she says, her voice low and dripping with... desire?

you barely manager to stutter out a pitiful, "i- no i- I was j-just trying to find th-the bathroom," but you're finding it really hard to focus fck why is she standing so close that you can smell her fck why does she smell so good fck fck fck

"surely you weren't going to hide away all... this... from me?" too close too close you can feel her breath from here oh god what is she looking at why are her eyes wandering like that

you're slammed with instant regret that you decided you didn't need to wear a bra today, and you are painfully aware of the texture of your tshirt as your very excited nipples say hello to the gorgeous lady who is staring directly at them oh lord what is happening

before your mind can catch up she reaches up and brushes a finger in a thoughtless circle against the hard lil bump poking out through your tshirt. "oh my~ looks like i wasn't the only who felt something between us~" she grabs your wrist and starts dragging you into an empty bedroom but you're still trying to process what she just said. wait, what? not.. not the only...????

the click of a door closing pierces through your confusion and brings you back to the present, only to find yourself being pushed back and falling and- oh you were caught by a bed and- oh shit she's kneeling over you-

"im glad i caught you before you could run away, kitten," her lips find yours for the briefest of moments before leaning in right next to your ear and whispering, "i can't stand the thought of missing out on a tasty little snack such as yourself, that would be a tragedy" *she licks your ear* "hmmm, wouldn't it?"

you go to protest but her knee presses up between your thighs and your words are lost to a moan escaping your lips. your head is fuzzy but you can't help yourself and as if they have a mind of their own your hips start moving, desperately pushing up against her knee, you can't get enough aaahhh

"awww what a pretty little slut," she coos, her fingers reaching down and wrapping around your dick and eliciting a sharp gasp from you. "such a good girl, perhaps I should reward you by using you, mmmm?" she grins and her eyes sparkle at you, she's enjoying this too damn much but nnngh fck its so hotttt

the cold air of the room makes your skin prickle as she tugs off your clothes, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. as she pulls her own shirt off and undoes her bra you forget how horny you are for just a moment as you marvel at how breathtaking her body is, she looks like one of the goddesses just dropped out of the sky and now she's undressing in front of you...

... then your eyes trail down a little further as she tugs off her jeans and you inhale sharply at the sight of her gorgeous dick, already dripping and pulling her lacy blue panties taught. oh my god this is really happening oh my god

she wraps you up in her arms and pulls you into her lap, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear so she can sink her teeth uninterrupted into the supple flesh of your neck. her hardness is pressing up against you now and your heart is racing like a hurricane in your chest. all you can manage to squeak out is a desperate, "p-please.." before she sinks herself into your ass. your back arches and your tits press against hers and it feels amazing, so amazing, you can feel her swollen nipples pressed against your own and you cry out with utter desperation

"shhhh, quiet, pet! I don't want anyone interrupting my playtime. nobody gets to enjoy this but me."

you feel sharp nails digging into your back as her throbbing dick thrusts into you even deeper than before, but the shuddering moan trying to escape your throat is silenced by three fingers shoved into your mouth, pressing against your tongue. with that your mind goes utterly blank and your whole body clenches

its too much its too much its too much

you feel her teeth sink into your neck once again, using you to stifle her own moans as she fills your ass with hot cum. you cry out against her fingers and it feels like your whole body is bursting at the seams and in a moment of hazy mind numbing pleasure that seems to hang and stretch out for an eternity....... your body shudders and you orgasm harder than you've ever orgasmed before

your heaving chests still pressed together like the world depends on it, she smiles up at you and you feel a little silly, your mouth dripping with saliva and your thighs covered in the sweet evidence of what you'd otherwise discount as a fever dream.

"what a good girl, a very good girl," she mumbles with a huge shameless grin on her face as she kisses your last few shreds of consciousness away

damn what a crazy part amirite i want to go to a party like this goddamn

#hornyposting #trans nsft #t4t nsft #wlw nsft #sapphic #sapphic nsft #trans #transgender #queer #t4t #wlw #transgirl #transfem

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lucyandalexiafan · 4 months ago

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Hopeless | reader x Alexia Putellas | part 1

Summary: you’re alone, even though you were part of the Barça team, you were alone. You thought being part of it meant feeling supported, liked, maybe even part of a family, but that wasn’t the case.

Warnings: angst (and fluff in the end)

Words: 4.4k

It's thanks to @muffinpink02 that this fic is seeing the light. When months ago I wrote the first part I was scared to send it to you because I thought it was boring or repetitive, but, from the beginning, you supported and hyped me during the writing process, suggesting ideas and correcting them every time I sent you even just three sentences. I'm so grateful you helped me so much 🫂

You had never really felt part of something.

Of any group.

Of any friendship.

It was as if the people around you found their people, their friendships, their relationships, but not in you.

You were motionless, with nothing and no one.

Football had been a good relief valve.

A tool useful to not think about it.

To not think about how lonely you felt.

About how everyone seemed to treat you as extra, as not necessary.

About how everyone seemed to exclude you when you were least needed or at the first opportunity.

It had been painful at first, you cried and wondered what was wrong.

Why did it always happen?

And it happened in football too, with every team you played for.

With the boys from the team when you were just a kid, who included the other girls but not you; with the first girls’ team and with the first youth teams.

You always seemed to be extra.

To be too much.

You felt too much.

Except on the field.

On the field you were good.

You were really good at football.

You had poured out every bad thought, anxiety, resentment, and self-hatred on the field, chasing those balls and perfection, trying to achieve the best possible performance and the best teams.

The possibility of changing cities, maybe countries, pushed you to play better and better. The hope of finding your place, the hope that that place was elsewhere but findable, had driven you to give your all.

And this had paid off when the Barça talent scout contacted you.

Your parents didn't care much, you were of age, you could do what you wanted. So shortly after, you boarded a plane to Barcelona, a suitcase of clothes with you and many hopes.

But it had been difficult.

Your young age had mainly put you in contact with the youngest of the team, but they seemed so carefree and spoke so little English that you felt out of place.

With the older ones, you were out of place because what did you have in common with them? With the great Alexia Putellas, with Fridolina Rolfo, what could you possibly have in common? They were so perfect, and talented.

So over time, you ended up isolating yourself, reveling in the same loneliness that had always accompanied you, in that awful but familiar feeling of not being in the right place.

You lived alone, so you could drown every tear in the pillow every time you came back from training. You could cry undisturbed at any time of the day, every time you saw your teammates' stories of them going out together and not being invited, having dinners and not being invited.

It was an endless whirlwind you had fallen into. You isolated yourself by refusing any contact, always feeling like too much, and people stopped trying.

In the end, you were good at football, your performances were excellent, and you behaved perfectly during training. What more could they want from you?

Maybe you had hoped that, seeing how they were all so closed off, they would include you, they would fight harder to help you and include you.

But it hadn't happened, or at least you hadn't experienced it that way.

You had spent Christmas alone in Barcelona and so was New Year's Eve. No one to celebrate within your hometown, no one to celebrate with in Barcelona; your parents traveling who knows where happy not to have to spend money on you anymore.

You had burst into tears, into a panic attack, a few days after training started.

Everyone talked about their holidays.

Family dinners.

Family games.

Friends reunited.

New Year's parties.

You avoided those questions, avoiding the conversations as soon as holidays were mentioned.

What were you supposed to say?

You would have just seemed pathetic, lonely, useless. You already felt that way, you didn't need them to know.

Then, the umpteenth time they tried, they managed to ask you what you had done during the holidays.

You lied.

You said you had gone home and everything was quiet.

Then, as soon as lunch was over, you ran out of the room and took refuge in a small gym in an isolated spot in the sports center.

You put on your headphones and started punching the boxing bag.

The music in the headphones and the tears on your cheeks.

Why weren't you like them?

Why was no one with you?

Why were you so alone?

You were wasting so much time of your life because of loneliness that it almost felt like living the same days over and over again.

The same identical routine, the same cycle of actions, every day, all days.

You collapsed to the ground, your body flooded with sobs, your throat contracted by moans of pain.

You felt pathetic, there on that floor crying over a fate that seemed to be yours, crying over a plot already written.

Then the door of the room had opened and you had stared at it in fear.

Alexia and Mapi had entered, a sigh of relief escaping their mouths when they recognized you.

"You're here! Dios we looked for you everywhere! Do you know what- are you crying?"

You huddled against the wall.

Her angry tone, that angry captain's tone that you had only heard once in the locker room, terrified you.

If you were already insignificant to the team, what would happen now with her that is mad?

You tried to please her, to at least feel accepted by her.

You shake your head as you stand up, your hands immediately wiping your cheeks.

Mapi takes you by the shoulders.

“What happened? Are you injured?"

You shake your head again, you move in an attempt to free yourself from her grip.

The only thing that mattered to them about you was football. It was that you could play, that you made the right passes and the perfect assists.

What did they care about how you really are?

"Then why are you crying? - you try to leave, to get away - No, stop! I said stop!"

You freeze in place, eyes fixed on the floor.

That low, angry, warning tone, almost daring to challenge her.

"Now you tell us why you're crying."

You looked at her.

Should you tell the truth?

Admit to the two of them what you really felt?

That storm of dissatisfaction and sadness?

That feeling of loneliness and apathy that hung over your life?

"Can you hug me?" You whispered looking at her, tears covering your eyes, in an attempt to receive, at least once, the love you were seeking so much.

Mapi's arms wrapped around your body without hesitation. Her strong arms held you close to her, your cheek against her shoulder, your hands gripping the edges of her shirt, tears wetting the fabric at shoulder height.

"I'm sorry" you whisper "I'm pathetic."

Mapi hugs you again.

"Don't say that, it's not true. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

You bite your lip, your eyes now fixed on the window.

"I didn't spend Christmas and New Year's Eve at home, but in Barcelona."

"Did your family come here? Why didn't you-"

"Alone, I don't know where my parents were and I had no one to celebrate with."

There's silence.

An embarrassing, humiliating, silence.

You feel even worse.

Even more pathetic.

Even more stupid.

Why did you admit it?

For what reason -

"What do you mean you had no one?"

"I don't have friends" you answer flatly.

It was true.

You had no one.

"You could have asked us, we-"

"What? Would you have taken a burden like me to celebrate with at your home? - you laugh sarcastically - Don't lie, you're indifferent to me. Whether I'm there or not doesn't change anything for you, just like it doesn't change anything for anyone on the team."

"Don't even think about it" Alexia's voice is dangerously low "You matter to the team-"

"Oh yeah? I see it. You go out without me, you don't care about me, I'm useless if not on the field."

Silence.

Deaf, powerful, silence.

What could they say to deny what you said?

It's true.

They go out without you.

They have fun without you.

They party and celebrate games.

“Listen - you close your eyes to Alexia's voice - I'm sure the situation isn't-”

“Have you saved my number in your contacts? - she looks at you, her eyes widening - do you see it? We've been playing together for months, we're in at least three WhatsApp groups together, and you've never saved my number. Why should you? Like I said, I don't matter, why would you ever feel the need to contact me? And I'm not talking about social media, following me on Instagram or anything, but my phone number, and you're my captain, aren't you?”

You shake your head frustrated.

You know you could pay the consequences for this behavior in the future. You're yelling in the face of Alexia Putellas, your captain, in front of another person. Alexia has made your teammates run entire training sessions for far lesser things than this lack of respect.

Maybe you don't care.

Maybe you want her to make you run because it means that someone, somehow, noticed you.

You leave the gym, leaving the two women completely still, thinking.

After that discussion, you went to that room for another technical meeting. As always, you sat at the back, a notebook on the desk and a pen in hand, pretending to be attentive and the chance to keep your head down.

A part of you had hoped that by talking about it, by angrily spitting out how you felt against them, they would do something.

That they would take a step towards you.

That they would include you.

But it didn't happen.

As usual, at the end of the first part of the technical session, you went to get a coffee from a coffee machine, in complete loneliness, and no one approached you.

You went back inside, and sat at your desk, headphones in your ears, until you resumed the meeting.

You usually put your phone on "Do Not Disturb,"

You usually put your phone on "Do Not Disturb," trying to convince yourself that the lack of notifications meant you were unreachable, but in truth, no one was looking for you.

No one wrote to you.

No one invited you out.

You left it on without "Do Not Disturb" all day.

You obsessively checked your phone for any pretext.

The time.

The schedule of university classes.

Exam dates.

Training times.

Making sure that the next day was a day off.

Anything to try to find a notification.

But nothing.

Complete silence.

Had you been wrong to shout how you felt, to open up for once?

You had been pathetic, you knew it, but you couldn't stand this feeling anymore.

This feeling that eats away at you from the inside.

Of this acid that was melting you from the inside.

You couldn't live it anymore.

So you had hoped that by opening up things would change, but, like that day, the next one there were no messages.

No notifications.

No calls.

You had locked yourself in the house.

The fetal position on the bed, the nausea that closed your stomach.

How could you have been so stupid?

Why should they ever do anything?

You had remained curled up since you woke up until dinner time.

Nothing at all.

No notifications.

No calls.

The only time your phone rang, you jumped up on the bed.

The hope that someone had contacted you, the hope of counting.

The hope that what you had done had made sense.

But it was the Barça staff warning you that there was no training the next day.

For the rest, nothing.

No sound filled that emptiness of the apartment, of your body.

Yet you couldn't stop looking at the phone.

Hoping to receive a message, a call, or a like on social media.

Anything.

Any sign.

You fell asleep like that, motionless and in the same position as when you got up.

The emptiness inside that had engulfed you and the whole apartment in a black hole of sadness, resentment, nausea, and fatigue.

What was wrong with you?

The next day you forced yourself to get out of bed, make coffee, and eat something.

Anything to feed that exhausted body.

You struggled to swallow the food, to chew it, to tolerate its taste.

Everything bothered you.

Every taste made you want to vomit.

Every sound irritated you to the point of plugging your ears.

The emptiest, most useless, days of your life.

The bottom that you had finally reached. You had crashed into it, actually, with such an impact that it didn't allow you to move even a finger, not that you wanted to, move it.

The next day you forced yourself to get up, knowing that you had to reach the sports center to go to the airport to play the match.

You didn't want to go there, you didn't want to leave the house, you didn't want to see anyone, let alone play.

But you forced yourself to put on the usual Barça tracksuit that you once were excited to wear and to pick up the bag, the apartment keys in the other, and close the door's house behind you with a dry sound that echoed in the empty corridor.

Had it always been so empty?

You got on the bus with less strength than you had at the end of a strenuous match.

You sat in the same place, always alone and always near the window. The feeling that, as always, no one would sit next to you was strong, it exploded in your chest like your desire to cry, to scream that you were hurt, that you didn't want to continue to live in this way.

And so it had been.

No one had sat down.

On the opposite side of the pair of your seats were, as always, Marta and Caroline. You avoided looking at them, because this would have meant contemplating their silent and shy love, their reserved way of showing love.

Their intertwined hands.

The barely hinted smiles.

The shared headphones.

It was too much.

That love so sweet, so reserved, was too much to observe from afar, from the outside.

It seemed so unrealistic for you, for your life, that seeing it come true for someone else burned inside, wore you out.

Then you had arrived at the airport, got on the plane and got off. Someone from the staff had sat next to you, but no one to whom you attached much importance.

"Okay, the rooms are doubles."

Your nightmare.

The thing you hated most was the double rooms.

You wanted to cry in the shower, groan as the water ran down your cheeks and along your chin, and lean your back and head against the wall in an attempt not to suffer too much from the sobs.

Double rooms prevented you from having that privacy, that vital space, during away matches.

Those matches that until the first week, you had so excited about, so wanted to play, but which now had turned out to be just your worst nightmare.

A mixture of anxiety, anger, and sadness.

“Lucia and Maria, Ingrid and Ona.. you two seem to be the last - Jona had said, the tone almost bored, as he gave the key to your room to Alexia - The rules for away games are the same, double rooms or not. Please.”

Alexia had clapped her hands telling everyone to go to the rooms.

You had followed her with your head down, the whole team in front of you and you behind her. She seemed relaxed, her pace calm and her shoulders relaxed, one hand holding the trolley handle, her hair tied up.

You entered the room, she first, and you followed.

“Which bed do you want? - you look at her silently hoping she expresses a preference - you usually sit facing the door, so I suppose this one is better because from here you can see it”

You stare at her.

Wide-eyed.

How does she know?

When did she notice?

“So? - she chuckles - Is this okay?”

You nod cautiously, hesitantly, looking at the bed. A part of you thinks she'll sit on that one, telling you that she'll take it then, that she'll do it to punish you for what happened.

But she moves to the other one and puts her suitcase in it.

You look at her confused.

"Are you not taking off your backpack?"

You blink a couple of times, getting out of your thoughts and moving towards yours, turn your back to her, and lay it on the bed.

You don't know what to do.

You hear her opening and moving things around.

How many things did she bring with her?

Usually, when there are double rooms, they put you with someone from Barça B, what do people like her do during away games?

Does she go to bed early?

Does she eat in her room after dinner?

Does she watch a movie?

How should you behave?

"Hey - you turn abruptly - it’s okay for you if we talk?" She asks, her voice cautious.

You don't answer.

You just look at her.

Talk about what?

How she'll get you out of the team?

How pathetic are you?

Talk about what?

She sits on her bed slowly, legs crossed, hands on her feet.

You are standing, arms along your body, hands open on your thighs.

You both remain silent.

She looks at you, trying not to show it, but she's nervous, she's agitated.

You already want to leave.

Turn towards the door and exit from this room.

The claustrophobia explodes, and the air seems not to enter your lungs.

Months ago you would have jumped for joy knowing you would share the room with her, with Alexia Putellas, two Ballon d’Or and one of the best players in the world.

You wouldn't have been able to contain your excitement at the thought of spending time with her, even if spending time alone with her.

Now all you want to do is disappear, to escape as far away as possible from her.

"Where do you want me to sit?"

"Wherever you want, on your bed or mine - you look at her, not knowing what to do - Why don't you sit next to me?"

You nod hesitantly, even though you know it's a rhetorical question.

She moves towards the headboard of the bed, legs crossed.

You sit down facing her, legs crossed, hands on your thighs.

You don't look at her.

You feel her hesitate, sighs that seem to suggest several times that she tried to say something but stopped before making a sound.

"Have you ever been to the Canary Islands?" - you shake your head - "Perfect, what do you think about going out for something to eat together?"

You look at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Cap-Jona said that... the rules are the same and we can't go out," you respond hesitantly.

Why is she asking you?

Does she want you to break the rules?

Does she want a reason to kick you out?

Does she want a reason to punish you, to get back at you for three days ago?

You clench the fingers of one hand into the other.

Why is she doing this?

What does she want from you?

She shrugs. "Being captain has its advantages - she smiles a bit cocky, a bit hesitant - No one will find out, I promise," and she moves her pinky towards you.

You look at her confused.

You understand the reference to "Cross my heart," but you can't believe she's actually doing it.

It's also a bit comical, the great Alexia Putellas moving her pinky toward you, swearing that no one will find out if you break the rules.

Never in a million years did you think it was possible.

She withdraws her hand, palm against her thigh. "I know a good place that does street food, you know, fish and chips but also burgers, and they also do vegetarian food and I know you're vegetarian. If you feel like it, we can go."

Her voice is hesitant, and calm, her posture stiff.

Should you trust her?

Not that you have many options and you would do anything to get out of this room, out of this hole surrounded by four walls that you're forced to share with her.

And outdoors she can't do anything to you, right?

You nod hesitantly. "I'd like that."

Almost a whisper, a faint combination of timid and frightened words.

She smiles.

"Do you have casual clothes? Like a hoodie and pants - you nod - Great! Then put them on and let's go."

You watch her as she stands up.

Do you really want to eat with her?

How long has it been since you went out with someone?

You feel the tears in your eyes as you dress.

You put on a simple shirt and baggy jeans, an attempt to hide, to not be visible.

Are you really that alone?

Probably yes, you can't remember the last time you went out with someone.

That you did something other than going to training, games, or grocery shopping.

Why is your life so empty?

If you didn't work, would you have opportunities to leave the house?

Reasons to do it?

People to do it with?

You try to think about it, to think about the last time you went out because you wanted to, because you had to meet someone, but your mind is empty. Your thoughts run through the narrow paths of the labyrinth of your memories, but nothing refers to outings.

You close your eyes.

You can't cry.

Not now.

Not with her.

Not now that maybe you're going out with someone.

Not now that someone has invited you out, has asked you to do something together.

No matter the reason, you know she asked you to talk about what happened, but at least you'll do something together.

When was the last time you ate out with someone?

Has it ever happened on occasions other than team or class dinners?

You bite your lip and walk to the bathroom.

You wet your face with cold water, the vain attempt to freeze the sadness, the anger, the bitterness.

How to erase it?

How can you stop these feelings?

You're wasting your life.

You dry your face, almost scraping it with the towel, almost wanting to scrape away that feeling, that self-hatred.

You leave the bathroom with your head down, still doubtful that Alexia really wants to go out with you breaking the rules.

"Ready? - you nod - Perfect, then let's go."

You put your phone in your pocket and follow her out the door, she closes it and then swipes the magnetic card on the lock.

Are you really going out together?

Is this really happening?

Where's the trap?

"Shall we take the elevator, is this okay for you?"

You nod, your voice seems to have disappeared, left in the room.

She hesitates, looking at you, then turns to the right side of the corridor and walks towards the end of it; you walk behind her, the blue of her jeans the only color in your field of vision besides the awful red of the carpet and white walls.

What will happen?

Was she serious?

You hear a metallic noise and see her walking into the elevator box, you follow her and she presses the zero button.

"Do you do this often, go out during away games?" you ask, your voice little more than a whisper as you watch her adjust her hair in the mirror.

"Usually I leave this opportunity to Irene, when her family travels to the cities where we have games, so she can spend time with them. But sometimes it happens, also because Marta just cares to spend time with Caro, it doesn't matter where they are."

She finishes fixing her hair and inside you the question of 'who do you take with you' is inflamed with curiosity.

Who does she go out with?

How many times does she do it?

The image of that rock-solid captain, rigid with rules and obsessive with timings is suddenly softened by this cocky, rebellious version.

"When María got injured, I went out with Ingrid a couple of times, she was scared of leaving her alone at home and walking was helping her - she smiles when she sees we are almost there - And when Jenni used to play with us, we usually went out to dinner together, but that’s a long time ago now."

You open your mouth, your eyes wide.

So it’s true that they were-

"Come on, let's go before we get caught," she ends the conversation before you can actually speak, a smile on her face knowing she has finally drawn out a reaction from you other than fear, doubt, or anxiety.

She walks quickly to a back exit.

"Can you ride a bike? - you nod - Okay, then let's take these bikes to go to the place I told you about. You're a vegetarian, right? The local tourist guides say it’s the place with the best vegetarian burgers on the whole island."

You bite your lip.

Where did she find out?

You never told anyone, only the staff knows, but you rarely eat in the canteen with them and when you do it’s so rare that it doesn’t arouse suspicion that you eat vegetarian.

"Do you like it?"

You nod while you struggle even to eat a fry.

But it really seemed good, and there were so many flavors and types of burgers, sandwiches, and condiments.

Did Alexia really think of you?

Did she really look it up to bring you here to eat?

You’re sitting on a pier, a somewhat hidden part of the beach, away from the road.

Just you and her.

Alexia had placed your dinner on the cold, damp wood, had taken out the two packs of baked fries and Coca-Cola and then placed them on the paper bag.

You watched her as she did it, the embarrassment of noticing the time she took to do everything precisely.

Is she always like this?

Then she asked you to sit in front of her so you could eat facing each other.

You hesitated but complied.

Then, as soon as your eyes met hers, your appetite, the desire to taste this amazing hamburger, disappeared.

That smell that until a moment ago seemed like the aroma of a great dinner, now only made you nauseous.

You grab the Coca-Cola and try to swallow a few sips, hoping the nausea will go away.

Alexia paid for dinner, fifteen euros and seventy cents each, she didn’t even let you take out your wallet.

You have to eat.

What will she think otherwise?

That she wasted money?

That you’re ungrateful?

You have to eat.

You try to eat another fry, your taste buds sending signals of disgust to your brain as soon as they come into contact with that flavor.

Is it anxiety?

Panic?

Fear?

"How do you feel?" She asks.

You freeze.

How do you feel?

Bad? Good? Sad? Angry? Hurt?

You don’t even know how you feel. That torment, that gurgling, in your stomach doesn’t stop, that flow of negative thoughts and anxieties doesn’t stop attacking you.

Maybe you should tell her you’re fine, that you’re nervous for the game but that everything is fine as always.

Even though nothing has been fine for as long as you can remember.

When has something ever gone well?

When was the last time you felt good?

Maybe when Barça signed you, when you got on that plane thinking another life would begin.

You close your eyes, you can’t cry.

But it’s true. Maybe that was the only happy moment after years of feeling nothing different than a constant state of apathy, of emptiness.

It was the only moment when you thought things would change, the last moment, the last time you let yourself hope.

So maybe that’s why you feel so bad now?

"Fine, you?" You answer mechanically.

The same response you always gave the medical staff, the training staff, those few journalists who found it interesting to interview you.

But you don’t look at her, you know she would realize it’s not true.

Empty eyes, rigid shoulders, clear signs of the effort it takes to lie again, for the umpteenth time.

"Can we skip the part where you pretend everything is okay?" She asks, the tone bored, irritated.

You clench your eyes as soon as your mind registers that the tone of voice is angry by your attempt to lie.

What should you say then?

What does she want you to say?

You sigh.

It’s a dead end, isn’t it?

You and her alone on a pier, at night, far from the hotel.

There’s no way out.

"Why do you ask?" You ask, your voice uncertain, a whisper.

"Because I care."

You laugh sarcastically by instinct, unable to control yourself.

That’s what your parents always say when they call you after months of silence, telling you that you’re ungrateful and that they care about you.

Then they don’t call for weeks.

Is there anyone who really cares about how you are?

Who really cares about you?

You don’t think so.

In the end, you’ve lived in many cities, met many people of different ages, experienced things with them.

Did any of them ever really care about you?

No.

Did anyone really want you in their life?

No.

You were just a pastime of the moment, the lady-in-waiting, the entertainment.

"Anxious for the match."

Another excuse, the umpteenth.

Another lie, the thousandth.

You don’t look at her face, you know that if you did, you would cry.

You try to take a bite of the hamburger, but you have to chew it for a long time to find the strength to swallow.

"Why? You’ve been playing as a starter since the beginning of the season."

You know she doesn’t believe you.

Why is she playing along?

You shrug.

"I always feel this way before matches."

"You never told me."

"You never asked."

There is silence.

You bite your tongue.

Couldn’t you keep quiet?

"Sorry," you whisper, scared.

Will she yell? You don’t want her to yell, to get even angrier.

She says nothing, you hear her drink the Coke.

"I get anxious playing with you because you’re the best in the world," you reply.

It’s a partial truth, you’re scared to play with them, not being up to par.

But the reality is you’re always anxious because you know you’re worth nothing to them, so you’re afraid that at the first mistake they will kick you out, bench you forever.

"You don’t have to, you’re really good."

You don’t answer, a compliment thrown to the wind.

She doesn’t really think that.

If she did, you would feel part of the team, right?

If you were that good, they would have included you, you would be part of the group, and not just a marginal ornament.

You eat in an awkward silence almost half of the food.

You don’t speak, she doesn’t speak.

You don’t look at her, she doesn’t seem to look at you.

What should you tell her?

She sighs. "Look at me."

You raise your head but avert your gaze into the void next to her head, pretending to see her without looking at her.

"My eyes are here," she reproaches you, the captain's voice, that gently authoritative tone.

"I would like to talk about what happened, but I know I can’t force you -"

"Yeah, exactly, maybe it’s better not to, forget it," you interrupt her.

You know she hates it when you interrupt her.

She hates being interrupted.

You see her put the sandwich down on the box.

You close your eyes.

"Okay, we can’t continue like this."

You don’t answer.

What should you say?

You don’t understand what she wants.

You don’t understand why you’re here.

You don’t understand anything.

"We need to talk"

"Why? Because we have to sleep in the same room? If you wanted to talk to me you would have done it sooner” you spit angrily.

You attack her.

You don't care about respect, the fact that she is the captain, that she is Alexia Putellas.

What might interest you if you have already hit rock bottom?

What depth can you still reach, that they stop talking to you?

Why, do they talk to you?

Alexia is silent.

A silence so punishing, so tense, it makes you want to cry.

Why doesn't she scream?

Is she bored already?

Do you want to go back to the hotel?

“Maybe we'd better go,” you continue, while placing your hands on the pier in an attempt to get up.

"Sit down"

“Otherwise, what do you do? – you reply bitterly, in the end what do you have to lose? – will you put me on the bench? Will you hit me?”

You laugh sarcastically.

Alexia is silent, so you continue in your attempt to get up.

“I took a few days to think about what happened, about what you said to me and María - she sighs - I asked her not to tell anyone about what happened, so only we and probably Ingrid know, given that María cried all night"

You tense up.

Cry?

Why did she cry?

Does Ingrid know?

Does she really believe you believe her?

Days to think?

“I asked Jona to put us in the room together because I wanted to talk to you but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable and talked to you about two days ago in front of the others, but then I thought it would be embarrassing to do it in the room”

You do not say anything.

What does she want to tell you?

That you're out of the team?

Are you pathetic?

You don't look at her, your eyes fixed on your mismatched socks visible due to your pin-hole shorts.

Anything to avoid looking at it.

“We should have figured it out, how you were doing, what was happening. Instead, we were focused on winning, on the matches, this year the only new player besides you was Ona, but she knew all of us, and we didn't think about the shock and difficulties that playing with us could bring, that moving to Barcelona would cause - look at her - We all made mistakes, me first, and I don't know what to do to improve the situation"

Honesty surprises you

“Sit down, please”

#woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas fanfics #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia x reader #fcb femení x reader #woso community #fcb femení #mapi leon #mapi leon x reader

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certaimromance · 4 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 So Long, Quantico.

Prison Reid x Fem!reader

Read part two here!

Summary: Your best friend asks you for a favor and you must defend the innocence of the man you were in love with, the same man for whom you left the FBI and moved to another country years ago.

Words: 1,6k.

TW: mentions of murder, trauma, death, jail. angst without happy ending. miscommunication. right person, wrong time. reid's time in jail. spoilers for season 13 and all the ones before that. english is not my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: First of all I want to thank you for all the support in my first post because the truth is that I didn't expect (if you haven't read it yet, I already have my masterlist). I still can't believe I reached 1000 notes, it makes me very happy.

And secondly, I apologize in advance for this, but I love drama and being a little cliche sometimes. I promise to write a nice, comfortable, less dramatic Spencer story in the future (I hope so) but ttpd is my everything lately.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The constant pounding of your right leg against the table was beginning to make you desperate and to dwarf the room. You didn't know what to do to stop and think for a few seconds, you had even lost count of all the times you had tried to fix your already perfect and ironed clothes that you had spent hours choosing and modeling in front of your hotel mirror.

It felt like hours had passed since you arrived at the prison, though it was probably only a few minutes. Part of you wanted to run out of there and avoid a dangerous reunion at all costs. The other part was anchored to the chair and would not move until you found a way to get Spencer out of there and fulfill the favor Emily had asked of you.

You couldn't let your best friend down, especially when her job could be in jeopardy if Reid was still in prison. You wanted to make sure she was okay, and repay her for all the favors she had done for you during the years you had lived together in London. Without her, you probably would not have survived or become the successful and respected lawyer you were now. She helped you heal when you needed it, now it was your turn to help.

Before you could think, grab your things and maybe even leave the room to catch your breath, a guard abruptly opened the door. Your eyes immediately fell on the handcuffed man the guard had practically thrown into the chair in front of you.

You blinked several times, trying to process that you were actually standing in front of him. He looked so different from the way you remembered him from the occasional picture Prentiss showed you. The years hadn't gone by for nothing, you knew that, but Spencer looked like someone else. It was more than the messy hair, the beard, or the numerous bruises on his face that made you wince. It was that his eyes no longer sparkled, and he himself looked dull.

The guard came out after warning them that they only had fifteen minutes, and the cameras pointed directly at you two.

“Hey.” That was all you could say, biting your inner cheek at how stupid it sounded.

At first he didn't react and hardly seemed to breathe. His expression was like seeing a ghost, and you couldn't blame him after so many years of not hearing from you. You knew you looked different from the last time you saw each other because you had tried too hard to look like someone else. You wore your hair shorter and a different color, even the way you dressed was other. You looked more serious and grown up.

“What are you doing here?” He asked dryly after scanning you with his eyes for a few seconds.

You froze when you heard him speak and his voice, once music to your ears, was like a kick in the stomach.

“I came to help. I thought Emily told you...”

“She told me that she wanted to call you but I told her not to.” Spencer cut you off before you could continue speaking. “That you weren't going to help me.”

You frowned as your brain processed those words.

“Why not? You...you are my friend.” You said, trying to hide the tremor in your voice.

He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, trying to look away from you because it hurt. You could feel the tension multiply, making it almost impossible to breathe in the small room.

“Friends don't stop talking for six years and pretend the other doesn't exist.”

Oh, that had hurt.

It was true that you had disappeared from his life six years ago, and you had not made the slightest effort to return, even leaving the country with the excuse of looking for a better future. But you had your hidden reasons, you wanted to forget Spencer Reid and your intensely ridiculous and unrequited love.

From the first time you heard him talk about statistics and smile at you like a child, realizing that you listened to him like no one else, you fell madly in love with him for years. Always hoping that one day he would stop thinking of you as his friend and realize how much he deserved to be loved and that you would be happy to do so, that you could give him the whole world without hesitation if he asked you to.

At first you thought he wasn't that interested in love, that he was too smart and focused to lose his mind like you did for him. However, then you saw him several times interested and pining for other girls: the movie actress, JJ, the girl at the bar and Maeve...she was very different and painful for you.

You couldn't stand his strong love for her, at least not being so close to him and having to play the role of the best friend who always listened to him repeat how wonderful she was. Knowing that he could fall in love with someone he didn't even know personally instead of you, whom he saw every day and had known for years, changed you and made you run away to save your heart.

You got a new job far from the United States, thanks to Agent Hotchner and his glowing letter of recommendation. And so you went back to being an ordinary lawyer, no longer chasing serial killers or a boy genius who never loved you as you would have liked.

“Spence, I...” You tried to speak softly, almost having the urge to take his hand to make the situation better, but you didn't. “I'm sorry.”

He was obviously tense, he wouldn't even look you in the eye and you could swear his eyes were a little crystallized. He barely glanced at you for a second before speaking again.

“You don't have to say it if it's not true.”

“It's true.”

You stopped yourself for a second, sighing and centering yourself again.

“But I'm here for the case, to help you with that...and I'm sorry for everything that happened to you.” You said more calmly and with an almost sweet tone.

You both knew it was more than just the prison issue and the current situation. It was a sorry for Maeve's death, Alex, Morgan and Hotch's resignation, his mother's problems, Cat's damn appearance, and most of all for not being there to support him in all.

“You should have called and said so.” He finally responded after letting out a snort and tensing his jaw more.

“Yeah...I should have.” You admitted, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

You thought silence would take over the room again, but instead he spoke again.

“You can go now.”

“I'm not going anywhere unless you're free.” You pointed out with determination.

“You don't have a problem with go before.” He said in the same indifferent tone that was beginning to irritate you.

You should have frozen, kept quiet and focused on the case to get him out of there. But you couldn't do that and act professional when your insides were burning with the memory of the past.

“Don't give me that, you know why I did.” You blurt out, frowning and instinctively pushing the chair away from the table that separates you from him.

“You never said anything to me.” He replied, running a hand through his hair in frustration before speaking again. “You just disappeared like everyone else I've ever loved because you got bored with me.”

“You know I left for the opposite reason, because I...” You tried to say, but your voice cracked and your hands shook in an awkward attempt to touch his. “I loved you the way that you were and...”

The sudden sound of the door opening made you gasp and immediately shut up. The presence of a grim-faced guard made you realize it was all over, and you pulled your hand away from Spencer's again.

“Time's up.” The guard reported and you signaled him to have at least more minutes.

Fortunately, the guard nodded and gave you only five more minutes. You looked at your client again, trying to get into the professional role and discuss his case, but he seemed to be in another world after your half sentences.

There was no room in Reid's mind for your words, after feeling guilty for so long for not doing enough to be a good friend to you, for scaring you away with his problems, for not being one you wanted to keep over time and return his calls. But now, did you really say what you thought? Did you really love and care for him?

Everything was tearing his word apart in that moment.

“You won't have to see me if you don't want to, but I'll get you out of here soon, Spencer. I swear.” You promised and you could see in his face the surprise at your honest tone.

Maybe he expected a different attitude from you, maybe he thought you were still so obsessed with him that you would insist on seeing him and kill yourself to make him laugh again. But you had matured, or so you thought. You were no longer the young woman who hugged him every time he felt far away and was content to be the one who was left over. Now, you were the brave woman who left the ship before it sank completely.

As you watched the guard check the handcuffs and lift Spencer out of the seat to take him away, something inside you reacted. You called out his name before you could react and quickly had his desperate eyes on you.

“You don't have to worry about the past...I'm over you.” You said confidently before nodding goodbye and walking out with one less burden.

He remained anchored to the ground, trying to process your words with his racing mind as he watched you leave him again.

You...you had been in love with him?

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #matthew gray gubler

727 notes · View notes

burstinn · 11 months ago

Text

KÖNIG x FTM! READER

NSFW

Warnings nd Notes:

This was a request by a friend

(FtM reader who its their first time having sex. With König, König being a soft Dom)

Nsfw

Sex (18+) no minors

Gets lazy at the end

Short beginning at the end, rushed it as well

Reader is a bottom

It's König.. Again..

Did not add the size kink I read it to late when I rechecked the request

König never really knew you much, he never really understood you. You're not much of a show off person, you mostly keep your gear on. He's not judging all respects to you, he understands people like that.

That was not until you were sent on a mission together, and it went south.. Well for you anyway, your team got what they want. In expense getting you hurt in the process, and König was the only one who was close to you that can help.

So you radio him your location. Somewhere remote behind some rubble and tree. He saw you.. Your gear is off. And, maybe this was disrespectful but God. You looked so.. He didn't know how to put it, well he couldn't he had to snap out of it just to help you with your injuries.

He quickly rushed over to you, not wanting to comment about how you look. Or your.. Top surgery scars. He knew what those are, so he immediately understood why you usually don't take off your gear around anyone or how you usually don't speak much.

"Can you not tell.. Anyone about this?"

König hears you softly mutter as he finishes up your stitches. Silently eyeing you, then back to your chest.

"I won't.."

He replies back, handing you your bloodied gear which you forced yourself to wear.

That's when he started getting.. Interested in you. His own curiosity slowly flourishing into attraction towards you.

He would always find an excuse to hang out with you and it's not like you didn't notice, you're not dumb. Eventually, you did start to warm up to him. Letting yourself be, and finally confessing yes you are transgender on which he readily accepted you.

°°°

Which brings you to right now.

When you and König were joking around König suddenly brings up some sex or like sex stories or something.

Then you confessed to König, that you.. Are a virgin. Hard truth but yeah.. You felt slightly embarrassed.

"I.. Don't have any stories, König I never had-"

"You never slept with anyone..?"

"Yeah"

°°°

The soft creaking of the bed contrasting, your loud moans it reverberating throughout the walls of the room.

You whine digging your nails deep on the sheets of the bed.

Burying your head on the tear stained pillow, crying and gasping out.

You laying on your stomach, squirming under König. His length slowly inching himself inside of you. Whispering small praises and assurance in German and English that goes unheard by you, feeling yourself getting high off Königs cock already.

It hurt but fuck it felt good

You knew König was trying hard to be gentle with you, even if he did want to chase his own pleasure. But, No he focused on yours.

His thick cocks pushing down inside your soft squelching hole.

You thought you could handle it really, you prepared yourself. All that was thrown out by your incessant loud muffled whines.

His rough heavy arms slowly moving up and down your waist, pulling you slowly deeper into his cock.

"Shh.. It's alright, you're okay. You're doing so well"

"Mein maus, just breath.."

You couldn't even answer if you wanted too, opening your mouth only led to more choked out cries looking out of your mouth.

König bends over trailing his hand along your back his hand slowly reaching your neck.

His hot breath sticking to your neck, making your breath hitch in arousal. The hand on your neck moves to your mouth, shutting out your wails of pleasure.

"Es tut mir leid.. Bitte, keep it down please-"

Königs voice just as shaky as your trembling body everytime he pushes his hips forward, hitting that bundle of nerves that makes you arch your back, letting you see stars.

"Just.. Just a little bit, I'm close"

He whispers, his soft lips suckling on the soft skin of your neck. His pace slightly picks up just so he can finish faster, his actions getting more sloppy by how much close he is. He wants to cum badly..

He doesn't even mind that your getting louder to the point his hand covering your mouth almost has little effect. More tears coming out of you, one of his hand on your hip trying to keep you mouth the other on your mouth.

"That's it good boy, gut, Haah--.. So good for me"

König gasps out

The back of his balls already hitting the rear of your ass, but he doesn't stop, opting to go in and out of you. The grip on your hips and mouth tightening every time his dick pushes back inside of your tight hole.

He whines, resting his head on your shoulder, Struggling to hold himself to start fucking you senseless,stoppinghimself to just lift up your lower half and just use you as a fuck hole.

He's close, so close.

"Liebe, are.. Are you close?"

You weakly nod, clenching your hole around his hard soppy dick only makes him want to fuck you harder like no tomorrow.

"Alright.. Alright.. We'll finish together.."

He breaths, fucking in and out of you fast but gently. Removing his hand out of your mouth to focus on you until youre ready to cum. Well it doesn't take long anyway, virgin.

"König.. König! I'm going to-- I'm gonna"

You didn't need to say anything more. He pumps his dick inside of you one last time lifting your ass before he spurts inside of you. While you cum on the sheets on Königs legs as well. As you both groan in satisfaction and relief.

He stays inside of you for a moment, before pulling out slowly. Drips of his cum seeping out of your hole, he gets off you lying right next to you. Both you and his chest breathing heavily from what just transpired. He tilts his head to you, him staring at your puffy face. His tired face frowns slightly in guilt.

"I'm sorry.. Did it hurt? I should've.."

"Shut up.."

You respond shifting your body weight to just move closer to him.

"You did.. Great"

Mumbling as you kiss König on his lips, laying back down beside him as he just stares dumbfounded for some reason. Quickly recovering he smiles to himself, hugging you.

Now you both fell asleep, nice slumber haha, a good fuck and some fluff hahah I'm going to bed. (I lied I'm not going to bed.. I'm just lazy)

1K notes · View notes

hoshinasblade · 5 months ago

Note

May I request a short drabble (maybe?) on how hoshina would react if he were given flowers :3

this is so cute, thanks anon!

hey guys, im not sure if my blog is back to being ok now because support hasn't replied to me. hopefully you guys see this lol.

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: fluff, established relationship trigger warnings: none, both you and hoshina are very silly individuals who are dating so now the silliness is doubled.

send me more asks here! i have set up a masterlist here!

hoshina soshiro, the best boyfriend in all of japan - his words, not yours - has his notifications on for all your instagram activities.

it all started when you were in the very early stages of dating, and he got upset because in his book, he is supposed to always be the first one to see, heart, and reply to your instagram stories. "that's bare minimum," he proclaimed.

you would be a bit weirded out if he wasn't so adorable.

you would post the dog you saw in your morning run and not more than a few seconds later he would respond with a keyboard smash, telling you that maybe the two of you should also get a dog. you would add a note in your profile and he would reply, making conversation.

"huh", soshiro hummed, his smartphone in his hand. the briefing in the operations room is still going on, yet his attention is on your latest instagram story. there are a few perks to being one of the best defense force officers, and one of them is no one could tell you off for not focusing on the matter at hand.

it's a picture of the front display of the flower shop somewhere in town. he's familiar with the place; he's gotten you something from there a year or two ago for your anniversary. has it been that long? he thought. soshiro knows he can be busy considering his line of work requires him to spend sometimes an entire day on the base. despite that, he makes sure to compensate for lost time and spend most weekends with you. your posting flowers can only mean one thing in his mind, and it is that you want him to get you a bouquet.

which he did.

it was a beautiful bouquet of pink carnations and even pinker gerberas wrapped in blush-colored paper. he annoyed the florist to no end, asking them for a flower arrangement that would signify eternal love.

the weird thing is you already have a bouquet of flowers nestling in your arms when he gets home. confusion overtook him.

"w-what's goin' on?" he asked when you gave him the bouquet. they're sunflowers, fresh and vivid in his eyes.

you were visibly puzzled too when he handed you the very pink collection of flowers he bought.

"i got them for you, what else?" you said in a matter-of-factly tone. "i mean, you'd been working hard these days, i wanted to show my appreciation," you said, fumbling with your thumbs. it didn't matter that you had known the guy biblically, it still flusters you when you do something romantic for him.

soshiro's face was no better. his lips parted, eyes wide, he suddenly turned around, his palms covering his cheeks. "d-don't look at me," he chuckled, suddenly shy.

you gave him a hug from the back, your arms not quite able to embrace him fully. "i got sunflowers because they remind me of you", you said.

soshiro froze, his heart swelling with emotion as he processed your words. sunflowers - the vibrant, sunny blooms that chase toward the light, mirroring his own feelings for you. he smiled, a gentle quirk from the corner of his lips. “have i told you that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?” he asked, bumping his forehead to yours until your noses touched then leaning in for a kiss.

“the best boyfriend to have ever lived just said so," you replied.

#hoshina #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina x reader #soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina #hoshina soshiro fic #kaijuu 8 gou #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no.8 x reader #I YEARN FOR BOYFRIEND HOSHINA #lian replies

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justawritterwithideas · 2 years ago

Text

law in pink | s.r

♡ first part | next part ♡

summary: after confronting an unsub, it leaves you with a ugly mark and Spencer decides to give you a gift to cheer you up.

warnings: mentions of physical violence, beyond that a bit of girl power from reader and a sweet spencer worried about you.

this story is spencer reid (season 7) x ssa elle woods!reader

words: 1,567 words.

a/n: by popular demand, here is part two of law in pink, and yes, I will be returning to this story in a short series with chapters from ssa woods!reader x spencer. thank you very much again and I hope you like it.

The first rule everyone should know about you is that they must never mess with your face.

Never.

Because they don't know what a process it is to get it well cared for, hydrated and with that natural glow. They also don't know how expensive your skincare products are (always the best of the best) and your sessions with your dermatologist.

So they should never, but never, mess with your face.

But clearly an unsub wasn't going to know that, a criminal accused of killing 4 women with a twisted mind was never going to think that.

Least of all when his hand punched you straight in the face, splitting your lip and leaving a mark on your cheekbone, causing the taste of iron to be savored in your mouth.

"What, is Barbie going to cry about her face? I don't understand why they sent the weakest one."

You turned to look at him as you heard his sarcastic laugh, which didn't last long as the Gucci logo on your heel was branded on his cheek and he was falling dazed after hitting a box in the process.

"Weak? Please, you messed with the wrong Barbie." You smiled proudly at the sight of him on the floor, pawing at your face and letting out a groan at the sensation of pain. "Now I'll have to make an appointment with my dermatologist and a traumatologist because of you." You sighed pulling the gun away from his body and proceeded to take his hands to cuff them.

Within minutes, you heard some voices calling out to you, so you began to signal where you were. Within seconds, you saw a concerned J.J. and Emily come down to where you were standing, pointing their guns at you.

The scene was amusing and amazing to watch, you on top of a man who was twice your size as well as weight, lying on the ground while his hands were cuffed.

"Malibu Barbie just captured the undercover toy." You motioned for the cops to take him away, noticing how Emily got a close look at your lip.

"That must hurt."

"It'll hurt more for him, these babies are from last season and has a good sole. Fresh from the mail and ready to make a mark." You commented showing your heels to your companions, hearing their laughter at your joke.

The three of you walked out behind the hoard of people, noticing Spencer and Derek getting out of the newly arrived SUV. As soon as Spencer's gaze captured your face in his field of vision, you could feel him notice right away how your wounded face was the focus of the stares.

"What happened?" Derek looked in everyone's direction, stopping your gaze on you and the clear change in your usual 'perfect' face. "Oh no, Barbie..."

"Don't even look at me, better look at him." You pointed your chin in the direction of the patrol car, where your shoe logo was visible on the criminal's ruddy cheek. "My pilates classes taught him a good lesson." You commented smiling, but immediately let out a groan from the pain it was to move the muscles in your face. "But I think it will leave me achy for a few days."

In between conversations, the others convinced you to go get attended to, so you heeded and walked away from them in the direction of the ambulance, so they could give your cheekbone and lip attention.

"Are you okay, Y/N?"

Spencer's soft voice made you forget the pain for a few seconds, turning to see his face and giving him a smile where your white teeth took center stage.

"I'm fine, it was just a tap." The paramedic walked away to leave the two of you alone. You knew it wasn't an answer that would leave Spencer satisfied about your condition, in fact, his intense stare at you was more than enough to make that clear. You let out a sigh, turning to look at the brunette. "Well, I don't think it's just a 'tap out'. I'll have to ask for a couple of days until I show up at the office decently, not with this horrible face."

One of your biggest problems was your appearance, as many may note, because, if you weren't perfect, you couldn't leave your house.

It had to be everything, head to toe, just the way you have it in your head, if not, sorry, but they'll have to wait for you.

"It's not horrible, you still look just as beautiful." Spencer's words seemed impulsive, but they made your cheeks turn pink, even though I wasn't the only one blushing at that moment, Spencer's were just the same.

"You think so?" your eyelashes fluttered softly, watching the boy.

"Y-yes, y-you always look cute, Y/N."

A kiss on his cheek was the positive response you left for Spence to understand that his words were the best choice, and helped push away those thoughts about how bad you looked with a swollen lip and bruises on your cheek.

"Thank you Spencie, your words are always the right ones. Like a good Chai Latte on a cold day." You smiled getting up from where you were, indicating to him that you would go to the SUV.

For the first time in his life, Spencer appreciated his impulsiveness.

About a week later, you reappeared at the office for a full day's work.

Your body was covered by a pink skirt and jacket ensemble, something that was no longer a problem for anyone after weeks of seeing you arrive like this.

The only thing that wasn't pink at all was your black purse, a beautiful Alexandra. K. Joy and of course, the tray full of coffees you were carrying in your hands.

"Miss Universe, you're back." Derek smiled, causing you to walk up to him and leave a short hug.

"Good things always come back, now be a cutie and help me with this, D." You passed him the tray with coffees, walking beside him as you shared a couple of words.

There was a variety of coffees for everyone according to their tastes, you had taken the time to memorize each order so that it was to their liking.

And as soon as you appeared, you heard Penelope's voice call out to you. Your hand rose to greet her, approaching her with a smile.

"My pretty Y/N." The blonde immediately caught you in a hug, causing you to do the same.

"Penny!" you said cheerfully as you passed her a butterscotch frappe with plant-based milk. "I picked out something I thought you'd like."

"Thanks, cutie. How's your lip?"

"Sore, a little damaged, but better than I thought. My dermatologist recommended a magic cream that Lindsay Lohan used, she said it worked miracles and in two weeks it would be just the way it was."

A smile tugged at your lips, starting to pass out the coffees you had bought until you reached the last one: the one for Dr. Reid.

"Spencie." Your voice snapped him out of his head, turning to see you with a smile.

"Y/N, hey. How are you doing?"

"Much, much better, look... My lip looks almost like it did before! I'll get back to my pretty face." You placed the coffee in front of his eyes, giving him another smile. "A coffee loaded with vegetable milk, I heard around that you're lactose intolerant so I took the liberty of choosing for you."

A blush of embarrassment at that secret settled on his cheeks, causing him to lower his head.

"Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate the coffee." He lifted the cup, taking a sip from it and simply gave you a look, causing you to smile and go to your table.

But it was surprise that settled on your face as you saw a box full of skincare products. Your hands went to grab the products, noticing that it was every single one you occupied and ever mentioned.

"What? Guys... Wow." You held up the little serum box, but the confusion on Emily's face turned your excitement to confusion. "It wasn't you guys?"

"I don't even remember what I did yesterday and I'm going to remember your products, cutie. You take a lot of them." Emily laughed softly, but made you look again in search of the person responsible.

"There's only one person who can remember details like that." Derek's words drew your gaze from your desk to that of a certain doctor, who was shifting his gaze back to his paperwork. "And he hides behind his work."

A soft blush settled on your cheeks, causing you to bring the little box to your chest and press it to your heart, marveling at the detail.

Your feet soon made their way to the desk of the person in charge, and catching him off guard, you left a kiss on his cheek where your pink lipstick was stamped on his skin.

"Thank you, Spencie. I'll take good care of it."

Spencer's heart stopped for a couple of seconds, you could read it.

And as soon as you left, just like a tomato the young doctor's face colored. As a plus, the comments from Morgan didn't take long to come.

"Wow pretty boy, you just won the lottery."

Spencer knew it and that caused him to smile, because boy did he win it.

♡ first part ♡

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfic #blurb #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x elle woods!reader #legally blonde is superior #alme was here!

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