#i don't know what to think about this coloring

[ariatwang]

I'm from what I've taken to calling a ghost city.

The population peaked in 1960 and since then it's just slowly...disintegrated is the best word I can think of. We have half the population now that we did then. All the companies and factories and plants up and left and took the jobs and the money and the people with them. Probably half the buildings you'll see are abandoned and there are old forgotten, run-down train tracks lying across most of the bigger roads because we were a major train depot during the Civil War but we haven't had much use for them since them. (What used to be the primary depot then is now our farmer's market, though, and they kept all of the original building so it still looks the part, which is cool.) It's silent in a very particular way.

Also, every single one of the old old buildings, which is most of them, is very very haunted. I'm not BSing, I know from experience because I've worked in a lot of them and possibly the most haunted is drumroll please, my middle and high school. I've got stories, man. You don't live here and not believe in ghosts. You'll get laughed at like you would get laughed at elsewhere for insisting that they're real.

It is a fucking weird way to grow up. You watch all the cities in the country's population lines climb higher year after year when the censuses come out while yours is slowly falling. You see pictures from the heyday of the 50s and early 60s of the theaters and streets that look so very familiar because you've walked down them at night when it's so quiet you can hear each individual breath you take and those same streets are packed with people so tight their shoulders touch, and you think, holy shit, is that really the same place I'm from? The same one where just 2/3 of the physical city is inhabited? It's kind of unnerving for a kid to realize that her city, her hometown, is actively dying right in front of her, and has been and will be her whole life.

I've never lived anywhere else so I don't know anything else. The house I grew up in had an overgrown pine tree completely covering the front of it so that you can't even see it from the street, a back deck almost completely rotted away by the time we sold it, mold in the attic that made the ceiling sag, and a kitchen floor that was actively trying to cave in below us for as long as I can remember. You have to walk like a ballerina. I taught myself to fix it to the extent I could, which was not a lot, with a can of caulk and painter's tape when I was about ten. That's pretty close to the standard for around here. Point is, I don't have a notion of home that's founded on forward motion. It really got to me for a long time.

But a ghost city like this, the thing is, it attracts the photographers and the historians and the independent journalists. They want to write down the ghost stories and photograph the pictures of decay, which they find to be full of meaning and wonder. I've talked to a few of them and they always hang on to every word I have to say about this place I've grown up.

They take pictures of the secluded houses with the plants overtaking the foundation and the windows broken and the boards missing, stolen by God knows what, rain or hustlers or time.

I, a lifelong native, am still processing the gift that comes naturally to the ghost city's version of tourists: to look what seems to have just taken a breath and then never exhaled and see the colors of memory, the preservation of life in the last breath you can still see the place holding instead of the fingerprints of death in the ending of the thing.

[hanniewho]

⋆˚࿔I'll meet your eyes, I mean this forever 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ Summary: You're feeling insecure about your body, and Vi found out about it and helped you to feel loved and desired.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Notes: I should make a tagliatelle sp I could tag yall and I take the title from a song called demolition lovers. I love it sm bro oh and yes I switch the colors of my acc bcos why not

𐙚˙✧˖° Words: 6.1k

༘ ⋆｡ ˚ Warnings: Comfort sex, Cunnilungus (r receiving), Fingering (r receiving), Squirting, Body worshipping, Mention of porn, Using vibrator, Strap-on mentioned.

⋆✦ Pairings: Vi x Afab reader

You were standing in front of the full-length mirror in your shared bedroom, scrutinizing your reflection with a critical eye. The soft glow of the evening light cast a warm, comforting hue over your rounded curves and the way your favorite shirt clung gently to your frame. Your hand traced the line of your waist, pausing briefly to tug at the fabric that had grown snug over your belly. It wasn't something you dwelt on often, but tonight, you found yourself wishing you felt a bit more...desirable.

Vi, your girlfriend, barged in without knocking, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She had a knack for sensing your moods, and she could tell that something was on your mind. "What's up, cupcake?" she teased, tossing her headphones onto the bed.

You spun around, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. "It's nothing," you mumbled, trying to brush off your insecurity. But Vi knew you better than that. She stepped closer, her gaze softening as she took in the way you held yourself. "You know you're beautiful, right?" she said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Her touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the fierce exterior she often presented to the world. "But I...I just don't look like the girls you usually go for," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You had always envied the lean, athletic figures that Vi was drawn to.

Vi's smile grew, a hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes. "Is that what you think?" she asked, her hand sliding down to grip your waist. "You're perfect just the way you are," she murmured, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies. You could feel the warmth radiating from her, and your heart skipped a beat.

Her touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, making you acutely aware of every sensation. You looked up into her eyes, searching for any sign of mockery, but all you saw was sincerity and desire. For a moment, you just stood there, frozen, trying to process what was happening.

Then, before you could overthink it, you leaned into her embrace. Vi's arms tightened around you, and she kissed you, her lips pressing firmly against yours. It was a kiss that spoke of passion and longing, a kiss that told you she had felt this way for a long time. Your hands found their way to her back, exploring the muscles beneath her shirt as she deepened the kiss. You felt a strange mix of excitement and comfort, a feeling you hadn't experienced in a long time.

You broke away to catch your breath, staring at her in disbelief. "Does this mean..." you started, but Vi cut you off with another kiss, more urgent than the last. "It means I've wanted you for as long as I can remember," she murmured against your lips.

Her words sent a thrill through you, and you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. Vi's hands roamed over your body, tracing the contours of your hips and thighs. You felt a warmth spread through you, and suddenly, all your insecurities melted away. You were here, with Vi, and she wanted you.

The kiss grew more intense, your tongues tangling together as you explored the depths of each other's mouths. You could feel her excitement pressing into your stomach, and a matching heat began to build within you. Vi's hands began to unbutton your shirt, her touch growing more urgent. She peeled the fabric away, revealing the soft flesh beneath, and you shivered at the coolness of the air against your skin.

"Vi, wait," you managed to breathe, a hint of panic lacing your voice. You tried to cover yourself with your arms, suddenly aware of your vulnerability. But Vi just chuckled and gently pushed them aside, her eyes full of adoration. "You're so beautiful," she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "Don't hide from me."

Her words had a soothing effect, and you let your arms drop to your sides, allowing her to appreciate your body. Vi's gaze lingered on your chest, her pupils dilating as she took in the sight of your full breasts, the peaks of your nipples tight with anticipation. She reached out and cupped one gently, her thumb circling the sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You gasped, arching into her touch.

"Vi..." you whined, your voice thick with need. "I'm not..." but she didn't let you finish.

"Not what?" she asked, her voice low and seductive as she leaned down to kiss your neck, her breath hot against your skin. "Not skinny? Not fit?" She paused, her teeth grazing your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. "You're perfect to me."

With a gentle nudge, Vi pushed you towards the bed, her strong hands guiding you until you were lying back on the soft mattress. Your heart pounded in your chest as she hovered over you, her eyes never leaving yours. She trailed kisses down your chest, her tongue flicking out to taste the salty sweetness of your skin. You felt your body respond, your breasts growing heavier, your nipples hardening further as she approached them.

When her mouth finally closed around one, you couldn't help the moan that escaped you. The sensation was exquisite, her teeth grazing lightly as she suckled. You tangled your fingers in her short hair, pulling slightly as the pleasure grew more intense. Vi's other hand found its way to your other breast, teasing and caressing in time with her mouth's rhythm.

You felt your body come alive under her touch, every inch of your skin begging for more. "Vi," you whispered, "please..." and she seemed to understand what you needed without words. She kissed her way down your stomach, her tongue tracing the lines of your belly, pausing at your navel to swirl around the sensitive dip. Your stomach quivered in response, your body growing wet with anticipation.

When she reached the waistband of your pants, Vi looked up at you with a question in her eyes. You nodded, giving her the permission she sought. With a deft hand, she unbuttoned them, sliding them down your legs with a gentle insistence. You were now exposed before her, feeling more vulnerable than ever, but also more alive than you had in a very long time.

"Vi, no," you protested, trying to sit up, but she held your arm firmly. "I wanna make you feel good too." The determination in your voice was clear. You didn't just want to be the recipient of her affections; you wanted to give back, to show her that you weren't just taking but also capable of giving pleasure.

Vi chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, cupcake," she said, her voice dropping to a low purr, "I want you to lay back and take what I give you. I want to show you how pretty you are." She pushed you gently down onto the bed, and you felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation.

Her hands moved to the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly, inch by inch, her gaze never leaving yours. "Now spread those pretty legs for me, yeah?" she instructed, her voice a soft growl. You complied, feeling a thrill run through you as the cool air hit your exposed skin.

Vi's eyes raked over your thighs, her gaze lingering on the stretch marks that crisscrossed your skin, reminders of the battles your body had endured. But instead of seeing them as flaws, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to one, then another, trailing her lips over each line as if they were the most precious of treasures. The tender gesture brought tears to your eyes, and you felt a weight lift from your chest.

Her thumbs spread your legs wider, exposing your most intimate parts to her hungry gaze. You felt a blush creep up your neck, but Vi didn't seem to care about any of the things you were so self-conscious about. Her eyes were filled with a fiery passion that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. "You're so wet for me," she murmured, her voice thick with lust.

With a grin that was both playful and predatory, she leaned in and kissed your folds, her tongue darting out to taste your arousal. "Mmm," she hummed, "I wonder how gorgeous you're gonna look when you squirt." The thought sent a bolt of excitement through you, and your body responded with a jolt, your hips bucking upward. Vi chuckled, her breath hot against your skin.

Her mouth closed around your clit, her teeth grazing the sensitive nub as she began to suck, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You bit your lip to keep from screaming, your hands clutching at the bedcovers. Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alight with sensation. You had never felt this way before, so utterly consumed by desire.

Vi looked up at you, her eyes dark with lust, and murmured, "Let it out, baby, I wanna hear you." The sound of her voice, so confident and commanding, gave you the push you needed. You let go of the last of your inhibitions, arching your back and crying out as she worked her magic.

Her mouth was a masterpiece of pleasure, her tongue circling and flicking against your clit with an expertise that left you gasping for air. You felt the pressure building, your body coiling tighter and tighter with every passing second. Your eyes squeezed shut as you focused on the sensations, trying to hold on just a little longer, to savor every moment of this exquisite torment.

But the dam broke, and you shuddered, your thighs clamping around Vi's head as your orgasm washed over you. She didn't relent, continuing her ministrations as your body spasmed, riding the waves of pleasure until you collapsed, boneless, onto the bed.

Breathing heavily, you opened your eyes to find Vi looking up at you with a smug smile. "See?" she said, her voice smoky and satisfied. "Perfect."

You couldn't argue with that. Your body felt like it had been rewired, every nerve ending pulsing with new life. You watched as she licked her lips, tasting you, and the sight of it was almost too much to handle. Your thighs, which had been squeezing her head, relaxed, allowing her to sit up. She leaned over you, placing a gentle kiss on your belly, making you squirm with the lingering aftershocks of your climax.

"Hey, cupcake?" Vi asked, her voice a smoky purr that sent shivers down your spine. "Can I ask you a favor?" She had moved up the bed and was now straddling one of your legs, her weight pressing down on your thigh in a way that was both comforting and exciting.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "Anything," you managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Vi's grin grew even wider, and she scooted back on the bed, laying down and patting her face with her hands. "Sit on my face, pretty girl," she said, her voice low and filled with want.

You stared at her, your own desire battling with your shock and confusion. But the heat in her eyes was undeniable, and you felt your body respond, eager to explore this new side of your relationship. With trembling legs, you straddled her face, feeling the warmth of her breath on your inner thighs. You took a deep breath and lowered yourself onto her, her nose nestling in your folds.

Vi's mouth wasted no time, her tongue sliding over your swollen clit with a hunger that took you by surprise. You threw your head back and moaned, the sensation of her tongue lapping at you making you feel like you were floating. Her hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, urging you closer as she devoured you with a ferocity that was both thrilling and a little scary.

"Vi, no..." you whined, trying to push yourself up, but she was having none of it. Her arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you in place as her mouth worked its magic. You could feel yourself growing wetter with every flick of her tongue, and the sound of her smacking against your skin filled the room, making your face burn with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment.

Vi looked up at you, her eyes glazed with desire, and she pulled you down harder, forcing your plump cheeks to engulf her face completely. "Shh," she murmured against your flesh, her voice muffled but clear. "Just let me make you feel good." And with that, she buried her nose in your folds, inhaling deeply.

The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't help but let out a moan, the vibrations echoing through your core. Vi's tongue began to explore you, tracing the length of your slit before delving deeper, tasting every part of you. You felt her teeth graze your clit, sending a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. "More," you moaned, your hips rocking gently against her face.

Her grip on your thighs tightened as she complied, her tongue swirling around your clit with a relentless rhythm that had you panting for breath. Your hands found their way to her hair, gripping tight as she worked you closer to the edge. The room was filled with the sound of your gasps and the wet noises of her mouth on your skin. It was carnally erotic, a symphony of passion that had your toes curling with every stroke.

Vi's tongue delved deeper, penetrating you with a gentle ease that made you realize just how much she knew your body. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment, studying every curve and dip, every spot that made you shiver with pleasure. You felt her teeth graze the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. The mix of pleasure and pain was intoxicating, a heady cocktail that had your hips grinding against her face.

Her tongue found your G-spot, the slick muscle that sent bolts of ecstasy through your body. She flicked it, the sensation setting your nerves alight, making you tremble uncontrollably. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension in your belly tightening like a coil about to spring. "Vi, I'm...I'm going to...oh God," you panted, your voice shaking with need.

Vi's only response was to double her efforts, her tongue curling against that magical spot with a fervor that left you breathless. You felt yourself begin to spasm, your orgasm building like a crescendo. With a final, desperate cry, you shuddered, your body giving in to the waves of pleasure that washed over you. Vi's mouth remained on you, her tongue lapping up every drop of your release as if it was the sweetest nectar she had ever tasted.

Finally, she pulled away, her face glistening with your arousal. She licked her lips, a contented look in her eyes. "Mmm," she murmured, "you taste like heaven." The words sent a warm flush through you, making you feel more desired than you ever had before. You slumped down onto the bed, your legs quivering with the aftermath of your climax.

Vi climbed over you, her body straddling yours, and you could feel the warmth of her against your sensitive skin. She leaned down and captured your mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, sharing the taste of your passion with you. Her hands roamed over your curves, exploring every inch of your body as if it was a map she had been dying to uncover.

Her palms slid up your sides, cupping your breasts and kneading them gently, her thumbs circling your nipples until they were pebble-hard. You moaned into her mouth, the sensation of her touch sending shivers down your spine. Her hips rocked against yours, and you felt her own desire, her need pressing into you insistently.

Breaking the kiss, Vi reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head to reveal the taut muscles of her stomach and the firm mounds of her breasts. You couldn't help but stare, the sight of her bare skin making your heart race. "Like what you see?" she teased, her voice thick with desire.

You nodded, unable to form words as you took in the sight of her. Vi's body was a masterpiece of strength and power, a stark contrast to your softness. But in this moment, you didn't feel any less desirable. In fact, you felt more so, knowing that she wanted you just as much as you wanted her.

With trembling hands, you reached up to trace the lines of her abs, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips. Vi's skin was hot to the touch, and she moaned as you touched her. You felt a thrill of power, knowing that you could affect her so deeply. Your hands moved to the button of her pants, and you fumbled with the clasp, eager to feel more of her.

But she had other ideas. With surprising gentleness, she pushed your hand away. "Relax, cupcake," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Just lay down and enjoy the view." You obeyed, your body feeling heavy with need as you laid back on the pillows. Vi took your wrists in her hands, her grip firm but not unkind, and placed them above your head.

Her eyes never left yours as she unbuckled her pants, the sound of the zipper echoing through the room. She slid them off, revealing her own arousal, and you felt your own desire spike in response. She was so confident, so sure of herself, and it was incredibly arousing. She climbed back over you, her legs straddling your hips, and you couldn't help but stare at her.

Her pubic hair was a soft, downy mess against your skin, tickling you in the most sensitive of places, making you squirm with delight. It was a stark contrast to the bare, waxed girls you had seen in magazines and porn, and you found yourself fascinated by the way it felt. It was real, it was hers, and it was incredibly sexy.

Vi began to grind her pussy against yours, her clit rubbing against your own in a slow, deliberate motion that had your eyes rolling back in your head. The feeling was exquisite, a new form of pleasure that you hadn't experienced before. It was intimate and raw, and you felt a connection to her that went beyond just physical attraction.

Her hand slid down to your clit, her thumb pressing against it in time with her movements. You bucked your hips up, trying to increase the friction, and she chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Greedy," she murmured, her voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. She increased her pace, the slick sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room.

Your breathing grew ragged as the pressure built, your eyes locked on hers. You could see the desire in them, the hunger for more, and it only served to drive you closer to the edge. Her free hand trailed up your body, her fingers dancing over your skin before finding your right nipple. She pinched it lightly, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger, the sensation making you gasp.

Vi's movements grew more urgent, her hips moving faster as she rubbed against you. The heat between your legs was stifling, the scent of your arousal heavy in the air. You felt your body responding, your own wetness slick against her thighs, a testament to how much you wanted her. "Vi," you whimpered, your voice needy and desperate.

"Come for me, cupcake," she whispered, her eyes locked on yours. "I wanna see that pretty face of yours when you cum." Her words sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, and you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your hands clenched the bedcovers, your knuckles white with the effort of holding back.

But the anticipation was too much, and with a final grind against her, you shattered. Your back arched, your eyes squeezed shut as pleasure washed over you in waves. Vi watched with a satisfied smile as your face contorted with ecstasy, her own desire growing with every whimper and gasp that escaped your lips.

"Yeah, like that, baby," she cooed, her voice thick with lust. "Oh, you're so pretty when you cum." The sound of her praise sent a warm glow through you, and you felt a newfound confidence in your body, in your ability to give and receive pleasure.

As the last of your orgasm subsided, Vi leaned down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss, sharing the taste of your arousal. Her tongue danced with yours, her body still moving against yours in a slow, sensual rhythm. You could feel her own need, the heat and wetness of her pussy grinding against yours, and it only served to stoke the fires of your desire once more.

Her hand slid from your wrists to your waist, her fingers digging into your flesh as she pulled herself closer. You felt the weight of her breasts pressing into your chest, the feeling sending a fresh jolt of pleasure through you. Your hands moved to her hips, holding her in place as she continued to rock against you.

"Vi," you whined, your voice filled with a mix of pleasure and exhaustion, "I just came-" But she didn't stop, her own hips bucking harder, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I know, baby," she murmured against your neck, her teeth grazing your skin. "But I need to feel you cum again."

With a wicked grin, she leaned down to whisper in your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "I will fuck you until you feel pretty," she said, her voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. "You got that, cupcake?" The promise in her words was like a drug, and you found yourself nodding, eager for more.

Vi's smile grew wider as she pecked the tip of your nose, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Good girl," she murmured, her voice a gentle caress. It was a simple act, one that was filled with affection and ownership, a silent declaration of her intent to cherish every part of you. It sent a thrill through your body, making you feel more alive than you ever had before.

Her movements grew more deliberate, her hips grinding against you in a rhythm that matched the beating of your heart. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every stroke, your body begging for more of her touch. "Please, Vi," you gasped, your voice a desperate plea.

Vi's smile grew wider as she leaned down, her eyes locked on yours. "Tell me what you want," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr that made you quiver. "Say it, baby."

You took a deep breath, feeling a blush creep over your cheeks. "I want...I want you to...to fuck me," you finally managed to say, the words feeling strange and powerful on your lips.

Vi's eyes darkened, and she gave you a predatory smile. "With what?" she asked, her voice a low rumble.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "With your...strap-on," you whispered, feeling a thrill of excitement and nerves.

Vi's smile grew even wider, if that was possible, and she leaned down to cup your face in her strong hands. "Baby," she murmured, her thumbs tracing over your cheekbones, "today, I just wanna worship you, not rearrange your organs. You deserve that, don't you?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. "But, Vi," you protested weakly, "I want you to feel good, too."

Vi's smile softened, and she leaned in to kiss you tenderly. "Trust me, I am," she murmured against your lips. "But tonight, it's all about you."

With surprising grace, she climbed off you, moving to the side of the bed. She rummaged through the nightstand drawer, her eyes glinting with excitement as she pulled out a velvety pouch. She turned to face you, holding it out like a treasure. "Let's see what we have here," she said, her voice filled with a playful tone.

You watched with bated breath as she unzipped the pouch, revealing an impressive collection of sex toys. Your eyes widened at the sight, a mix of curiosity and nerves swirling in your stomach. Vi noticed your expression and chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't worry, cupcake," she said, "I've got just the right thing for you."

Her hand hovered over the collection before finally settling on a sleek, pink vibrator. "This one's my favorite," she murmured, turning it on. The buzzing filled the room, sending a shiver down your spine. She brought it closer to your ear, and you felt the vibrations tickle your skin. "It's got different settings," she explained, "so we can find one that makes you scream."

Vi positioned the toy at your entrance, her eyes never leaving yours. She slid it in gently, watching as your eyes widened with shock and pleasure. The vibrations were intense, sending waves of pleasure through you that made your toes curl. She began to move it in and out, the sensation making you feel like you were floating on a cloud of bliss.

"Is that good, baby?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern. You nodded, unable to form coherent words as she hit a spot inside you that made your vision swim. She twisted the vibrator, the sensations changing, and you gasped, your body tensing with the newfound ecstasy.

"Vi, mmmm, more," you whined, your voice needy and desperate. She chuckled, the sound sending another tremor through you. "Greedy little thing," she murmured, her thumb circling your clit as she pumped the toy in and out of you.

The vibrations grew stronger, and you felt your body responding, your hips lifting off the bed to meet each thrust. Vi's eyes never left yours, watching you intently as she worked the toy, her other hand playing with your breasts. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt your second climax approaching like a freight train.

With a gentle touch, she placed a hand on your plump stomach, pushing you back down onto the bed. "Ah, ah, ah, relax, cupcake," she cooed, her voice a sweet symphony of reassurance. You took a deep breath, feeling the mattress conform to your body as you allowed yourself to be held in place by her firm grip. Her fingers traced lazy circles over your belly, sending shivers through your body.

Vi's eyes never left yours as she continued to manipulate the vibrator, her thumb now playing with the sensitive bundle of nerves at your center. You could feel your orgasm building again, the pressure in your belly growing tighter with each pulse of the toy. "Vi, I...I think I'm gonna-" you began, but she shushed you, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

Without warning, she leaned down, her mouth capturing one of your nipples. She sucked hard, the sensation making you gasp as she rolled the other between her thumb and forefinger. "Cum for me, cupcake," she murmured, her breath hot against your skin. "Let me feel you tighten around my toy."

Her words sent a fresh wave of desire crashing over you, and you felt your pussy clench around the vibrator in response. Vi's eyes grew darker, her movements more urgent as she watched your body react to her commands. She switched to the other nipple, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, making you arch your back.

"Vi, oh God, it's...it's too much," you moaned, your body on the brink of ecstasy. She chuckled, the vibrations increasing in intensity. "It's never too much, baby," she murmured, her eyes never leaving yours. "You can take it, I know you can."

Her words were like a command, and your body responded with a fervor that surprised even you. You felt the orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to consume you whole. Vi's hand worked in tandem with the toy, her thumb pressing down on your clit as the vibrations grew stronger. The combination was exquisite torture, and you couldn't help but moan louder, the sound echoing through the room.

The tension grew, coiling tighter and tighter until it was a live wire, ready to snap. Then, with a cry that was half-moan, half-scream, you came, your body spasming around the vibrator. Vi's eyes never left yours, watching with a look of pure satisfaction as your climax washed over you. The vibrator remained inside you, the sensations too much to handle, but you didn't ask her to stop. Instead, you clung to the edge of the bed, your knuckles white as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

Vi's movements grew more deliberate, her hand pumping the toy in and out of you with a rhythm that was almost mesmerizing. She switched the setting again, and the vibrations grew more intense, making you squirm under her touch. "Do you like that?" she murmured, her voice a gentle purr that only added to the eroticism of the moment.

You nodded, unable to speak as the pleasure grew. "Mm-hmm," you managed to get out, your voice barely a whisper. Vi chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Good girl," she praised, her thumb pressing harder against your clit. "You're doing so well."

Her hand moved the vibrator in a slow, deliberate pattern, the varying speeds and intensities making you feel like you were on the verge of a third orgasm. It was as if she was conducting your body's symphony of pleasure, and you were the instrument she played masterfully. Each pulse of the toy sent waves of ecstasy crashing over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

Vi leaned down to whisper in your ear, her hot breath sending shivers down your neck. "I want you to cum again, baby," she urged, her voice a seductive growl that sent a fresh jolt of arousal through your core. You nodded, eager to please her, eager for the next peak of pleasure. She increased the vibrations once more, the buzzing growing louder, more insistent.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as the sensations grew, the vibrator filling you completely, the vibrations resonating through your entire being. Vi's thumb never left your clit, the constant pressure driving you wild with need. You felt your body tense, the coil of pleasure in your belly tightening once again.

"Vi, I'm...I'm gonna...oh, please," you panted, your voice a desperate plea. Vi's grip on the vibrator grew firmer, her eyes locked on your face as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge. "Cum for me, cupcake," she whispered, her voice a seductive promise. "Let go."

With a final, almost painful twist of the vibrator, your body obeyed, your muscles spasming around the toy as a gush of wetness spurted from your pussy. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt before, a sudden release that took you by surprise. Vi gasped as the warm fluid hit her face, her eyes going wide before she leaned back to watch the show, her mouth hanging open.

Tears streamed down your face, a mix of pleasure and pain as your body shuddered through the most intense orgasm of your life. Vi looked shocked, her eyes wide with amazement as she took in the sight of your face, contorted in ecstasy. She gently slid the vibrator out of you, setting it aside with trembling hands. The sudden absence of the intense vibrations left you feeling empty, but the pleasure still lingered, like an aftershock following an earthquake.

Vi leaned over, her eyes filled with concern as she studied your reaction. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle. You nodded, unable to find the words to describe the whirlwind of sensations that had just swept through you. She kissed you softly, her tongue tracing the contours of your mouth as you both caught your breath.

When the tremors had subsided, she pulled back, her eyes searching yours. "Was that...was that okay?" she asked, her voice filled with a vulnerability you hadn't heard from her before. You managed to give her a weak smile, the corners of your eyes still glistening with tears. "More than okay," you murmured, your voice hoarse.

Her expression softened, and she leaned down to kiss away your tears. Her touch was gentle, tender, as if you were made of the most fragile glass. You felt yourself melt into the kiss, your body still pulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure. When she pulled away, she looked at you with something akin to awe. "You're so beautiful," she whispered, her thumbs tracing the curve of your cheekbones.

Vi's eyes roamed over your flushed body, taking in every detail of your curvy form. She leaned back, her hands sliding down to caress the soft flesh of your stomach. "You're perfect," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "So fucking perfect."

You felt your cheeks heat up, a mix of pride and disbelief at her words. "I'm not," you protested weakly, but she silenced you with a kiss, her tongue delving into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. "You're mine, cupcake," she whispered against your lips, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. "All of you."

Her strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the warmth of her chest. You felt the steady beat of her heart against yours, the reassurance of her embrace seeping into your very soul. "I'll be damned if you say you're not pretty enough," she murmured, her voice a gentle rumble that made you melt into her. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Her words washed over you like a warm wave, filling you with a sense of belonging and acceptance you had never experienced before. Vi's confidence in your beauty was intoxicating, and you found yourself believing her. You allowed her to pull you closer, her fingers tracing patterns on your back as she kissed the top of your head.

Her hand moved lower, her palm cupping your ass, squeezing gently. "You know, I've always had a thing for a nice, round ass," she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper. You blushed, but instead of pulling away, you pushed back into her touch, feeling a thrill of desire at her words. It was as if she had found the key to unlock every inch of your body, making you crave her touch in ways you had never thought possible.

Vi's fingers began to knead, her touch firm and sure as she explored the softness of your curves. She leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. "And next time," she said, her voice a promise, "I'll use the strap-on you like so much." The thought sent a bolt of arousal through you, and you couldn't help but moan at the thought. You felt a rush of wetness between your legs, your body already eager for the next round of pleasure she would give you.

Vi chuckled at your reaction, her grip tightening on your ass. "But for now," she said, her voice a gentle command, "I just want to hold you." You nodded, feeling the warmth of her body enveloping you. It was strange, but you felt more connected to her than you had ever felt to anyone else. Her acceptance of your body, her worship of it, had broken down the walls of self-consciousness that had plagued you for so long.

Her hands began to roam again, her fingers dancing over your skin as if it were the strings of a finely tuned instrument. She traced the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts. Each touch was a declaration of love, a silent promise to cherish and adore every inch of you. You felt yourself growing more and more relaxed, your body responding to her tender ministrations.

Vi leaned in, her breath warm against your cheek, and whispered, "I love you, cupcake." Her words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the ache of insecurity that had lingered there. You turned your head, your eyes meeting hers, and she captured your mouth in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of love and passion, a promise that she would never let you doubt your beauty again.

[vbecker10]

Hey odd request but I have a lot of tummy issues could you write Loki comforting reader with tummy cramps.

Tummy Troubles

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Loki discovers you curled up in your bed trying to deal with your stomach issues and offers to help you feel better.

Warnings: 🤷‍♀️ stomach issues, mention of throwing up previously, feeling ill but not specific illness mentioned... there will be fluff!

A/N: I'm really really sorry this took so long! I've been having a rough time finding inspiration but last night, while I was curled up in a ball trying not to die from my own stomach issues, I came up with the idea for this fic in an effort to distract myself. Thank you for sending this request! I hope you like it! 💚

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand for the second time and you groan, gripping the sheet around you tighter as your stomach cramps and your body shivers. After what feels like forever, the pain subsidies but you still can't force your body to move so you can reach your phone.

You've been laying curled up in a near fetal position for at least the last hour, even since you dragged yourself back to bed after loosing the battle to keep from throwing up your lunch. Even the slightest movement brings a wave of nausea so you've decided your best bet is to stay perfectly still until you finally fall asleep which will hopefully be soon but you doubt it. You're utterly exhausted but as far from sleep as possible. This is not a new feeling unfortunately, once every other month or so your stomach decides to revolt against you for seemingly no reason.

Closing your eyes tightly, you feel chills run up your spine as your stomach cramps. Your muscles slowly relax and just as you take a deep breath to steady yourself, your phone buzzes for a third time.

You don't need to check it to know who keeps calling, it's Loki. He was due back from his mission roughly half an hour ago and somewhere in the last six months, it became a habit of his to call you to let you know he landed. You thought it was sweet and normally you couldn't wait to hear his voice again but there was no way you would let your ridiculously attractive best friend see you sweaty, nauseous and curled up in pain.

The doors open for the elevator and Loki steps inside, his phone pressed to his ear as he listens to it ring over and over. When he hears your voice mail pick up, he sighs and ends the call without leaving a message.

Putting his phone back into his pocket, Loki walks into the kitchen in the common area in an effort to locate you. Instead, he finds Wanda and Natasha making tea and discussing their plans for the evening.

"Have either of you seen Y/N recently?" Loki asks, trying to keep from sounding overly concerned.

"She didn't come to our last two meetings," Natasha answers. "She's sick, some stomach thing I think."

"Thanks, I'll go check on her," Loki says then he leaves the kitchen, walking down the hall to your apartment.

He knocks, waiting a moment but when you don't answer he lets himself in like he has dozens of times before. He sighs when you're not on the couch like he had hoped you would be. He looks around your dark apartment and realizes that means you're in your bedroom. He walks towards the closed door and pauses.

The door is always closed when he's come over and he often found himself wondering what your bedroom was like or more specifically what your bed was like. What color sheets did you have? Was your mattress soft or firm? Did you sleep on the left side or the right side? What he wondered most often though, was what it would be like to fall asleep with his arms around you. He'd never ask you any of those questions of course but now he was about to find out the answer to most of them.

Loki knocks on your bedroom door, putting his ear to the dark wood and hears a soft groan in response.

Your bedroom door opens slowly and you pull the thin sheet tighter around yourself. Despite your back facing the door, you can immediately tell by the sound of his leather boots that it's Loki.

"Are you okay, love?" Loki asks. "Natasha said you were sick."

"Go away," you mumble, squeezing your eyes closed as your stomach cramps. You feel the bed dip lightly as he sits on the edge and you groan. "Don't move the bed," you force the words out, afraid speaking will trigger your nausea as it often does.

Loki gets up quickly and apologizes, "Sorry."

You can feel him watching you but you can't move to face him. Part of you wants him to leave, close the door on his way out and act like he never saw you here. The other part of you desperately wants him to hold you until you fall asleep.

"Let me help you," he says finally.

"I'm fine Loki, you can go," you say through gritted teeth and the instant you hear your voice you know the God of Lies isn't going to believe that.

"Y/N," he says softly as he sits gently on the bed again, careful not to move it as much as before. "I can make you feel better if you're sick."

"How?" you ask then cringe in pain as your stomach cramps tightly, a second later you feel something unexpected. Loki's chest presses lightly against your back as he lays on your bed next to you.

"I can use my magic to heal you. I've used it to heal wounds and illnesses before," Loki explains as his arm wraps around you, his hand settling on your stomach gently. "Just relax love, this will only take a moment."

You nod but you're body remains stiff, you've spent almost every night for the last three or four months wishing you could lie in bed with Loki but this is not how you wanted it to happen. Your attention is drawn to Loki's fingers as they begin to glow green, his seider spreading slowly over your body.

Almost instantly, your stomach settles as the cramps release and the nausea subsides completely. You find yourself inching closer to Loki as the chills fade and the only things you feel are tired and comfortable. Your hand covers Loki's, his seider fading once the spell has finished healing you.

You nod and smile, "So much better. Thanks Loki."

"Better?" he asks quietly, his lips a few inches from your ear. 'Black cotton sheets, firm mattress, left side of the bed,' Loki thinks, answering the questions he had about your bed, a smile spreads across his lips as his fingers intertwine with yours. The only thing left for him to do was try to hold you for as long as possible since he wasn't sure when our if he'd get to do it again.

Your eyes flutter open. "No," you reply quietly, still holding his hand to keep his arm around your body. "Please stay."

"Of course, love," he answers.

You yawn, closing your eyes for a moment. You've cuddled with previous boyfriends but Loki was so much more comfortable than you had imagined he could be.

"I'll leave so you can rest," Loki suggests even though it's the last thing he wants to do.

He shifts as close to you as he can, thrilled by your request, "Okay love."

You yawn again, struggling to keep your eyes open and in your exhausted state you find yourself asking Loki something you've wanted to know for months. "Why do you keep calling me love? You never call anyone else that."

Loki places a soft kiss to your neck, just below your ear and whispers so quietly you barely hear him, "Because I love you."

You smile as your eyes close and just as you slip off to sleep you whisper back, "I love you too."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[redroomreflections]

Her Best Secret

1950s Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and R are having an affair.

Note: I wrote this after watching Mother's Instinct with Anne Hathway and Jessica Chastain. I needed to make it gay. I don't know what this is truly but it's here.

Warnings: Smut and fluff kind off.

Picket fences. Two-and-a-half children. A dog in the yard. A steady job. A house on a quiet street. Nuclear family. Marriage. College. This was what life was about. The checklist of happiness, painted in bright colors and polished to perfection, like the chrome trim on the cars Sam sold so well.

Tonight, it all seemed true. The music drifted out from the open windows of Steve and Natasha’s house, mingling with the scent of freshly cut grass and neighbors' laughter on the patio. The neighborhood had turned out to celebrate Sam’s big promotion—another shiny star on the life everyone was striving for. You stood by the punch bowl, watching as Natasha twirled beneath Steve’s hand in the center of the makeshift dance floor. Her laughter was light and infectious, her cheeks flushed in a way that made her even more stunning under the string lights. She looked happy—effortlessly so.

Your gaze lingered a moment too long before you turned away, your hand brushing absently over the fabric of your dress. Sam was recounting the story of his big sale to an eager group of neighbors somewhere nearby. You could hear his voice rise and fall, full of charisma and charm, the same traits that had swept you off your feet all those years ago.

"Mama, come dance with us," Claire demanded as she tugged on your hand. Your daughter was the perfect mix of the two of you, and she never ceased to make your heart swell. You smiled down at her, smoothing the hair out of her face and taking in her toothy grin.

“In a minute,” you promised, swirling the punch in your glass. “Let me finish this.”

“Okay,” Claire shrugged, already distracted. She launched into her version of the jitterbug as “Why Do Fools Fall In Love” spun on the record player. Her tiny feet shuffled wildly, arms flailing with abandon. It wasn’t quite the jitterbug but hers, and she owned it.

You smiled, watching her. The song brought back memories of Sam. You could almost feel the warmth of his hands around your waist, guiding you through the steps, the two of you laughing and stumbling over each other in the middle of your living room. A good memory.

“It’s a great party, right?” came a voice behind you.

You turned to see Sarah Wilson, her warm smile disarming as always. She was one of those rare people who could make anyone feel at home. Your sister-in-law had been a steady presence in your life, offering unsolicited advice and unwavering support.

“Oh, of course,” you nodded, eyes flicking between Claire’s eclectic moves and Natasha and Steve, who were swaying comfortably in the center of the dance floor. “Everyone seems to be having a good time.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Sarah chuckled, nodding toward the dance floor. “I didn’t think Natasha would ever get Steve out there. That man’s all business. But look at them now.”

You smiled into your glass, forcing a little laugh. “They seem like they’re enjoying themselves.”

“Speaking of enjoying,” Sarah said, her tone shifting as her gaze landed on Claire. “Your little one’s a great dancer. She’s got rhythm for sure.”

“Thanks,” you said, feeling a touch of pride.

“Have you two thought about giving her another playmate?” Sarah’s voice was casual, but her eyes gleamed with curiosity.

The question was unexpected, and you took a step back. It was a fair question. Most couples with kids would have more than one. You had known that since the day Claire was born. But the thought of having another child—with Sam, of all people—made your stomach churn.

Sarah was waiting, and you knew her well enough to know that she would keep pressing until you answered.

"Oh, well,” you began, fumbling for an answer, “I’ve been thinking about returning to work. It’s just not the right time for us.”

Sarah arched an eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “Work, huh? Well, I’m sure Sam has his own thoughts about that.”

Before you could respond, Sam appeared beside you, his arms wrapping around your waist. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his easy grin softening the tension in your chest.

“Oh, nothing,” Sarah said lightly, though her tone betrayed her nosiness. “We were just talking about Claire’s dancing—and whether she might get a little brother or sister someday.”

Sam glanced at you, his brow lifting in amusement. “Is that so?”

You felt your cheeks warm as you shrugged helplessly.

“She said she’s thinking about returning to work,” Sarah added, her teasing smile turning to him.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Come on, Sarah. Leave her alone. She’s got enough on her plate without you playing matchmaker for the kids. If you'll excuse me, I want to dance with my wife."

Sarah rolled her eyes at her brother. Then, with a quick wink to you, she said, "Okay, okay, I can take a hint. But don't go too far. We're doing the fireworks after dinner and need help setting up all the chairs."

Sam took your hand and pulled you out onto the dancefloor, ignoring his sister, twirling you playfully before pulling you close. His eyes shone, and you wondered how much he had had to drink. It didn’t matter. You needed this right now; you needed to feel the warmth of his skin against yours and a distraction from seeing her with him.

"I didn't know you were thinking about returning to work," he said, his eyes searching yours.

"It's been on my mind, yes," You nodded.

"I thought we agreed you didn't need to," He tilted his head slightly. "You'd be leaving Claire with a babysitter or at daycare. We can afford to take care of her ourselves."

"I know, but..." You trailed off.

He grinned down at you, his frown barely noticeable as he leaned closer. “But what?”

You laughed softly, letting him spin you again, your hesitation hidden behind the dance. “I just… I like the idea of doing something for myself again, you know?”

Sam pulled you close, his hand firm at the small of your back. His grin widened, his tone teasing. “You mean besides raising the most beautiful kid in the neighborhood?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his charm. “Exactly,” you quipped, tapping his chest lightly. He pulled you tighter to him.

"I know it's what you want," He whispered. "But you look so beautiful when you're pregnant."

You rolled your eyes. "You're ridiculous, Sam."

"I'm just being honest," He said, his tone light and playful.

"You're drunk, and I'm tired." You tried to pull away, but he held fast, his hands firm on your hips.

"You know you want to," he teased, his breath hot on your ear. Finally, he sighed. "I love you."

"I love you, too," You muttered, closing your eyes as his lips brushed your temple. When he moved to kiss your lips, you didn't pull away. You loved Sam. You really did. You always had.

And yet...

"Okay, lovebirds,” came Natasha’s voice, cutting through the music with playful ease. “Sam, let me take her away. It’s my turn to dance.” She said it with a teasing grin, the kind that made her so easy to like. Natasha, your closest friend, was a familiar presence, one the neighborhood never found threatening.

Sam chuckled, loosening his hold on your waist. “Fine, but don’t wear her out,” he replied with mock seriousness. "I need her tonight."

You pulled away and offered him a polite smile, careful not to meet his gaze.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Sam exchanging a glance with Steve. The two men shrugged, their silent communication as effortless as their friendship. They knew nothing could come between the two of you.

“You alright?” Natasha asked softly, her voice low enough for only you to hear.

“I’m fine,” you replied.

She smiled, her lips curving into that mischievous way of hers, her eyes sparkling like she already knew the truth. “Good. Let’s go find some real fun.”

Before you could respond, she grabbed your arm gently but insistently, steering you off the dance floor and down toward the basement. She fumbled for the light control before pulling the string.

“What are we doing down here?” you asked, a small laugh escaping as she guided you to the landing. "I'm going to twist my ankle."

Natasha continued. “Sometimes a girl needs to breathe,” she said lightly, though there was an undercurrent to her words. "And Steve keeps the good beers down here."

"Well, thank God for Steve," you laughed.

"Amen," Natasha nodded as she rumbled through the deep freeze. "Ah, we only have one."

"We can share it," You shrugged. "We have the best stories, and I think we've earned it."

"Cheers," Natasha said as she raised the can and pulled the tab to open it. She wasn't anticipating the rush of foam that exploded from the top, so she stepped back in horror. Droplets landed on the floor and her dress.

"Oh no," You groaned.

"Shit," She muttered, trying to brush the beer off her front.

"Oh, no. Natasha, I'm so sorry. Come here," You reached for the paper towels on the table and tried to wipe off the beer. "I think I made it worse."

"Yeah, me too," Natasha muttered, frowning as she dabbed at the wet stain. "God, I can't believe this. This is the worst."

You sighed, trying not to laugh. "It's not that bad. Just tell people it's a design feature. Or... or pretend it's a bloodstain. Tell people you got a little violent."

Natasha's laughter bubbled up, and she gave you a playful shove. "Don't joke like that! My blood is supposed to stay on the inside, thank you very much. Also, it's clear, and blood is red."

You chuckled, reaching for the can. "Here, give me some of that."

Natasha relented and watched as you sipped from the can. Her eyes never seemed to leave you.

"So...how's Sam?"

"He's...good."

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's it?"

You shrugged. "What do you want me to say? He's...good. Things are good."

"Mmm," she hummed, tilting her head slightly.

"What?" you asked, your voice coming out more defensively than you intended.

"What were you guys talking about?"

"Nothing. It was nothing. Just...work. Stuff. Things. Nothing important."

Natasha pursed her lips, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh."

You sighed, trying not to fidget under her stare. "He wants another baby."

Natasha blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And what?"

"How do you feel about it?"

"I don't know," you shrugged. "I mean, I love Claire, and I don't know if we're ready for another baby. And..." You trailed off.

"And?"

"It's just...hard," you admitted quietly. "He's so attentive when I'm pregnant, and I get to spend a lot of time with him, and then when the baby comes, he gets so busy. It's just...hard. And sometimes, I think maybe it would be better if we didn't have any more kids."

"You don't want Claire to have a sibling?" She probed. "Are you guys being careful?"

"By careful, do you mean not letting him finish inside me?"

"Um, yes?"

"Then yes," you confirmed, nodding. "Do you really want to hear the ways Sam and I are practicing safe sex?"

Natasha laughed, the sound soft and low, a private melody just for you. “No, no, I don’t,” she said, shaking her head slightly. She would rather you not sleep with him at all. She sighed, the corners of her mouth tugging downward, then licked her lips—a slow, deliberate motion that drew your attention, as it always did. That shade of red was your favorite on her, and she knew it.

Her green eyes met yours, steady and probing. “Are you happy?”

The question hit you like a stray gust of wind, sudden and disarming.

“Of course,” you replied, the words tumbling out too fast, too practiced. “Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

Natasha raised a single, elegant eyebrow, the expression laced with skepticism. “Because I can tell when you’re lying,” she said plainly, her tone cutting through your defenses like a knife through butter.

Your shoulders slumped slightly as you leaned against the countertop. The calm surface grounded you, though it couldn’t stop the swirl of emotions rising in your chest. “It’s just hard sometimes,” you admitted quietly, almost to yourself.

Her gaze softened, the sharp edges of her wit giving way to something warmer, something more tender. “Yeah, I know,” she murmured.

She set down the beer can she’d been holding, the metallic clink almost imperceptible under the weight of her words. Her fingers drummed on the countertop; the rhythm was uneven, nearly hesitant, as if her thoughts were tangled in the silence between you. The crimson polish on her nails caught the dim light, matching the glow in her eyes as she studied you.

“Sometimes,” she began, her voice barely audible, “I think we forget we’re allowed to want more.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the implication hanging like unspoken truths. You glanced back toward the stairs, where laughter and music blasted above you, but it felt a world away from this moment.

“And what if we can’t have more?” you asked, your voice trembling just enough to betray the depth of the question.

Natasha’s lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Then maybe we take what we can get,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving yours. Before you could respond, Natasha's lips were on yours. Soft. Warm. Inviting. Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from her body.

A quiet moan escaped her, muffled against your mouth, and you could taste the sweetness of the beer lingering on her tongue. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the warmth of her touch, in the familiar scent of her perfume. Your mind raced, and yet your thoughts were perfectly still. Her body was so different. Her touch was so different.

A loud thump, followed by the unmistakable sound of laughter, cut through the air. Then a cry and a scream of "Mama" followed. Natasha pulled away quickly, her face flushed, her breathing uneven. You glanced at the ceiling, the spell between you broken. That was the cry of your child.

"I should probably go and check on her," You said while Natasha spoke.

"We should probably get back," Natasha murmured.

You nodded, unable to meet her eyes. Wiping your mouth, you glanced back at her before heading upstairs.

*****

You could smell the firecrackers before you saw them, the sharp scent of smoke mingling with the sweet smell of hamburgers grilling. Claire sat in your lap, the three-year-old tired and sleepy from all the excitement. You couldn't blame her after the day chasing the other kids around the house.

Claire leaned her head against your chest, her eyes heavy with sleep. You rubbed her back absently, smiling at how her small hand curled around yours.

The sky was dark, but the backyard was lit by the string lights draped over the trees and the fireworks in the sky. You were amazed at how she could sleep through this. Sam sat next to you in the grass, his arms wrapped around your waist and his hands rubbing your side. He felt at home.

Briefly, you could see a flash of the light catching across a couple, and your eyes moved towards them. It was Natasha and Steve. He stood almost a foot taller than her, his arms wrapped around her midsection as she leaned back into his chest. They looked comfortable like they belonged together. How their bodies seemed to mold into each other was the kind of thing romance novels talked about.

They were so beautiful together.

The thought made you uneasy.

Sam leaned over and whispered in your ear, his breath warm on your skin. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," you murmured, leaning into him. "Just a bit tired. She's a heavy sleeper."

He chuckled softly, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek. His thumb brushed your skin, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation.

"You know, it's our anniversary tomorrow," He said, his tone casual, but the meaning behind his words clear.

"Oh," you said, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice.

"Yeah, five years," he smiled.

"Wow, I can't believe it's been that long," you admitted.

"Me neither," he grinned, kissing your lips softly. You couldn't see Natasha's eyes on the two of you.

Sam looked up and noticed the fireworks lighting the sky. He nudged Claire and whispered, "Come on, sweetheart. You're going to miss the fireworks."

Claire lifted her head, blinking blearily. "No, Daddy. I'm sleepy," she whined.

"Come on, pumpkin. Let's watch the show," Sam coaxed, his voice gentle and coaxing. Claire groaned softly but let Sam lift her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Alright, pumpkin,” he said with a chuckle, “just for a little while.”

You watched them walk toward the edge of the patio, where the first bursts of fireworks lit up the night sky. Claire’s sleepy eyes reflected the vibrant colors as she yawned against her daddy's chest.

Five years. It was a long time. You'd built a life together. One you were proud of. One you were comfortable with.

Your eyes drifted to the couple again, and your chest tightened. Natasha and Steve looked so natural together. So at ease. And then there was you, feeling like an imposter. You weren’t the girl Sam fell in love with anymore. You weren't the one who wanted all the same things he did. And you couldn't tell him. You couldn't shatter his image of you.

Sam whispered something into Claire's ear, lifting her head to look at you.

"Mama, come watch."

"In a minute, baby," you called, your voice thick with emotion.

You swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tears. How could you be so selfish? Sam had given you everything. He had given you Claire. You were blessed, yet you couldn't seem content with what you had.

Natasha echoed in your mind: Sometimes we forget we're allowed to want more.

*************

Tuesdays were sacred. At exactly 12:30, without fail, Natasha would appear at your front door, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she walked the three doors down. By the time the clock struck the half-hour, you would already have the kettle whistling on the stove and the good china laid out.

It started as a casual thing—a neighborly gesture during those quiet, lonesome afternoons when the house felt too big and Sam was at work. But over time, it became something more. A ritual. A promise.

This Tuesday was no different. You were finishing the vacuuming when you heard Claire shriek with laughter from the living room. You smiled to yourself, knowing what that meant.

You rounded the corner, the vacuum still humming, and saw Claire spinning in circles as Natasha crouched down to her level, a broad smile on her perfectly painted red lips.

“She’s getting good at this,” Natasha teased, catching Claire mid-spin and lifting her off the ground.

“Too good,” you replied, switching off the vacuum and leaning against the doorway. “She’s going to join the circus at this rate.”

Natasha laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Her gaze traveled to the hallway and the bags of groceries waiting by the front door.

"Let me help," She said, setting Claire back on the floor.

"Thanks," you murmured, grabbing the nearest bag. "I don't know why I let Sam talk me into doing this today."

"Probably the same reason I let Steve convince me to get the new patio furniture," Natasha chuckled, following you into the kitchen.

"He can be persuasive, can't he?"

"Yeah, yeah, he can," She agreed, her tone wistful.

"It's not a bad thing," You said, placing the bags on the counter.

"Tasha, come play," Claire begged.

"In a minute, little one," Natasha promised. Claire nodded and rushed back into the den with her toys.

"How about some tea?" You offered.

"You read my mind," Natasha smiled.

You took the teapot from the cupboard and filled it with water, watching as the steam rose from the spout. Your thoughts drifted back to that night in the basement, and you wondered if Natasha felt the same. There had been many nights like that. Many shared kisses. Shared looks. You think back to that night months again when you'd given her her first orgasm at the hands of a woman.

It was a moment that changed things. It was the moment you knew you were done pretending.

"I'm glad we have this," Natasha murmured.

"Tea?"

"No, silly. Time." She turned to look at you, her green eyes softening. "I'm glad we have this. This friendship."

You couldn't help but smile. "Me, too."

"So," Natasha said, leaning against the counter and folding her arms over her chest, "how are things going with you and Sam?"

You shrugged. "Good."

"That's all you're going to give me?" She prodded, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"There's not much to tell," you admitted.

"You guys had an anniversary a few nights ago," Natasha reminded you.

"Do we discuss the juicy details like that still?"

Natasha hesitated, then shook her head. "No, but I'm asking because I care about you, and I know Sam has been a bit persistent about the baby thing."

You sighed, turning back to the stove. You were silent.

"I'm sorry," Natasha said quietly. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, no, it's fine," you assured her. "It's just..."

"Just what?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, it's just me," Natasha reminded you gently, reaching out to touch your arm. "You can tell me anything."

You hesitated, then blurted out, "What are we doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Us," you said, gesturing between the two of you. "What are we doing? Is this just a...thing?"

Natasha blinked, her expression unreadable. "A thing?"

"Yeah, like, I don't know, an escape or something," you tried to explain. "Like, a distraction."

Natasha shook her head slowly. "No, no, I wouldn't say that."

"Then what would you say?"

"I'd say that I enjoy spending time with you. I'd say that you're a beautiful, smart, funny woman, and I'm lucky to call you a friend."

"But what does that mean?"

Natasha stepped closer, her hand moving from your arm to the small of your back. Her gaze never left yours, her eyes searching for an answer to a question she couldn't quite voice.

"It means that I care about you," she said softly. "And if you ever need a distraction, I'm here."

"What if I don't want a distraction?" You breathed.

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You didn't answer. Instead, you pulled her across the kitchen to the laundry room. You left the door open to hear Claire in case she needed you. In an instant, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to hers, kissing her like it was the last time.

She kissed you back, her hands resting on your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. Her tongue parted your lips, and you tasted the sweetness of her breath. Her hands moved lower, sliding over your curves, and you moaned softly against her mouth.

"Tasha," You gasped as her fingers traced the waistband of your jeans, her touch burning hot against your skin.

She broke the kiss, her eyes dark and hooded. "Yes?"

"I want you."

"I'm yours."

Her lips crashed against yours, and her hands fumbled with the button of your jeans, her touch making your skin tingle.

"Tasha, we can't Claire's here." You reminded her between kisses.

"She's playing," Natasha muttered, her fingers finally popping the button. Before either of you could ponder her statement, the front door opened. In a flash, Natasha was in the kitchen, pushing the rest of the groceries into the fridge as you attempted to gather your bearings. She was so fast.

"Hello?" Sam's voice called from the foyer.

"We're in the kitchen," You answered, closing the laundry room door and ensuring it was locked.

Sam walked into the kitchen, his suit jacket draped over his arm and his tie loosened. "Hey," he smiled. "I thought I'd surprise you guys."

"Well, it worked," Natasha laughed.

"Sorry, I forgot my lunch. I'll grab it and head out," Sam said, moving past the two of you. He glanced between you, his gaze lingering on your face.

"I'm going to finish the dishes," You murmured, turning away.

Sam stopped and frowned. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just feeling a little tired."

"You should rest," Sam stepped closer to you. "Have a cup of tea?

"I will."

"Good," Sam leaned forward and kissed your cheek. "Love you."

"I love you too," You said, the words coming out automatically. Sam lingered, landing another sweet kiss on your lips.

Natasha looked over her shoulder at you, her expression unreadable. "Sam, before you go, can I ask a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can I borrow a screwdriver? We're working on the deck chairs, and one of the bolts keeps slipping," She explained, her voice surprisingly steady.

"Sure, no problem," Sam said, digging through a drawer. He pulled out a screwdriver and handed it to Natasha. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Natasha smiled. "Oh, and before I forget, I'll have those pictures of Claire for you next week."

"Thanks," Sam replied. "And thanks for keeping them company."

"My pleasure," Natasha grinned.

"Okay, I'm heading back out. See you later, baby," Sam kissed you once more before disappearing into the foyer. The front door opened, then shut, leaving the house strangely empty.

"That was close," Natasha said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "Yeah, it was," you agreed. "But it was worth it."

"Do you regret it?"

"No," you said without hesitation.

"Me neither," She murmured, stepping closer.

You leaned into her, resting your head against her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. "Tasha?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there. For being my friend. For just being...you."

Natasha hugged you, her arms wrapping around your waist and her chin resting on your head. "Anytime," she said softly, and you knew she meant it.

*****

Drive-In Night was interesting. It's a couple's night, truly. The four of you would get together and watch whatever movie was playing. This time, it was How to Marry A Millionaire. You all piled into Steve’s car, a vintage Chevy that seemed as timeless as its owner. It was a tight fit, but no one complained. The air buzzed with the crowd's excitement as headlights flickered across the makeshift parking lot of the drive-in theater.

Natasha sat into the passenger seat, leaning her elbow out the window, her eyes scanning the packed lot with a subtle smirk. “I’m impressed, Rogers. Didn’t think you’d show up for something so… pink.”

Steve laughed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “What can I say? I’m broadening my horizons.”

From the backseat, you chuckled. “You mean Natasha dragged you here, didn’t she?”

“Guilty,” Steve admitted, glancing sideways at Natasha, who simply shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like Sam and I had a choice.”

Sam, beside you, snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Real gentlemen, right?” He stretched his arm along the back of the seat, pulling you closer. “But hey, don’t think I’m above enjoying a rom-com. I’ve got range.”

Natasha tilted her head back, laughing. “Sure, Wilson. You’ll be crying by the second act.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Sam fired back, grinning.

You rolled your eyes fondly. They constantly bickered like this, but it was good-natured. You could tell they were friends. Real friends.

The movie began, and the warm glow of the screen washed over the car. The plot unfolded with charm, full of meet-cutes, sassy best friends, and conveniently timed rainstorms. It wasn’t bad, but you couldn’t help but notice Sam shifting every so often, clearly restless.

“Alright,” Sam announced midway through a particularly swoony montage. “Steve, snacks?”

Steve glanced at Natasha, who was far too engrossed in the movie to notice him leaving. “Yeah, good idea. You girls want anything?”

You and Natasha exchanged a look. “Popcorn,” you both said in unison.

Sam and Steve left the car, their silhouettes fading into the crowd as they made their way to the concession stand. Moving closer to the front seat, you shifted and settled comfortably against the backrest.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder, a smile playing on her lips.

You smiled back.

The moment passed.

"You're so far away," You whispered.

"I know," she whispered back, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. "Come closer," She whispered. You climbed into the front seat, quickly glancing at the long concession line.

"Is this better?" You asked, settling in.

"Much," she said, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath caught in your throat.

"You're cute," She said. What she was doing was risky business. While it was dark, anyone with eyes and the guts to look your way could see.

"So are you," You responded.

"I want to kiss you."

"You do?"

"I do."

"I want to fuck you," She said.

Your heart hammered in your chest, the heat between your thighs growing with each passing second. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You leaned in. Her hand rested on your thigh, rubbing you through your skirt. "Tasha," you whimpered.

"Yes, kitten," she whispered.

"We can't"

"Why not?"

"It's too risky."

"No one's looking."

"What about Sam and Steve?"

"They're at the concession stand. And the movie is loud."

"But what if someone hears?"

"We'll be quiet."

"We've never been quiet," You giggled.

"We'll try," she whispered. She knew she didn't have much time. She needed this to happen and fast. Her hand slipped under your skirt, and she felt the dampness of your panties.

"Jesus, you're soaked."

"I can't help it."

"Neither can I."

She slid her hand down, pushed your panties aside, and plunged her fingers inside you. Your hips bucked, and you bit back a moan.

"So tight," She moaned.

"So good," You whimpered. She was an expert by now. She knew your body well and learned how to make you cum.

She fucked you hard and fast, her fingers hitting all the right spots. She was gentle while somehow being able to get you there so quickly. You couldn't moan or tell her how close you were. You couldn't even thrust into her fingers. You could only sit there and take it. Your face remained natural even as you closed your eyes. The pleasure was too intense, and you wanted to focus on it. You wanted to savor every second.

When you came, you bit down on your lip, drawing blood. Natasha watched you come undone under her hand.

"You are perfect," She whispered, leaning in and kissing your cheek. You were a trembling mess.

"Tasha," You breathed, trying to catch your breath.

"I can't wait to do that again," She said.

"Me too."

She kissed your cheek once more before sitting back.

You were her best secret.

[littlefanficprincess]

Wine Red

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Movie! Shadow x gn! Reader

Word count: 3,5K

Synopsis: You find Shadow after he crashed down to earth (again)

(A/n): ‼️Spoilers for Sonic 3 and the first after credits scene‼️

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"The Wheel Of Fortune...The High Priestess...and The Lovers!" A hand flips around three tarot cards, naming each one. "Follow your intuition and you will meet your fated one!".

A (animal) mobian lets out an amused sigh, leaning on their hand. "Rosy, you've been giving me readings since you discovered it and each time I get the same fortune".

Amy smiles, placing her hands on the table. "That means it is definitely true!" She exclaims, excitedly. She gathers her cards back into the pile and picks three from them. "Alright...The Chariot...The Sun and...The Lovers! Yes!".

"So you have to go out and find the one?" (Y/n) guesses, having a bit of knowledge of it because of their friend. They watch the pink Hedgehog do a victory dance.

"What do you think fits me the best" Amy strolls over to her closet. She places a green hairband on her head, turning to (Y/n). "It matches my eyes, but I'm not sure" She tosses it off when she sees her friend shaking their head.

"Black? Not my style. Pink? Blends too much with my quills. Orange? Clashes too much. Blue?" She places a blue hairband on her head, adjusting it to be comfortable.

(Y/n) gets up and walks up to the Hedgehog. They gently remove the hairband from her. "Baby blue is not your color, maybe a brighter blue. But I think red fits you the best" They suggest.

"You're saying that because you love red" Amy takes the band from their hands and placing it on their head. "I think it suits you more".

"Thanks Rosy" (Y/n) smiles, brushing their hands against the headband.

"No problem!" The girl replies, placing a red head on her own head. "Now let's go find them" She turns to the empty pinboard, tapping her bottom lip. "Now to pin down their location" she tapes a drawing of planets in the board and throws a dart at it. It lands on a round blue and green planet.

(Y/n) walks over and looks at the small text underneath the planet. "Eeth? Uth? Ert...Earth Earth, like dirt?" They read outloud. "It looks pretty big, it's possibly gonna take ages when you finally find him".

"I am also prepared for that" Amy removes the drawing and places a map of earth. She throws another dart, almost hitting (Y/n)'s head. It lands on a big piece of land on the left side, in bold letters it says "UNITED STATES".

Immediately, Amy speeds around the room. She stuffs clothes, toothbrush, hairbrush, her harmer into a suitcase. She stood on it, trying to make it fit.

"Amy, Amy, hold on" (Y/n) places their hand on her shoulder. "You can't just rush to a planet you don't even know to find the one and how are you supposed to know it's them. Remember last time you went off, I had to go get you and bandage you up"

Amy seemed to deflate at (Y/n)'s argument, her smiles turns to a pout. She turns to her friend, giving them puppy eyes. Her puppy eyes were quite effective, challenging Cream's ones.

Giving in, (Y/n) sighs. "How about this: I go to Earth and see if it is safe for you to travel there" They offer, just wanting the best for their friend.

"Thank you, thank you!" The pink mobian exclaims, hugging the (animal). She was extremely grateful they would do this for her.

˚₊���꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Already traveling to other planets, They're growing up so fast" Vector wipes his tears with a hankerchief, blowing his nose with it.

"They aren't that much younger than you" Espio calls him out. He turns to (Y/n) "Be careful".

Amy, along with their other friends stand next to eachother. They bid the (animal) goodbye, the mobians know they will be gone for a while, so they want to give a well made goodbye.

"You beter bring me a souvenir back!" Charmy requests, pulling at (Y/n)'s arm. He was pulled off by Vector, who was still crying.

Vanilla approaches the (f/c) (animal), placing a container in their hands. "I made some cake for the journey, I hope you will enjoy it" The two hug, before letting go.

Out of nowhere, (Y/n) feels something clinging to their leg. Looking down, they were met with Cream. She looked like she was about to cry, making (Y/n)'s heart melt. "You're gonna come back, right?"

The teen mobian smiles, patting the small rabbit's head. "Ofcourse, I promise" They nod. They walk to the spaceship as Cream lets go. (Y/n) gives a final wave, before stepping inside.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The ship flies down, crashing in the woods. The door was the ship creaks open. Come out crawling was (Y/n), letting out little grunts of pain. They push themself up, grabbing their bag and putting it onto their bag. "So this is earth, quite tall trees they have here".

They travel through the forrest, trying to find a good place to set up camp. Soon, find a small cave, big enough to sleep and leave her stuff. As they put down their back, they hear a tapping sound. They turn to the entrance, finding water fall from the sky. "Water?" Slowly, they walk over to the edge of the cave, holding out their hand. They feel the droplets fall onto their palm "Woah, so beautiful".

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

After countless journeys, the cave resembled more like a home. In the back sat a bed with a pillow and two blankets. At the side stood a wobbly table with a flower pot on it, a framed picture next to it of them and Amy. And finally hanging around were fairy lights they found in a trashcan.

(Y/n) sat ontop, living their legs back and forth. Their (e/c) eyes latch onto something what they assume is a comet flying across the midnight sky. It crashes down not too far away from the (animal)'s hideout.

They jump down, before rushing over where it landed. Pushing aside leaves of the trees, they gaze as the mysterious object from the sky. Light flickers from a crater, before it dims completely. They peek over to see what it was and...

"A hedgehog?"

A hedgehog with black and red quills, a patch of white fur on his chest. He was wearing white black and red gloves and shoes. Laying next to him were two slightly burned golden bracelets and a big green emerald.

Carefully, (Y/n) wraps the gem from the ground. They tense up as their feel a weird ticklish and prickly feeling go through her veins. "Woah" They mutter. They turns back to look at the hedgehog, finding that he was wounded.

They stuff the emerald and rings in their bag. Putting an arm under his knees and his back, struggling to hold him up. "Is he the one Amy is looking for?" They think outloud, walking back to their cave with the hedgehog in their arms.

Once they arrived, they lay the stranger on their bed pulling first aid kit from under the unstable table. They sit down on the mattress next to the hedgehog, taking a roll of bandage. They lift his head with one hand and wrapping his head with their other one. They continue with his other wounds, being as careful as they could be.

Not having much else to do, they lay the pillow and one of the blankets on the floor next to the bed. They lay down, pulling the blanket over their body. With that, they close their eyes and let their consciousness fade away.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Shadow's eye began to open, finding himself staring at rocks above him. He lets out a grunt of pain, feeling his head stinging. He tries to remember what happened, but his mind was left foggy.

"Oh, you're awake, that's good to see. I am surprised you're bot out longer, by the fact you literally crashed to earth"

A voice chirps, a sweet one. He turns his head, seeing a figure standing next to the bed he was one. They were slightly blurry as his red eyes still try to readjust to the bright light behind them. What he was able to make out was a a light blue headband resting on the person's head. "Maria..?" He groans.

"(Y/n), actually" The person corrects, with a soft smile. "(Y/n) the (animal). Nice to meet you. You got a name, stranger?" Their voice echoes through his mind, like a broken record.

"Maria, what happene–" He sits and gets up from the bed. He stumbles, almost falling over. Luckily, (Y/n) catched him before he could. He gazes down, finding part of arms bandaged up.

Carefully, (Y/n) pushes him back on the bed. "You shouldn't go walking off yet. Just because you're up early doesn't mean you get go dancing around like that. Please, just go rest" They suggest to the hedgehog. His behavior reminded them of Amy, how stubborn she always was after getting injured.

Shadow looks over to a barely stable table on the left. A picture frame, a flower pot and a big green emera– "Ah!" Shadow cries, gripping his head. Images flashes across his mind: Gerald Robotnik, a younger looking version of the doctor, blue, red, yellow and finally an explosion.

The (f/c) mobian frowns, pitying the Stranger. He has probably been through a lot, ofcourse be doesn't own them his story. "If you some quiet, I'll let you be" They propose, letting out a little sigh. They turn around, ready to leave the cave. They were stopped by the hedgehog grabbing their hand.

"I want you just stay, my head feels more at ease when you're near" He mumbles, avoiding their eyes. He feels them sitting down next to him, he had to stop himself from leaning into them. He wondered what the loose ties in his mind meant., trying to follow them made him want to scratch his own skin off.

"Can I finally know your name. I know I don't owe it, but I can't just call you 'hedgehog'" (Y/n) mentions, turning to the other.

"But you already know it, M–" Shadow shakes his head, responding with "My name is Shadow". He looks down at his gloves, finding something missing. "Where are my limiters?" He questions with urgency in his voice.(Y/n) reaches into her bag and takes the two golden rings from. "These one?" They ask, holding them for him to grab.

Snatching the slightly burned bracelets from their hands, Shadow snaps them around his wrists. He lets out a huff of relief as his finger trace the rim of it.

"It's nice to put a name to the face. I must say I quite like your eyes, they remind me of jaspers" (Y/n) compliments, glancing at the emerald and then back at the hedgehog's eyes.

Shadow pauses, before speaking up. "Your eyes are nice aswell, I suppose. They look like..." He trails off, realising he didn't know much gems. "They feel comforting" He mutters under his breath, just loud enough for (Y/n) to hear.

They didn't say anything, just kept staring. They noticed he was a bit cold and hesitant, but they didn't mind. It was the best to wait until he was ready to tell them what happened before he crashed into the woods.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Sigh

Tap tap tap

The sound of footsteps makes (Y/n) stir awake. They sit up, looking over to see Shadow standing the entrance of the cave, holding onto rock for stability. They notice he was just staring up at the sky, muttering something to himself.

Getting up, they quietly walk over to him. They hear him let out a hum, acknowledging their presence. "The stars shine so brightly. Usually not a lot of people see them, by the time they appear, everyone is sound asleep" Shadow mummers, not taking his eyes off of a particular star. "You're not Maria, I see that now. My mind was so fragmented, it merged my old memories with my vision"

"So that is why you called me that" (Y/n) concludes, thinking back to all the times he called her that name. "Are you finally going to tell me what happened to you? now that you got your memories back" They ask.

"My name is Shadow, project shadow. I was found in a meteor and was brought by a company called GUN. The lead researcher was Gerald Robotnik, his granddaughter, Maria, resided there aswell. Robotnik tried finding a cure for her illness through me, I began bonding with her" A barely visible smile appeared on his face as he tells the story, but is quickly fell as he continued.

"GUN wanted to take me away, Robotnik couldn't handle it. He tried escaping with me and Maria, Maria got killed in the crossfire. The doctor was arrested and I was frozen for fifty years. After that he got me out of there, bringing his grandson along. They wanted to blow up the Earth, but a blue hedgehog made me realise that that wasn't what Maria would've wanted. With the power of the master emerald, we steered the weapon away from Earth. The hedgehog was saved by his friends, I wasn't so lucky. I crashed down at that was where you found me"

"That is quite the story, Shadow. I was surprised to see another mobian here, but you tell me there is another one or even more. So are you going to leave now that your wounds were healed and your memories are back?" The (animal) inquires, kicking a rock near them. They wonder what the other hedgehog and his friends are like.

Shadow thinks, giving a quick look at the cave and then back to the sky. "I am grateful for everything you've done for me. It is probably too much to ask for shelter. I have nowhere to stay, I am not expecting Sonic to welcome me with open arms".

"Ofcourse you can stay" (Y/n) answer with hesitation, shuffling a bit closer to the hedgehog. "We should get another bed, cause no way one of us is going to sleep on the ground. Feel free to bring your own stuff in here, I won't mind sharing my cozy cave" They turn around to look at their home, with their hand on their hips. They already imagine the cave being filled more stuff, perhaps they could even find a better place to live.

(Y/n) pulls out their Snappie, unlocking it. "Hey, how about we do a shot for our first official day as cavemates" They suggest, holding up their device.

"A shot? Like alcohol?" Shadow repeats with a raised eyebrow. He eyes the object, confusion in his gaze.

The other mobian shakes their head, answering "No, it is short for a snapshot. Me and my best friend always made by special moments or just when were having fun, to make memories. These things can only make photos and send text, but I'm only able send photos to her"

They pull Shadow close as they raise their Snappie into the air. "Smile!" They grin, closing their eyes. As if magic, Shadow does as they say, having a small smile on face. They might not be Maria, but he doesn't mind. (Y/n) snaps the picture, not realising they weren't very visible on it because of how dark it was.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Hours...Days...weeks passed by.

The cave grew fuller and resembled more like a home. Shadow mostly stayed in the cave, hesitant to leave it. (Y/n) actually caught him sleeping in their bed, which he denies ever happened. (Y/n) once spotted the fast blue hedgehog when looking for for food, but he sped before they could reach him.

One day, Shadow and (Y/n) were walking in the forrest. (Y/n) held the other's hand tightly, Shadow couldn't help but glance at it from time to time. They stop when they hear laughing and talking, it seemed like it was coming not too far away. The (f/c) (animal) leads their friend along with them as they talk closer, making sure not to make a sound.

(Y/n)'s eyes widen as they see Sonic, along with two humans, two mobians and a weird creature that walks on four legs. A red echidna and a yellow fox with two tails, quite a unique pair. "We should go say hi" (Y/n) says, about to walk through a bush infront of them.

But they were stopped by Shadow pulling them back, shaking his head. "We can't just bardge in there, they dont even know you" He argues. He sees how happy the other hedgehog seemed, making him feel envy. He was just getting close to (Y/n), he didn't want to risk losing her aswell.

They went back and forth, (Y/n) trying to pull away and Shadow pulling them back. But (Y/n) accidentally pulls a little too hard and pulls Shadow with them. Their body hit the ground with a small 'oof', they look up to see Shadow's face. His hands on were each side of their head and his knees were caging their legs, trying to not to fall into them

"Um, am I interuppting something?" A voice chimes, making the two freeze. Looking down at them was none other than Sonic, who came to check out the noise. He should've been surprised about Shadow being alive. But his attention was more towards the mentioned hedgehog was hovering above a (animal) he didn't regonise, not to mention close to where he was camping with his family.

Shadow quickly gets up and turns his head, hiding the blush he gotten from embarasment. It was one thing be get so close to his friend, it's another thing to be caught in that position by Sonic.

"You're Sonic, right?" (Y/n) pushes themselves up, brushing the dirt off of them. "I've heared a lot about you, it's great to finally meet you. I hope you don't mind if I and shadow join you guys"

"Ofcourse I don't mind, always great to meet a fan" Sonic scratches the back of his neck, grinning. He turns to the black and red hedgehog "We have a lot to catch up on". He walks back, motioning for the two to follow after him.

(Y/n) was about to go after him, when they notice Shadow didn't move a muscle. They exhale, approaching their friend. Their hands grasps those belonging to Shadow, tracing the back of his hands with their thumbs. "I know you have trouble connecting, but I want to make more friends to connect with and rely on".

Taking in their words, Shadow hesitantly nods. He lets them drag him through the bush and to where the group was. "Hey there" (Y/n) greets, waving.

Their voice takes the attention of the two humans and mobians. The human and fox's Jaws dropped, the latter dropping his marshmallow into the fire. "I win!" The echidna cheers, raising his marsmellow on a stick in the air. He notices that the others were staring at something, so he follows their gaze. After like a month of thinking Shadow died, he stood there infront of them.

"How did you survive the explosion o-or even the earth atmosphere, me and Sonic only barely got to safety thanks to Knuckles" Tails stutters, remembering Knuckles using a ring last second to teleport them away.

Shadow crosses his arms. "I am the ultimate life form, I won't be killed that easily" He pauses. "After I crashed, (Y/n) took me in and cared for me" He adds, glancing at the mentioned creature next to him.

Feeling the attention drawn to them, (Y/n) perks. "Oh, right, I should probably introduce myself. I am (Y/n) the (animal), nice to meet you all" They mention, smiling. They reach into their bag and pulls out the big emerald. "I found this near Shadow, do you know wha–"

"THE MASTER EMERALD!"

The echidna stands up (after chomping his marshmallow) and walks up to (Y/n) with his hands out. (Y/n) places the green gem in his grasp, looking up at the tall mobian. He nods at them with gratitude, which (Y/n) does aswell.

"Snappie?" The (f/c) (animal) turns to Shadow. Before he could answer, a voice chimes.

"Snappie? Like snapshot?" Tails asks, tilting his head.

"Yeah!"

After some talking, with (Y/n) pushing Shadow to speak to the others. They gather around as (Y/n) raises her device into the air, taking a photo.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

DING

Amy snatches her Snappie from her bedside table, unlocking it. She taps on (Y/n)'s contact, finding they had send a photo. It was them with four other mobians, her eyes widen when she notices a blue hedgehog.

"It's him!"

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Watching Stonik tiktoks while wiping my tears.

[archangeldyke-all]

imagine isha doing that thing that mute kids sometimes do, where they suddenly say a word/sentence or two out loud n then go back to being completely mute for a few years. imagine you’re tucking her in like “ily isha, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite” and she goes “ok. goodnight. mac & cheese.” and you never hear her talk again

also i love your writing 🩷🩷

this is so fucking funny god

men and minors dni

jinx has always claimed that isha speaks to her on occasion. you and sevika are always skeptical. a lot of isha's squeaks can sound like words-- and jinx tends to hear voices that aren't really there more than most people.

it takes a year of living together before one of you catches it in person.

sevika runs into the kitchen so fast she almost knocks over a chair. "babe, babe!" she says with a giddy smile. you giggle.

"what?"

"isha-- she just talked!" sevika laughs. "she doesn't know i heard her-- she was puttin' her socks on and her toe popped out of a hole, and she went; 'awe fuck!'" sevika imitates.

you burst into laughter. "are you sure?! you didn't just mishear one of her little grunts?"

"babe, i know what i heard. i read about this, y'know. sometimes, mute kids just randomly talk. and jinx said she's heard it before! i guess... i guess she really liked those socks!" sevika cackles. "you shoulda heard her little voice cursin' baby, oh my god!" sevika can't stop laughing.

for a long time, you don't quite believe her story. you're sure your wife thought she heard your kid curse, but you aren't convinced that isha can talk at all.

until she talks to you.

almost two years after sevika claims she hears isha talk, you're tucking her into bed like any other night. isha's pointing out various poisonous frog species to you in her favorite 'dangerous animals' book, and you're playing with her hair, kissing her head occasionally.

"if i was a poision dart frog, i think i'd be pink and purple. what about you?"

isha taps her chin while she considers your question, then signs with a smile. blue and yellow! you laugh. of course she'd pick her favorite colors.

"nice. what do you think jinx and big mama would be?"

jinxie is blue and purple and big mama is green!

"you've got it all figured out, huh?"

isha nods with a yawn. you chuckle.

"alright-- i think it's bedtime. c'mon, get comfy." isha hands her book to you and crawls under her covers. when she settles, she scrunches her face just a bit and lets out a fart. you giggle. "got your dutch oven going, huh?" you ask. she laughs.

"do frogs fart?" isha asks.

you freeze, staring at isha as she blinks up at you with big eyes, waiting for an answer. "wh-- did you--"

do they? she signs.

you burst into laughter and pull isha into your arms. "i have no idea!" you laugh. "oh my god!" isha giggles in your arms, confused by your reaction but enjoying the barrage of kisses you're giving her regardless. "i love you so much you silly little girl."

isha gets sick of your cuddles, elbowing you and signing. look it up on your phone! she whines. you cackle.

"okay, okay!" you laugh as you pull out your phone to google isha's question.

sevika and jinx are never going to believe this.

or... maybe they will.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb

[7seas-of-ryy]

Crestfallen - Part 4

Author’s Note: I'm hoping to make the next part longer, hoping I'll have more time tonight to write. Thank you all for taking the time to read my work! Your likes, comments, reblogs, and follows truly mean the world to me!

Overall Summary: Although you were born in the Day Court, you've been living in the Night Court for a century. You're close with the inner circle but what will happen when a new healer is brought into the picture?

Part 4 Summary: After your body and soul have gone through so much, how likely is it you'll survive?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: talks of injuries

"The combination of these plants can lead to some serious complications." Madja informed Rhys and Az.

All of the color drained from the spymaster's face.

"I believe the venom in the cut was from her mission. I would have found it sooner if I had done her check up." Madja muttered, ashamed.

"This is not your fault. It is mine for not seeing Clara for who she actually is sooner." Az responded.

"Now is not the time to take blame. Y/N needs us. What can we do now?" Rhys added.

Madja looked over you, taking a second to think.

"Well, the powder probably just sped up the venom which caused it to attack her powers quickly. It is like an infection, I will treat her with some medicine for that. But I believe there is a power inside of her that she is not aware of." Madja explained, "it might be the reason she is still alive right now."

Azriel walked closer to you, kneeling next to the bed. He laid his right hand over yours and used his left to push some hair off of your face.

"What about the complications you mentioned earlier?" Rhys asked.

"I have never seen the combination of Spitfire Aconite, Vamire, and Aldirin used where it didn't immediately kill the fae once it entered their system. Those three plants combined are deadly, perhaps the mystery inside of her is what saved her. I am not sure yet, I will treat her infection for now and we will figure out the rest as we go." Madja spoke definitively.

She began rummaging through her things to find the medicines. She pulled out some liquids, a salve, and bandages. Dropping some of the mixes in your mouth, she could tell your fever was already dropping.

"We need to flip her onto her stomach so I can access her cut." The healer told them.

"I'll do it." Az jumped up.

He gently rolled you over and went to take the salve from Madja who gave him a look.

"Please." Azriel begged, needing to help you in any way he could.

She nodded at him and gave him the necessary equipment. She pulled Rhys with her out of the room, leaving you in the shadowsinger's hands.

He coated your cut with the cream and bandaged it snugly. Pulling up a chair next to the bed, he sat and watched over you.

Rhys and Madja made their way down to the rest of the group.

"I will go figure out some treatments we can try. In the meantime, I think you need to deal with Clara." Madja spoke up to the High Lord.

He gave her a nod, a steely look already in his eyes thinking about what she did to you. Entering the living area, he sent out a surge of his power so everyone felt it. He walked straight to Clara but she refused to make eye contact with the male.

"I gave you a chance here at the Night Court, to be a part of something bigger and this is how you repay me? You have caused damage to my friend that I do not know can be undone." He growled out.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Mor whispered, afraid of his answer.

"We don't know if we will be able to help Y/N. Clara here used a deadly combination of herbs on her but I'm sure she didn't expect Y/N to be so strong. Isn't that right?" He demanded.

"Wh...What? No I...I just...it wasn't supposed to kill her. It was j...just supposed to heighten her symptoms so I could then fix her. I swear. I didn't think it would do any true h...harm." She stuttered out, realizing the extent of her actions.

"Hmm so you're not a killer? Just stupid." Rhys spit out, "Nesta. Cassian. I trust you two can take care of her while I try to find a fix for Y/N?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Cassian spoke, his voice rumbling.

Nesta didn't verbally respond, just held the icy gaze she had on Clara.

"What? You can't do that!!" The female began to plead, terrified to be punished at the hands of those two.

Before anyone could respond, Nesta and Cassian winnowed away with her. Mor looked to Rhys, they shared a sorrowful look. Feeling like they betrayed you, they knew they needed to make it right. But first, they would have to help you survive.

-----

All of the venom, plants, herbs, antidots, and serums that were inside you weren't enough to knock you out fully.

You were awake through it all, fighting with everything you had inside your mind. You had felt Rhys enter your mind, tried to control your light for him but it was so strong.

Once Azriel's shadows entered protecting Rhys, you knew you had to fight harder. But you could feel everything. You could feel Madja unweaving the venom from your very soul. It was not only the worst pain physically but it made you feel so vulnerable and weak as well.

You felt another energy inside of you, something you never felt before. You tried to explore it, but the venom was controlling it and you didn't have enough strength anymore.

With Rhys and Az in your mind and Madja deep in your soul, you had never felt so bare before.

Once they finished and the venom was completely removed, you needed to rest. Knowing you couldn't fight it anymore, you succumbed to sleep.

------

After a while, you woke up. Well, your mind was awake but your body wasn't. Your power seemed to be back in your control, at least it wasn't attacking you from the inside out anymore.

You felt like you could hear something calling out deep inside of you. You couldn't ignore it, it was as if you were hypnotized, following the sound.

There was nothing physically there, at least you couldn't see anything but you could certainly feel it. It was power, antsy to get out. You reached your hand toward it and it was as if it noticed you there finally. It latched onto you and energy shot through you.

It was a feeling you had never experienced before, consuming every cell in your body. You could feel it working its way through you, waking up your physical form.

Suddenly you sat straight up in bed, gasping, no longer trapped in your mind.

"You're awake!" Azriel spoke, his eyes wide in shock.

Taglist

@rcarbo1 @acourtofbatboydreams @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @theravenphoenix26

@anoneyesee @ren-ni @kabekusa @isa1b2h3 @i-am-infinite

@historygeekqueen @mariahoedt @fr0stf4ll @chelsiemp @romantasyreader28

@kissesfromnovalie @plants-w0rld @halo-mystic @bookishbishhh

[systemadministratorclu]

I know my disability is not anywhere NEAR as life altering as some others here, and I don't do commissions, but I still wish to add my own example. I am visually impaired/legally blind and can't identify colors.

I still make art. I HAVE made art.

Firstly, I'm a writer. I write fanfiction as well as a few original stories, and I create OCs, some of which are fandomless.

Secondly, I do image edits with a digital drawing app where all I need to get a color for something is to Google a color swatch or color palette and the app has a feature that can match it. Here are some edits I've done:

They aren't great, they're not mindblowing masterpieces, some of these were done as jokes. But they were done by me without AI

Third, not as recently, I did pencil drawings, sometimes added to with pen:

I even made a cosplay once. And none of this was done with AI. None of it NEEDED AI. Would my art LOOK better if I used an AI? Possibly. But you know what it wouldn't look like? Mine. It wouldn't look like something I did. It wouldn't look like it took me a while to do. It wouldn't look like someone spent time carefully thinking about it or adjusting it and detailing it as they went. And without that, there's no feeling to it. There's no story. There's no "I found a way to do the art i wanted despite my disability." And all of that, I think, is pretty important to what makes a finished piece art instead of just an image.

AI can't recreate that. It can't go through a creative process. It can't tell a story. It can't make an audience feel anything (except maybe outrage). AI can create an image, but it can't create art.

"ai is making it so everyone can make art" Everyone can make art dipshit it came free with your fucking humanity

[holyblonded]

baby fever | birds of a feather

parings: paige bueckers x black!oc, irene paredes x platonic!oc

summary: while paige is in spain for the summer, she and cecilia babysit mateo for irene

warning: mentions of knives and i think that’s it tell me if i am wrong

notes: this was genuinely the cutest thing to write 🙏🏾 manito is short for hermanito

Cecilia laid on the dune sofa in her apartment, her long legs were placed over Paige's lap as said blonde sat in a cloud of anxiety.

"Baby, are you sure everything will be okay? We've never been responsible for a human that wasn't one of my siblings," Paige voiced her worries to the striker next to her.

Cecilia sent Paige a warm smile. "Don't worry Amor. Mateo is basically my sibling and he's a relatively easy toddler. You just have to play legos with him and he's fine. Oh! Recently he's been into outer space so entertain him on that topic-"

Cecilia's ramble was cut off by the doorbell followed by a rhythmic, yet familiar knock. Once Cecilia moved out, Alexia insisted that there should be a certain knock that all younger and veteran players know for security reasons. Many members like Irene take it seriously— Cecilia hated the knock, which ironically was the beat of the Barcelona Anthem song.

"That's Irene and Lucía," Cecilia announced as her feet carried her towards the door with Paige following close behind. Before Cecilia could open the door, it was opened by a visibly disappointed Irene and a smiling Lucía holding an excited toddler.

"Maitea (sweetheart), why is your door unlocked?" Irene fussed. "That's very dangerous, you don't know who's around."

"There's no one else around," Cecilia deadpanned and she wasn't wrong. Across the hall, the only other people on her floor was Jana and Kika who were both currently home. Not to mention the whole complex was high security.

"Eso no importa (that doesn't matter)," Irene insisted. "Se trata de su seguridad (it's about your safety)."

"Ay, stop fussing, Irene. Cari is grown," Lucía argued in honor of the now twenty year old who she handed over Mateo to. The boy plopped his head down on Cecilia's shoulder and looked at Paige who smiled at him. Mateo smiled back but shoved his face into her neck and waved back at Paige.

"Thanks again for watching him, Cari," Lucía thanked, placing a kiss on Cecilia and Mateo's forehead "Thank you, Paige. Bye, loves."

"Thank you, Paige," Irene followed her wife's lead placing a kiss on the young ones foreheads before closing the door and using a button to lock it.

Cecilia turned around with Mateo in her arms, "Hey, Manito (brother) . Do you remember Paige?"

Mateo shyly nodded, remembering the girl from the celebration party for the championship win the other day.

"Hey, Mateo," Paige greeted as Mateo slightly peaked out from his hiding spot. "Want to play with legos?"

This obviously piqued Mateo's interest as he squirmed to be released from Cecilia's hold and grabbed Paige's hand to pull her towards the Lego bin Cecilia had for him.

Paige sat cross-legged on the living room floor as Mateo eagerly dove into the colorful bin of Legos, his small hands sifting through the pile with purpose.

"What should we build?" Paige asked, leaning forward with a smile that matched the toddler's enthusiasm.

"A spaceship!" Mateo declared, his face lighting up at the idea.

"Of course, a spaceship. Good call," Paige said, her tone serious as though the toddler had just proposed the most genius idea.

Cecilia leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, watching them with an amused grin. "Make sure it has wings and room for astronauts, Mateo. You can't have a spaceship without those," she teased lightly.

"Baby, do you want to help?" Paige asked without looking up, already piecing together the ship's base.

Cecilia shook her head. "Nope. I'm leaving this masterpiece to the two of you. I'll start on lunch."

She made her way into the kitchen, the sounds of pots clinking and cupboards opening mixing with the lively chatter between Paige and Mateo. Every now and then, Cecilia would glance over her shoulder to see Paige carefully listening to Mateo's instructions, his small hands guiding hers to place the Legos exactly where he wanted them.

"Look, Cece!" Mateo exclaimed, holding up their completed spaceship proudly.

"It's amazing, Manito! And so fast! It must be the best spaceship in all of Barcelona," Cecilia praised as she set a cutting board on the counter. "But I need my two engineers in the kitchen now. We have a very important mission: making sandwiches."

Mateo jumped up eagerly and grabbed Paige's hand, tugging her toward the kitchen.

"Alright, Chef Cecilia, what's the plan?" Paige asked playfully as she lifted Mateo onto a stool at the counter.

"Mateo can help me with the peanut butter and jelly, and you, my sous chef, can chop fruit," Cecilia replied, handing Paige a knife and a bowl of strawberries.

The kitchen became a hub of laughter and tiny mishaps. Mateo accidentally smeared peanut butter on Cecilia's cheek, prompting a playful scolding. Paige sneakily ate a strawberry, earning a mock glare from Cecilia. Eventually, the trio sat down at the small table to enjoy their simple but heartfelt meal.

After lunch, Paige followed Cecilia into the bedroom with Mateo in tow, the toddler already rubbing his eyes sleepily. Cecilia carefully tucked Mateo into the small toddler bed she kept in the spare room for visits.

"Do you want a song, Manito?" Cecilia asked softly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead.

Mateo nodded, his eyes half-closed. Cecilia sat on the edge of the bed and began to sing a soft Catalan lullaby, her voice gentle and melodic. Paige stood in the doorway, her heart swelling as she watched Cecilia's calm and nurturing demeanor.

When Mateo was finally asleep, Cecilia quietly left the room and closed the door behind her. She turned to find Paige leaning against the wall, her expression a mix of admiration and something else Cecilia couldn't quite place.

"You're amazing with him," Paige whispered.

Cecilia smiled, reaching for her hand. "He's easy to love."

Paige hesitated, her fingers tightening around Cecilia's. "I think I might have baby fever.”

Cecilia blinked in surprise before a soft laugh escaped her lips. "You? Miss 'I can barely keep plants alive'?"

"I'm serious!" Paige whispered, laughing despite herself. "Watching you with Mateo... I started thinking about our future. I don't know, maybe not right away, but someday."

Cecilia's teasing expression softened. "You'd want kids with me?"

"Of course," Paige said, her voice steady. "You'd be an amazing mom, Cece. Watching you today just confirmed that for me."

Cecilia's cheeks flushed, and she pulled Paige closer, resting her forehead against hers. "Someday," she murmured. "I'd like that too. But for now, let's practice with Mateo and see if we survive the rest of the day."

Paige laughed quietly. "Deal."

[meazalykov]

don't bleed where you cannot heal

lena oberdorf x reader requested

summary: there is a thin line between love and hate

warnings: angst, acl injuries, swearing

the stadium is getting you excited. it’s a friendly match, but for you, it’s anything but. 

this is all preparation for the upcoming world cup, your second. this is what you’ve dreamed of since you were a kid. the world stage, the chance to prove yourself once again as one of the best players in the world with the best country in the world.

the first whistle cuts through the air, and the game begins. germany presses hard from the start, their relentless high line suffocating, but your team is known for your aggression and tactical brilliance. 

you know how to play under pressure. as the minutes tick by, you quickly realize that your primary challenge tonight isn’t the team as a whole. it’s their number six, lena oberdorf.

she’s everywhere. the woman’s presence is like a shadow, constantly dogging your steps. the way she reads the game is impressive, and she’s physical—too physical. the first time she shoves you off the ball, it’s unnecessary. 

you had already passed it away, the play was moving forward, and yet her shoulder slams into you with enough force to make you stumble.

“get the fuck off me!” you snap, spinning to glare at her.

she doesn’t flinch. doesn’t even blink. lena just shakes her head and walks away, her expression calm, almost cold. it infuriates you, but you swallow the anger, forcing yourself to focus. she wants a reaction, and you won’t give her the satisfaction, even though you almost did.

the next twenty minutes are a battle of wills. she pushes, you evade. she lunges, you anticipate. it’s a dance, one where you refuse to let her lead. then, just before halftime, you seize your moment. the ball finds you outside the box, and you see her diving in for another tackle. 

you leap over her outstretched leg, the studs of her boot missing you by inches. planting your foot, you unleash a strike that sails cleanly into the top corner of the net.

the roar of the crowd is deafening, your teammates rushing to you in celebration. your captain grabs you in a tight hug, laughing as she says, 

“lets fucking go!!!!!”

as you jog back to midfield, you glance at lena, her frustration barely concealed, but she doesn’t say a word. you smirk, letting the satisfaction of the moment fuel you as the halftime whistle blows.

the locker room is buzzing during the break, your team riding the high of the lead. your coach gathers everyone, clipboard in hand, her expression serious despite the score.

“good half,” she begins, her voice cutting through the chatter. “don’t get comfortable though. their number six—” she doesn’t need to say lena’s name for everyone to know who she’s talking about—“is the anchor of the german team. she going to come out swinging. they don’t want to lose this, and she’s not the type to back down looking at what y/n is enduring.”

you nod, already expecting it. “i can handle it,” you say, your voice steady. you mean it. you’ve faced players like her before, and you’re not about to let her throw you off your game.

your captain gives you a reassuring pat on the back. 

“don’t let her get in your head.”

the second half begins, and lena’s intensity ramps up as expected. she’s glued to you, her physicality increasing with every passing minute. you can feel her presence even when she’s not touching you, the way she presses close, cutting off your options, forcing you to think faster, move smarter. 

in the 72nd minute, you’re sprinting down the left wing, the ball at your feet. your eyes scan the field, spotting your left winger making a run. just as you’re about to release the pass, a sudden force slams into you from behind.

the orange colored boot clips your ankle, and you go flying toward your team’s bench. the world tilts, and you hit the grass hard, skidding along the ground.

the whistle blows sharply, the referee immediately reaching for her pocket. you hear the crowd react—boos and gasps, some shouting for a red card. lena stands by one one of her teammates, their captain alex, her expression unreadable as the yellow is shown. 

she doesn’t argue, doesn’t apologize. she just turns and walks away, leaving you fuming.

“are you serious right now?” you mumble under your breath, pushing yourself up. pain radiates from your ankle, but you grit your teeth and wave off the medical staff. you’re not letting her see you weak.

your coach yells from the sideline, “need a sub?”

you nod, forcing yourself to stand. “i’m fine,” you call back, though the sting in your ankle says otherwise.

the game restarts, and you barely have time to settle before lena comes at you again. this time, it’s worse. you’ve just turned with the ball when she crashes into you, her body slamming against yours. your right leg gets caught awkwardly between hers, and you feel it—a sickening pop that shoots through your knee like lightning.

the scream tears from your throat before you can stop it. you collapse to the ground, clutching your knee, the pain blinding. it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, a sharp, unbearable agony that leaves you gasping for air. 

your teammates are there in seconds. one of them kneels beside you, her hand on your shoulder. unfortunately, it's a teammate who is coming back from their own acl injury. 

“stay down, stay down,” she says, her voice panicked. 

“don’t move.”

your captain storms toward lena, fury etched into her face. “are you trying to kill her? what the hell is wrong with you, you psychopath?!” she yells, jabbing a finger in lena’s direction.

lena stands her ground, her arms crossed, her face stoic as alex comes to her aid. she doesn’t respond, but the tension is palpable.

you can barely focus on the exchange, the pain consuming every ounce of your attention. your hands shake as you clutch your knee, your breathing ragged. tears stream down your face, though you try to hide them, burying your face in the grass.

“fuck,” you whisper, the word barely audible. deep down, you know what this is. you don’t want to admit it, but the telltale pop, the way your knee feels unstable—it’s your acl. 

“don’t say that,” one of your teammates says quickly, her voice trembling. 

“it could be something else. just… just breathe, okay?”

the medics arrive, carefully stabilizing your leg. every movement sends a fresh wave of pain through you, and you bite down hard on your lip to keep from screaming again. the world cup is only a month away. the thought makes your stomach churn. this wasn’t supposed to happen. 

your coach is by your side now, her face pale with concern. 

“we’re here, okay? just hold on. you’re going to be fine.”

fine. the word feels like a cruel joke. as they lift you onto the stretcher, your eyes meet lena’s one last time. there’s something in her expression now—a flicker of guilt, maybe regret—but you can’t bring yourself to care.

 all you can think about is the unbearable pain in your knee and the dream that’s slipping away.

the year since your acl injury was rough. you’ve been with bayern munich since transferring from chelsea in june 2023, but the timing of your injury had kept you sidelined, robbing you of the chance to have a true debut with bayern that year. 

now, with the olympics looming and a string of friendlies leading up to the tournament, you’ve finally made it back. the game against poland is your first international appearance since the injury, and while you’re excited, you’re cautious. 

you’ve come too far to risk it all now. 

the friendly goes smoothly. you keep your movements measured, easing into the rhythm of the game without overexerting yourself. your teammates rally around you, celebrating when you register an assist in the second half.

the final whistle brings relief, not just for the victory, but for the reassurance that your knee feels strong. you’ve made it this far.

back at bayern, the news of lena joining the team had been a bitter pill to swallow. the same lena who caused your acl tear. the same lena who showed no remorse, at least not that you saw. 

every time her name is mentioned, your stomach churns, and your teammates know it.

“she’s not as bad as you think,” lea had said one day in the training room, her voice cautious. 

“obi is my best friend. she didn’t hurt you on purpose.”

you scoffed, stretching your hamstring. 

“lea, i know she’s your best friend, but you don’t know what it’s like to be taken out like that. to lose everything for a year because someone couldn’t control themselves on the pitch.”

lea had frowned, her usual brightness dimmed. 

“she does feel bad, you know. she’s just not great at showing it. she wanted to talk to you when she visited here.”

“then she should’ve done it,” you’d snapped, your frustration bubbling over. 

“instead of waiting for me to approach her. that’s not how this works.”

lena’s acl injury in a friendly against austria happened before the olympics. after hering about it, you believed that it was karma. yes, a part of you felt vindicated, another part of you—buried deep—felt something else. pity, maybe. understanding, even. you’d been there, after all. the recovery, the mental toll, the feeling of being left behind while the world moved on without you. 

you quickly pushed those thoughts aside. she was the reason for your pain, and any sympathy you had was fleeting.

the olympic semifinal against germany is intense. both teams leave everything on the pitch, the game eventually decided by a single goal in extra time. your country wins, securing a spot in the final. 

as the celebrations begin, you take a moment to greet your bayern teammates—sydney, lea, giulia, and klara—who’ve come over to congratulate you.

“great game,” sydney says, pulling you into a quick hug before stepping back. 

“your knee is looking sharp.”

“thanks,” you reply, smiling. 

“you guys were solid too. it could’ve gone either way.”

you swap jerseys with sydney, holding hers in your hand as you turn to lea. 

“you okay? that tackle toward the end looked rough.”

you’re referring to a tackle one of your teammates did on lea, where it seemed like lea’s ankle was kicked in. 

lea waves you off. 

“i’m fine. it’s nothing.”

the conversation flows easily, lighthearted. you’re laughing at something giulia says when you catch sight of lena approaching out of the corner of your eye.

she’s on crutches, her pace slow but determined. your stomach tightens.

she’s heading straight for the group.

“uh, i’m sorry i think i hear my teammate calling for me–i– i’ve gotta get back to my team,” you say abruptly, cutting sydney off mid-sentence. you offer a tight smile before jogging away, your pulse quickening. 

you don’t look back, but you know she’s watching you.

behind you, the group falls silent for a moment before sydney breaks it. “she’s avoiding you again,” she says bluntly, her eyes on lena.

“yeah,” lena replies, her voice low. there’s a faint crease between her brows, the closest thing to a frown she’s shown all evening.

“are you ever going to apologize to her?” sydney asks, crossing her arms.

“i tried,” lena says, shifting her weight slightly on her crutches. 

“the first day at bayern, i walked up to her during warmups, but as soon as she saw me coming, she bolted. it’s been like that ever since. she won’t even stay in the same room as me if she can help it.”

klara sighs, glancing at lena. 

“have you tried writing to her? or asking someone else to talk to her for you?”

“what would i even say?” lena asks, her frustration evident. 

“sorry i ruined your career for a year? sorry i made you miss the world cup where you had to be left out of your team making it to the final?”

“yes,” klara replies firmly. “that’s exactly what you should say.”

lea shakes her head, her expression sympathetic. 

“i’ve tried talking to her,” the blonde says. 

“but it’s tough. she’s… she’s still dealing with it. at least the mental part.”

“she hates me,” lena mutters, her voice barely audible.

“she doesn’t hate you,” lea insists, though her tone suggests even she’s not entirely convinced. 

“she’s just angry. and hurt. give her time.”

“time,” lena echoes bitterly. 

“it’s been a year. how much more time does she need?”

sydney shrugs. 

“look, you’ve got a lot of ground to make up. you can’t just expect her to forgive you overnight.”

lena exhales sharply, her grip tightening on her crutches. “i never meant to hurt her,” she says quietly. 

“it wasn’t intentional.”

“we know,” lea says gently. 

“but you have to make her believe that.”

as you jog back to your team, you feel the weight of their eyes on your back. you know you’re avoiding her. it’s not subtle, and everyone has noticed. you can’t bring yourself to face her. not yet. the wound is still too raw, the memories too vivid.

you’re back from your acl injury, but you’re scared of it happening again. the first few weeks of recovery, while seeing your country making it to the world cup final without you, was one of the darkest points in your life. you believe that your country could’ve won the final if you were present. instead, lena had to be overly aggressive in a friendly game. 

you try to focus on the celebration, on your teammates and the victory for going to the final of the olympics. however, lena’s presence lingers. 

you don’t want to think about her, about the injury, about the months of recovery that followed. no matter how hard you try, she’s there, a reminder of everything you’ve endured. she is going to be your teammate during the club season, which you have no idea how you will avoid her then.

as you stand on the sideline, watching your team huddle around your coach, you catch a glimpse of lena out of the corner of your eye. she’s still with sydney and the others, her expression distant.

for a moment, you wonder what she’s thinking. but you quickly push the thought away. it doesn’t matter.

you’ve got a final to prepare for, and she’s the last thing you need on your mind.

three weeks later, the golden medal resting in your room is a reminder of everything you’ve overcome. winning the olympic gold with your country felt like redemption, a tangible reward after the hell of the past year. 

everyone at bayern has been nothing but supportive since your return, congratulating you with hugs and pats on the back when you walked into training the first day back. even the german girls, who’d taken bronze, had been gracious. most of them, anyway.

now, with training over, you’re sitting in the lounge, nursing a sports drink and watching tuva and alana messing around on the pitch outside. their laughter carries faintly through the glass, light and carefree, as they attempt some flashy dribbling moves. 

you smile to yourself, their joy contagious even from afar.

the door behind you opens and closes softly, and you think it’s georgia. she’d left a few minutes ago, maybe forgetting her jacket or something. turning around with a small smile, you open your mouth to greet her—but your smile instantly fades.

it’s not georgia. it’s lena.

you freeze, your body stiffening like prey caught in a predator’s gaze. lena’s crutches are gone now, and though she still has a slight limp, she moves with ease. 

the expression on her face is serious, but her eyes hold something softer, something almost vulnerable. 

“can we talk?” she asks, her voice steady but quieter than you’ve ever heard it. 

you shake your head immediately, panic rising in your chest. “no,” you say firmly, already standing. 

you grab your drink and try to walk past her, but she moves to block the door.

“please,” she says, her tone bordering on desperate now. 

“just… five minutes. that’s all I’m asking.”

you hesitate, your jaw clenching. 

“why? so you can say sorry in five minutes and think everything will magically be fine like the last year did not happen? no thanks.”

she exhales sharply, frustration flashing across her face. 

“it’s not like that.”

“then what is it, lena?” you snap, your voice rising. 

“what do you want from me? because I really can’t do this right now.”

“i want to fix this,” she says, her voice firm. 

“i can’t stand how things are between us. i hate it.”

“oh, you hate it?” you laugh bitterly, setting your drink down on a nearby table. 

“well, welcome to the fucking club. do you know how much i hated not being able to play for a year? watching everyone else live my dream while i was stuck rehabbing? you did that to me, lena. you.”

her face pales, but she doesn’t back down. “i know,” she says quietly. 

“and i’ve tried to tell you—”

“when?” you cut her off, your anger bubbling over. 

“when did you try, huh? because i don’t remember you saying a single word to me after it happened. not on the field, not in the locker room, not at bayern. nothing. you just… moved on like it didn’t matter.”

“that’s not true,” she says, her voice shaking slightly. 

“i’ve felt awful about it every day since it happened. but every time i tried to talk to you, you wouldn’t let me.”

“can you blame me?” you shoot back. 

“every time i see you, i just… i can’t stop thinking about it. the pain, the surgery, the months of recovery. and then you come to bayern like nothing ever happened, and i’m supposed to just… what? smile and be your teammate?”

she flinches at your words but keeps her gaze locked on yours. “it wasn’t like that for me,” she says.

 “i’ve been trying to figure out how to fix this since the day it happened, but you shut me out before i even had the chance.”

you cross your arms, glaring at her.

“maybe because you didn’t show any remorse until you tore your own acl. maybe you needed to feel that pain to understand what you did to me.”

lena’s eyes widen, and for a moment, you think she might cry. but she takes a deep breath, steadying herself. 

“that’s not fair, and you know it,” she says quietly. 

“i didn’t need to tear my acl to feel remorse. i felt it the second you hit the ground screaming. i felt it every time i saw you in rehab, every time i saw your name on the injury list. yes, i was too much of a coward to say anything then, but it doesn’t mean i didn’t care.”

your anger falters slightly, the raw honesty in her voice catching you off guard. you look away, your chest tightening. “then why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, your voice softer now. 

“why didn’t you just… apologize?”

“because i was scared,” she admits, and the vulnerability in her tone surprises you. 

“i was scared you’d hate me even more, that it wouldn’t make a difference. and then you came back, and i saw how much you hated me, and it just… it felt like there was no point.”

you sit down heavily on the couch, running a hand through your hair. the tension in your chest doesn’t ease, but the anger begins to ebb, replaced by a dull ache. “you don’t get it,” you say quietly. 

“it wasn’t just the injury. it was everything after. the doubt, the fear, the feeling that i’d never be the same player again. i blamed you for all of it because it was easier than blaming myself.”

“you shouldn’t have to blame yourself for any of it,” lena says, sitting down across from you. her voice is gentle now, almost pleading. 

“it was my fault. i was reckless, and i’m sorry. i know that doesn’t fix anything, but it’s the truth.”

you look at her, searching her face for any sign of insincerity, but all you see is regret. for the first time, you notice how tired she looks, how the weight of the past year has clearly worn on her too.

“i don’t know if i can just forgive you,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“i’m not asking you to,” she says quickly. 

“i just… i don’t want you to hate me anymore. i can’t stand it.”

you exhale shakily, the vulnerability in her words breaking down the last of your defenses. 

“i don’t hate you,” you say finally. 

“i thought i did, but… i think i was just angry. at you, at myself, at everything.”

she nods slowly, relief softening her features. “that’s a start,” she says, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips.

you shake your head, a faint laugh escaping despite the heaviness in the room. 

“you’re really persistent, you know that?”

“i’ve been told,” she says, her smile growing. 

“but for what it’s worth… you’re worth it.”

the months following your tense conversation with lena go smoother than you ever thought possible. she’s still lena but she’s also softer now, more willing to meet you halfway. you’re not best friends, but the animosity is gone, replaced with something… lighter. 

every time she hits a milestone in her recovery, you find yourself smiling. not the forced, polite smile you’d given her before, a genuine one. when she starts jumping on her injured leg, you can’t help but feel proud. 

when she takes her first jog, the grin on her face is contagious, and you find yourself clapping along with the team. it reminds you of yourself.

when lena announces to the locker room one day that she might be back to training by march 1st, the excitement is palpable. even you can’t help but cheer, giving her a small nod when her eyes meet yours. 

lena’s face lights up. for a moment, you wonder how you ever managed to hate her.

the team notices the shift between you two. 

“you and lena might actually be friends now,” lea teases one afternoon, nudging you with her elbow. you roll your eyes but don’t deny it. truthfully, the idea doesn’t bother you as much as it would have a few months ago.

fate, as always, has other plans.

it starts small, almost imperceptible. you catch yourself watching lena more often, your eyes drawn to her when she’s on the sidelines. during a match against frankfurt, you score a goal, the kind of strike that makes the crowd erupt. 

as you jog back to your position, your eyes instinctively find her in the stands. she’s watching you, her face glowing with pride, and you smirk up at her. no hand symbol, no exaggerated gesture—just a simple smirk and head nod. 

the way her smile widens in response sends a strange flutter through your chest.

then there’s the time in the lounge when lena tries to lift something too heavy for her recovering leg. you’re across the room when you see her struggling, and without thinking, you rush over.

“let me help,” you say, taking the weight from her hands.

your fingers brush hers as you adjust your grip, and for a moment, neither of you moves. her hand is warm beneath yours, and the realization that you don’t want to let go hits you like a freight train. 

before you can process it, lea walks in, and you rip your hand away like you’ve been burned. lena doesn’t say anything, but the flicker of disappointment in her eyes stays with you for the rest of the day.

it’s lena who makes the first move. subtle at first—lingering glances, the occasional brush of her arm against yours—but then bolder. during a team dinner, she catches your eye from across the table and winks. your cheeks flush, and she smirks knowingly but that was not enough for the german woman.

she sits beside you at the team dinner, and doesn’t mind the fact that she links her hand with yours, pulling both of your hands to hold together on top of your left thigh. it’s maddening, really, how easily she gets under your skin now in a different and better way, but you can’t deny the way your heart races every time she’s near.

one evening after training, you’re alone in the lounge again, sipping on a protein shake and scrolling through your phone. outside the window, you can see tuva and alana messing around on the pitch, their laughter faint but audible. 

the door opens, and you glance up, expecting georgia or lea. instead, it’s lena.

your heart skips a beat, but you quickly school your expression, trying to seem nonchalant. 

“hey,” you say, your voice more neutral than warm.

“hey,” she replies, closing the door behind her. she hesitates for a moment, then crosses the room, sitting on the couch opposite you. 

“can i ask you something?”

you nod, setting your drink down. 

“sure.”

she looks nervous, a rare sight that catches you off guard. “do you… consider me a friend?” she asks, her voice quieter than usual.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. “uh… kinda?” you say, the word slipping out before you can think it through.

obi’s face falls slightly, and you immediately feel a pang of guilt. “kinda?” she repeats, her tone laced with disappointment. 

“so you still hate me?”

“no, no,” you say quickly, sitting up straighter. 

“it’s not that. it’s just… complicated.”

“then explain it to me,” she says, her voice firmer now. 

“please.”

you exhale, running a hand through your hair. 

“it’s hard, okay? for so long, all i could feel when i looked at you was anger. and then you got hurt, and it was like… i didn’t know what to feel anymore. i wanted to hate you, but i couldn’t. and now… now i don’t even know what this is.”

“what this is?” she echoes, her eyes searching yours.

you nod, swallowing hard. 

“yeah. us. whatever we are.”

she’s silent for a moment, then leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees. 

“what if i told you i don’t want to be just friends?”

your breath catches, your eyes snapping to hers. 

“what?”

“i like you,” she says simply, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her eyes. 

“i’ve liked you for a while now. and i know i screwed up, and i know i don’t deserve anything from you, but i can’t keep pretending i don’t feel this way.”

your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure she can hear it. “lena…” you start, but your voice falters.

“you don’t have to say anything,” she says quickly. 

“i just needed you to know.”

you take a shaky breath, the weight of her words settling over you. “i didn’t want to call you a friend,” you say slowly, your voice barely above a whisper, “because i don’t want to be just friends either.”

her eyes widen slightly, hope flickering across her face. 

“i don’t know when it happened, but… it’s there. i feel it too.”

she doesn’t hesitate. in one smooth motion, she moves closer, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “can i?” she asks softly, her eyes locked on yours.

you nod again, unable to find the words. her lips meet yours, gentle at first, testing the waters. your heart races, your hands instinctively finding their way to her waist. the kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, as if you’re both trying to make up for all the time you spent apart. 

her lips are soft, warm, and they taste faintly of spearmint gum.

when you finally pull back, you’re both breathing heavily, her forehead resting against yours. “how does it feel to kiss the girl you hated a year ago?” she teases, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

you laugh softly, swatting her arm. 

“don’t ruin the moment.”

“what moment?” she asks, grinning now.

“this moment.”

this time, it’s you who leans in, capturing her lips in another kiss. as if you didn’t hate her one year ago.

masterlist

[s2pdoktopus]

Hehe

[seanminfl]

It was a beautiful autumn morning, and I had decided to go for a run in the park near our house. I was looking forward to enjoying the crisp air and the changing colors of the leaves. As I was stretching before my run, my sister's boyfriend, Alex, showed up.

"Hey, man," he said, giving me a friendly punch on the shoulder. "I'm going for a run too. Mind if I join you?"

"Sure, no problem," I replied, trying to hide my excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him. We started running together, and soon, we were engrossed in a deep conversation about our lives, dreams, and ambitions.

As we ran, we found ourselves in a secluded area of the park, surrounded by tall trees with their leaves changing colors. The sound of our footsteps on the soft ground was the only thing that broke the silence. Suddenly, Alex stopped running and turned to face me.

"Listen, man," he said, his voice suddenly filled with frustration. "I don't know what's going on with your sister lately, but she's been acting really weird. She won't even let me touch her, and it's driving me crazy."

I could see the desperation in his eyes, and I knew exactly how he felt. My sister had always been the type of girl who loved to play hard to get, but lately, it seemed like she was taking it to the extreme.

"I understand how you feel, Alex," I said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But maybe you should just give her some space. I'm sure she'll come around eventually."

Alex scoffed at my suggestion. "Space? Fuck that," he growled, his blue eyes blazing with determination. "I need some relief, and I'm not going to wait around for your stuck-up sister to decide if she wants to fuck me or not."

Before I could even react, Alex grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and pinned me against a nearby stone wall. I could feel the rough surface of the wall digging into my back, but I didn't care. All I could think about was the intense desire burning in Alex's eyes.

"Wha-" I started to protest, but Alex cut me off with a passionate kiss. His lips were soft and warm, and his tongue darted into my mouth, exploring every inch of it. I moaned softly into his mouth, my body responding to his touch in ways I never thought possible.

Alex broke the kiss and looked down at me, his eyes filled with lust. "You're going to help me out, aren't you?" he growled, his voice dripping with desire.

I nodded my head, unable to form a coherent response. Alex smirked in satisfaction and reached down to unzip his running shorts. His cock sprang free, already rock-hard and pulsing with need.

"Suck it," Alex commanded, his voice rough and demanding. I didn't hesitate for a second. I leaned forward and took his cock into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive head.

"Fuck, yeah," Alex groaned, his hips thrusting forward as he started to fuck my mouth. "Take it all, you little slut."

I moaned in response, the sound muffled by the thick shaft of Alex's cock filling my mouth. I could feel his cock twitching and pulsing against my tongue, and I knew he was close to cumming.

"I'm gonna fucking cum," Alex growled, his grip on my hair tightening as he thrust his cock deeper into my mouth. "Swallow every fucking drop, you hear me?"

I nodded my head, my eyes filled with lust as I eagerly awaited the taste of his cum. A few moments later, I felt Alex's cock swell even more in my mouth, and then he was coming, his hot, salty cum filling my mouth and spilling down my throat.

I swallowed everything he gave me, savoring the taste of his cum on my tongue. When Alex was finally finished, he pulled his cock out of my mouth and smiled down at me, his rich brown eyes filled with satisfaction.

"Well, aren't you a good little cocksucker," he said, reaching down to help me to my feet. "I guess I owe your sister a thank you for not putting out. Maybe I should fuck her even harder next time."

I didn't say anything in response, my mind still reeling from the intense experience I had just shared with Alex. All I knew was that I wanted more, and I was determined to find a way to make it happen.

[nikethestatue]

No, no, you don't understand how big this is!

"What if the Cauldron was wrong?"

"Why not make them mates?"

"If I were you, I would keep that question from Lucien."

"I don't want a mate. I don't want a male."

We have two individuals who outwardly question the Cauldron. Both times, to Rhysand. First it was Feyre, who is not very knowledgeable in the ways of the Cauldron and in mate bonds, not really understanding how it works. The first thing that Rhys does is that he warns her not to raise the question with Lucien, who is a newly mated male. The second thing Rhys does is that he begins to explain the ramifications of societal pressures of the mate bond and how even with terrible bonds, most couples would try to 'work it out'. And accept it. (Sounds a bit like a battered spouse syndrome. He/she will change! or 'we are staying together for the kids!')

The next time, it's Azriel who questions the Cauldron and the mate bond assignation. He says this in front of Rhys, and then Rhys--knowing that Azriel is fully aware of the SOCIETAL expectations--goes on a fairly angry rant about political ramifications.

Elain states unequivocally that she does not want a bond. She doesn't want Lucien. She doesn't want 'a male' that was given to her, and whom she did not choose. And she does not want a bond. She doesn't want to adhere to the societal expectations that the bond obligates her to.

But what's interesting is that the one person who never seems to question it is Lucien.

Something clicks for him, he realizes that Elain is his mate and he states it plainly 'You are my mate'. But he never questions it.

Even when, he clearly isn't interested in Elain. Beyond her being attractive, almost generically attractive because it's the one thing that everyone notices about her, he has no feelings but base instincts and lust. He doesn't know anything about her. Doesn't know what her likes/dislikes are. Doesn't know much about her character. Her wants and her struggles.

Lucien, regardless of his own feelings, which are ambivalent at best, just accepts it. The bond is there. He has no recourse. He has to make the best of a crappy situation, because that's what he is expected to do. How do you fight a Cauldron-given bond?

Which brings me to my point: Azriel DOES question the Cauldron. The ordained will of their deity-like item. It's one thing when Feyre questions it, because she doesn't know. It's a wholly different thing when Azriel voices his disdain for the decision. It's not entitlement. He is actually being heretical in that moment. His desire for Elain is so enormous that he is willing to question Prythian's religion and the will of a god-like thing. He isn't complaining about not having a mate. He isn't questioning 'why didn't the Cauldron grant me a mate?!!?!?"--which could be an acceptable question, akin to us questioning why haven't we found 'the one' yet. But no. He questions a very specific bond. And he dares to say 'what if the Cauldron was WRONG?' Can god made mistakes? Generally no. But in Azriel's mind, G-d made a mistake. Because it created the wrong bond for Elain. Again, he doesn't say 'why don't *I* have a bond?" He asks why was Elain given to another? He perceives it as a punishment for HER. He adds that she is not interested in Lucien. It's a burden on Elain. He doesn't say 'I', he always thinks of her. He actually views her bond as punishment. For her. And he knows what he can offer her instead. When Rhys berates him and says:

(He had never before dared speak  the words aloud.)

Rhys's face drained of color. "You believe you deserve to be her mate?"  

Azriel scowled. "I think Lucien will never be good enough for her,  and she has no interest in him, anyway." 

Azriel doesn't say 'I should've been her mate. I am better for her!' (even if he thinks that). His attention is always on her and her unhappiness. Which aligns with how he thinks of her in general--where her pleasure, her safety, her happiness are always on the forefront of his thoughts and actions.

Furthermore, 'he never DARED speak the words aloud.' It's a sentence that people don't pay enough attention to. Because this is Azriel. And he is not afraid of anything. Or anyone. He fights High Lords. He threatens them when they insult any female in his presence. He argues with his own High Lord, and his High Lady. He doesn't fear Amren. He doesn't fear the Blue Annis. He'll fly with a tree attached to his back. He will sneak into the Hybern camp. He will stand up to the King and steal something from under his nose. He sneaks into the darkest and most dangerous places in the world. He dares.

But questioning the bond and the Cauldron--he doesn't dare. That's how monumental this is.

Lucien never questions the Cauldron. Both Tamlin and Rhys sort of shrug off their parents' respective (unhappy) unions. Cassian doesn't question. Rhys certainly never thinks as to why he would be mated to a human girl.

But Azriel questions.

And that will be the story. Because what happens when the Cauldron IS wrong and you decide to go against fate and gods?

[tension4mari]

I was wondering if you could do player 125 pls like anything my man’s has no ff pls if you can

The beginning is kinda slow!

~

⚡︎Paring- Min-su x Fem!reader

⚡︎Summary- You and Min-su have been in a relationship for 3 years, deciding that you'll do whatever it takes to get rid of all your debt you inter into the squid games with Min-su. You both meet a girl named "Semi" and decides to hang out with her group. Little did you know you wouldn't be so safe there.

Warnings- Angst & cursing... That's it:0

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑"What's your name?" the girl spoke, eyes strict with curiosity "Park Min-su" he said looking at her with his brown colored eyes "well, why'd come here anyway" And before she could speak a guy with purple hair walked up to her "Senorita, excuse me" She turned with furrowed brow.

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑"I want you to join our team" the purple haired guy spoke smiling at her. Semi turned her head to the guys beside him finally looking back at the guy in the middle "Uh. Why should I?" soon she spoke one of the guys beside her spoke "Don't you know who this is ? The rap god, Thanos." He spoke staring at up then being to rap.

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑The guy on his right spoke out "Hey, wait a minute. We don't know what we're playing. Picking a woman is-" He couldn't get his words out before Thanos pointed his finger out at the girl "Thanos the Great will protect you. Don't worry"

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑"Oh" she chuckles "Thanos, huh?" she plays with her lip a little "So you managed to collect all of the Infinity Stones?" She says looking him up and down "Of course" The boy said throwing his arm up and down "Ill destroy anybody who dares stand in my way of greatness!" He declares telling her to stick with him "Yeah, so about that" She looks at the three guys "I was already talking to someone else and-" "No problem" "Who is it" Semi blinks at the guys and steps to reveal Min-su.

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑He looks up at them nervously "What's your name?" Thanos nodded at him "Uh, I'm Min-su. But I have someone with m-" Thanos cuts him off "What's up? Nice to meet you, my brother" "Welcome to the Thanos world" He goes to grab Thanos had, shaking it "Uh...oh" "You're cute, come on"

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑Just as him and his crew were about to walk away you come up and grab Min-su shoulders. "Hey! where ya going?" nervously laughing at him you say. The group already walked off and now it's just you too. "Oh. some guys invited me to his group-" "What." you say staring at him in disbelief "I thought you and I were going to stick together? Especially after that last game ww played!" "Right... But i can't just leave their group now!" "Thats dirty' he stated. "Dirty? What's dirty is you leaving your girlfriend to fend for herself all alone! What the hell has gotten into you Min-su!" "Nothing has gotten into me- Look. Just find another team and well see each other later. Ok?" "Whatever" You scoffed turning on your heels not turning back to look at him

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑Lucky for you, you found a team just in time for game. He must of not known how easily you life could be taken from these stupid games! It made you feel like he didn't care what would've happened to you. "Tch, I don't need him. I can handle my own" you mumble under your breathe.

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑Soon enough you saw a group of men and a girl sitting together. Deciding you have had enough of talking to yourself you walked up to interduce yourself to them?

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑"Hey? excuse me. Do you guys think i can sit with you all?" You spoke softly not wanting to alarm them "Sure, why not! sit down. We Arnt any harm. 390 spoke

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑You ended up really bonding with them and getting to know their names. Soon enough it was time to put votes in, wether not to stay or leave. Both you and Min-su voted to leave after the first game. Now you were beside Min-su somehow as you see a guy look back at him approaching

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑"You better not fuck this up. he said with folded arms. "huh?' " hmm." The guy fumbles with Min-su jacket "This." "Like we agreed. We do one more, and then get out. Right?" He stared at him "Uh huh" Min-su said shaking his head violently "What the fuck?" you said whispered.

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑You scoot closer towards Min-su "Are you seriously going to let that jerk tell you want to do?" You ask Min-su "Um.. Don't worry about it." he says looking away from you with his head down "What do you mean 'don't worry about it' Min-su you promised that well get out of here alive! Together." You say hoping he'll not chose O "Min-su." He looks at you "Yeah?" "Please. For me, chose the right thing"

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑"I-I can't..." he says amongst his voice. "How stupid are you?!" You whisper shout "I want to leave this place- i don't think i can stay anymore longer.." he looks at you for a moment before turing his head 'I cant."

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑Your turn to vote was about to happen but one of the guys Min-su were hanging out with called you over. You hesitantly walked over to him "Who are you? Do you and that guy know each other?" he said while pointing to your boyfriend

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑"Um yea... He's, my boyfriend." you answered ""Holy shit?!" he said in shock "Who would've known he had that in him??" he said elbowing His friend Thanos

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑ "Hey.. Why'd say dumping him and getting with me?" he says with much confident "Tch.' you scoff "As if" You turn to Min-su hoping he would say something about the guy hitting on you. You raise your eyebrows staring at him ".."

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑"ugh!" you grumble, before you could speak Nam-Gyu look at your jacket "Hm?' he comes closer to you grabbing your jacket and looking at the X on your chest "What's this?" he says Holding onto your jacket even harder. "Let go of me you werido!" you turn once again looking at Min-su hoping he'll at least say something

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑He just stares at you. Looking dumbfounded. Nam-Gyu looks at Min-su then back at you "Wow dude, you're not gonna stand up for your bitch?" he says laughing "Excuse me?" you say offend "Let me the hell go! or I'm going to beat your ass!" you say pushing him off of you

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑"Yeah? How are you going to do that?" he says getting all in your face. You managed to get his off of you. Making sure you stayed your distance from him

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑Before you leave you look at Min-su "Whatever we had. Its over." you say leaving him alone for good. He stares at your retreating figure not daring to speak a word.

Hope you liked it 😿

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Do you think the colour of a polyjuice potion says anything about a person?? I just remembered that Harry's turned a bright gold and wondered if it meant anything

Yes, I think the color does say something about a person (and also the taste). We know different people cause the potion to turn different color and taste:

“Ooh, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle, Harry,” said Hermione, before catching sight of Ron’s raised eyebrows, blushing slightly, and saying, “Oh, you now what I mean—Goyle’s potion looked like bogies.”

(DH, Ch4)

So, let's look at all the Polyjuice potions we see.

Harry Potter:

Harry dropped the hair into the mudlike liquid. The moment it made contact with its surface, the potion began to froth and smoke, then, all at once, it turned a clear, bright gold. [...] Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Fleur, and Mundungus drank. All of them gasped and grimaced as the potion hit their throats.

(DH, Ch4)

Bellatrix Lestrange:

“She tasted disgusting, worse than Gurdyroots! Okay, Ron, come here so I can do you . . . .”

(DH, Ch26)

Mafalda Hopkirk:

Hermione drank the Polyjuice Potion, which was now a pleasant heliotrope color [purple]

(DH, Ch12)

Millicent Bulstrode's Cat:

The potion hissed loudly like a boiling kettle and frothed madly. A second later, it had turned a sick sort of yellow

(CoS, Ch12)

Vincent Crabbe:

Crabbe’s a dark, murky brown.

(CoS, Ch12)

Gregory Goyle:

Goyle’s turned the khaki color of a booger

[...]

Pinching his nose, Harry drank the potion down in two large gulps. It tasted like overcooked cabbage

(CoS, Ch12)

And Ron actually calls the Polyjuice someone's "essence":

“Urgh — essence of Millicent Bulstrode,” said Ron, eyeing it with loathing. “Bet it tastes disgusting.”

(CoS, Ch12)

And I think he isn't far off.

I think Polyjuice does reveal the "essence" of a person in a way.

Hair and nail clippings have been used in irl alchemy (there are theories that the "hair" is a code name to refer to other minerals and it's sometimes unclear, but sometimes it definitely refers to hair. Really depends on the book) for centuries. Now, hairrepresents a residue of the body. When taken from a living person (like with polyjuice) the hair would represent the person, who they are.

Albertus Magnus (13th-century alchemist) wrote that more gold can be found in the hair taken from a human's head. Now, the gold he wrote about isn't actually gold, but gold in alchemy refers to purity. Basically, human head hair is good for extracting the pure essence of a person. Like Aristotle, he calls hair mostly a mix of Earth and Water — the elements of the physical plane, the body. But head hair, specifically, due to it's closeness to the brain is more than just the physical aspect. It's mostly the physical aspects, but it includes elements of the spirit of the person.

So, head hair is the best way alchemically to get the purest essence of someone's appearance (body and a bit of spirit).

So what do we learn about characters from their polyjuice?

Well, bitter people, taste bitter. Crabbe, Goyle, Millicent, and Bellatrix all tasted terrible according to the Golden Trio. They tasted terrible because they were terrible people.

What I want to note a bit here, is that Harry's didn't taste great either. Better than Crabbe, Goyle, or Bellatrix, but the Order is still described as gasping and grimacing at the taste. My guess, due to the language used, is that the taste of Harry's polyjuice wasn't exactly bad, per se, but was kinda strong and unexpected. What the taste was, we unfortunately don't know, nor could I find the color of the potion for Bellatrix (my guess would be an almost black dark green that's a bit translucent like you added a bit of coloring to water). But, let's look at the colors we do have.

Crabbe - Murkey Brown. Goyle - khaki color (both shades of brown), Millicent's cat - sickly yellow, Mafalda - a pleasant deep purple, and Harry is gold, but I'll keep him for last.

Brown (both Crabbe and Goyle) is reliable, simple, stable, and consistent. But it's also boring, dull, timid, and predictable. Since both are described as ugly browns, the intention is to evoke the negative symbolism of brown.

Yellow can be optimistic, intelligent, and warm, but it can also be cowardly and deceptive. Millicent's cat's yellow is specifically described as a sickly yellow — so, to me, it suggests her cat's unpleasant. But it's also not a potion meant to be used with animal hair, so who knows.

A purple like Mafalda's is interesting. It's described as a nice color, the positive symbolism of purple includes: wisdom, compassion, and royalty. But purple can also symbolize: oversensitivity, immaturity, or hypervigilance. I think, what it says about Mafalda is that she is a pleasant and compassionate person who is just invested in a shitty institution (the ministry). From the color of her potion, it seems she isn't a bad person. Additionally, heliotropes represent the sun, fire, and abundance — positive things.

Now, Harry's potion tuning gold is one of these really interesting things. You see, in Alchemy gold is everything that is pure and good and perfect. Gold is the purest form all materials want to achieve. The Philosopher's Stone, the symbol of immortality and perfection (it's the perfect material), can turn anything into gold. The Elixer of Life produced from the stone, in theory, would be in gold in color. Gold is the color of immortality and purity and perfection. It's the sun and fire and life and abundance and good fortune. Gold is the cure-all and be-all. Alchemists considered it indestructible, pure, and perfect:

But the alchemists were most deeply impressed by its apparent indestructibility: it does not tarnish in air or water, is not appreciably volatilized or oxidized in melting, and is not attacked by any chemical reagent then available. It was therefore regarded as the 'perfect' metal.

(Prof. Dorthy Wyckoff note in her translation of The Book of Minerals by Albertus Magnus)

This honestly really strengthens my theory that Harry was always the Master of Death. If the color that represents Harry's essence (his body and spirit, aka life) is gold — the color of immortality, perfection, and purity — it means he already is in his perfected form. He already is the philosopher Stone AKA Master of Death.

See, in alchemy, in the process of making the Philosopher's Stone, the alchemist is also working on themselves. The work is both on the minerals and on the alchemist. The alchemist would become their perfect, purest self while doing the "Great Work" and would only be able to create the Philosopher's Stone when they themselves, are also their purest ("golden") selves.

What I'm saying is that Harry, by his essence being bright gold, is implied to already be there at the perfection point. He is already at the point where he could make the Philosopher's Stone. So, him being the MoD and already sorta immortal, just really fits that.

Even in the world of HP the color "gold" is associated with immortality. The fire from Harry and Voldemort's wands is gold because of the Phoenix Feather core. Phoenix's in HP are associated with gold, which also connects gold to immortality. Again, this all hints at Harry being the MoD all along.

[signanothername]

As someone with little to no empathy because of autism, I can vouch that it does it hurt when you upset someone you love because of the lack of empathy.

The thing about a lack of empathy is that you cannot relate to or understand or connect to *other* people's emotions but you do have your own emotions to go off of. It's like a bubble where nothing can go in or out emotion wise and you are stuck with your own tilted view that you distinctly know doesn't encompass everything but it's the best you have.

The closest you can get is an approximation of someone's pain when you hold it up to your own, comparing the physical reactions and trying to think of when you did those things and the feelings attached to them.

It doesn't always work because you don't know when you are *missing* an emotion, something that wasn't present in you to start with or it's an atypical expression of an emotion that the general populace doesn't experience. So with no internal knowledge and faulty data you turn to research about it so maybe you can at least know what not to do to hurt someone even if you don't know why.

You do all of this because you love this person and care about them enough to try and parse through an emotional language you don't even know the alphabet for.

So it hurts and it's frustrating when you mess up and upset them anyway even when you are trying desperately not too. Sometimes you don't even know what happened immediately and that's the worst part.

You don't know how to fix it and comforting doesn't come naturally because you can't connect emotionally like that. So you do your best, you do things that help you and you do the things that you read about that helps while doubting it's effectiveness without the correct emotional display behind it.

But you try and that's the important part.

I know how it feels to watch your loved one go to others for comfort, not out of malice for you, but simply because you can't give them what they need at that moment. No matter how much you want too. (It seemed like killer tried to maybe fix his mistake but it wasn't helping color calm down so he had to let the others take over)

With an added layer of turbo dissociation and not in tune with his own emotional displays or behaviors. I'm sure killer has to get really analytical about it and given his penchant for research and high intelligence, I'm sure it's even more frustrating for him to hurt color when he has gone through all of the things not to do and he should have been watching colors body language and all that but he slipped up because he got too comfortable around color and wasn't paying attention (a product of being around someone you love) mistakes happen and situations pop up that you weren't even beginning to prepare for yet (you can't prepare for everything).

But yeah sorry for the ramble and these are my own personal experiences and I wanted to say something because I have been in killers exact situation and he has become even more baby to me.

(I like to think that when color isn't as upset anymore killer wanders in and puts a cat in his lap without saying anything and curls up next to his feet on the ground and does his weird purr equivalent bone rattle thing because he knows cats help him and he knows purrs help calm down skeletons so he does his best)

Fun fact about me: I have little to no empathy as well

I simply don't mention it

The problem with the stigma around empathy is the false view that you have to have empathy to be even remotely capable of doing good things, which is absolute bullshit, empathy is morally neutral, someone who has empathy can be an absolute asshole and someone with zero empathy can be kind

It's actions that matter not thoughts or what you feel or lack thereof

Killer lacks the understanding of what Color truly needs emotionally, but it doesn't mean that Killer enjoys hurting Color, it just means that he ends up lost on what to do to make it better, and when he tries to do what he knows best (acting on what his mind says than heart) it doesn't work at times cause it's not what Color is in need of at that critical moment

That's where love comes in

Color fully understands this, but he has some social needs that Killer can't provide at the moment, he needs to be held close and to have someone reassure him, and Killer simply can't provide that, and Color does not hold it against Killer in any way, and that's how deep their love for each other is

Killer of course, does try to fix it the best he can, the only way he knows how is by what he observes of Color, what Color likes and what might put a smile on his face

And most of the time it works, others it doesn't, but Color still sees and appreciates Killer's efforts when he knows full well that being connected doesn't come naturally to Killer at all

(Also that image is honestly so adorable gbsdcbsud)