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youraverageaemondsimp · 1 year ago

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Metanoia ;

Aemond Targaryen x Transmigrated!Strong!Reader

>> Chapter I : The Beginning.

Summary: "Be careful what you wish for" is what everyone says, you realise that you should've taken them seriously when you find yourself reincarnated as a character in the show who never existed.

WARNINGS: CANON TYPICAL INCEST, CONTAINS SPOILERS OF F&B, S1 AND S2, reader's appearance isn't described, only the fact that she is a strong, you can imagine her however you like, the picture used in the header is only to capture the feel of the story. A/N: divider credits to @cafekitsune

masterlist // next

“Jesus Christ, fuck this show, fuck everything, what the fuck is wrong with the writing?” You exclaim in annoyance after witnessing the scene that was supposed to be heavily impactful be butchered.

“That is the most anticlimactic death scene I've ever witnessed, this has to be a joke.” You furiously ramble. You decided to give House of The Dragon a try after your friend had recommended it, the show currently has released three seasons, with the fourth season in production, you thoroughly enjoyed season one and decided to binge all the seasons.

However, everything started to go downhill from season two, yet you still decided to watch for the sake of your favourite characters, daemon and aemond, only to witness the battle that was supposed to be intense and stressful get finished in the span of two minutes.

You stared at the screen, rolling your eyes in annoyance as you witnessed Aemond falling into the lake along with Vhagar, Daemon was knocked off Caraxes too and fell to his death.

They wrapped up the battle in mere moments, which made you angry as you were so hyped up to see them fight.

“Ugh, I never hated a show more than this, waste of my time, they did season one so well, what happened to rest? I did not expect this.” You sigh in frustration, feeling like you just wasted your time.

“If only… If only I ever get a chance, I'd change entire plot and script because fuck this.” You lay down on your sofa, staring at the ceiling, the show still playing in the background. You recollected the entire plot in your head, thinking of every moment in the show, trying to come up with an easy solution.

“If only they had married Jace to Helaena, it would have been peaceful.. Or at least if they had an older daughter married to Aegon or Aemond.” You mumble, but then shake your head, “What am I saying? Things still would've been complicated anyway.” You wonder in disbelief at your own words.

You yawned loudly, stretching out your limbs and blinking your eyes rapidly, your vision began to get blurry and you sighed in content, finally willingly wanting to sleep after you forced yourself to stay up all night to binge the series.

Your vision darkened slowly as you closed your eyelids, head spinning as you took slow breaths of air, cool breeze brushes past your cheeks and before you know it, you're slowly succumbing into slumber.

You blink your eyes open, realising you fell asleep, you sigh stirring on the soft sheets, entangling them between your legs.

Soft sheets?

Your sofa doesn't have any sheets.

You quickly blink again, taking the note of a translucent veil hanging from above, surrounding the bed you're in, creating a curtain around your bed.

Why were you in bed?

You sit up looking around, taking in your surroundings, your eyes widening in fear as you don't recognize this room at all, ancient tapestries, brown wooden furniture, and the source of light being only from the candle.

Have you been kidnapped?

You look down at your body, noticing you are in a white nightgown instead of the shorts you fell asleep in. Your heart begins to race and you panic, unable to understand where you are or how you got there. You steady your breathing, wondering if someone kidnapped you to play a role in a mediaeval film of theirs? But why would anyone do that?

The sound of metal clanking harshly against the floor and a small scream made your head turn the direction it came from, the liquid in the decanter spilling out rapidly as the person behind the fallen cutlery stood in shock.

“The princess is conscious!” She yells loudly before turning around and running out of the room in a hurry.

Princess?

Is this a prank?

You barely have any moment to think when you hear the sound of multiple footsteps coming from outside to your direction, you could almost feel the ground rumbling, noting that everyone was rushing to this room.

You push the veil to the side and stand up, getting out the bed and examining your surroundings, looking at the sigils and the paintings. All of this looked familiar somehow.

A small gasp echoed through the room, coming from the entrance, which made you turn around to take a look at who was in the room once again. Your eyes widened at the sight.

A lady with platinum blonde hair, blue eyes stood in front of you, someone who resembled Rhaenyra and next to her stood Jace and Luke breathing heavily, looking at you in shock.

Did the house of the dragon cast kidnap you to play a prank on you?

That sounds too unreasonable.

“Oh my sweet daughter!” Rhaenyra rushes over to you, embracing you tightly, tears flow down her cheeks as she peppers you with kisses “I-i i cannot believe this, you finally woke up after many years.” She sobs, you look at her questioningly. “Sister.” Jacaerys speaks up, coming to you and joining the embrace of you and Rhaenyra, Luke joins in as well.

“We missed you.” Jace says and you stare at all of them confused.

This has to be a joke.

They notice the expression on your face and their faces immediately drop, “Your grace, the princess woke up after many years, she might not be able to recognise you.” The maester chimes in, Rhaenyra nods, sniffling yet understanding your condition.

“Emma? Is this a joke?” You question, referring to the actor of Rhaenyra, “I’m not Aemma darling, she is your grandmother.” Rhaenyra corrects you. “I think she must be confusing the names of everyone due to her hazy memory.” The maester tries explaining, you sigh.

Yeah this must be a dream.

You shake your head gently and immediately slap yourself to wake yourself up.

“Ouch!” You yell in pain, cupping the cheek you slapped yourself on, Rhaenyra is mortified and the guards rush in and hold your arms back so you don't further hurt yourself.

This is not a dream.

You can’t feel pain in your dreams and you will wake up right before impact.

You look at Rhaenyra’s face, she is as real as a living person, standing right in front of you.

She looks just like Emma. of course, after all Rhaenyra is indeed played by them.

But this is not them.

She is not Emma

You can feel the vibe, it's very different.

You’ve met Emma before in costume, yet they did not give off the vibes as what Rhaenyra is giving off right now, after all, when you met them; it was just a show, but now it's your reality.

Did you die in your world?

You’ve definitely transmigrated into this show, but as who?

Did Rhaenyra ever have a daughter? You knew she didn't.

“Mirror, get me a mirror.” You ask and they look at you questioningly, your form begins to shake as the realisation is too overwhelming, there are many questions in your mind, “Please!” You cry, and immediately a servant moves and rushes over with a mirror.

Your eyes widen.

It's you.

You had not become someone else, but you remained as yourself. “What is my name?” You ask, “Y/N.” Rhaenyra replies. Your mind begins to spin, you are in another world as yourself, you have not possessed anyone else, which means your body must’ve disappeared from your world.

You try to stay calm in this situation, breathing heavily, “You are?” You ask, wanting to reconfirm, you watch as Rhaenyra's face crumples into that of a sad face, probably feeling hurt that her own daughter doesn't recognise her.

“I'm your mother, you are my eldest daughter, they—” She points at Jace, Luke and Joffrey, “—are your younger siblings.” You turn towards them.

You nod, pretending to play the part while you figure out everything. “I'm sorry, I do not remember.” You apologise and Rhaenyra shakes her head, “It is alright, you have been unconscious since the past six years, this is better than losing my daughter.” She replies.

“Six years… Did I fall unconscious after Aemond lost his eye?” You think out loud and Rhaenyra looks at you in shock, “You remember him?” She asks and you clear your throat, “It's hazy, my memory.” You answer back.

“Your grace, the event was probably traumatic for her, hence why she can remember it in parts.” The maester explains it to Rhaenyra, you mentally thank the maester for covering up for you always.

You noticed how they were all dressed up, looked as if they were about to leave but their plans were cut short, and you recognize this gown of Rhaenyra.

It was the gown she wore when she left for King's Landing, in order to settle the matter of Luke's right to driftmark. “You guys were departing somewhere?” You ask, wanting to really confirm it, “Hm? Huh, Yes, We were about to leave for King's Landing.” Jacaerys answers your question.

“Can I tag along?” You blurt the question.

“.. Tag along?” Lucerys repeats your words in confusion, your language confusing him.

“I mean to say, can I come along?” You ask the question in a proper manner, Rhaenyra shakes her head, “No- you've just woken up, you might still be weak- I cannot risk-”

“Mother! I am perfectly fine!” You cut her off, breaking free from the guards hands and running around the room, doing jumping jacks, showing her that you aren't weak and are perfectly capable of physical activity.

Rhaenyra watches in shock, seeing you move like this but she chuckles, shaking her head in comic disbelief, “I guess she has not changed after all.” The maester comments which makes Jace and Luke smile.

“Very well, Pack the princess’ belongings, and get her ready for departure, we will depart two days later.” Rhaenyra orders the maids and you smile at her.

“But mother, I do not have many dresses—”

“You do, I had them tailored every year, whenever you grew, hoping that you would wake up.” She replies softly and you just then realise how Rhaenyra loves her children.

“The maesters said that you might not ever wake up, and that your body will be stunted from growth, yet… I'm glad their predictions never came true.” She smiles gently at you, you smile back.

The maids come in with a bath as everyone leaves, some of them begin packing your belongings. You notice how your body doesn't look how a person in a coma state should be looking especially in the mediaeval times, but instead you seem to be well taken care of, treated as if you were alive.

The maids quickly finish your bath and dress you up, you have to pretend to get used to this atmosphere and era even though you're highly uncomfortable, the mere thought of having servants made you feel bad.

And with that, the night fell, you couldn't sleep thinking about how you're going to deal with everything, could you really prevent war from happening? It happens due to a misunderstanding in the show right? What if the misunderstanding doesn't occur? Your mind was filled with such thoughts through the whole night.

In King's Landing.

“My queen, Rhaenyra, has sent a letter saying that their arrival will be delayed further.” The master sums up the contents of the letter in the council room, in front of Aemond who had been called by Alicent for an urgent matter.

“Why so?” Alicent asks, furrowing her brows.

“Princess Y/N had woken up from her unconscious state.”

An ear piercing shattering sound of glass is heard through the entire room, when turned to look at the origin, It is known that Aemond had dropped the wine glass he was drinking from.

“Y/N is awake?” Aemond asks the maester.

“Yes my prince.” The maester replies.

Aemond's heart begins to pound in his chest loudly, his mind spiralling at the thought of you finally waking up all these years later.

“Please excuse me.” Aemond gets up from the chair, excusing himself from the council and leaving the room, his brain occupied with the thoughts of you.

There wasn't a day where Aemond hadn't thought of you, he would at least think about you once a day- the news of you waking up from unconsciousness made the adrenaline in his body rush.

He felt like a hungry snake that had been starved for many years who at last found a prey to feast on, he felt like a drought-stricken land finally receiving rainfall, he felt like a garden void of any flowers which started to bloom once again.

He was thrilled.

He reminisces of the fond memories you both shared, he could never ever forget them, smiling at the thought of you.

He wondered if you had changed or remained the same.

Whatever it was, he couldn't wait.

He couldn't wait to receive you.

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purplecoffee13 · 10 months ago

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NFWMB - part 1

Summary: “Harry is a retired boxer who owns a gym and teaches self-defense classes. He considers himself a strong man, but when a gorgeous innocent woman attends a try-out class, she manages to leave him weak in the knees…”

Wc: 4.3k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and SA

A/N: hello everyone! This is my new series NFWMB, named after one of Hozier’s most horny songs😄. I am so incredibly excited for this series omg it’s gonna be so good!!! If you don’t believe me, go listen to NFWMB and you’ll get a vague idea of what’s coming ;)

P.S. header = pov change

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Harry Styles was not one for regrets.

His life may not have turned the way he expected it to, but he was still proud of where he had come.

Being a professional boxer was a risky job, and Harry had known that when he had decided that it was going to be his career. But there was no other logical option. Harry was an exceptional boxer who was able to go pro at age 18, where he defeated a lot of men who were older and bigger than him.

It was his passion, it always had been. Which was something that was quite remarkable, especially to his closer family members, because Harry was anything but a violent person in his day to day life. He was quite reserved, and managed his temper very well. The years in the boxing ring did harden him quite a bit, his reserved nature developing into something more akin to stoicism.

Nevertheless, Harry loved boxing. It wasn't so much a fight to him, but more of a puzzle. Each opponent had its own made up riddle, and it was up to Harry to solve it as quick as possible. Much like a dance you learn the steps to along the way. A perfect combination of intuitive technique.

He hadn't planned on having to retire at the age of 27 already. It was supposed to be his peak; it had been for almost all boxers in history, and he was looking forward to how far he would be able to push his body during his prime.

He never got the opportunity to get an answer to those questions. A car accident got in the way.

He wouldn't have been able to stop it, he knew that, and he had forbidden himself from thinking about what could've happened had he not taken that specific road back home that horrible night. There was nothing he could do about it now, so there was no point in dwelling on it.

After a year of recovery, he was slowly able to get back into the rhythm of his old life again. Well, except for the boxing part. Knowing that his career in that field was over, he began thinking about some other options of his, and decided on fulfilling another dream of his: opening a gym.

He had always wanted to do it, but he always imagined to be retired by the time he would start on that.

Now, two years later, his gym was already in multiple locations, but Harry was still working at the first one he opened. He would visit the other ones every once in a while to see how everything was going, but he was mainly at the one nearest to his house. It was special to him, the place where it all started.

Despite running the place, and therefore not needing to be on location all the time, Harry was at the gym 24/7. He wasn't a personal trainer—wasn't really his style—but he would help people and teach self defense classes to women.

Every Thursday between 6 and 9, he would teach groups of ten women everything they needed to know on defending themselves from whatever threat they may run into. It was one of the things he was proudest of; the turn out at those classes. That these women put their trust in him, and let him help them become even tougher than they already were.

Tonight, after teaching the last group, Harry had gone to the bar with some of his friends. One of them was Sophie, a woman he had become friends with since she'd joined his self defense class. She was a great person with an impeccable sense of humor, and Harry was glad he had introduced her to Greg, his best friend. They were basically made for each other.

Harry had to admit that he envied his friend for the relationship he had. He was happy for them, but sometimes couldn't help but think that his lack of a partner was this one puzzle piece that would make his life even better. All in good time, he reminded himself.

"Hey," Sophie caught Harry's attention when she waved her hand in front of his face. His gaze shot to hers, eyebrows raised. "So, I was talking about your self defense class today at work. You know, promoting your business and all."

Harry chuckled at the cocky tone in which Sophie told her story, chin up high. He mumble a soft 'thanks', to which she grinned.

"You're welcome. Anyways, I have this new colleague and she seemed so intrigued by it, but she was too insecure about joining. I mean— she didn't outright say that, but I could just tell." She huffed, Greg rubbing her back. Sophie was a very happy person in general and wanted the best for everyone, this new colleague of hers included. Harry had the same habit, it's why he immediately suggested:

"Why don't you invite her along next week? A free try-out."

"But your try-out classes aren't for another two weeks." Sophie noted.

It was true. The self defense classes had become very popular, and since Harry taught them himself, he had scheduled one night of try-out classes a month. He was only able to take on so many people, but he didn't mind making this exception.

"She can join your regular class." Harry shrugged, and Sophie's eyes beamed with excitement.

"Thank you Harry!" She squealed happily, giving Greg a hug to channel her enthusiasm. "Oh, I hope she'll come along!"

"I'm sure she will." Harry assured her with a smile, and took another sip from his beer.

Y/N had never been one for risks.

She had never been the type of person to take the leap of faith, relying more on familiar feeling of security. Why risk hurting yourself when you could be safe and content?

It was the logic she had always operated with, the logic she had been taught from a very young age. Y/N had had a sheltered upbringing. Her parents wanted her and her little brother to be as safe as possible, and that was just fine to Y/N.

Her little brother was the more feisty one of the two, and his childhood consisted of a lot of fighting. It hurt Y/N to see the people she loved so much be so angry all the time, and it only motivated her to be as good as possible. She never drank, smoked, or went to parties. She turned in her homework early and got an A on almost every test. It did put a strain on her relationship with her brother, especially since Y/N's behavior would be used as ammunition towards him.

They still didn't talk all too much, but Y/N hoped that one day, she could repair that relationship again.

Moving a few towns away was a big deal for her parents, but the wonderful job she had gotten as a secretary at quite a prestigious law firm had made it all worth it. They helped her with moving into her apartment, but Y/N would regularly visit them on both weekdays and on the weekends. All in all, she'd had a safe, comfortable, content life.

Until a few months ago.

It was a Friday night, and Y/N had agreed to a date. One of the lawyers at the firm, Oscar, had been flirting with her ever since she started working there. Not wanting to be impolite, Y/N never outright rejected him, and so the flirting continued. She was a bit uncomfortable about it — especially since he was nearing his forties and she was only 23 — but figured the banter was part of the job. She was so shocked when he did ask her to go on a date, she said yes.

It wouldn't be too bad, she figured. She would just go on the date and tell him she wasn't interested afterwards. It could be casual, and no one would be too hurt. The date was definitely out of her carefully moderated comfort zone, but she would step out of it for one night.

The date was fine. Like she had expected, she wasn't interested in Oscar in a romantic way. Still, she listened to his stories, laughed right on cue at all his jokes, and told some of her own anecdotes as well. The dinner was great, and he even offered to walk her home.

They were nearing Y/N's apartment when Oscar had suddenly slowed down his walking pace. She only noticed when she was a few feet away from him, and walked back to where Oscar was standing.

"Are you okay? We're almost there, I promise." Y/N smiled politely, much like she did in the office. Oscar didn't say anything in response, only the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" He complimented her, and Y/N looked at her feet, not quite knowing how to handle the flattery.

"Thank you." She said softly, and froze when Oscar's fingers tilted her chin upwards. Her eyes widened when he suddenly leaned in and put his mouth on hers. After the first few seconds of pure shock slowly passed, Y/N pulled her head back.

Not getting the hint, Oscar grinned and leaned in again, this time with both his hands on her face. Y/N let out a yelp, stumbling backwards. Her body's alarm bells were ringing so loudly, but Oscar must've been deaf to her body language because he backed her up against the wall and kept kissing her.

Y/N cried out as she tried to push Oscar off with her hands, but he only grabbed them and pinned them above her head. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she lifted her knee and kicked him right in the crotch. Oscar shot backwards, groaning loudly as his grip finally loosened on her. He looked incredibly angry.

"What the fuck?!" He bellowed, standing up straight again. Y/N's lip quivered, tears running down her face.

"You wouldn't stop." She said softly, almost in a whisper. Her entire body was shaking from the adrenaline. Oscar's mouth opened to say something, but the conversation got interrupted.

"Oscar!" A woman's voice shouted from down the street. He turned his head, and his face morphed from sheer rage into a lovely smile, the same one he always put up for Y/N back in the office.

"Sophie!" He said, but the mention of her name sounded strained. Sophie... Y/N recognized her name, but she hadn't ever met the woman. She was one of the three female lawyers at the firm. Had been working there for only five years, but her reputation was so badass, everyone knew who she was.

"What are you doing out tonight?" Sophie asked as she gave Oscar a hug, and turned to Y/N. "Who's this?"

"This is Y/N." Oscar replied. "She's a secretary at the firm."

"Nice to meet you." Y/N extended her hand, and Sophie shook it.

"Nice to meet you too! How come I've never seen you around?" She tilted her head.

"I— I work on a different floor."

"Well, I'm glad I met you, Y/N!" She said, the kindness in her tone being a real comfort after that scary moment she just had to live through. Somewhere in the way she said it, and in the way her eyes softened slightly, it almost felt like Sophie knew.

"I— I should go. It's getting pretty late." Y/N decided that this could be her sweet escape.

"Right, I'm gonna bring Y/N home." Oscar said, and your eyes shot to him. Anxiety filled your lungs until all you could breathe was fear. You didn't want to be alone with him. You had no idea what he would be able to do to you. What were you going to do about it? You weren't even half as strong as he was.

"Oh, which way is it?" Sophie asked, turning to Y/N, who was about to open her mouth but got interrupted by Oscar.

"That way." He pointed toward the direction of Y/N's house. Sophie side eyed her colleague, then nodded.

"Exactly the way I was going! Let's go." She hooked her arm into Y/N's, and began walking, ranting about how it was unacceptable that they didn't work on the same floor.

Y/N wordlessly nodded along, filled with gratefulness to Sophie or the universe—or both—for not leaving her alone with Oscar again.

She got home safely about five minutes later, not daring to look Oscar in the eyes as she hugged him and said goodbye, and she only allowed her tears to fall down her cheek when she closed her front door.

Y/N spent the rest of the weekend in bed, not in the mood to do anything. By Monday, she felt both better and worse. She had had some time to come down from the shock of what happened, but the terror that filled her at the realization that she was to see Oscar again, had her stomach turn. On Monday morning, she even got into work late as a result of a wave of nausea that hit her once she'd grabbed her keys, spending the time she used to drive to work to puke her guts out instead.

Later, she'd found out that Oscar had called in sick that day. It gave her some time and space to breathe. Sophie visited her the same day, and she hadn't stopped visiting since.

Oscar did eventually return to work, but they never talked anymore. Y/N didn't dare to look him in the eye, and she avoided him at all costs. One day, about two weeks after everything happened, she did see him waiting by her cubicle, but she hid in the toilet for half an hour and by the time she returned he was gone.

It had been two months since that horrible event, and Y/N had entirely isolated herself. Back to the normal routine, back to what was familiar. It gave her a sense of control. She was fragile, and sensitive. She had just pressed down her sadness and anxiety that lingered as a result from the date, and instead focused entirely on what she could control.

She figured it would be easier. Well, except for the mental breakdowns she'd get when something small didn't go right. The dishes not being cleaned, her vacuum not taking up every speck of dust; it just set her off. It wasn't healthy, but she had no idea how else to deal with these things.

When Sophie mentioned she was following self-defense classes a couple weeks ago, Y/N's ears had perked up. She tried to be subtle about it; asking questions to pry some information about the classes from her. But, being the amazing lawyer she was, it didn't go over Sophie's head, and before she knew it she had an invite to a class.

"See you next week!" Harry exclaimed as the last of the women from the 7pm class left the room. He was still busy putting everything back into place before the next class which would commence in about five minutes.

He was just about done with everything when Sophie walked in, another girl walking in close behind her. Harry couldn't really make up her face, as she stayed closely behind Sophie, even upon nearing him.

Sophie looked proud, probably feeling very accomplished about the fact that she had been able to convince this colleague of hers to take her up on her offer.

"Hey!" She greeted Harry cheerfully, giving him a quick hug. He was still smiling when he turned to the woman standing next to Sophie. His mouth went a bit dry when he took in her face.

"Harry, this is Y/N."

For starters, she was a bit shorter than Sophie, and quite frail too. Her hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her features to be admired out in the open. Her eyes were soft—radiating mostly insecurity at the moment—and wide. Those Bambi eyes and plump, rosy lips...

She looked so... innocent?

He wasn't sure if it was the right word, but he was sure that he had to say something before the silence became too long.

"Hi Y/N." He repeated her name, seeing the slightest flicker of surprise run through the eyes of the woman in front of him. But the slight relaxation of her body told him that his usual trick was working. It was a typical 'strategy' that he would often use with people who were a bit unsure about him. His voice would soften, he would always wear a hint of a smile on his face, and he'd repeat people's names to create a bit more of a familiar environment. It always worked, and he was glad it did. He never wanted anyone, especially a woman, to feel uncomfortable around him.

"Hi." The corners of her mouth tugged up.

Angel.

That's all he could think of as he looked at her. Jesus Christ, she was beautiful.

"Thank you for joining the class. You don't have to join in on everything if you don't feel comfortable. Just observe and see if this is something you would like to practice more often, okay?"

The girl in front of him nodded intently the second he had finished talking. Her eyes widened ever so slightly before she peeped out an, "okay."

Harry grinned, his gaze shooting to Sophie—who was looking at him with this suspicious look on her face that she only got once in a while—before calling everyone in a circle and commencing the class.

This girl, Y/N, turned out to be a real distraction for him. He was so focused on trying to read how she was feeling that he trailed off during explanations a couple times. It was embarrassing, really. He was a grown man for God's sake, why couldn't he just concentrate?

Y/N only joined in for a couple of the basic movements, but she stayed back for most of the class. Her big eyes observed every movement Harry and the others made, impressed with how developed everyone seemed to be in their techniques. He noted that it only seemed to make her more timid, though.

His eyebrows kept knitting every time he looked at her, getting lost in his thoughts on how he could help her become more comfortable in his class. She'd caught his stare about halfway through the class, and at the way her eyes shot to the floor he realized that his gaze was actually doing the completed opposite of what he wanted to do, which was help her.

When the class ended, Harry gave his usual speech about how good everyone had done their job, and that he would see them all next week. Afterwards there would always be a couple of women hanging around to ask questions, and he would stop a few on their way out to compliment their improvements. When the rest of the women had left, Sophie walked up to Harry, Y/N following closely behind.

"Great class, Styles. Thanks for teaching me some ass kicking again." She teased, smiling at him before she took a sip from her water bottle. Harry chuckled, shaking his head faintly.

"Glad you liked it." He turned to Y/N. "What about you?"

Her cheeks started heating up, mouth falling open ever so slightly. "M— me? Oh, uhm, yeah, pretty good."

"I'm going to use the bathroom really quick, I'll be right back." Sophie chimed in, and began walking towards the door. "Keep her company for me, will ya Styles?"

Harry almost laughed at how Y/N's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets at Sophie's announcement. She was nervous around him, and it was quite endearing, but she didn't need to be. Although it was very cute, Harry wanted her to be comfortable around her.

"You hated it, didn't you?" He said as soon as Sophie was out of sight. Harry was amused, watching Y/N scramble for words when she realized what he had said.

"What? No, no of course not! You're great! Teacher— you're a great teacher, I mean." She stumbled over every last one of her words, making it sound even less convincing than it already was, even though she did really mean it.

Harry solely raised his eyebrow, indicating that he did not buy any of that, and it was all it took for her shoulders to slump and a little sigh to leave those pretty lips of hers.

"It's really not you, I promise. I just get... a bit nervous in group settings, especially when it comes to sports. I don't even go to the gym." She confessed, and Harry nodded. That certainly made more sense. His heart warmed a bit at the fact that she reassured him that he wasn't the reason she wasn't liking the class all too much.

"Why don't you go to the gym?" Harry asked further, his tone soft. He didn't want to press too much, but he did want to know more about her.

"It's... embarrassing." She shrugged. Harry chuckled.

"I go to the gym all the time. I mean, I own this one. I can only imagine how embarrassing I must be." He joked. He had to say he thought it was pretty funny, the way she blushed as he teased her.

"No, I didn't mean it like that! You're not embarrassing at all— I mean, you’re like the opposite. You're lean, and strong. You have like— big arms and you know what you're doing." She ranted, and had no idea how much Harry's ego was fueled by the compliments she was unknowingly throwing at him. "Whereas I— I have no idea what to do at a gym. I hate the idea of people being able to watch me and judge me if they want. Not that I think everyone's focusing on me all the time! I— I don't think that..."

Y/N's heart was racing as she finally got herself to stop talking. It was a nervous habit she had always possessed. As soon as something got awkward, her mouth would open and it would just never shut again. All communication skills flew out the window as soon as something — or in this case someone — made her nervous. She couldn't even remember half the words she just said.

"I can teach you, if you want."

The offer was as unexpected to Y/N as it was to Harry. He hadn't quite anticipated the words rolling off his tongue, but he didn't regret them either.

"It'll be a private class, and it can be in a closed room, like this one, or after closing time. Whatever suits you." Harry tried his hardest to sound casual, and not like what he was offering was something he literally never did. He had to hire a cleaner at home because he was too busy to get around to cleaning the house, that's how much he had to do. But the prospect of losing even more free time did not seem to bother him at all. In fact, he hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer as he scanned her face and waited for her to say something.

"No, I wouldn't want to ask that of you. I'm sure you're busy with a lot of other things." She declined politely, but he didn't miss the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Those private classes had sounded intriguing to her, he just knew it. So instead of accepting her rejection, he shrugged.

"How about this. I'm always in till late on Tuesday's. If you're sure you don't want private lessons, that's fine. But if it does sound like something you want to do, just be there at 9. I'll be there either way." Harry suggested. He didn't wait for a response — hearing Sophie's footsteps nearing — and instead said,

"Just think about it, alright?"

Y/N merely nodded, not even able to croak out a 'yes' before Sophie walked back into the room.

"Okay, I'm ready to go. Y/N?" Sophie asked, watching as her friend agreed and grabbed her things before walking towards the door where Sophie stood.

"Thanks for the class." Y/N turned around and smiled at Harry, throwing him a small wave as she started following Sophie out the door.

"Anytime." He winked at her.

"Bye Styles!" Sophie shouted, her keys clinking as she waved at Harry, behind her.

"Bye Soph." Harry called out, his eyes still transfixed on the girl behind his friend.

He didn't take her eyes off her as they walked towards the exit, taking in every detail of her delicate body as she moved further and further away from him. She was painstakingly beautiful. How had she just walked in? As soon as the girls disappeared behind the door, Harry let out a big sigh.

"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.

He really hoped Y/N would take him up on his offer. Harry had very quickly and very suddenly developed this intense need to help the girl, and that couldn't mean anything good.

Maybe he'd never see her again. She did sound very unsure. Besides, who said that she even wanted to go to this class? For all Harry knew, Sophie could've just used her manipulative convincing tricks, and Y/N, the polite angel she was, would've felt too bad to decline. Maybe, she thought he was an ass and didn't want anything to do with him.

In spite of the countless theories flying through his head, he knew that she wanted it. He had seen it in her eyes. She did really want to join the class, she was simply too nervous. But whether she would take him up on the offer, that was the question. He'd have to wait until the following week.

Strangely enough, he couldn't wait until it was Tuesday. He couldn't wait to find out…

1K notes · View notes

kxsagi · 3 months ago

Note

stop we’re both bllk lock girls. :33

anyways can i request seeing ex bf isagi (ended on good terms) during his break from bllk v. u20 match. then yall realize there’s something still between the two of you so you decide to give it another shot and yall go on the best date everrrrrrrr

#isagigirlforlife

“𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞”

a/n: #ISAGIGIRLFORLIFE FRRR

i love him sm it's not even funny. in my head, we've been dating since december 2020 (which is when i started reading the manga)

(header art credits go to _266hr on Twitter)

shibuya was buzzing.

neon lights dripped down the buildings like electric rain, and the crowd pressed against you in waves, laughing, shouting, moving with the current of the city. you adjusted your scarf against the winter chill, clutching the small bag of taiyaki you just bought. the warmth of the pastry barely made it past your fingertips.

you weren’t really thinking about him. not really.

sure, you heard about him a lot recently because of his famous U-20 goal, his name slipping through the cracks of conversations, a commentator mentioning how he took a break from his soccer career after such a big match. but you didn’t dwell. you told yourself you wouldn’t. that part of your life was over.

until it wasn’t.

because there he was.

at the edge of the crossing, right beneath the giant screen looping a music video, stood isagi.

black beanie low over his forehead. hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie. same slightly awkward stance, weight leaned on one leg, like he was waiting for the world to slow down and meet him at his pace. but it was the eyes that gave him away, the same deep blue that once made you forget entire conversations. and right now? they were locked on you.

your feet refused to move.

his didn’t either.

the crosswalk light changed, and people rushed between you. bodies blurred the view, but neither of you budged. it was only when the last straggler passed that isagi took a single step forward. hesitant. almost unsure. which was funny, really, because you’d never once seen him hesitate before.

“hey,” he breathed out when he was close enough for you to hear. his voice was quieter than you remembered. or maybe just softer.

“hi.” your throat tightened. “you’re back.”

he nodded once, his eyes scanning your face slowly, like he was memorizing it all over again. his gaze lingered on the loose strand of hair by your cheek, the slight chapping of your lips from the cold.

“for a few weeks.”

“just visiting?”

“... yeah.”

the corner of his mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile. you recognized the look in his eyes, it was the same one from the night you sat on your bedroom floor, breaking up between hushed voices and lingering touches. ending on good terms. whatever the hell that meant.

“wanna walk?” he asked, voice low.

and you should’ve said no.

because you were supposed to be over him.

but instead, you nodded.

𐙚

the streets were still restless, but somehow, it felt quieter with him next to you.

“so you really took a break?” you asked, glancing at him.

he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “more like i’m on break.”

“ah, i see.”

his lips twitched. “mmm, you should’ve seen the headlines. people thought i had an injury or something.”

“oh, i did.” you grinned slightly. “someone sent me the article.”

he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his mouth parting slightly like he wanted to ask, who? but instead, he just hummed.

you both stopped in front of a vending machine, the neon glow painting your skin. you watched as he fished out a few coins from his pocket. you were about to protest – you didn’t want anything – but then he pressed the button for the same drink he used to get for you. the one you always said tasted like liquid sugar, but secretly loved anyway.

he didn’t say anything when he handed it to you. he just held it out.

like muscle memory.

𐙚

you didn’t know how long you walked. the neon lights turned softer, the crowds thinning as you wandered into quieter streets. you stopped at a small park, finding a bench beneath a lonely street lamp.

and that’s when it happened.

the part where you both realized you were still idiots for each other.

“i missed you,” he murmured first, low and barely audible.

your fingers went still around your drink. the words made your throat tighten. your heart stutter.

“yoi…” you started, but he shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“no. let me.” he exhaled slowly, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “i thought i was fine, you know? that i needed the break. the space. the time. but no matter where i was – the weight room, the soccer field, in a dorm with other guys, playing in front of 20,000 people – everything just… felt off. i couldn’t even figure out why for the longest time.”

he tilted his head slightly, and his voice was quieter when he added, “and then i saw you tonight, and it made sense.”

your breath hitched.

“you were the thing that was missing.”

he glanced down at his hands, then back at you. “so. if you wanna give this another shot… i’m here. for real this time.”

the weight of it hit you all at once. the memories, the ache, the longing. the nights you told yourself you were over him. the nights you knew you were lying.

and you could’ve made him wait. made him work for it.

but instead, you leaned forward. and kissed him.

his lips were warm despite the cold, familiar in the way your heart remembered them. he kissed you softly at first, like he was testing if you’d disappear. and when you didn’t, he exhaled sharply against your mouth and pulled you closer.

his hands cupped your face, fingertips brushing behind your ear, threading into your hair. the kiss deepened, slower and heavier, and when you finally pulled away, you were both a little breathless.

𐙚

the date that followed felt like a fever dream, but the best kind.

he took you to a hidden dessert café, the kind you’d always gushed about, but never got around to visiting. he ordered the matcha parfait you used to love, and you teased him for still knowing your order by heart.

then you ended up at the arcade, where he somehow managed to win you a giant stuffed cat on his first try. you held it with a mock pout, accusing him of making it look too easy, but he just smirked and said, “i’m still showing off for you, huh?”

you rolled your eyes. but your cheeks were warm.

after that, you both wandered into a 24-hour bookstore. the kind with dim lights and floor-to-ceiling shelves that made you feel like you were in a different world. you read the back covers of random novels, picking the most absurd ones to make him laugh. and you succeeded every time.

and when you were both tired from walking, you ended up at a convenience store, sitting on the curb with a bag of snacks between you. you shared a pack of strawberry pocky, lazily alternating bites until your hands brushed more than once. he didn’t pull away. neither did you.

𐙚

when he walked you home, he stood outside your door for a moment, hands tucked into his pockets.

“so… tomorrow?” he asked, almost shy.

you smiled. “and the day after that.”

he grinned slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners.

and when he kissed you again, slower this time, you knew.

there was no more leaving. no more breaks.

just him. and you.

and everything you were ready to be.

#isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #isagi yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #isagi x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #my missing piece

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burntheedges · 4 months ago

Text

Awake

Marcus Moreno x f!reader | 6.6k | 18+ | ao3

summary: Marcus is fine. He wakes up, goes to work, goes home, goes to sleep, and then does it all over again, just the same, every day. And he's fine.

And then he meets you.

a/n: this is for @guiltyasdave and @sizzlingcloudmentality's writing through the seasons challenge! you can see my prompt and moodboard here (which I borrowed from for the header). I had the prompt ("to live with the delusion of being found") banging around in my head for days and it just screams Marcus to me. thank you @katareyoudrilling for being a wonderful beta, as always.

tags/warnings: angst, fluff, flirting, meet cute, Missy is a fun teenager, texting, coffee shop, touching, I named Miracle Guy Rob and Missy's mom Melissa, self deprecation (Marcus), shifting POV, kissing, grinding, reader has no description other than being a woman and having a job, no age mentioned but just FYI I was imagining her in her 30s or 40s, first date, coffee, pet names (beautiful, sweetheart), some Spanish (mija, calmate)

...

On Monday, Marcus woke up with his alarm.

Missy had picked it out – it wasn’t one of the sounds that came with his phone. She’d used some app to make it play part of “Takin’ Care of Business,” but only on weekdays. He didn’t know how to change it. He probably could have looked it up but he wouldn’t, anyway – she’d said it made her think of him going to work every day. So now it made him think of her, and at least he had that thought, if nothing else, to warm him as he got out of bed.

(His mood never quite matched the song’s, but at least he had a goal to work towards. Right?)

So he woke up when the piano came in, and sighed as he swung his legs off the bed. He sat there for a moment, letting Randy Bachman sing to him about getting to work by nine.

He sighed again.

He turned off the alarm, finally, and stood. He did not look in the mirror on top of his dresser as he walked past it into the bathroom.

Marcus showered and dressed on autopilot, mind almost blank. As always he just picked the next slacks, jacket, and shirt, whatever was at the front of his closet. He’d done this so many times, on so many mornings, it barely required him to be awake.

When the coffee maker beeped, he found himself standing fully dressed in his kitchen without really noticing that he’d walked there. He poured his coffee – just a splash of cream – and sat at the kitchen table to turn on the news. As he let the sound of yet another day wash over him, he texted Missy, smiling when she responded almost instantly.

Marcus 08:27 AM: Good morning, mija

Missy 08:28 AM: dad 08:28 AM: why did I sign up for a 9am dad 08:29 AM: i’m dying

Marcus 8:30 AM: if I’m remembering correctly, you had “big gym plans”

Missy 8:32 AM: never listen to me about gym plans again 8:33 AM: what was I thinkinggggg 😩

Marcus let his amusement at Missy’s texts buoy him to the sink and then out to his car, feeling a bit lighter.

Like his morning routine at home, he barely noticed the drive to work. It was the same as always, and in 17 minutes he was getting out of his parked car at HQ. He felt his shoulders stiffen as he stepped through the double doors into the lobby.

On his floor, Marcus walked to the kitchen first to drop off his lunch. He nodded at the same people he walked past every morning. Then he sat at his desk, answered his emails, and attended some meetings about upcoming missions for the current active teams. On his way to the break room for lunch he nodded at the same people again. After lunch he attended a few more meetings, dodged Rob in the hallway when he asked about Marcus’ weekend, and answered more emails.

At 5pm he stood up from his desk and walked to his car, nodding to the same people again on his way out.

Marcus drove home on autopilot, and 17 minutes later he found himself walking into his kitchen from the garage. He sighed as he opened the fridge, and decided dinner would be leftovers. Again.

Since it was Monday, and Missy wouldn’t be calling, he sat on the couch and turned the TV to the Food Network. He let the soothing sounds of low stakes cooking problems take over and crowd himself out of his own head.

10pm found Marcus in bed, setting his alarm. He got comfortable, stretched out his back, which always seemed to be aching these days, and pointedly did not think about the fact that he couldn’t think of a single thing he’d done at work that day.

As he fell asleep, he thought idly that he was glad his time as an active member of the Heroics had taught him how to fall asleep anywhere, if nothing else.

…

On Tuesday, Marcus woke up with his alarm.

His morning unfolded almost identically to Monday’s, aside from the fact that Missy wasn’t awake yet to respond to his good morning text – her Tuesday classes started at 11:30 and she usually took full advantage of the chance to sleep in.

As he sat and sipped his coffee, something on the news briefly caught his interest, until he realized it was something that had already crossed his desk the week before.

He sighed.

Marcus drove to work – 17 minutes – and went through the motions of another day at the office.

He ate lunch with Rob in his office, which had bigger windows than Marcus’s, and got his regular updates on how Rob’s family was doing (Peter had gone off to college, too, and they commiserated about their kids abandoning them).

Rob, as always, asked Marcus how he was doing with a knowing look that Marcus, as always, pointedly ignored.

“I’m fine,” he said, as always, stabbing a piece of chicken in his tupperware dish with a bit too much force. He was always fine. What else would he be?

Rob eyed him. “Are you?”

Marcus chewed and did not sigh. “Yes, I am,” he promised.

Rob squinted, and Marcus squinted back. That made his friend laugh, at least, and they changed the subject.

Marcus left the office a bit quicker that night and 17 minutes later he walked in the house just as his phone rang.

“Hi, mija,” he said, smiling as he picked up his daughter’s regular Tuesday phone call. She had a long walk home from her last class and usually called him to pass the time.

He let her voice wash over him, soothing the tension that had crept into his shoulders when Rob had squinted at him over lunch. Missy’s updates on her classes and her friends carried him through reheating his leftovers and collapsing on the couch. By the time she had to go he was more relaxed than he’d been in days. (Since her last call, probably, he did not let himself think, and made sure to tell her he loved her before she hung up.)

With a bit more help from the Food Network, Marcus successfully distracted himself until it was time for bed.

…

On Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, Marcus woke up with his alarm.

He got dressed, went to work, nodded at his coworkers, answered emails, ate lunch, nodded a bit more, and went home.

And through all of it, he was fine.

He was fine.

…

Marcus spent Saturday at home doing chores, and Sunday at the farmer’s market and the grocery store. Missy called once, and Rob texted him to invite him to Corina’s birthday dinner in two weeks. Marcus added it to his calendar and took care not to notice how every other weekend was empty.

…

On Monday, Marcus woke up with his alarm.

He moved automatically from his bed to his bathroom and then to his closet, showering and dressing as usual.

He walked downstairs, thinking idly about the meetings he had scheduled in the morning, and the training he needed to plan for the newest crop of Heroics.

Lost in thought, Marcus stood holding an empty mug in front of his coffee maker for almost 5 minutes before he realized it hadn’t beeped.

He blinked and looked down, confused.

There was no coffee in the pot. He realized he hadn’t smelled the coffee as he usually did while he was getting ready. He looked it over and saw that the setting was right, but there was no coffee.

He frowned.

Poking at the coffee maker revealed that the screen wouldn’t come on, even though it was plugged in. A few more moments of tinkering and he knew – it was broken.

Marcus sighed and checked the time – 8:10 AM. He texted Missy.

Marcus 08:10 AM: Mija, I am sorry to report that after a long and fruitful life, our beloved Mr. Coffee has percolated his last brew. May he rest in peace 🪦

Missy 08:12 AM: nooo!! not Mr. Coffee 💔 08:13 AM: your best friend, taken from us too soon 08:13 AM: how will you go on without him

He smiled. He knew she’d be able to cheer him up.

Marcus 08:15 AM: with difficulty, but I will persevere

Missy 08:17 AM: wait! 08:17 AM: dad you should go to the Bean Box!! I know you never actually did when I told you to 08:18 AM: it’s on your way to work dad you have to go 08:18 AM: it’s the best the coffee is so good 08:19 AM: daaaaaad

Marcus 08:20 AM: ok ok, calmate 08:20 AM: I’m going

Missy 08:22 AM: good! and get a scone to eat in my honor 08:23 AM: I miss those scones

15 minutes later Marcus pulled up in front of the small facade of the Bean Box and couldn’t help but smile. It was exactly the type of place Missy would like – cozy and colorful, with lots of tables stuffed inside and flower boxes overflowing along the bottom of each of the large windows in the front.

When he stepped inside, the smell of freshly roasted coffee filled his nose and he almost stopped in the doorway. It smelled good.

He joined the long line for coffee and scrolled idly on his phone, checking the news, a bit oblivious to his surroundings.

So he was surprised when his phone almost flew out of his hand a few moments later. Someone knocked into him from behind and he stumbled forward. He made some sort of noise as he juggled his phone between his hands, just barely catching it before it could fall.

“Good catch,” an admiring voice said from behind him. He turned as they continued, “Wait, I mean, I’m so sorry about that! Shit.”

Marcus turned around fully and almost froze. A woman was standing there with her hands out, as if she had just caught her balance, grimacing at him. A very beautiful woman, he couldn’t help but notice. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but she was just as beautiful as she’d been a moment before. His eyes darted across her features but he didn’t let himself sweep his gaze over the rest of her. He didn’t want to be a creep.

Suddenly it felt much warmer in the coffee shop, and he was very aware of how close they were standing to each other.

“Shit,” she repeated. “Sorry, again. I tripped,” she pointed at the leg of a chair that was almost in the aisle, “and ended up sort of falling on you. But I’m glad you caught your phone! Nice catch, really.” She looked down and he did, too. She’d dropped her bag and some of her belongings had spilled out. She sighed. “Shit.”

Marcus was crouching before he’d even thought about bending down. “It’s alright,” he said, smiling a bit. “No harm done. Sorry about your stuff.” he gathered some papers and held them out to her. She had followed him down, kneeling as she gathered her things back into her bag.

She took them and said, “wait, you don’t have to do that! I already almost knocked you over, you don't have to help me.”

He shook his head. “Like I said, it’s fine.” He realized she had all of her things but they were both still crouching. He stood and offered her his hand to help her up.

She slid her hand into his easily and his breath caught as she said, “well, thank you, and sorry, again.” Her hand was warm and he ignored the way his fingers tingled at her touch.

She was smiling, then, and Marcus couldn’t help but notice that her smile was very pretty. So pretty he had to drag his eyes away from it, trying not to stare.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. There was warmth in his chest and a floaty feeling in his stomach and the tips of his fingers were still tingling where they’d touched hers. It felt almost foreign, it had been so long. He felt lightheaded.

“Please don’t worry about it.” He looked around and realized the line had moved a little, so he took a step forward to move with it. She did the same. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

She gave her name and he smiled. It suited her.

“Can I buy you an apology coffee?” she asked, looking hopeful. “I still feel bad.”

He shook his head, laughing. “No, it’s really ok. I mean it.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, looking suddenly thoughtful and amused. “I’ve never had anyone turn down a free cup of coffee from here before. You must be new.”

Marcus was smiling. He realized he might have been smiling at her the whole time, and felt a bit of wonder at that. “It’s that obvious? I am. New, I mean. My daughter has been telling me to come here for months but this is my first time.”

Her eyebrows raised and he hoped he was imagining the way her expression closed off a bit. But in the next moment he wondered at himself for even thinking of it. Don’t be a fool, he warned himself, even as he felt the urge to explain. She’s just nice, she’s not interested.

“She has good taste,” she said lightly. “What took you so long, then?”

Marcus sighed and gave in to the urge. “It’s just me at home, with her away at college, and I’ve just been torturing my ancient coffee maker by keeping it alive. But it took its last dying breaths this morning and I was forced to venture out for coffee, instead.”

She nodded solemnly. “Rest in peace, ancient coffee maker.” The jokingly serious look on her face reminded him of the way Missy would tease him and he couldn’t help but smile. Again.

Suddenly Marcus realized they’d made it to the front of the line. He wasn’t ready to order, or to stop talking to this beautiful woman who had almost knocked him over.

“I guess I’m up,” he said, as the person in front of him started to pay.

He tried not to watch as she bit her lip, hesitating for just a moment. “Well, Marcus,” she said, voice light again. “I’m here most mornings, so you’ll have to come back and let me know if you liked it.”

Marcus felt his cheeks warm and he smiled. “Ok then. I’ll try.”

For the rest of the day, he found he couldn’t quite wipe that smile off of his face, not even when Rob teased him about it.

��

On Tuesday, Marcus woke up with his alarm, already smiling.

He glanced at himself in the mirror as he got dressed, and was stunned to see his face looking so relaxed for once.

Is that all it takes? He wondered, amused at his own expense. A bit of flirting and a pretty smile? But it wasn’t just about her pretty smile, he knew that. He’d felt something the day before, something he hadn’t felt in years.

Something he wanted to feel again.

He’d told Missy he liked her coffee shop the night before and promised he’d be back (and that he’d get a scone, this time). So he hurried downstairs and out to his car as soon as he was dressed, ready to find out if he would run into her again.

When he pulled up outside The Bean Box, he took a deep, slow breath. Sure, he was a teensy bit invested. Something about her had kindled a tiny fire in his chest. But he didn’t want to get his hopes too high. He shouldn’t. Right?

But as he stepped inside, he realized he needn’t have worried. She was standing by the door, looking just as stunning as the day before. And she was watching the people coming in.

When she saw him, she grinned. “I knew you’d be back! It’s good, right?”

Marcus nodded as felt a smile stretch across his face. “It is. And I promised my daughter I’d get a scone this time.”

Her eyes lit up. He couldn’t look away. “Oh, you definitely need to get a scone. They’re amazing.”

She stepped into line next to him and he noticed they both kept their bodies turned towards each other as they talked.

“You said she’s in college, right?” She tilted her head at him. Marcus tried not to trace the line of her neck with his eyes. “Is she enjoying it?”

He nodded. “She’s a freshman, but she settled in quick. She’s so independent, I knew she would.” He looked down, smiling as he thought about his daughter, and told her about Missy’s major. “She blows me away, honestly.”

When he looked back up he found her smiling softly at him. “Sounds like she’s got a great dad.”

Marcus smiled and ducked his head again. “I miss her, but it helps that she’s doing so well. And we talk a lot. More than I expected, really. Figured she’d be too busy.”

He felt something warm on his arm and realized she had reached out and lightly rested her hand on his forearm. He blinked and felt a flush rise in his cheeks and start to travel down his neck. He suddenly wished he wasn’t wearing a sweater over his dress shirt, wished he could feel her hand on his skin again.

“I’d say that means you’re definitely a great dad.” She was still smiling. “Take it from me, and my memories of college. I definitely didn’t talk to my parents that much.” She laughed and Marcus felt his breath catch at the way it lit up her features. Her hand was still on his arm and he fought the urge to cover it with his own, to keep it there.

He shook himself and nodded. “It’s been just us for so long. We are pretty close.”

She squeezed his arm lightly and he felt a shiver run up his spine. When her hand fell away, he missed it immediately. “Has it been tough? Adjusting without her.”

Marcus sighed and nodded. “My house is so empty now.” He laughed, ruefully. “I swear, it echoes in there. Never expected I would miss all the noise.”

She nodded. “I’ve got nieces and nephews, and they’re so loud, but I always miss it when they’re gone. It’s not the same, but I get that.”

As the line moved forward, she told him more about her sister’s kids and their antics. Marcus found himself smiling and laughing more than he had outside of a call with Missy in… months. Longer? He didn’t want to think about it, not when he was caught up in feeling like this instead.

By the time they reached the front of the line, he was only wishing they had more time.

She hesitated when it was almost her turn to step up to the counter. “Did you get your coffee maker fixed?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think it’s fixable, and honestly it deserves to rest. It lived a long life.”

She laughed and then bit her lip. It drew his eyes like a magnet.

“So, will I see you again tomorrow?” She looked hopeful and he wanted so badly to read into it.

“I think so,” he agreed, smiling a bit shyly.

She grinned at him. “Good.”

He carried the memory of that grin with him through the rest of the day, until Rob managed to weasel the whole story out of him over lunch. He told his friend about the way they’d met and how she’d been standing inside the door that morning.

But somehow telling it to someone else had Marcus second guessing the whole thing.

“I’m probably just imagining it.” He was standing with Rob in the hall by his office, coming back from lunch, wishing it had never come up.

“Well, I think you should go back and you should talk to her again.” Rob furrowed his brow at Marcus and poked him in the arm.

Marcus frowned and brushed his hand away. “Rob, she’s probably not interested.”

His friend frowned back, exaggerating the expression until it was comical. “Sounded like she was. Why wouldn’t she be?”

Marcus shook his head and grimaced. “Why would she be? I’m a sad, boring, almost 50-year old man who does nothing but go to work and wait for his daughter to call him. I’m not delusional, ok, I know no one wants to deal with that. Especially not someone like her.”

Rob sighed. He reached out and grabbed Marcus’ shoulders and squeezed. “Marcus. Listen to me. You are a smart, funny, and caring man who loves his daughter and his friends. You deserve more, ok? Tell me you know that.”

Marcus shook his head. “Know what?”

“That it’s not a delusion to think you deserve to be loved.”

“Loved?” Marcus shook his head and tried not to scoff. “We’re just talking about someone I met at a coffee shop.” He ignored that his heart had started to beat just a bit faster when he thought about her, just like it had in The Bean Box when she’d touched his arm. And when she’d smiled at him, looking so hopeful that she’d see him again.

Rob raised his eyebrows. “Someone you can’t stop thinking about, and who flirted with you and got you out of your shell. Right?”

Marcus sighed.

“Marcus,” Rob said, voice careful, and Marcus knew what was coming next. “Is this about Melissa? I–”

He shook his head, interrupting. “No, I mean, not really. You know I’ve gone on dates, well, a while ago. It’s just…” He closed his eyes. “It’s been so long, and since Missy left for college, I’ve just been…” he trailed off, looking for the right word. “Asleep, I think. It’s so quiet. Every day is the same.”

Marcus opened his eyes to find his best friend frowning at him.

“I get it. But it sounds like this shook you out of that routine, right?” Marcus sighed. “Marcus, look, just– promise me you won’t just dismiss it, ok? Give it a chance.”

He wanted to scrub his hands over his eyes but Rob was still holding his shoulders. “How do I do that?”

Rob shrugged. “You’ve already run into her twice. Just keep going back. See what happens.”

Marcus closed his eyes and finally broke out of his friend’s hold. He leaned against the wall behind him. “Ok. Ok, I can do that.”

Rob let out a long breath, clearly relieved. “Good. And just let yourself enjoy it, ok? I know you know how to flirt. Even if you’re rusty.”

Marcus rolled his eyes and shoved Rob back a bit. “Yeah, yeah. I thought you wanted me to go back, huh? Stop making me nervous.”

Rob waved his hand, laughing. “You’re already nervous. But I’ve seen you flirt, man, even if it’s been a minute. I believe in you.”

At least someone did.

…

On Wednesday, Marcus woke up with his alarm, and immediately felt nervous.

He paused in front of his closet, actually looking at his clothes for the first time in a long time. Should I wear this shirt? Or a sweater? He hesitated, cursed himself for wasting time, and then grabbed the next shirt and slacks, as always.

He walked straight past his kitchen on his way to his car, only glancing at the clock. 08:14 AM.

Missy 08:17 AM: are you going to the Bean Box again 08:18 AM: have I created a monster

Marcus 08:27 AM: just pulled up 08:27 AM: I’ll eat a scone for you

Missy 08:28 AM: mail me one 🙏

Marcus 08:29 AM: counter offer: I’ll buy you one when you’re home next

Missy 08:29 AM: deal

Marcus was smiling at his phone as he opened the door into the coffee shop, belatedly looking up at his surroundings after he stepped inside. He didn’t see her and started to frown.

“Let me guess – your daughter?”

He turned to find her behind him, leaning against the high table by the door. She gestured at his phone with a smile. He nodded. “How’d you know?”

She stepped closer and looked down at his phone. “You were smiling at it as you walked in.”

He couldn’t help but smile again. “She asked me to mail her a scone.”

She laughed and Marcus watched the way it changed her face. Beautiful.

“Would it survive?” She grinned and fell into step next to him in the line for coffee.

He shook his head. “No, but I promised I’d buy her one next time she’s home.”

“When’s that?”

“Spring break.”

She frowned sympathetically. “So far away! That’s too bad.”

Marcus sighed, agreeing. “It is, but it helps knowing that she’s having such a great time.”

She looked thoughtful and nudged Marcus with her shoulder. He felt himself flush. “You know, you could look up coffee shops near her campus and buy her a gift card or something. Somewhere similar. Probably better than mailing a scone.”

He blinked, surprised. That was a good idea. “I…” he trailed off. “That’s–”

“Sorry,” she interrupted, wincing. “I didn’t mean–”

“No,” he said, not wanting her to apologize. He touched his fingertips lightly to her arm – she was wearing short sleeves, and the touch of his skin against hers deepened his flush. His fingertips started to tingle and he felt his heart start to beat faster in his chest. “I was going to say, that’s a great idea. Thank you.”

She grinned at him and leaned forward, which brought her arm more in contact with his hand. Suddenly he found himself with a light hold on her forearm, gripping it gently. He stroked his thumb across her skin before he even realized what he was doing.

“I was worried I’d overstepped,” she said without moving away from him.

Marcus shook his head, momentarily speechless at the feel of her skin and the knowledge that she hadn’t pulled away.

“No,” he murmured. “I’m definitely going to do that. She’ll love it.”

For a moment he didn’t move, and neither did she. He noticed the line moving out of the corner of his eye but didn’t do anything about it until the person behind them in line cleared their throat.

Startled, he stepped forward, losing contact with her arm. She was still smiling at him as she turned.

“You know,” he said, wishing he could reach out to touch her hand. “I never asked what brings you here every day.”

She hummed. “Well the coffee, of course,” she winked at him, “but I also work from here most mornings. I like the atmosphere, and all of my meetings are in the afternoon.”

He nodded, thinking that sounded nice. “So if I were to keep up my new coffee habit, you’d be here in the mornings?”

She turned towards him then and he leaned closer.

“Yep,” she agreed. “Most days. Maybe you could stick around sometime.” She raised her eyebrows but he sighed.

“I can’t,” he said, looking down. “Have to be in the office.”

Her face fell and he felt something twist inside his chest. She opened her mouth to reply but he interrupted. He didn’t want her to feel like that, not when he was feeling like this.

“Maybe we could,” his voice came out a bit strangled and he cleared his throat. “Maybe we could have dinner sometime instead?”

Marcus watched as her face transformed from disappointed to hopeful. He smiled.

“I’d like that, Marcus.”

…

Marcus couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date, it had been so long.

(That was a lie – he just didn’t want to remember, it had gone so badly. But it had been years – he was pretty sure Missy had been in middle school at the time.)

He spent way too long staring at his clothes and trying to ignore Rob’s encouraging texts. He settled on dark jeans and a sweater. When his phone pinged again, he finally looked down to check it.

Rob (5:37 PM): Corina says wear the dark green sweater (5:38 PM): I don’t even know which sweater she’s talking about but I assume you do

Marcus looked down and laughed. He had, in fact, chosen the dark green sweater.

Marcus (5:41 PM): tell her I am and that I had the same idea

Rob (5:43 PM): she says good choice and have a great time (5:44 PM): I mean, me too

Marcus smiled as he walked downstairs. He was glad for the support, but he knew he looked good in this sweater. It was one of the few purchases he’d made in recent years just because he liked the way it looked.

He got in the car and headed towards the restaurant where they’d agreed to meet. It was a short drive but he could feel himself getting more and more nervous the closer he got.

After he parked, he stopped and took a deep breath. He thought of Melissa, as he’d done quite a bit since he met the beautiful woman in the coffee shop. It had been so long since they’d lost her, and he’d had quite a bit of time to think about dating again. This wasn’t even his first try.

But it always made him a little wistful. He took a moment to think about what she’d say – probably something about how his arms looked in the sweater. The thought made him laugh and shake his head. He got out of the car.

She was waiting by the door, and she was stunning.

…

You tried not to fidget as you stood by the door to the restaurant. It was a place your coworker had recommended, but you’d never been. Your nerves had driven you to arrive ten minutes early and now you had nothing to do but wait, and think of the gorgeous man you were waiting for.

And he really was gorgeous. You’d known that from the moment he’d turned around after you’d almost knocked him over in your favorite coffee shop – a memory that made your cheeks burn, even now, you’d been so embarrassed. He was tall with a jawline that made you want to bite, shoulders that were so broad you needed to get your hands on them, and warm brown eyes that had so much feeling in them, it took your breath away.

And then he’d smiled at you, and helped you with your things. And flirted. And then he’d come back, and kept coming back. For coffee, of course, but also to talk to you.

Every time he walked into The Bean Box, he looked around, looking for you. And when he saw you, his face lit up. You couldn’t help but smile just thinking about it.

How is he single? It was a question you’d been wondering about all week. You figured it was probably because he was a single dad, and his daughter had just gone to college. But at the same time you couldn’t comprehend that no one had locked this gorgeous, thoughtful, funny, caring man down. Their loss, you thought, and smiled again.

At that moment you looked up, and caught sight of Marcus getting out of his car. Your smile stretched into a grin.

“Hello there,” he said, smiling as he walked closer to you. “You look stunning this evening.”

You looked him over and tilted your head. “So do you, in that sweater.”

He blushed and you bit your lip. It was so charming when he did that.

“Ready for dinner?” he asked, and when you nodded he turned to guide you inside. You felt his hand come up to rest on your lower back. It was big and warm, just as warm as it had been when he’d held your arm. You shivered.

The restaurant had a table waiting for you, and you turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He smiled and shrugged. “I called two days ago when you said yes to dinner.”

The table they led you to was cozy – tucked in a corner with a window, a romantic candle flickering in the center. When you sat, you realized a couple of plants hid you from the rest of the room.

“Cozy,” you said, smiling.

Marcus nodded. “My best friend has brought his wife here, says it’s fantastic. And romantic.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, reaching out to nudge his hand where it rested on the table. “Romantic, huh?”

Marcus looked suddenly unsure, which made you slide your hand over his and squeeze. “Is that alright?”

You nodded. “It’s more than alright, Marcus. It’s perfect.”

He smiled again, and the two of you settled into an easy conversation about your weeks, about his daughter, and about your work. It flowed just as comfortably as it had at the coffee shop and you felt the warmth that Marcus had kindled inside of you from the first moment start to burn again. It carried you through dinner.

You watched his face as he talked and couldn’t help but marvel again at how handsome he was. He seemed to notice your focus and smirked a bit. “What?”

“Hmm?” you blinked, eyes snapping back to meet his.

He reached across the table and laced his fingers with yours. “I was just wondering what you were thinking.”

Your face warmed but you wanted to tell him, anyway. “Just got distracted by how handsome you are.”

Marcus blushed again and you grinned. “Really?” he looked doubtful, and you couldn’t have that.

“Oh yes,” you said, leaning towards him. “Not for the first time. You know how hard it was not to stare, in the coffee shop?”

He laughed and picked up your hand. He leaned forward, too, and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. You bit your lip at the sensation of his lips against your skin. “Me?” he asked, smiling against your knuckles. “What about you? You’re so beautiful I couldn’t take my eyes off you. And then you smiled, and well.” He kissed your knuckles again. “Still can’t look away from you, even if I wanted to.”

For a moment you just stared at each other, smiling.

“Marcus,” you started, lifting your fingers to press against his jaw. He held on, but let you turn your hand until you could cup his cheek. “Do you want to come home with me?”

He blinked, clearly surprised. “I–” He swallowed, looking nervous. “It’s been a while, since…” he trailed off. “It’s been a while,” he repeated, smiling shyly.

You traced his cheekbone with your thumb. “There’s no rush,” you promised. You leaned a little closer and he leaned in to meet you. “I just want you to kiss me, Marcus,” you murmured, and watched his pleasure at that idea take over his handsome face. “And then we can just see where it takes us. No rush, no pressure.”

His eyes darkened as he smiled, a new sort of smile you hadn’t seen before. It made you press your thighs together under the table. “No rush,” he repeated, “but I’ve been wanting to kiss you, too,” he said, voice low and warm. He moved to stand. “Let’s go.”

…

Marcus stepped up close behind you at your door, and you smiled at the feeling of his warm body almost touching yours. His hand came to rest on your waist and you shivered.

You finally managed to unlock the door and he followed you in.

So quickly it made your head spin, Marcus turned and pressed you up against the inside of your door. you gasped. His chest was just as broad and firm as you’d thought, and he held you easily in place, right where he wanted you. You marveled at his sudden confidence – it looked very good on him.

“Hi there, beautiful,” he murmured, looking down at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you breathed. Before you could say anything else, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

Marcus’s lips were warm, and soft, and his kiss was slow and gentle. It seeped into you and you felt his warmth light you up from the inside.

Your hands found his hips and you tugged him forwards until your bodies were touching from shoulder to knee. He moaned lightly, into your mouth, and suddenly his kiss wasn’t so gentle anymore.

It was fierce. Your head was spinning as you opened your mouth to him and felt his tongue stroke along yours.

His thigh came to rest between yours and you shivered.

“Marcus,” you sighed, breaking the kiss. He pressed soft kisses along your cheek and jaw before he let his head drop to your shoulder.

“You feel perfect against me, you know that?” His voice sounded almost hoarse, and you wrapped your arms around his waist. His sweater was soft and it made you smile. His right hand was flat against the door by your head but his left came up to cup your jaw and neck. “Shit, sweetheart. You’re perfect.”

You pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “I’m not perfect,” you laughed.

He shook his head against your shoulder. “Feels pretty perfect.” He thrust his hips forward and pressed his thigh against you more firmly. You moaned.

You felt Marcus huff a small laugh against your shoulder and pulled back to eye him. “What?”

He was smiling. “It’s nothing.” He shook his head as you raised your eyebrow, still confused. “I was just thinking how lucky I am that my coffee machine broke that day. Never would have met you, otherwise.”

You felt your face relax as you smiled back and leaned in for another soft kiss. “Sounded like it was on its last legs, from what you told me.”

He laughed again, and you grinned. “It was. RIP, Mr. Coffee, and thank you for your timely death.”

You hummed. “I like to think I would have found you, anyway. Maybe on another day at the Box.”

Marcus pressed forward and buried his face in your neck again. You felt his soft kisses working their way down to your shoulder and shivered. “Yeah? How?”

You shrugged and he nipped at your shoulder. “Just feels right, you know? I felt it the moment I met you.” You leaned your head to the side and he took advantage, worrying a mark at the spot where it met your shoulder. It made you squirm and his grip on you tightened. “Like I’d found something I’d been looking for, and didn’t even know it.”

He lifted his head again and the look in his eyes made your breath catch in your throat. “I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart. You woke me up when you almost knocked me over.” He grinned, teasing you.

“What do you mean?” You lifted one of your hands and let your fingers trail through his hair.

He leaned into it, smiling. “I’ve been… asleep. Living the same day, over and over again. And then I met you, and it’s like I’m awake for the first time since Missy left. Before that, probably.” He leaned forward and kissed you, gently. “You woke me up,” he repeated. You smiled, surprised and pleased that you’d had such an effect on him, too.

Marcus kissed you again, and for a while after that there wasn’t a lot of talking. You could only manage his name, and please, and don’t stop.

He didn’t.

...

a/n: 🥰

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x f!reader #marcus moreno fanfiction #marcus moreno #pedro pascal character fanfiction #x reader #awake fic

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year ago

Text

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

part 1 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - you begin to spiral as you are betrayed by the two people in your life, causing you to question if everything was a lie.

warning - ANGST, !SMUT BUT CHEATING!, heavily detailed cheating, heartbreak, betrayal, bad thoughts, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 2

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Do you remember the pain of your crush rejecting you? The pain of a man you like, liking someone else? The pain of your boyfriend leaving you for someone else? Or the pain that you feel when you find out your partner is cheating on you? The pain that only love seems to cause. Because you know that pain extremely well, that pain has only embraced you recently. Like a flame wrapping around your body, slowly slithering inside of you, and burning your insides. That afternoon STILL haunts you, no matter how many times you try to push it out of your mind; the thoughts, the touches, the feel, the smell, everything is still so alive and killing you inside. It was the day you understood how powerful love could be if used improperly. You understood why so many people were afraid, why so many protected themselves against it. Some people don’t change… They just find new ways to lie.

Your best friend, Sarah, who you had known since you both were five, your mum’s having met while watching you on the playground, watching how you both clicked. Your bond had only grown stronger the older you got. Had come into town after having planned to hang out for much needed girl time and you had invited her to stay at yours and Johnny’s house.

You were rushing around the house ensuring that everything was set up, even though Johnny had told you everything was done. You huff. “Baby, are you sure everything is ready and perfect?” You asked your husband, your fingers entangled with one another from nerves as you played with them.

Your husband was Johnny Storm, famous ex–playboy. When you had met him. He was annoying, he was hilarious, he was the world’s biggest arsehole, he made you want to scream, he would ruin your day and save it at the last minute, he drove you crazy, he was out of his mind, you hated his guts, and he was everything you wanted. Somehow, you made it work. You had thought he changed.

Johnny grins, pulling you into him causing you to sink into his hold. “Yeah, babe. It’s going to be fine. Why are you stressing so much?”

You shrugged, biting on your bottom lip. “I haven’t seen her in a while. I just want everything to be perfect. I want her to feel at home.” Oh, how those words would come back to bite you on the arse.

He kisses the top of your head, “She will, babe. Don’t worry.”

Once everything was sorted and checked about twenty times. You hear a car pull up and quickly head towards the door and as you swing it open, arms wrap around you and pull you into a hug. You both squeal, squeezing each other. Your chin rests on her shoulder, eyes closed and smiling. Yet, her eyes were open and set on your husband with a smirk. You pull back, smiling brightly as she mimics yours. “I’ve missed you so much! I’m so glad you could make it!”

Sarah licks her lips, eyes flickering over to Johnny’s before going back to yours. “I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity!” You didn’t know that her words seemed to have a double meaning. You helped her with her bags, leading her over to the guest room which is next to yours and Johnny’s. The two of you chatting away as you catch up, your voice filled with such happiness, such pure joy.

The afternoon rolled around, and you both decided to start getting ready, after spending the day in the pool before dinner, you both desperately needed to wash the chlorine off. You let her shower first while you picked out your outfits, once she was done, a small towel tightly wrapped around her body. You headed into the bathroom, her close behind so that she could do her makeup. It had become a routine that you had grown used to growing up together. Neither of you were bothered by it.

You stripped once you had turned the shower on and ensured it was hot enough, when it was, you got in, the heat caused steam to coat the glass, making it foggy and hard to see through. You could only make out blurry shapes and Sarah’s fuzzy figure. You decided to take a longer shower, dinner wasn’t until later and you wanted to make sure everything was properly shaved, washed, and rinsed.

You were so zoned out while lathering yourself with soap that you didn’t notice Johnny sneaking into the bathroom and standing behind your best friend. His arms moved around her body as he began pressing kisses onto her exposed flesh. He pressed his bulge into her towel covered arse, groaning quietly. Sarah leans back into him, covering her mouth as he bends her over the counter slightly, lifting one of her legs onto it. “Keep doing your makeup, babygirl.” Johnny grunts quietly, running his fingers through her soaked cunt.

You moved under the water, sighing as it hit you, watching the soap roll of your body. Johnny’s head turns as he checks to make sure you haven’t noticed. His hand strokes up and down his hardened member before he slides into your best friend’s cunt. His gaze turns back to hers, watching as her mouth falls open. He smirks, thrusting all the way in as he leans close, whispering into her ear, making sure to keep their eyes connected. “You missed feeling me inside you, didn’t you? You’ve gotten so fucking tight, such a good girl for me.” She moans softly, rocking back into him. Johnny bites his lip as his thrusts pick up, the rush of being caught fucking his wife’s best friend makes him so fucking hard. He wondered if you would catch them, wondered how you’d react.

His eyes roll back at the thought, hands gripping Sarah’s hips tightly as he pounds into her harder. “Fuck, babygirl. I’m gonna fuck you so much while you’re here. Gonna pump you so full, make up for lost time.” One hand leaves her hip and moves up to her hair, gripping a fistful, pulling her back against him, she still tries to apply her makeup as he fucks into her harder and faster. Her eyes flutter, desperately trying to make sure she doesn’t screw up anything, her mouth falls open as Johnny begins to pound into her sweet spot, her hand drops and she grips onto the counter, pushing back into him, meeting his thrusts. “What a little slut.” He grips her hair tighter, nipping a sensitive spot on her neck, groaning when he feels her tighten around him. “You like getting fucked by your best friend’s husband while she’s in the room, huh? Like being my dirty girl?”

Their heads snap over when you open the shower door slightly, their movements not stopping, Johnny only fucks into her faster, a shiver rushing through him at the thought of your eyes connecting with theirs, watching him ruin your childhood friend.

You grab a small cloth to rub some shampoo out of your eyes, not noticing the two in the room. You close the door and go to continue your shower until a moan cut through the air. Your brows furrow, wondering if you imagined it or if someone really did moan. Your question is answered as the moan is followed by a muffled shut up and you begin to focus on the glass, squinting to try and see who is making the noise.

Johnny growls lowly, his hand covers Sarah’s mouth, cupping it roughly as he fucks into her faster. His other hand slides between her and the counter before finding her swollen clit, rubbing it. Their eyes focused on each other’s as he rests his chin on her shoulder. He fucks and looks at her so intimately, more intimately than his own wife. Johnny’s thrusts become rougher and sloppier as he feels his end approaching. He had missed her sweet, tight cunt. Leaning forward, he whispers. “You better fucking take my cum and keep it in you while you are with my wife, I want to see it still there when I come into your room tonight. Understand, slut?” Sarah whimpers, fucking herself onto him as she nods.

Your eyes widen and tears immediately fill them as you see the figures through the glass. You had wiped some of the steam off only to see your husband fucking your best friend and your hand shoots up quickly to cover your mouth as you try and muffle the sob that tries to escape. You couldn’t pull your eyes away, no matter how much you wanted to. It was like watching a car wreck, you wanted to look away but no matter what your eyes would not stray. You felt sick, your stomach twisted and your heart broke. They didn’t seem to care that you were in the same room, that you could catch them at any moment. You DID catch them…

Johnny grunts, fucking deep into her soft cunt. He feels his tip twitch and his balls tighten, she felt like heaven to him. “I’m going to cum, babygirl. You gonna be a good girl and obey me?” She nods and he lets go, burying his cock deep inside of her, his cum spurting out and painting her walls white. His head falls back, cock still twitching as cum continues to leak from his tip, his hand still rubbing her clit as she cums around him, squeezing his thick cock with her tight walls. With a groan, he slides out of her and tucks himself away. “Good girl.”

Sarah spins around and smiles, she gets on her tippy toes and places a rough kiss on his lips, as though she was claiming what was hers. His arms wrap around her, pulling her closer as he deepens the kiss. Johnny pulls back, smiling down at her with a look not even you had seen. With a wink, he leaves the bathroom and Sarah rushes to fix herself, trying to make it look like nothing happened while you sit broken on the shower floor.

You pull your knees close to your chest as silent sobs slip from your lips and your eyes close. You couldn’t get the image out of your head, them fucking and kissing was engraved into your brain. You don’t want to think about it, but you know deep down that this was probably not the first time, especially with how comfortable and familiar they already seemed with each other. Your throat clenches as the need to throw up hits you, you gulp as you try to stop it.

“Hey! You nearly done? We gotta get ready or we’re gonna be late!” Sarah’s voice cuts through the rushing water and the tower of thoughts filling your mind.

“Y–” You clear your throat, trying to get rid of the quiver that attaches itself to your voice. “Yeah!” You reply, not having the strength to say anything else. You watch through the glass as she leaves the bathroom, probably to get dressed or fuck your husband again. The thought causes another wave of tears to fall, how had your life turned upside down so fast? You quickly finish up, not daring to go close to the area they were. You could see there was some cum still on the floor and it had made you feel like throwing up again. You couldn’t bother with makeup at this point, you hurriedly got out of that room and into your bedroom.

You could hear the game on downstairs as well as Johnny’s shouts, so you guessed that he was down there and your supposed best friend was here, in your room… Where you sleep next to your husband, falling asleep to whispered, ‘I love you’s’. The clothes you had picked out for her were already on and showing off an extreme amount of skin. You could’ve sworn those clothes were bigger. “Finally! How do I look?” She turns, hands on her hips.

You had to pull yourself out of your thoughts when she spoke, you could feel yourself slipping. You swallow and nod your head. “...Great.” How were you supposed to act around her now? She was staying for the weekend, and it seemed they probably weren’t going to stop. Was this why Johnny hadn’t slept with you since your wedding? Your eyes widened as you thought back, you hoped your thoughts were wrong, prayed even. “Uh… I might have to cancel for tonight.” You cough, hands falling to your stomach as you put on your well–practiced sick face, you had to play it out that you felt sick. Which wasn’t really a lie… “I think I might’ve come down with something… Or the food I ordered last night might’ve not been so good…”

Sarah pouts. “Well, that sucks.” She looks down at her clothes. “I don’t really want this outfit to go to waste though, do you mind–?” You shake your head, wanting, NEEDING her to leave. If it were any other situation, you would’ve questioned her selfishness and lack of care, but it really just made sense on why she was fucking your husband. Your grip on your towel tightened as you held it closer to you, following her out as she leaves. You didn’t miss the way Johnny looked at her or how she smirked at him. Has it always been like this? Were you really that blind? You quickly utter a bye before hurrying past your husband without sparing him a look.

But you weren’t so lucky. “Aren’t you supposed to be going with her?” He had followed you, watching as you slipped your pyjamas on. You didn’t like him seeing you naked, not that you now knew you weren’t the only one. You hadn’t looked at him once, but he didn’t seem to care.

“I… I felt sick so she went herself.” You chewed on your bottom lip to the point it began to bleed, but before Johnny could see, you sucked your lip into your mouth. You crawled into your bed, suddenly feeling dirty as you peered down at it. Had he brought others into it? Was it tainted like your marriage? You quickly shook off the thought and laid down, curling into the mattress, and pulling the blankets closer to you. You needed to think and cry, you didn’t know what to do. Your life had just been flipped upside down and you had no one else, where would you go if you left him? Have other wives felt this? Had they stayed until they had things sorted or left and figured it out on the way? Johnny nods, shrugging before he leaves. How could he switch up so fast? You didn’t sleep with each other, but he still at least gave you a kiss or made it seem like he cared. Was it all an act until she got here? Or did he care but she had clouded his mind?

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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cllightning81 · 6 months ago

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Tractors and Christmas Lights

Summary : Oscar is due for an event at your dads farm and its time to come clean

Pairing/s: Oscar Piastri x Clarkson!Reader

Word Count : 1.8k

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You met Oscar during Silverstone in 2023. His first year on the grid and your first race that year. When your dad asked what you thought of Oscar, you just responded with ‘He’s a cool kid’. Trying to play it cool to your dad even though you and Oscar had spoken a lot that weekend and even shared numbers with the promise of meeting up, and that’s what you did.

During his break after the Silverstone Grand Prix and his meetings at the MTC, you met up with Oscar a couple of times getting to know the young man before he asked you out for real to be his girlfriend. From there your dates slowed down, racing threw him into tough double and triple headers and for a while, it was the end of farming season and Diddly Squat Farm Shop wasn’t closing down just because your dad had nothing to harvest after the harvesting season was done. While your dates slowed down, one thing that never did was your communication.

Driving the tractor around the fields harvesting the wheat and whatever else your dad and Kaleb had planted texting Oscar one-handed, or helping out in the shop texting Oscar as you restocked the shelves despite the dirty looks from the older customers that only came because of the show. It was safe to say you were as close as ever even from the other side of the world.

The topic of you and Oscar just never showed up in conversations with your dad or Kaleb, who at this point had just become another older brother but just more annoying than Finlo because you saw him more often.

That was until Mclaren called, wanting Oscar to come do a thing with Clarkson’s Farm. Obviously, your dad, being a massive F1 fan and wanting new PR, agreed. Just like he agreed to go to Alpine and celebrate there.

Now here you were rolling your eyes as the McLaren pulled up through the farm, you couldn’t roll your eyes considering that you were the one that most often drove that Lambo tractor your dad bought when he first needed a tractor.

You leaned against the sign watching him as he got out of the car looking around at the farm. You could see his smile spread as he spotted you standing against the sign. Walking over to you as he looked you up and down

“Morning Mr Piastri” You smirked, pushing yourself off the sign. It was early in the morning, and no one was about at the moment except your dad who’d left you in charge so he could go have some breakfast.

“Morning Miss Clarkson” He hummed as you reached forward, holding his hand

“Ready for a fun day on the farm?” You asked, looking down at your sheepdog who decided to check out the new visitor who’d shown up

“Who’s this?” Oscar asked, crouching down to clap her

“This is Lassie. I’m currently training her to herd the sheep so dad doesn’t have to keep doing it” You smiled

“Been teaching her F1 tricks like that one pup did the other week?” He asked, and you shrugged a little

“Stand up and open your legs just wide enough for her to slide in” You directed, and he nodded, doing as told. You stood in front of Oscar a treat in hand at her eye level

“Lassie red flag” you directed, and she instantly moved in between Oscar’s legs, looking up at him for her treat, which you handed to him.

“You taught her red flag?” He asked, and you nodded

“And box box obviously” You chuckled. Lassie ran off to the farm shop following your instructions and going to her bed. Oscar frowned as you chuckled, watching her run away

“Where’s she off to?” He asked

“Her bed. The box box is bed. I also taught her green flag instead of okay” You smiled, clearly proud of yourself as Oscar laughed at you. You wrapped your arms around him for a hug before pulling back and looking him up and down.

“We need to get you changed” You hummed, walking away, allowing him to follow behind you as you walked into the farmhouse where you tend to stay during birthing season. Oscar looked about his curiosity peaking as he looked at your ‘second home’.

“This is where Kaleb and I tend to stay during birthing season just so that we’re close to the animals” You explained, walking to the room you claimed as your own, finding some suitable clothes for Oscar

“So I think dad’s plan is to basically just get you driving a tractor. I don’t think he has anything else planned” You shrugged, and he nodded, taking the clothes you offered him before you sat down on your bed. Oscar got changed as you looked at your phone texting your dad to update him.

“So I get to see your life now” He smirked, turning around to you as you looked him up and down.

“You do except not really” You shrugged, getting up and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down to your height. Pressing your lips against his own as he smirked into the kiss

“We should confess today when there’s lots of cameras about” You whispered against his lips

“So our confession will be on camera?” he asked, and you shook your head

“No, obviously not. However, he can’t react badly” You hummed, and he frowned

“But your dad won’t react badly either way” He counted, and you shrugged

“That’s true” You hummed, pressing your lips against his again as his hands threaded through your hair. The moment with Oscar was nice. There was no one around to judge, and you were able to just relax with him.

An hour later, Kaleb and your dad had Oscar in the tractor, trying to reverse it into the shed. It was stressing you out. Your poor tractor is driven backwards by someone who only drives forward at high speeds. While he wasn’t doing a bad job at reversing it in, he also wasn’t doing the best job.

Lassie happily stood in between your legs, her tail wagging and slapping against your thighs. You couldn’t keep watching Oscar attempt to reverse the tractor, so we walked back into the farm shop to get everyone a cup of tea, Lassie happily walked alongside you.

By the time you returned with the four cups of tea, Oscar had finally managed to get the tractor into the shed and was now talking with Kaleb and your dad. Lassie, assuming it was her time to go into the tractor, jumped in next to Oscar, laying at his feet. You handed out the cups with a smile as Oscar continued to sit in the tractor.

“At least it wasn’t dad’s tractor” You joked with Kaleb, who couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Oscar frowned, looking over

“What’s the difference between the tractors?” He asked, and you looked up at him

“Dad’s is a lambo” You shrugged, and Oscar’s eyes widened

“Please tell me you’re joking” He replied as both you and Kaleb shook your head, taking a sip of tea

“He was looking at buying a Ferrari tractor. Maybe you should tell Zak to make Mclaren tractors” You shrugged, setting your tea down to the side to throw the ball for Lassie.

When the farm shop had shut for the night, you couldn’t help but smile knowing that you now got to go away with Oscar after telling your dad about the relationship. Walking down the stairs with your bag in hand to find not only your dad sat there but Kaleb as well.

“Where are you of too?” Kaleb asked as you shrugged

“Just meeting up with someone” you replied as Kaleb raised an eyebrow, tilting his head

“Would that be your boyfriend?” He asked, and you nodded slightly, biting your lip as your dad’s head picked up

“Ohh do we know him?” He asked obviously, just wanting to be nosey

“You met him earlier” you replied, glancing between the two of them as Kaleb started laughing, and your dad groaned, throwing his head back

“What?” you asked

“Mr Clarkson owes be twenty quid” Kaleb laughed as your own eyes widened.

“You bet on my relationship?” You asked quietly

“Not on your relationship just who it was” your dad replied as you nodded slightly, slowly backing away

“Okay well bye” you hummed quickly, rushing out the door and over to Oscar’s McLaren, which was parked at the main gate as he waited on yours. Quickly settling yourself into the nice warm car after the cold English weather had hit you

“Are you okay?” Oscar asked, turning to look at you

“Kaleb and my dad bet on who I was dating” you replied. Looking at him, it was Oscar’s turn to laugh, which made you laugh, finally easing into the situation. Driving with Oscar on the long drive back to his house was relaxing, the casual conversation, the silent moments. It was just what you needed.

When you arrived back at Oscars house, it was dark outside, the Christmas lights lighting up the streets along with the ones on the roof of his own house

“Aww didn't realise you were so into Christmas” You smiled, turning to look at him

“I have my secrets” he shrugged, taking your bag as he got out of the car. Following behind him with a smile.

As Oscar unlocked his front door, you couldn't help but look at all the Christmas decorations inside. The Christmas tree in the hall is decorated in red with warm white lighting. As you walked into his living room, you couldn't help but smile at his cosy decorations.

For someone who spent a lot of time away from home, it definitely felt like home. His tree in the living room is decorated with navy baubles, and this time, some cool white lights wrapping around the snowy branches.

“Your house is a lot cosier at Christmas” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist as he stood next to you. One of his arms wrapping around your shoulder to pull you closer to him

“There's a papaya christmas tree in my sim room” he shrugged, and you laughed, knowing it was true from the pictures he'd sent.

“I don't doubt that's where you put that tree” you smiled as he walked you both to the sofa to sit down.

You couldn't help but lay on top of him as he settled on the couch. Oscars arms wrapped around you as your head rested on his chest.

“I have the best Christmas present for you. Shame you've got to get it late” he sighed

“Actually now dad and Kaleb know we're dating, and you're spending Christmas day in the UK. I figured I'd take you up on your offer of staying Christmas eve” you smiled up at him.

Oscar smiled down at you, leaning down to press his lips to your own. It was a perfect way to spend a cold December night.

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#cllightning81 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #op81 x you #op81 fluff #op81 x reader #op81 fic #op81 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #oscar piastri x clarkson!reader

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vagabond-umlaut · 8 months ago

Text

what is the point of lukewarm love?

If I am not drowning in it, I have no desire for it.

Ⅰ. my beloved ghost and me

pairing: knight geto suguru x disgraced noble fem!reader tags: historical au; arranged marriage; slow burn; misunderstanding; arguments; kinda enemies to lovers; angst; drama; fluff; smut; hurt/comfort; eventual happy ending; MDNI; warning: ANGST, implied attempted sa (not to the mc), homicide, corruption; physical assault; abandonment issues; 1.7k wc notes: when i say this fic is the bane of my existence, i mean it in every sense of the term :) the chapter title is from here. the fic title and summary are from this post. the header is from pinterest. jjk isn't mine! please comment on the fic masterpost, or send me an ask, to be added to the taglist!! :))

Your husband is a callous man.

Disgustingly so.

But, of course, if you ever say the same to anyone else, they'll be certain to return you a scowl—not that they don't give you one now, but they'll make it much worse then—for how can you speak such ill of your husband: the oh-so-gallant, oh-so-chivalrous knight Sir Geto Suguru!?

Well, the thing is... first off, none of those outraged voices know the man as well as you do.

Secondly, and more importantly, none of them are you.

Born as the eldest daughter of one of the most prominent nobles in the Empire, you had always been told there was a golden future lying in wait for you. Elegant, graceful, refined—you grew up to be the epitome of each of these adjectives and so many more meaning the same. Something your parents and teachers adored you for, your peers resented you for, the general populace looked up to you for.

Long story short, your life was nothing less than wonderful.

But, as is the way with this world, good things seldom last long—yours too didn't.

The wandering hand of a noble.

The terrified screams of your maid.

The said noble's head rolling on the floor.

The pristine white of your gloves drenched in bright red, the same shade dripping from the sharp blade of a sword; that too, one which had always been an idle wall decoration...

Were the noble any lesser person, you know nothing would have happened. You did a right thing, after all, saving a poor helpless girl from the maws of a vile beast.

But no, he wasn't a lesser person.

He was the Emperor's little brother. Lecherous, yes, of course, no one could negate this; but he was His Majesty's youngest brother, eighth in line to the throne, which is why you weren't even taken to trial. The blood on your hands hadn't even dried before every title you owned were snatched away from you, and you were reduced from being one of the most highly regarded young ladies amongst the nobles to being a convicted criminal—

'Attempted theft of a royal jewel.'

'Harrassment of a member of the royal staff when they attempted to stop her.'

'Murder of a member of the Royal Family when they attempted to detain her.'

The story was changed, and with it thus twisted and distorted until not one letter of it was true, you were indeed nothing more than a convicted criminal—

A burden your parents waited not even a day before they decided to get rid of, before they decided to bedeck it in finery of the highest kind and send it to the slaughterhouse under the pretence of your hand being promised to Zenin Naoya.

You ran away.

Of course, you ran away.

Only to be spotted by one of your family's old servants, not even ten miles away...

What happened next is preserved very poorly in your memory—you remember reading in a book once, how one's mind tries to erase things too traumatic for them—but you do recollect the sheer panic and the utter desperation you felt as you were all but dragged back to the manor, you would swallow your tongue before calling it your home again. Oh, and, of course, the clinking of the thousand gold coins as your father awarded them to the man for his loyalty whilst your cheeks stung from the force of your mother's fury.

The Zenin heir cancelled the engagement within the next hour, claiming he had no desire to marry a disobedient wretch like you. When you scoffed and told your mother that neither did you have a wish to wed a cur like him, she slapped you again, drawing blood this time.

Your parents were prepared to disown you.

And you knew. And no matter how much it hurt, you were prepared to be disowned by them, prepared to leave and set out on a new path on your own—which is when your dearest husband entered the stage of your life, and without further ado, set it on fire—

Sir Geto Suguru, the paragon of virtue, so very darling to the Empire.

The envoy of death, so very terrifying to the enemies of the Empire.

The catalyst of your doom, so very dashing as he stood before your parents, the coal black of his hair and his eyes scintillant in the sun as he greeted them with a bow and a courteous smile—its keen shape perhaps not too unbecoming the sharpness of his mien, you thought absently, still blissfully ignorant to what lay in your future, as you stood behind your mother—

It took Geto all but a moment to stand upright and ask your father for your hand in marriage.

It took your blood less than a moment to freeze in your arteries.

Were it before, you know your parents would've rejected such a proposal in a heartbeat; your world and the knight's were far too different, too far apart. But that day, utterly devastated, utterly helpless, you watched them both nearly sob in relief as your mother nodded and your father brought your intended into a hearty embrace.

The wedding took place a day later in an extremely private function.

Not even a month after which, Geto received his transfer orders to some remote town by the sea.

And giving you a set of barely-intelligible, insultingly-perfunctory reasons, more like 'excuses', as to why you couldn't accompany him; you're his wife, for goodness' sake; he dropped you off at your in-laws' in the countryside—people who hadn't even deigned to attend their only son's wedding—

You don't dislike them, though.

You dislike your husband.

The man who, by marrying you, has made himself an angel donning a mortal skin, a person too good for the likes of anyone and everyone; most certainly, much too good for you.

The man who, by leaving you barely thirty days into your conjugal life, has made you even viler in the eyes of others than you can ever imagine it to be possible, believe it should be possible.

The man who has visited his home, his wife, only a handful of times in the last one year, that too only for a handful of hours each time, never staying for more than one day and the next morning.

The man who doesn't care enough to reply to your letters, let alone send you any, only sending his father enough money to feed a village and a curt letter saying he's well on the third day of every month, the words devoid of even the smallest mention of the person he married and brought to his home—

If one says you hate Geto, you will simply nod in response and not breathe one word in disagreement, you think as you wrap the blanket tighter round your shivering form and stare at the waning crescent in the pitch-black sky.

It's lonely.

The moon is rather lonely, you reckon, a faint frown creeping onto your lips...

But definitely not as acutely, as painfully as you are—

After all, the moon hasn't been forsaken by its friends, parents and husband, has it?

The moon isn't forced to endure pitiful glances and scathing glares throughout the day, is it?

The moon need not spend night after night, either sleepless or seeing nightmares where it is abandoned in an entirely new way, tossed aside in an incomparably worse way by others—does it?

No.

You suppose not.

A pathetic little sigh escapes you as you force yourself to relax beneath the warm weight of the blanket, gaze soon drifting from the sky outside the window to your hands, to the pretty little diamond sitting on your left hand—only to stiffen when you hear a pair of feet pad into the kitchen—

"Do you have a fever?" A familiar voice rings out, so sleepy yet so worried, so kind—that too for you out of all the people the concern could be for—you can't help but become a touch misty-eyed.

It's your mother-in-law.

Sometimes, you think she's the only person you won't mind calling family.

The only person who, you don't think you're wrong when thinking, won't mind you calling them family.

Trying to hide a sniffle, you shake your head, lips shifting into a small smile on their own when you can finally discern her in the almost darkness, "Um, no. I'm totally fine, thank you."

"Alright," she doesn't press you any more, choosing to pour herself a glass of water instead. You look away from her, focus shuffling away to rest on the orange lights of the distant houses and huts against the blue backdrop of the night, when a quiet call of your name reaches you.

You turn back, only to find your mother-in-law wearing a knowing smile. She suddenly looks a lot older than you know she actually is—you wonder how your mother is faring—

Is she happy now that her shame of a daughter is away and no longer besmirching the spotless reputation of the family? Or, does she miss her first child, her 'sunshine', living so many miles away from her?

You know better than to ponder over such questions; yeah, you know you do.

"Yes, Mother?" you ask; the aftertaste of the last word not as sour as it used to be in the early days of your marriage, you register absently all the while wondering why her smile appears to grow when you call her thus, "Is—"

"I've raised Suguru to be brave and true-hearted," she says, and you cannot help the way your form grows rigid at the mere mention of his name—nor the burn settling behind your eyes nor how your throat clogs up, words dying far before they're fully formed when the remainder of the sentence clicks into place in your brain—"He will return to you, darling. I'm sure of it."

Hours from now, you will wonder why your mother-in-law is telling you all this.

You will wonder why she thinks your sleepless nights are because of her son, especially when you haven't breathed even a syllable of your distress to anyone; least of all, to her.

You will wonder why she sounds so sure while she's reassuring you of your husband's return.

Hours from now, you will tear your brain apart and put the pieces back together, in search for answers to these and so many more questions.

But now, in this moment, you don't think.

You screw your eyes shut and bite your lip hard enough to taste blood, trying your damnedest not to cry—until you decide you're much too wounded, too too weary to put up a good front—

And you cry, and you cry, and you cry.

general masterlist

#geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #geto x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 13 days ago

Note

Hiiii! hope u having wonderful night/day <3

this request has been on my mind since Winter Soldier skin came on fortnite 👀 and new skin of Bucky have been realesed on Marvel Rivals

it would be boyfriend!Sebastian Stan x gamer!gf!reader

so basically reader plays video games all the time, while Bucky is away, she just loves to spend her time like this! Seb leaves for a week to film scenes to his film, while reader stays at their apartament. He cames back home and reader always runs to him to welcome him with hugs and kisses, but not right now, shes too focused on playing Winter Soldier skin in fortnite, Sebastian sees it and teases her about it 👀 i think it might be cute hahah

thank you xxx

Winter Soldier » Sebastian Stan

Pairings: Boyfriend!Sebastian Stan x Gamer/Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Sebastian sees the Winter Soldier on the game you’re playing and sees how focused you are on him and he teases you about it.

Warnings: Fluff, language, kissing, pet names

A/N: @ordelixx thank you for the lovely request🩵 I apologize if I get anything wrong, because I’ve never played Fortnite.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckyys-babydoll / divider made by me

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Gif credits go to the creators.

You always play video games. To you, you think they’re fun. Sebastian thinks it’s cute. He watches you play video games when he can. He even watches you play videos games on FaceTime. You tell him about the game you’re playing while you’re on FaceTime with him when he’s out of town. He loves seeing how concentrated you get. He loves it when you stick out the tip of your tongue when you’re concentrated. He thinks it’s cute.

You and Sebastian FaceTimed earlier. You told him about the game you were thinking about playing. That was earlier. Now you changed your mind about what game you want to play. You decided to scroll through the game options you have to see which one catches your eye the most.

“Ooh.” You say to yourself when a certain game caught your eye.

You clicked on Fortnite. You haven’t played that game in a while. A certain character in the game caught your eye. A new Winter Soldier skin.

“Well, hello there, Mr. Winter Soldier.” You grinned.

You clicked on the Winter Soldier in the game, checking out the new skin Fortnite has for him. It looks more updated. At least that’s what it looks like to you. It also looks interesting to you and you like it. You decided to play around with it. You were so focused on the Winter Soldier in Fortnite that you didn’t even hear your phone when Sebastian texted you, telling you that he’s on his way home. Usually, you text him back within 5 minutes, but you didn’t. Sebastian assumed that your phone was dead so he didn’t think much about it.

A while goes by and you’re still playing around with the Winter Soldier on Fortnite. You checked out all of the gadgets he has and everything the game gave him. Out of concentration, you stuck the tip of your tongue out of your mouth as you stared at the TV screen. You found everything about the Winter Soldier in Fortnite interesting. If you’re being honest, seeing the new Winter Soldier skin on Fortnite made your crush on the Winter Soldier grow even stronger than it was before you clicked on the game.

About an half hour goes by when Sebastian finally comes home. He was away filming for a week. You always greet him at the door with hugs and kisses, but this time you didn’t. He frowns to himself.

“Y/N, are you home?” Sebastian asks.

You didn’t answer him. You were too focused on the Winter Soldier. Sebastian heard you hum to yourself from the living room. He went to the living room to see you playing around on Fortnite. More specifically, playing around the Winter Soldier on Fortnite, which caught his eye.

“Is that the Winter Soldier on that game?” Sebastian asks.

“Yes.” You answered.

Sebastian put his bag on the floor next to the couch and sat down next to you.

“Are you going to greet me or not, sweetheart?” He jokes.

You paused the game and gave Sebastian a hug and a kiss. You two smiled against each other’s lips.

“So when were you going to tell me that the Winter Soldier is on this game?” Sebastian teasingly asks.

“I actually found out about it today.” You say.

You unpaused the game and showed him the features and gadgets Fortnite gave the Winter Soldier.

“I thought you were going to play that other game.” He says.

“I was, but then I changed my mind.” You say.

As you were playing around with the Winter Soldier on Fortnite again, Sebastian decided to tease you.

“So you have a crush on the Winter Soldier, huh?” Sebastian asks in a teasing voice.

“How did you know?” You asked playfully.

“You’re making it pretty obvious, sweetheart.”

You giggled as Sebastian continued to tease you.

“I may have watched Captain America: The Winter Soldier earlier.” You say.

“That explains it.” He says.

“Explains what?” You asked.

“You’re obsessed with the Winter Soldier.” He teases.

“You’re just now figuring that out?” You giggled.

You leaned over and kissed him softly.

“Should I be jealous that you’re in love with the Winter Soldier?” Sebastian jokingly asks.

“Why would you be jealous when I’m dating the man who plays the Winter Soldier?” You say, answering his question with a question.

“Good point.” He pecks your lips softly. “I love you, dragă.” He says softly.

“I love you too, Sebby.” You almost whispered.

-Bucky’s Doll

#sebastian stan #sebby stan #seb stan #boyfriend!sebastian stan #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan imagine #gamer!reader #girlfriend!reader

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shsl-hubris-guy · 1 year ago

Text

In-Depth Analysis On All The DR Characters Because What, Are You Gonna Try And Stop Me? Who Are You, My Mom? Yeah, I Didn't Think So- Part 2: Mondo Owada

So yeah, I decided to do Mondo's next. After all the material I ended up inadvertently collecting for him in my Taka analysis, it just made more sense to go ahead and get him out of the way, even if I'd rather go for my personal favorite characters first.

As noted previously, this analysis will only be using canon material. It'll primarily focus on the game and its english translation since that's what I'm most familiar with, but may also pull from the original Japanese, as well as the animation, stageplay, etc. If you aren't interested, just keep scrolling. Mondo fans, prepare some popcorn, and perhaps a tissue box since if you're anything like the Taka fans you may end up crying. You're welcome.

*Editing note, June 29, 2025: Reformatted things like headers & quotes for cleanup. No information or conclusions have been changed.

Part 1- Character Design

Mondo Owada is a delinquent character whose design pays homage to manga series Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable, and is modeled after its protagonist, Josuke Hikashigata. Mondo sports a massive pompadour and a modified uniform that mimics Josuke's, and is the leader of a biker gang called the Crazy Diamonds, a direct reference to Josuke's Stand, Crazy Diamond.

Due to leading this biker gang, he was given the title of SHSL Gang Leader, or Ultimate Biker Gang Leader.

Part 2- Character Introduction

Most of Mondo's character introduction isn't actually from himself, but from the researching Makoto did prior to entering the school in-game. We know immediately that he's leader of the largest biker gang in Japan, and get a look into his public image via Makoto. Despite the fact that Mondo is being fairly chill with his greeting, Makoto remains terrified of him based off of reputation alone.

"I'd better be careful around him. One wrong word and I could wake up at the bottom of the sea..." -Makoto Naegi, prologue

However, we can quickly see that this reputation is built mainly on bravado, as when Monokuma first calls for the entrance ceremony, we can see Mondo begin to sweat, despite his claiming otherwise.

"Well hell, it ain't like I'm scared or nothin'. Let's just get this over with!" -Mondo Owada, prologue

He continues to sweat throughout Monokuma's explanation of the communal life, attempting to cover it up by yelling at the bear to let them out. We get a brief look at his more protective nature, as he purposefully puts himself between Hiro and Monokuma in order to confront him. We also quickly learn just how easily provoked he is.

Despite this provocation, he's not completely swept up in his rage, as he's able to listen to Kyoko's warning of the bomb and follows her advice- to throw it away- without hesitation. So our first real impression of him is that he's a short-tempered and intimidating- but well-intentioned- protector of sorts. He's not completely brainless; he's considerate of his classmates and their safety even when putting himself at risk.

Part 3- Early Game Development

Mondo is an interesting case, as he's a character that almost immediately looks directly into the camera and tells the player directly what their main motivation is. The only other character in this series that's as transparent about their goals so early in is Sayaka, and even then the game makes you ask for that information.

He tells us, in no uncertain terms, that keeping promises is the #1 most important thing to him. He also tells us indirectly how highly he values his family and personal connections, holding his brother's word as law. These combined with his talent being that of a gang leader all suggest a pack leader mentality, which is immediately confirmed by his anger at Byakuya for trying to separate from the group.

"Like hell I'm gonna let you run off and do whatever you want!" -Mondo Owada, ch 1

Not only is this loss of control upsetting to him, but he's then immediately provoked and called insignificant by Byakuya, leading him to lash out at the closest person in an attempt to regain that hold of power- which just so happens to be Makoto. Not only is this response irrational and violent, but it knocks out Makoto for 10-11 hours. Mondo is a leader, yes, but he's a gang leader, and his bite does match his bark.

Mondo's aggressive and fairly single-minded nature is made apparent when he continuously tries to break down the hatch in the main hall. Not only does he attempt to bust it open with Sakura on the first day, but he then returns to the hatch with Leon the following day, despite the fact he already admitted there was probably no way to open it from inside, and continues to check into the following chapter. He sees one possible way out, and zeroes in on it, just in case.

The game continues to double down on the irrational, defensive aspects of his character when Monokuma appears again to present the first motive. He again confronts Monokuma directly- pretending as if he knows who's piloting the bear for a fact("We know who you are!")- and attempting to intimidate him into letting them go. Once again, this demonstrates both his desire to protect himself and his classmates, and his unwavering confidence in the intelligence of said classmates, as Chihiro was the one to suggest the mastermind being Genocide Jack based only off her gut feeling. He then proceeds to immediately turn around and make Makoto be the one to go find the motive instead of going himself, getting extremely angry when Makoto doesn't instantly do as he's told.

"Hey... Hey hey hey hey hey... HEEEEEY!!! You see how passionately I'm begging you!? What's the big deal? Just check it out real quick!" -Mondo Owada, ch 1

He then calms down the second Makoto agrees.

It creates a sort of duality with his character between his more protective nature and his need to exert control, something the game makes a point to call out.

Part 4- Relationships

Mondo develops a fair number of relationships across his time in the game, to varying levels of importance- some antagonistic, some exceedingly complex. We'll go from least to most important to the overarching story.

4.1- Celeste

Celeste and Mondo are written in directly opposing ways, as while they're both fairly short-tempered, Celeste is much better at hiding it. It's by this logic that throughout the early game, oftentimes when Mondo starts to get riled up by the rules of the school and/or their circumstances, it's Celeste who ends up deescalating before he can explode, maintaining a facade of calm where he can't.

4.2- Sakuraoi

While not very touched upon, Mondo does end up developing a mutual respect for Sakura and Hina. When the class splits up to investigate the school on the first day, he joins the two of them in trying to find a way to get back to the outside, and he and Sakura work together to try and bust open the hatch in the main hall.

Hina's the one that stops Mondo from attacking Byakuya in the library, and when Chihiro begins to cry over Mondo saying that 'women are naturally weak anyway', it's Hina who calls him out for 'screaming like a lunatic.'

His relationship with Taka is also directly contrasted to Sakura's with Hina by Sakura herself.

"Friendship between men seems very simplistic. Nothing like what I'm used to with girls." "Yeah, for real..." -Sakura Ogami & Aoi Asahina, ch 2

It's an interesting comparison, considering both Sakura and Mondo end up dying and leaving the responsibility of failure on Hina and Taka.

4.3- Byakuya

Byakuya antagonizes Mondo more than once, first as they're splitting up to search the school, and again after the library opens. Both times he seems to take enjoyment from it, calling him unimportant more than once and refusing to even entertain the idea that he might die.

"So miniscule, so insignificant, [Mondo] couldn't possibly have any kind of influence on the boundless ocean." -Byakuya Togami, ch 1

"You know, I still just can't believe it..." "Believe what?" "That an uneducated, brain-dead, useless piece of garbage like you has survived this long." -Byakuya Togami & Mondo Owada, ch 2

"You all need to try harder. If an opponent isn't going to give it their best, where's the fun for me?" -Byakuya Togami, ch 2

It's enough of a threat for Mondo to genuinely believe that he's dangerous and want to keep him bound so he can't attack (foreshadowing when Byakuya himself would go one to tie Chihiro up? Probably not but it's a neat connection)

He also goes on to fuck with Chihiro, both by mocking her fear and by purposefully tampering with (what he believed to be) the crime scene of her death. On both counts, this directly affects Mondo, calling him out for his bullying and letting Byakuya pin the crime of killing Chihiro on himself in the trial.

"Hey, shithead! You get off on bullying people that can't fight back?" -Mondo Owada, ch 2

However, despite all this, Mondo never gets the chance to give Byakuya his comeuppance for his words and actions.

4.4- Ishimondo (yeah these bitches gay)

Similarly to Byakuya, Taka starts in a more antagonistic position, directly opposing Mondo as the unofficial, self-designated 'leader' of the class and remaining insensitive to the feelings of his classmates.

Unlike Byakuya, there's no actual intent to harm here, and their banter remains more focused on their differing ideas on how to help their classmates than anything else. Still, as time continues to pass, Mondo's impatience combined with the recent losses from ch 1 starts to push him over the edge, getting angrier with the class's lack of urgency.

This impatience only leads him to butt heads with Taka more, who's trying to keep the class together and safe first and foremost. On top of that, Mondo's delinquency is directly opposed to Taka's disciplinary background, making it all too easy to see each other as foes. Despite the fact they consider themselves the better type of man to the other, they have similar views on how men are to face each other, leading to the sauna scene.

Both characters' strong-willed determination and stubbornness inadvertently puts them on the same path, attempting to use their physical abilities to prove himself a more worthy leader than the other. It's a simplistic way of deciding, but it's one they both wholeheartedly believe in, and this gives them the opportunity to connect with each other in a way they're unable to with anyone else in the class. Thus, the following morning, when asked about the contest, the two have formed an inseparable brotherhood and refuse to even acknowledge the contest, as having a winner would put them on different levels. Interestingly, Mondo shares the belief with Taka that men bond by being naked around each other, suggesting that he removed his clothes in order for this 'brotherhood' to form.

4.5- Daiya Owada

The first thing we learn about Mondo's older brother in-game is that he was the one who taught Mondo to always keep his promises, no matter the cost. The second thing we learn is that he fucking died. And until nearly the end of Mondo's run in the game, that's all we as an audience need to know. He had an older brother that taught him his core values and passed away, leaving Mondo to carry out his wishes. It's not until after the chapter 2 trial is said and done that we learn anything more about him through Mondo's secret:

"That embarrassing memory, that secret he didn't want anyone to know... You know what he did? He killed his own brother!" -Monokuma, ch 2

It's through Monokuma that we learn the truth of Mondo's history with his brother: Daiya was his only family growing up, and thus, became his role model, the man Mondo himself wanted to become. He respected Daiya and Daiya alone. He followed him everywhere, and together, they formed the Crazy Diamonds, which went from a local biker gang to one of the greatest in Japan. It was through his brother that he developed his biking talent, and acted as his right hand. But some of the gang didn't believe in Mondo or trust him the way Daiya did. As Daiya grew older and prepared to retire, rumors of nepotism circulated throughout the gang, saying that Mondo was nothing compared to Daiya, that he wasn't worthy to take over the gang.

"'Daiya created the gang with his bare hands! Mondo's just along for the ride.' 'Can someone like that be our leader?' 'All that'll do is make the gang look bad.'" -Crazy Diamonds, ch 2

Any accomplishments Mondo had made within the gang didn't count to the gang, or to Mondo himself, because they were put next to the leader's achievements. He compared himself to Daiya as well, feeding into the rumors and developing a deep-rooted jealousy. He felt like he had to be the stronger man, had to prove himself to the gang, had to best his brother or he wouldn't be accepted. So he challenged him. He challenged Daiya, and lost all restraint on the road, charging forward with the desperation of a dead man. And it cost him his brother's life.

His brother made him promise not to let the gang go as he passed; Mondo became shackled by his honor to stay. He fully believes it was his fault Daiya died, and now not only is he indebted to stay with the gang, but can never admit blame for fear of tarnishing not only his own reputation, but tearing his brother's gang apart. His community demands unwavering macho leadership, and he can't afford to break character for even a second.

4.6- Chihiro (will be using mostly he/him due to discussing canon)

Mondo and Chihiro exist on 2 sides of the same coin- toxic masculinity. Both characters (canonically speaking here) are men, but are perceived totally differently, both by those around them and by themselves. And because of this design, when put into the high-stress scenario that they were, they were doomed to drive each other to ruin.

Even before chapter 2 starts, there are multiple instances of Mondo listening to Chihiro and respecting his words without doubt(his theory of Genocide Jack and asking his opinion on '11037'). We've also seen Mondo's confrontational and protective nature in action. So it's no surprise at all when he stands up to Byakuya on Chihiro's behalf when he clams up. And while this is done with good intentions, it only serves to make Chihiro feel weaker. Mondo is physically stronger- anyone can see that- and he's not afraid to mouth off to someone showing excitement at the killing game they were all forced into. So when asked if he's okay the following morning, he can't help but explain himself- he feels weak, and doesn't like having someone else stand up for him. For Mondo, this goes directly against his idea of strength, and can't comprehend why "she'd" possibly care.

With all of Mondo's toughness, he carries not just the expectations of a man, but the misogynist beliefs that often come with it. But regardless of that, he's immediately able to tell he fucked up as far as the narrative will allow him due to writer's bias*.

"Hey, c'mon, don't cry... I-It's my fault, okay? I won't yell anymore..." -Mondo Owada, ch 2

He feels bad about this, genuinely, enough to offer Chihiro his promise as a man. It's enough of a gesture for Chihiro to trust him completely, believing in the man's promise he's emphasized as being the most important thing to him since the very beginning.

(*Writer's bias in this case means the author is also sexist to a degree. Mondo is very clearly meant to be a tough guy with good intentions but because the creator appears to agree with the sentiment that women are weaker on average, we as an audience are meant to take issue with the fact that he's yelling and not the sexist statement. Said bias is made pretty clear by the fact their 'weak boy' character is dressed like a woman to emphasize his weakness and be a 'gotcha', as well as the fact they later have Kyoko force Makoto to tear paper out of Hifumi's rigor mortis hand because Makoto's a boy and she's a girl, even though earlier in that same game she, still a girl, was allowed to examine Chihiro's corpse in enough detail to find her dick. Writer's biases can and does affect the final product, so it's always important to consider that when looking at a character's development to determine whether they're being shitty because they're supposed to be or if it's some fault with the creator themself inputting their biases into something that otherwise wouldn't develop in this way. This has been Critical Consumption of Media 101.)

When Chihiro's found dead, Mondo keeps his head hung, lamenting about the fact that Chihiro wanted to be stronger, and when Makoto points out Chihiro was a woman anyway, Mondo just dismisses it, contradicting his earlier statement.

He respects Chihiro's memory and refuses to speak poorly of him. And while at first glance this is all it appears to be, as the trial unfolds and we learn the truth about what happened to Chihiro, a dual meaning behind this reveals itself- another showcasing of his devotion to the promises he keeps and the desire to protect his friend, even in death.

Chihiro is physically weak; a strong wind could probably knock him over, and he's much more in-tune with his emotions than your average guy. He mourns the losses of Sayaka, "Junko", and Leon all deeply, and has a deep shame for not being able to defend himself against Byakuya. But despite all this, when tested by Monokuma's secrets motive, he doesn't crumble away. He thrives, taking that threat and turning it into motivation to push his limits. He has the self-awareness to know when to ask for help, and isn't swayed by the threat of death. He's physically weak, but is incredibly strong mentally and is able to conquer his fears and face the lie he created for himself. Unfortunately for him, living with this toxic idea of what masculinity is supposed to look like makes him believe the way to do this can only be found in becoming physically stronger, and dies without ever seeing the strength he already had.

Mondo, on the inverse, is extremely physically capable, even without trying. He's 187 cm of muscle, and is confrontational to a fault, only giving him more opportunities to show off that physical strength. But on the inside, he can't face the sins of his past, can't admit his faults, and can't comprehend how to make peace with himself. All this is exacerbated by the weight he carries of leading the gang his brother formed, unable to release that weight from his conscience.

"N-No matter what... I couldn't let the other gang members find out. If that happened, everything would've been ruined... Everything me and my brother worked to create... woulda been destroyed... His death... all the guilt I'd been carrying around... it all woulda been for nothing." -Mondo Owada, ch 2

And when Monokuma tests his resolve, he completely crumbles. Unable to admit the truth to himself, he's faced with Chihiro, someone who has the mental capability he could only dream of. That primal fear of breaking the promise he made for his brother on his deathbed, combined with Chihiro's unwavering confidence as he happily chimes how unbothered Mondo must be, blocks out all rationale. He spirals, forgetting where he is and who he's talking to, trying to make the panic go away as he throws the dumbbell in his hand.

Chihiro and Mondo each have everything the other wants, and drive each other to death trying to get it.

Part 5- Chihiro's Trial

For most of the trial, Mondo doesn't appear suspicious at all. So much time is spent on Byakuya's suspicious behavior and his framing of Genocide Jack that you barely notice him. He fully appears to be trying to find Chihiro's killer and find justice for her, following Makoto's line of reasoning to find Byakuya as the killer- with the body's suspension and the subtle differences between Jack's methods of killing and the murder of Chihiro herself. He's all too eager to declare Byakuya as the killer- and though we can't know for sure, he may have genuinely believed it. After all, walking into the girls' locker room to find her body suspended and the message of 'Bloodlust' written on the walls certainly wasn't his doing. Unfortunately for him, that's all Byakuya did, and the conversation continues.

In the end, Mondo brings about his own execution. Even after slipping up with his words, the conversation is able to continue on, sfifting focus over to Chihiro's missing E-Handbook and what exactly happened to it. And when Mondo becomes cornered with Makoto's mention of the sauna, it's not Mondo who goes on the defensive; it's Taka. Mondo gives up; he lets his tough-guy persona go. He finally faces the truth; he's undoubtedly the one that ended Chihiro's life, no matter how he may have wanted to delude himself otherwise. He sees his bro defending him, and he accepts that he has to die. It's not beyond reason to say that Taka's insistence of his innocence was what pushed him to truly admit his guilt, both to the class and to himself. Up until this point, he'd still been trying to play it off and get away with it. But was it worth it to live and kill his bro, and everyone else, just to protect his pride? No. He admits to being the killer, straight up.

"Yeah. Yeah... I did it... I killed him." -Mondo Owada, ch 2

"Go ahead, Monokuma. Get it over with... Ask for the goddamned verdict..." -Mondo Owada, ch 2

Part 6- The Cage of Death

The first person that comments with some variation of OH MY GOD YOU'RE SO EVIL HOW COULD YOU PUT THE EXECUTION IN THIS gets a cookie. Anyways, the executions in these games are always thematic to the characters and are meant to send them into the worst possible despair in their final moments, so let's break this down.

The execution begins with Mondo forcefully strapped to his motorcycle by Monokuma, who's sporting the same pompadour as him. This may be representative of Mondo feeling confined to the biker gang by his guilt; he was never able to break free of the lie he created about that night. The pompadour is likely just Monokuma making fun of him for his hair again, as the thing that nearly killed him in the prologue.

The kanji written on the motorcycle reads 'Little Black Sambo,' a reference to a children's story of the same title. The entire execution is an inverse of this story as well. In the story, a boy named Sambo is surrounded by four hungry tigers, and gives up his clothes to avoid being eaten. The tigers are all conceited and argue over who's the best-dressed, chasing each other in circles until they churn themselves into butter. Sambo is then able to recollect his clothes and the butter, and his mother uses the butter to make pancakes. This story is well-known and beloved in Japan, but isn't in basically the entire rest of the world on account of the racist caricatures of the POC present in it.

Mondo's execution is a inversed version of the story(and also, because Mondo isn't blasian there's thankfully no directly racist art in it, just tigers). Rather than being the one to trick the tigers, he's the one who's full of pride, and so he's sent into a motorcycle cage and left to spin around and around, while the tigers dance on either side of him. He ends up being the one who's turned into butter, and Monokuma gets to enjoy a delicious plate of Mondocakes. It's meant to represent the downfall of Mondo's macho personality and how he sent himself into a spiral, but loses a lot of its meaning if you aren't familiar with the story.

Part 7- Jealousy

So, we've torn this character apart. We know what makes him tick, but why does that all matter? What was the point of his story? Simple- it's a cautionary tale. It's a warning against everything he stands for. Mondo, through all his faults, is NOT someone you're actually supposed to idealize or hold up as the epitome of manhood in the way that Chihiro does. Rather, he's a deconstruction of everything society views as 'manly', and a demonstration of why that line of thinking is inherently flawed. He's big and tough, he yells and cusses at the people around him, he doesn't have a handle on his own strength. He knocks a dude out for like, 10 hours straight because he was mad at someone else!!! That's not a healthy way to get your frustration out!!!

Simply put, your image and pride are not worth your mental health, and comparing yourself to the people around you not only tortures yourself, but can hurt those who you love. Mondo couldn't stop comparing his own faults to the strengths of others, and ended up pushing himself too hard trying to prove himself. Not only did he lose his brother over it, but he felt like he had to keep all his pain and regret locked up for the sake of an image they'd painted together. It pushed him up to the edge, and he never learned to cope with it in a way that was healthy. It only led to him lashing out more and more, and repeating history when he killed Chihiro. Your trauma can't be fixed by ignoring it or shoving it down; seek out help when you need it. It's okay to confide in your friends; they aren't your enemy, and they aren't making fun of you. That line of thinking will only push you over the edge.

Afterword

So yeah, this was longer than anticipated. Even after doing Taka's and creating a point of reference for myself, I still ended up surprised. I mean, Taka survived longer, so you'd think his would be longer, right? But no, Mondo is not only a very well-established character, but he has more important connections and a much more impactful storyline. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say Mondo may be one of the easiest characters to understand from THH, considering how in-your-face they make him. And I respect that, even if his whole facade can be kind of annoying for me. I totally see why this guy is so popular among fans. Happy birthday Mondo!

Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this one, and be sure to stick around! Sayaka's analysis is coming up next, and holy shit am I excited for this one.

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sscamanderr · 3 months ago

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Psilocybins & Daisies ~Thanos/Su-bong x reader~

Summary: in which Thanos gets a happy ending.

‘I wanna love you to death‘- Psilocybin and Daisies by Jessie Reyez. Header made by yours truly

Disclaimers: suggestive language/scenes, swearing, mostly fluff, mostly rambling, use of nickname 'beauty-flower' and 'baby' but gn!reader, not proofread

I got this idea by happy accident. Something short and sweet(ish). I can’t get this menace out of my head and i have no one to scream about it with!!!!

Both of you needed this day off. Venturing beyond the city was a regular event for the pair of you. Ever since the chaos of the games, a reset was needed when the heavy feelings caught up with you. A small thicket of trees and wildflowers around the outskirts of a pond beckoned you toward the cool shadows beneath the branches. An old blanket was folded neatly in the back of your motorbike for occasions like this. You settled against the trunk of the tree and let Su-bong lay perpendicular to your body, laying his head back on your thigh while his hands laced together over his stomach.

Restless eyes fluttered against the wind. Soft spring breeze bowed the stems of wildflowers around you, sweeping the purple locks from Su-bong’s forehead. As your fingers delicately combed them back into place, you noted that his roots were growing in. More often now, after the games, he’d been neglecting the vibrant color. Like he finally decided to fulfill the half-assed promise he’d made you months before.

“Aight, baby, tell you what,” he swiped his thumb slowly under his bottom lip as he shamelessly looked you up and down. “You vote for one more game, I’ll take you home with me when I win,”

Your eyes had widened and you could not stop the incredulous laugh that bubbled up and out of your throat. “As if! Like I’d ever want to be involved with you or your crazy hair.”

“What, the purple? I’ll pick a different color just for you, baby. But by the end of these games, you’ll like pulling on my crazy hair too much to want to change it!”

You’d lost him for weeks when the result of the vote ended the games half-way through. Growing closer to the unpredictable man with purple hair was not something you actually planned. But he was charismatic— almost too much so. He made you laugh with his antics, made your heart race with his protective nature even if it was circumstantial and a survival tactic at best.

So you had thought.

“I got your back, beauty-flower! Always will!”

Once the flirtatious words turned to desperate plea to see you again upon waking up back home, you believed him. When an unmarked van dumped you blind-folded and half clothed on the pavement of a side road with a lump sum of cash and the shredded remains of your dignity, you realized your terror came more from not remembering if Thanos told you where to even find him again. You hadn’t told him where to find you either.

After weeks of losing hope, your search had come to fruition.

He was in an aisle at a record store you frequented. Standing there; head bowed to study the album he’d picked up, free hand bouncing against his thigh to a beat only he could hear. Pink pouty lips pursed in concentration as he studied the tracks. Most striking about him: that purple hair. The hair you never did get the chance to pull on, but that had always signified that he was alive as it darted through the dwindling crowd after another game to approach you, slinging an arm over your shoulder with dramatic finesse.

“Thanos?”

Thanos jumped as his trance was broken, wild eyes finding yours. His pupils weren’t blown wide, allowing you a real view of his sea-blue eyes. They searched yours, finding them near starstruck.

“Beauty-flower.” The nickname left his lips like it would have from an old friend. Or a long lost lover, perhaps. A genuine smile broke across his face and the vinyl in his hand fell into the pile it had come from as you were swept into a bear hug. Seems the affection he shared during the games was not exaggerated. You let out a sharp breath of realization and returned his hug with equal enthusiasm. When he released you, you held each other by the elbows.

“Where the hell have you been?” He’d asked, head tilted playfully to the side.

“Trying to find your ass,” your cheeks warmed at his unrelenting stare. Every inch of your face was solidified into memory now, and Thanos was not going to let you become just a memory again.

“Aww, baby! I’m touched,” his long fingertips created goosebumps in their wake as they traced along your forearms.

“Well, you said you’d always have my back. I needed to tell you I’ll always have yours too,”

For once in his life, Thanos was speechless. He played it off with a long sigh of feigned annoyance. “Let’s go for a walk,” he tugged you into his side, records forgotten. “And you can call me Su-bong.”

Promises he made during the games that meant nothing to you at the time, meant the world to you now. Sobriety did not come easily to him, but the progress he’d made was for you, and you kept him going. The games changed his brain chemistry, and he admitted to you how tainted it made everything feel.

His old friends came around, but new ones replaced them over time. Better ones. His hard work began to grow into fame little by little, recovering his esteem and his soul itself. Su-bong swore it was only because of you that he had the right to any of it. He swore that you got him through everything no matter how big of an ass he could be. You learned and grew with each other.

When his eyes opened to find you staring, he winked up at you.

“‘Sup, baby?”

You snorted and placed your hand over his face. He licked your palm and then laughed when you shrieked.

“Caught you staring. You know what that means,” he flipped himself awkwardly onto his elbows, head tipped up so his eyes never left you. You pressed your lips to your lover’s. Your hand cupped his smooth-shaven cheek. The way his mouth slotted against yours was a drug tailored just to you.

“I love you to death, Su-bong,” your words ghosted over his lips like a song. The melody rang in his ears and rattled his ribcage, never getting old with the amount of times it played.

“I love you to death, beauty-flower,”

#squid game #squid game fic #squid game fanfic #thanos squid game #choi su bong fic #choi su bong #choi su bong squid game #thanos squid game fic #thanos imagine #squid game imagine #squid game x reader #thanos x reader #squid game netflix

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chillentertainer · 7 months ago

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Archive Classics: Typesetting Fics

TL; DR: the internet is temporary!!! printed books (for your own private amusement) are forever!!!

What I do:

Basically, I choose fics that I think deserve to be printed and typeset them using a software called Adobe InDesign. InDesign is the professional standard in the industry, but there are definitely easier (and cheaper!) options for formatting.

Once I've chosen a fic, there a few different things I have to decide: the font, glyphs, book size, and the hors-texte (title page, contents, etc).

Then, I go about copy + pasting the text into the software, and formatting them. Usually, that just means deleting the blank space of lines that for some reason appears between paragraphs.

Every element, and I mean every single element, is designed for the reader's comfort. At no point should the reader feel lost or unable to continue because of the way the text is formatted. This means using serif fonts instead of sans-serif fonts for the body text and making sure that there aren't any widows/orphan lines. I have specific justification settings so that the spacing between words and letters are even and smooth to the reader's eye.

I also think about headers and page numbers more than you would expect. Should the page numbers be on top or bottom? Centered or at the corners. Should I have headers at all? And if so, what should they say?

When I began, and I still do this occasionally, I grabbed books off my shelves and examined their formatting. Then I'd question why they made this design choice or that. All publishers have their special little quirks and features, and if I spotted something I liked, I would incorporate that into my own works. For example, Penguin Classics love their classic serif fonts and headers. Barnes and Noble Classics have a feature in their hors-texte that is their "From the Pages Of" section.

My favorite part is creating the cover. If you couldn't tell based off the title "Archive Classics," I *borrowed* Penguin Classic's grid. I love to use paintings or other kinds of artwork (like Étienne-Louis Boullée's architectural drawings for Fractals)

Why I Do This:

While there are many amazing and necessary reasons to read e-books, I enjoy the physicality of a printed book. Nothing can beat the sensation of turning the next page, the smell of paper, or the weight of your next great adventure in your hands. Fanfiction more than deserves to be experienced in that way too.

But also, I've always had a lingering suspicion regarding the temporal nature of digital media and of the internet in general. Fanfiction, in particular, are at risk of disappearing forever, and while you can obvs download it (which I always always do), there's a slight chance that you may not be able to access the technology in order to view it. Books don't require laptops or phones or internet service.

It's a silly movie, but Leave the World Behind (2023) showcases this perfectly, albeit with streaming services and dvds.

Finally, with the ever-changing landscape of the internet and technology, who knows if say archaeologists would be able to access ao3 in a 100 or even 50 years. Look at USB-As, and how quickly they're going out of use. Physical media like printed books will certainly last for decades longer. My ultimate (and idealistic) goal is to have a physical, printed library of fanfiction for both private enjoyment and for the academic study of fanfiction in the anthropological and literary fields. The latter will most likely not happen in my lifetime (if ever at all), but a girl can dream!

This is slightly sketchy but from what I can tell from my research is that most sites don't give an af if you print like one copy for yourself and you do not print en-masse or start selling them. So like Manacled. Don't do what those kids did and put up your copies on etsy. I don't. I print this for myself and myself only. And I've never gotten a cease and desist letter or anything like that.

Requests are open: if you have a fic you think deserves the archive classics treatment, lmk! I do not accept payment. This is all free.

Examples!

A Current Cover I'm Working On:

This one is a linen wrap, which means it has flaps!

#archive classics #typesetting #book design #indesign #fanfiction #ao3 #the temporary nature of the internet is something we should be deeply concerned about!!#fanbinding

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cinnamoonblue · 7 months ago

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MASTERLIST

all of my work you can find here ♡ thank you for reading it ♡

PORTGAS D ACE

FANFICS:

The Neighbourhood - Modern!AU || Portgas D. Ace/Reader (angst, fluff, smut) || ongoing

"You moved to one of the biggest cities in the world - Grand Line to pursue filmmaking career. Soon enough your path will cross with the vocalist of upcoming band called “The Neighbourhood”. At first you decided to be just friends - because it would be easier, but sadly as everything in life sometimes by taking the easy path we regret a lot of things."

BLUE BANSTER - Modern!AU || Portgas D. Ace/Reader (heavy angst, smut) || on hold

Being an artist was your life purpose and you figured it out at a very young age. No one was surprised when you quickly made a name of yourself among the art communities around the world. Everything was going according to your life’s plan, until you were diagnosed with a life changing condition - Parkinson's disease. Since that day everything started to slowly collapse for you. Looking for an escaping, moving to a small, forgotten from the world sea coast town was the only solution you could think off. Buying an old beach house, which was screaming for renovation, was the greatest escape - until you met your annoying next door neighbour and his dog. A neighbour who had his own issues and demons to deal with but somewhere between the pain and the obstacles life has thrown to both of you, you found comfort in each other. All because he had the right colour of blue paint for your staircase banister.

The Choices We Make - Modern!AU || Portgas D. Ace/Reader (fluff, angst, smut) || NEW

One reckless night leads to the biggest and most unexpected change in your life. How will this affect your current life and how you and the charming stranger you met only once will manage to handle the bringing of a new life to this world together is a challenge yet to be discovered. Will you be able to make the right choices while battling your own demons? Who knows, all you must be worried about now is that your period is late...

ONE-SHOTS:

Early Christmas - Modern!AU || Portgas D. Ace/Reader (fluff, slight smut)

"It's the day before Christmas and you are exhausted from work, but your firefighter fiancé has a surprise for you."

Troublemaker - Modern! AU || Portgas D Ace/Reader (fluff, smut, slight angst)

“You are known around school as quite the rebellious girl, who makes more of her statements by wearing high knee stockings which are against the school dress code. He is the new guy in school who always sits on the back of the class and every time he puts his glasses on you find it him extremely adorable. The problem is that he doesn't seem to want to socialize with anyone and you don't know how to approach him until one lucky day you get to become his project partner.”

I forgot something - OP Verse || Portgas D Ace/Reader (fluff, slight angst)

“It's your birthday and something or rather say - someone is missing."

The 'Nice Lady' - OP Verse || Portgas D Ace/Reader (fluff)

"You have become his wife and he wants to introduce you to his reckless little brother."

RYOMEN SUKUNA

ONE-SHOTS:

It reminds me of you - Modern!AU || Ryomen Sukuna/Reader (fluff)

"You want a Labubu so bad, especially the one which reminds you the most of your boyfriend, and he makes sure you get everything you want."

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skipper1331 · 1 year ago

Text

Who will win? // Merle Frohms

a/n: based off this request!

"Hi" the voice of your girlfriend came whispered through the phone.

"Hey" you mumbled in responds, eyes already heavy after the exhausting day you’ve had. For awhile, no words were exchanged, only soft breathing could be heard. Merle was the one who broke the silence, her voice shaky, "will we be okay?" she asked, fearing your answer.

Tomorrow, Arsenal would face Wolfsburg in a sold out Emirates Stadium - a match that would decide which team would make it to the Champions League final as it was 2-2 on aggregate.

In an instant, you replied, "yes, of course."

Your mind had also been consumed by that thought. Would Merle be mad at you if you won? No matter who wins, what consequences will be there? What if you loose?

"Promise me?"

"I promise"

"Okay" she sighed in relief, "I love you" your cheeks turned hot, her words so full of honesty as the butterflies in your stomach went crazy.

"I love you too" you replied sheepishly, suddenly wide awake.

The keeper and you had met through mutual friends on a holiday trip, your chemistry magical since the very first moment. Yet at first, Merle was shy and reserved towards you, you were the only one she didn‘t know - well, she did know you as you were one of Arsenals greatest defenders but she didn’t know know you yet but that side was gone not even two hours later, the two of you engaged in conversation after conversation. It seemed like your friends weren‘t existing anymore as Merle only had eyes for you and vice versa.

After your trip, Merle couldn’t stop thinking about you, so she texted you, wanting to know if you arrived in London safely. It was just an excuse, although she actually wanted to know if you made it some safely, only she was hoping for another conversation with you in return - maybe one that didn‘t stop. Her prayers had been heard - you started texting nonstop. Soon texts started to turn into calls and your 'friendship' blossomed.

In the winter holidays, you visited Merle, the moment your friendship turned into more as she had kissed you under the mistletoe.

Now, two years later, your relationship was going strong.

The two of you continued the phone call for a bit before yet another yawn let your mouth, "my love, it‘s getting late. I‘ll see you tomorrow" the german whispered.

You hummed, eyes already shut as you heard the final "I love you" of the night. With that you drifted off to sleep, thinking about the blonde.

The next day rolled by earlier than you wanted to. You were excited, the emirates was sold out, playing an important match on home soil - you couldn’t be more excited yet you were so scared. What would happen? Your mind was not only occupied with the question what happens between Merle and you but will someone get injured? You feared that every time you stepped on the pitch.

You didn‘t see your girlfriend until the lineups in the tunnel, the girl looking good in her kit.

You shot her a quick smile which she returned with a nod - when Merle was in her game mode, in the zone, nobody could distract her. This match was just as important to her as it was to you. Nobody was allowed to make a mistake otherwise you might loose.

Stina opened the score in the 11‘, Jill equalizing in the 41‘ - your former teammate. You knew it was her job to score when she had the opportunity but you weren’t going to lie, it hurt when she did. But also, you were incredibly proud of her - she was your friend after all.

Despite Arsenal and Wolfsburgs chances and effort, the half time score stayed 1-1.

Though that changed when VfL had a corner kick - the one and only Alexandra Popp scoring a header, as usually.

2-1.

You felt frustrated, blaming yourself - should you have been at her side? When you felt a double clap on your back, you were called back to reality. No one was to blame. Popp was an incredible player.

You prayed for an equalizer.

And as if your prayers have been heard, Jen scored with a beauty of a header.

The game continued, Wolfsburgs had their chances as Arsenal had them too. But nothing seemed to work.

After 90+ minutes, the ref blew the whistle.

The score 2-2.

which only meant one thing.

Extra time.

Your nerves were on a high race. What will happen in that extra time? What will not happen? Will there be penalties?

You were, after Kim, the person who took the penalty. Your penalties were always perfectly shot, they always slotted in the goal - the goalie nowhere near. Yet if you had to take a penalty in this game, it would be different.

Merle was in the goal.

Your girlfriend.

The one person who knew you better than anyone.

Huddling together, Jonas gave some strict orders - how to play, how to create space and chances. This wasn’t any club, this was Wolfsburg and they were one of the best german teams - if not the best. You had to be focussed and give 101%.

No mistakes were allowed.

You did the biggest mistake.

The teams dream of making it to the final, possibly winning it, was thrown in the bin when Manu passed the ball to you. You don’t know what happened, one second you had the ball and in the next second Jule Brand had it. Despite your effort to get it back, you knew it was too late as she assisted it to Pauline Bremer who slotted it in. Your world seemed to stop spinning.

3-2 in the 119‘

You embarrassed yourself in front of a recorded crowd and because of you the team was about to loose.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Arsenal lost.

They lost because you made a mistake - a mistake that decided the game.

Wolfsburg would go to the final in Eindhoven, Arsenal would stay at home. Tears slipped out of your eyes as you covered it up with your jersey while you stood in the middle of the pitch, devastated about the massive loss. Everything fell to deaf ears as you were stuck in your anger and disappointment. You ignored everybody who had approached you until you heard a familiar voice, the voice you loved so deeply.

"Hey" she said.

You didn’t reply.

"You played great" she kept her distance, not knowing if you wanted her to hug you or to leave you alone. She respected either way.

"You‘re glad I fucked up, hm? Secretly, laughing at me"

It took Merle off guard, "what? What are you talking about?" her eyes were wide, brows furrowed.

Indeed, she was happy that her team won but she felt devastated for you, not only because of the loss in general but that you caused it. It will haunt you for a while.

"Oh, don’t act all innocent now! You cannot tell me you didn’t like it, can you? My mistake, Pauline scoring the winning goal… Merle Maschine Frohms, you‘re going to the final. Congratulations" you told her bittersweetly, patting her shoulder before walking away.

The goalkeeper could only watch. Normally, 'Merle Maschine Frohms' was a running gag between the two of you but now it seemed like it was an insult.

"Didn’t go well, I assume?"

After the team talk, you fled the scene. You didn’t want to be here anymore. Your expression was stone cold as your jaw was clenched. You went for a quick shower, you couldn’t be bothered to take your time, all you wanted was to go home and watch your comfort movie while eating chocolate or ice cream.

Leaving the stadium felt like a relief, anger and frustration slowly leaving your body as guilt, blame and disappointment made its way up.

You knew what you said to Merle was wrong and that she most likely felt bad for you as you had talked many many times about situations like these - not knowing they would ever happen again.

After the euros final, the topics about winning and losing have been brought up and talked through, even though nervousness and anxiety filled both of your bodies nights before those matches.

You didn’t mean to snap at her, your anger just had controlled your body and not your mind.

And right now, you couldn’t see that. All you could see and feel was disappointment.

You disappointed yourself.

You disappointed your team.

You disappointed every fan in the stadium.

You disappointed everybody.

You fell asleep on the couch, eyes puffy, ice cream melted in the bowl as weird tv shows played. Messages from your family and teammates on your phone - no message from Merle. You felt even more disappointed yet understood due to the circumstances.

She didn’t text you nor did you text her. You didn’t know if you should or even wanted to or if she wanted you to.

The days after the match went by awfully slow and very robotic. For your teammates, it seemed like you didn’t realize the loss yet somehow like you realized the loss too much.

But after a week, when the feeling of missing started to hit, disappointment and guilt fading away step by step, you decided to call Merle. You wanted to make things right. It was Merle after all, the girl: who loved you unconditionally, who kissed your wounds, who believed in you when you couldn’t believe in yourself.

You waited and waited and waited for her to answer until it eventually rang out, she didn’t want to talk to you. Sighing in defeat, you flopped on the couch.

Merle🪄

please call me back

She never responded.

It wasn‘t that she didn’t read it - she did, right after it was sent - yet couldn’t be bothered to answer.

Was this the end?

You checked her instagram - were the pictures with you still up?

They were.

Every time your screen lit up you hoped it would be Merle and each time you got disappointed when you saw that it wasn’t her. What was happening? Why did you have to snap at her?

It was two days later when Merle finally decided to call you back. It was in the middle of the night, you were at the verge of falling asleep.

Groggily, you picked up the phone, not even looking at the caller id.

"Hello?"

"Hey"

"Merle" your breath hitched, suddenly wide awake. Nothing mattered anymore, it didn’t matter that it was in the middle of the night or that you had training early in the morning. All you cared about was saving your relationship.

Silence held the line until a small whisper came, "you‘ve hurt me-"

"I know"

"Well, you didn’t insult me but I don’t know, snapping at me? I just wanted to comfort you. You promised me-"

"I promised you we would be okay"

"And we are not"

"I want us to be"

The silence that followed was deafening, you felt like this was the moment.

She will break up with me

"Merle?"

silence.

"I‘m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to snap at you, everything just came crashing down on me and I know this is no excuse. I was just- I don’t- I’m sorry"

silence.

"I love you"

You had already lost hope before "I love you too" came. "I don’t know why I got so upset at you, I had no right to, you had lost and I understood your emotions, but all I wanted was to comfort you. I‘m sorry that I didn’t give you some space or respected your boundaries. I want us to be okay, too, I really do."

"You do?" you asked surprised.

"Of course, I’m so in love with you, you can’t even imagine"

The biggest smile started to make its way on your face, cheeks flushing red, skin tingle.

"I‘ve missed you"

"I missed you so much"

All the built up feelings from the last week, washed away. There was no guilt or anger due to your mistake in the match, there was no sadness and sulking anymore - all there was, was love and happiness.

The two of you started one of your endless conversations, updating what had happened the last days or upcoming events - Merle purposely avoiding the uwcl final. She wanted you there more than anything but now wasn‘t the right time to bring it up.

The next weeks went by fast, you were back to your usual persona, socializing and cracking jokes as you slowly but surely learned to accept that mistakes happen.

Only one and a half weeks left before the final, the goalkeeper decided to bring it up because she really wanted to see you in the stands as her supporter.

Not thinking about her words, she blurted it out while you were in the middle of your sentence, "i want you to be at the final" she said, the kitchen in her flat suddenly super interesting. What felt like an eternity for her was in fact only a few seconds, your answer so supportive and loving, "yes, of course. Leah, Lia and I already have tickets and our flights are booked"

Your girlfriend stayed silent for a moment, "I was afraid you didn’t want to come" she admitted, cheeks turning red out of embarrassment.

"What? Why? I always want to see you play!" you beamed, "you’re in the champions league final, baby!" You pushed the little sting in your heart away, fully focused on Merle. If you couldn’t win the trophy, none other than your girlfriend should win it. You were her number one fan. So, as soon as things were made up with her - you weren’t sure if she wanted you there when things were complicated between the two of you - you texted in the group chat with Leah and Lia that you‘d join them.

"I thought maybe- I don’t know"

"No, baby. I always want to watch you play, always. And I’m so proud of you, you will win that trophy" you exclaimed, your index finger subconsciously drawing hearts on the couch.

"I love you"

The goalkeeper felt so relieved. With you being in the stands there couldn’t go anything wrong. She would not only try to win that trophy but to impress you.

"Stop being so jittery" the England captain stated as she rested her hand firmly on your knee to stop it from wobbling.

Already on the way to the stadium you couldn’t shut up about seeing Merle and her team, the atmosphere, FC Barcelona and so on. Somehow you were starstruck and so excited.

"Look! There’s Merle!" you cut the LW‘s off in their conversation, tapping Lia‘s thigh rapidly.

"Yes, we can see her" she chuckled, your eyes shining with hearts. "Isn’t she so pretty" you admired. She looked so stunning in her kit. "You‘re drooling" Leah chipped in, laughing at you when your hand flew to your mouth, checking if there was drool - there wasn‘t.

"LET‘S GO!!!" you yelled when Ewa Pajor scored the opening goal in the 3rd minute. Green shirts everywhere in the stadium, cheering for their team as they went in the lead. Lia and Leah watched you with an amused look while they held their facial expressions neutral about the game.

"YES!!!" you cheered even louder when the second goal came flying in from Alex Popp - that women an absolute legend with her incredible headers.

The first half Wolfsburg played phenomenally as they created chances, defended and got two goals.

Yet when the second half started everything went downhill. About 5 minutes into the game Patri equalized. The stadium started to roar, the Wolfsburg players looking helpless.

Though, you had to admit that it was brilliantly played from Barcelona, even though you felt bad for Merle as she conceded two goals within two minutes.

Every minute that went by from then on, the game got more intense and physically. Fouls and cards were called out, every player on the pitch wanting to win.

When Rolfö scored in the 70th, you slumped back in your chair, grumbling about the game. How was Merle supposed to save that? She stood no chance!

You had a feeling that it was the last goal you would see off the game. And it was confirmed around 30+ mins later when the referee blew her whistle.

Devastated, you watched as the players in green collapsed on the floor, all of them crying or at least with tears in their eyes yet your eyes glued on the goalkeeper in blue. She must feel horrible - a feeling you knew better than anyone.

In all honesty, Merle wasn‘t to blame for the loss and neither were her teammates - their performance was great, just not enough in the end.

Like in trance, the german international made her way over to you - she needed your comfort. She needed your hugs, your touch and your love. She just needed you.

"Hey" she mumbled as she stood in front of you, her teammates also near her as you sat in the family and friends section.

"Come here" you opened your arms, the girl hugging you as if her life deepened on it, sobbing in the crook of your neck. You hand cradled her head while the other one rubbed her back in a calming and gentle manner. "I‘m proud of you" you whispered, sweetly kissing her temple before you let cry as long as she needed in your shoulder.

After sweet nothings and a long hug, she stepped back, looking at you with doe eyes, "i‘m sorry I couldn’t win."

Your hands cupped her cheeks as your thumbs wiped away the tears, "I love you" you couldn’t say anything else, it would have been wrong to say 'you played great' even though she was blaming herself for the loss right now. Instead you stood on your tip toes, pressing your lips against her left cheek, then right cheek before finally her mouth which resulted in a little smile. It was a kiss so gentle and tender, healing and caring, loving and promising. But most importantly - it was your kiss.

So, in the end, sadly, neither of you won the trophy but the comfort you had in each other seemed like a win in a loss.

#merle frohms #merle frohms x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #arsenal wfc #vfl wolfsburg #vfl wolfsburg frauen x reader #dfb frauen x reader #gerwnt #gerwnt x reader #dfb frauen #vfl wolfsburg frauen #frauen bundesliga #jule brand #lia wälti #leah williamson #alex popp

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