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praeluxius · 4 months

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pas de deux - IVE An Yujin (ft. Jang Wonyoung)

Part 1 of folie à deux.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

18+ An Yujin (and Jang Wonyoung) x Male Reader smut

Masterlist Word Count: 7,727

folie à deux - folly (madness) of two pas de deux - a dance for two

It's survival—that's how you mask it.

It's the hard reality you tell yourself to justify being the pseudo-servant to these two girls, just to make the year as easy as possible so you can graduate. Playing their games. Never questioning their words or actions. The house of cards they've built is fragile but they keep it in check.

Somehow, you're one of the cards, one wall of the house. You've only been in the school a month. The fresh-faced transfer who fell into the grasp of the two girls who practically run the place. You can't deny it has its benefits. Like every one of Yujin and Wonyoung's friends, no one ever questions anything and you would never run the risk of falling into the bad books of school bullies.

Oh, and you also get to fuck Wonyoung senseless.

Luckily, the walls of the library are thick, everyone else is in class and the library door is locked. Or someone would have heard the squirming Wonyoung moaning expletives by now.

"Harder." Her nails threaten to pierce the skin. Claws gripped to your forearm. Her words are sharper still, cutting through the air with the same lethality as her looks. "Stop, stop, stop. Hand, there. Circles, remember. And go fucking harder will you?" You position as instructed, how you know she likes it. There's no room for creative freedom here—it's Wonyoung's way or it's no way.

But, god. She knows exactly how to break you—just enough that when she puts you back together, your mismatched pieces slot perfectly into her shape, allowing her to completely mould and manipulate you at her will, at her whim. And oh, does she love when you let her.

"That's it, there. Yes!" Wonyoung presses the heel of her foot into the small of your back, pushing you further in, urging you closer and deeper, drawing a hoarse groan from her throat. She's sprawled flat on the desk, on the second floor of the library. You're looking over the balcony, down at the empty room. It's almost monotonous, it happens at the same time every week. Hidden in the same top corner of the same library, at the same time on the same day. You've got her legs spread and your cock in her cunt.

Your fingers are digging into her thighs, pinning her hips to the desk. You don't falter once, going exactly as fast, exactly as hard, and exactly as deep as she likes it. Her movements are in tune with yours. Familiarity. Wonyoung's perfectly groomed eyebrows are furrowed, heart-shaped lips pursed, eyes scrunched shut.

"You're close, right? I can feel it..." Your words come out ragged and laboured. This isn't supposed to feel good for you, you aren't supposed to have an opinion. It's her own fantasy—an excuse for her to let herself get fucked like a little whore without question or consequence—your body's just along for the ride. You're not an actor in the scene, not a participant. You are the means to an end; a character-prop. Something to be used by the main character. To further her plot.

She responds with a shaky mewl that turns into a string of frantic cries, her slender, legs locking around you.

It ends how it always ends.

She cums. Hard.

You don't. Too messy, she says. You can't cum inside, you can't cum on her and you can't just cum on the library desk. Too risky and unhygienic. It's almost cute watching her try to cover up her gasp and squeal as she rides her high, biting down onto her soft sleeve, probably tearing through a layer of fabric with her pearly whites.

That's just how it is with Wonyoung.

***

"There you are!" Yujin is by your side and snaking her arm around yours, holding you just above the elbow and leaning against you. "Where's Wony?"

"Probably halfway down the highway by now, her boyfriend picked her up fifteen minutes ago," you explain as if it's the most normal thing in the world that Wonyoung hopped off your cock and into her boyfriend's car in the space of ten minutes. But that’s the life she lives—you live.

"You can take me straight home then, let's go." Yujin smiles up at you with her signature grin and those half-moon eyes. If Wonyoung were the definition of danger, Yujin was still just that, but wrapped up in cotton wool and given to a puppy. Her playful expression could melt even the hardest heart, and yet, thanks to her money, she too could get away with just about anything.

At least Yujin made your life easier. There was a little more give and take in your friendship—unlike with Wonyoung.

Still, you wonder exactly how the two of them do it. The whole school around their little fingers. The teachers—they overlook Wonyoung's little indiscretions as soon as the excuses leave her pretty little mouth, so convincing is her act. And then there's Yujin, she—

"You bitch!" In sync, you and Yujin look away from each other and towards the two young ladies holding each other by handfuls of hair. You don't know either of them, but they are blocking the way to your car.

"What's going on here?" asks Yujin, speaking louder than normal to ensure that her voice breaks through the constant bickering. The voices quieten and the hands release their grips, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

The pair turn to you both as they both speak at the same time. "This whore took my earrings!" One points at the other.

"Yeah? These are my earrings. How dense can you be?" one fires back, clearly pissed off, making exaggerated hand gestures for emphasis.

"Bitch, they belong to me! Stop taking things that aren’t yours, you slut! This is you and Jisun’s boyfriend all over again!"

"Ladies, please," Yujin says calmly, in just those two words she captivates attention. "You girls are friends, right?" She doesn’t give time for a response. "Well, if you're really friends, you'll sit and talk about this instead of pulling each other's hair. And if I'm being totally honest, those earrings don't exactly look worth the effort."

They lower their fists slowly, looking a little less angry now and more embarrassed to be told off. You half expect a little, "yes, mother" and an apology from them.

"Great!" Yujin says after some silence. She tugs gently on your arm, strutting between the two girls with you in tow. They stand and watch as you pass by. You only get a step or two past them before Yujin stops.

She turns to face the girls, still staring wide-eyed at the two of you. "Actually, aren't you girls forgetting something? You owe us both an apology."

The two exchange glances, looking surprised by the statement. "Wh-what for?" one asks, eyes darting nervously between you and her friend, who seems equally puzzled.

"For being in our way." The pair look around and suddenly notice the small crowd around you, phones pulled out, cameras glaring. They pale almost immediately. And you can see that they know this only ends one way. Because no one says no to Yujin.

The girls nervously get down on their knees and bow their heads. "I-I'm sorry!"

"We're sorry!"

"Excuse us!"

"Please forgive us!" They're flustered, apologizing to you and Yujin as though their lives depend on it. It feels like forever has passed when Yujin finally laughs and turns away.

"Have a lovely evening, ladies," she says in a tone sweeter than sugar, leaving the girls kneeling and guiding you again towards your car.

For all intents and purposes, these two girls are fucking crazy.

Delusional.

folie à deux

***

"You will stay and eat. I insist." It's ever so clear where she gets it from. Just like his daughter, Yujin's father simply would not take "no" for an answer. You know that really, you have no choice but the lock the car and follow Yujin up the steps into her house.

"Make sure our guest is comfortable." He glances at the maid to signal her. You notice a flinch, though only passing—the girl is nervous. No one can relax when they're in the presence of an Ahn. After his instruction, he walks into the door without another word.

You make the climb Yujin had not two minutes earlier, up the stairs and into the front door of the house, through the door left open, which the maid closes behind you.

The mansion's interior is exactly what you expect—luxurious, opulent and vast. But where you thought there might be a hint of the gaudy and tacky, there is only tasteful, expensive decorating, the finest of furniture, and grandeur befitting the family who owns it. As always, there's not a thing out of place.

Yujin's at the top of the stairs. She has already swapped out her formal blouse for a comfortable t-shirt, but she still wears the pleated skirt she did before, sitting just above the knee. "Couldn't escape father then? I think he likes you."

"He doesn't show it if he does." You shrug.

"He didn't wave you away without a word. That means he likes you." Yujin speaks as she walks down the stairs towards you. Off somewhere to your right, you hear the busywork of the kitchen, preparing the food he insisted you eat. "It's funny because I can't think why..."

She mocks you in the way she always does, with a grin on her face.

"It must be my wit, charm, personality, and incredible looks," you tell her with a wry smile.

"Huh... I didn't know my dad was gay."

"Shame he's not really my type." It's your turn to grin now.

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, that's an understatement. I know your type."

"Maybe you do," you say while climbing the stairs to meet her at the top.

She stares you down for a moment and you wait for her latest quip. She eventually looks over your shoulder, down the stairs to the maid. Yujin informs her, "We will eat in the upstairs lounge."

***

"And Gaeul, did you hear?" Yujin can barely contain her excitement as she slams her chopsticks on the table. The conversation had been flowing for a while now, mostly from Yujin as she fills you in with all the recent gossip on people you barely know.

"Which one is she again?" This one you already know, but you always enjoy the way she describes and introduces her friends. It’s so often so unserious.

"Kim Gaeul, the one in my dance class." Yujin pauses. Her eyes roll. "You know the one. Short hair, even shorter skirt. Cute smile, even cuter ass?"

That would probably narrow it down.

"Okay, but what about her?"

"Well you know that guy she's dating? The German guy?" The love lives of Yujin's friends are a bit of a blur. The more you hear about them, the less sense it all makes. "He proposed!"

"They are that serious?"

"Very! I guess it was love at first sight. Gaeul certainly saw something she liked."

"They're still young. It's a big commitment."

"But, if you want something, you should take it," Yujin affirms.

"Just like a criminal," you joke.

Yujin giggles. Something is charming about Yujin's laughter. There's an innocence and lightheartedness to her that brings you a sense of tranquillity. Suddenly, a weight rests on your shoulder. A chin nestles into the side of your neck. Warm, moist air fills your ear, "Maybe you could learn a thing or two. Life's too short to wait around and hesitate."

The weight and air vanish, and suddenly you feel cold. Yujin's French perfume lingers in your nose. "And it's good for her right, she must be getting fucked a lot." Yujin continues as normal as though the moment never happened. She picks up a piece of meat between her chopsticks, taking care not to get the sauce all over her. She brings it closer to her lips, smiling ever so slyly the whole way.

Yujin takes a drink before she continues, “and so Rei said to her that…”

She continues onto rest of the story and the many more after which you don’t really pay attention to, the moment before still lingering on your mind.

***

"As delicious as always." The two of you had spent at least an hour in the upstairs lounge, eating as you talked, catching up with events, and then talking about nothing in particular.

The maid bows at your compliment before taking away the tray of leftovers and leaving the room.

Yujin lay her arms over her chest as she leans back into the couch. Her eyes roll as her head falls to the side, staring over at the bookcase behind you.

"I hate reading." You can hear her disgust in her tone. "Dull, pointless, useless, boring..."

Yujin stops, eyes fixed upon you. Her eyebrows pull together with curiosity. "But you must love it, right?"

"There are worse hobbies."

She gives a thin-lipped grin, unconvinced. Yujin tilts her head to the other said, hair thrown over her head to settle on the other side, "do you, though? Because you and Wonyoung spend a lot of time in the library."

She knows. Of course she knows.

"Just studying." You smile weakly and give an awkward laugh, running your hand through your hair.

"Wonyoung doesn't study." She says that flatly, cutting the air. Yujin may well be the only person in the school who dares to question the actions of her best friend. She has no interest in playing along with the lie.

You sit in silence. Any excuse would only be an insult to her intelligence.

"You're lucky really," she muses, her fingers absentmindedly tugging at the frilled edge of her skirt. Yujin makes a conscious effort to cross her long legs, exposing the small expanse of creamy flesh where the skin between the hem and knee socks met.

"Why is that?" you ask, with eyes fixed firmly on the tantalising flesh.

"Every other guy in school would kill for an hour alone with Wonyoung." Yujin purred.

"A bit drastic. They want what any young, single man would want."

"Hmm, those poor things are a second away from cumming in their pants just being in the same room as her."

Yujin gave a delightful, innocent-girl smile, contrasting with her crass language. She wore her angel-like grin with a devil's look. "Not you though. Which is exactly why she wants you."

"Why?" Your eyes flicker to the floor, away from Yujin. The thoughts circle.

"Like I said: they're far too eager for her to respect them, but not you. No." She spoke clearly, firmly. "The way you stare at her, it's almost as if you don't care that much for her."

"Not sure I understand. She is a friend, I care." you admit.

"But you don't beg it like the other boys do. She must find that attractive about you, not being desperate, but still willing." Her legs uncross slowly, tortuously so, pulling her legs apart ever so slightly. She smooths the crease of the pleats over her thighs.

You sense a chance to turn the wind and sail the conversation in Yujin's direction. "What about you? The one boy from art class seems really desperate to get close to you."

The vaguest flash of surprise came across her eyes, as if you'd interrupted her. The shock passes.

"Ah. Him." She rolls her eyes, puffing her cheeks as she does. A disgusted grimace mars her angelic expression.

"He's into you." Who isn't?

"I can tell. Not my type." She waves dismissively, having no need for your words. "I can," she pauses over her words, "take care of myself."

A creeping heat climbs your spine. "Really?" Your question sounds more curious than teasing, though your tone carries more than a hint of amusement.

Her slender shoulders shrug ever so casually. "Of course I can. Everyone needs a little," she purrs the next word, "dissipation."

It is the wording more than anything that draws a pensive mood. Yujin said it casually enough, with her fingers absentmindedly pressing up and down her exposed leg, almost as if the mere thought of it was enough to excite her. Her gaze glazes over at some unseen memory, and she gives a knowing smirk before her thoughts snap back to the real world.

"Yujin, I—"

She cuts you off, "there are so many, too many, horny boys in the world, but so few are dependable." The hand tracing her thigh edges just a centimetre further upwards, folding the pleat under the touch. "it was nice to have you here for dinner, but I have something I need to do."

"Are you expecting me to go so that you can...?"

The smile spreads from ear-to-ear across her face. "I'm not saying anything. But you know where the door is." She rises from her seat, a perfectly poised princess, and moves gracefully towards the door. Her body swaying under her baggy shirt and flowing skirt.

She doesn't give you time for a reply.

You're left alone with only the dying embers of her expensive perfume.

***

Class finished early and you're waiting. As you always did when you finished before the girls.

However, this time is different. You haven’t seen Yujin all day and aren’t sure how to act when you do. Not after what you saw yesterday. You lean back against your locker, streams of people passing by. Most ignore you, or the few that acknowledge you pay only a glance or two before continuing.

"Hey, Gaeul," you call to the one girl you recognise passing by, "have you seen Yujin?"

"Bro, she left already." You don't know when she started calling you bro. Maybe she always had. Could be part of her friendly nature. Gaeul is about as easygoing as they come.

"Is something wrong with her?"

"Nah." A gap appears in the crowd and you move to join her, heading out of the building. "You know how it is. If she wants to leave five minutes early, no one will stop her."

Another student cuts between the two of you, forcing you towards another group that blocks your way. You spin away to avoid them, manoeuvring through like a speeding car on the highway, catching up with the on-rushing Gaeul.

"And she didn't say anything?" you ask when finally back by her side. Gaeul's looking at her phone—probably reading a text from her husband-to-be.

"Hm?" Gaeul throws a glance out of courtesy. "No." she mutters before replying to the text.

"Nothing?"

Gaeul opens the door to the outside and you follow her through. She's striding like a girl with places to be, so you have to half-jog to get back by her side.

"Oh! Yujin did tell me to tell you something, actually. She said, tell him to act like a criminal. Whatever that means."

Act like a criminal.

"Thanks Gaeul," you speak quickly, diverting towards your car.

"Bro! What does it mean?" Gaeul calls after you but you don't wait around to answer.

***

The maid is there to greet you when you knock on the door of Yujin's house. Apparently, Yujin is waiting for you upstairs, and after letting you into the Ahn house for the second time in as many days, the maid disappears again into the background, leaving you to explore.

You see, yesterday ended almost unceremoniously. You stayed for dinner, you ate, talked, laughed. And then you left.

Except, it wasn't actually that simple. After Yujin left the room, you held around for a minute, finishing your drink. The ice-cold one in the fancy tumbler. Taking in the room around, as for all the time you had spent in there, you were more focused on Yujin than the exquisite decor. You admired it for all it's worth and savoured your drink until you decided that you shouldn't overstay your welcome.

It should have been simple. Walk to your car, get in, and go home.

Until you walked down the corridor and found a door ajar with the smallest of gaps. You leant gently against the frame, peering in just enough to give you a view of the bed.

On the bed was the girl you expected to find. On the bed was Ahn Yujin.

The curtains were closed, but enough sunlight managed to peak through. Light bounced off the soft skin. Each breath sent her chest swelling. You followed every rise and fall with hungry eyes.

With the afternoon sun kissing her flesh, highlighting the curve of her shoulder and collarbone, she looked even more heavenly. She wore her short hair wild, swept back and almost messy. And that's all she wore.

Her clothes discarded. A crumpled heap just beside the bed. And yet, there was a strangely intimate beauty in their chaos. As if she had just stumbled out of them in some urgent and carnal heat.

Her entire being had been shaped into perfection, carved from a block of ivory, her delicate fingers, smooth legs, slender shoulders and bare chest roseand fell with the soft inhales of breathing.

It was not the Yujin you knew; there was no hint of her elegance and poise. Here only lustful indulgence. A reckless hedonism that wanted no secrets to be kept or questions to be unanswered. Her body lay free of the bounds that normalcy imposes, inviting you to admire what she kept concealed, every precious curve and secret corner of her immaculate skin, every beautiful mark and blemish, that, in itself, was a testament to the humanity that lies just under the surface of such sublime beauty.

There was no doll, nor porcelain queen. No statue of stone or plaster. Instead, she was living, breathing, moving and feeling. Each touch was electricity. And her eyes said it all.

There was woman—in its rawest form.

And you had stood. You had stared. For as long as you dared. Until you tried to tear yourself away. You could not deny your perverted mind that moment of indulgence. And indulge you did, right up until the fear of being caught overcame you.

It should have been so simple. Walk to your car, get in, and go home.

For the last twenty-four hours, the image plagued your mind. You were consumed with her. With the idea of her. Of what she had done, of what could have been had you dared enter her room. And the guilt alongside it.

And now you're here, a day later, walking back to the scene of your crime. The door is ajar again, a few feet ahead. You push lightly, gently, inch by inch. Your breath held and the anticipation thick, clouding your mind and filling every thought, not of anything other than what you might see behind that door.

And then it comes into view. The bed and the disappointment.

A bed perfectly made, and decidedly empty.

You realise your folly—thinking, hoping, expecting the same sordid sight as before.

"I was wondering if you'd turn up." Her voice comes from behind you and her tone is low, hushed, and seductive. Every word tingles down the spine. Her fragrance arrives a beat ahead of the girl herself. "Did you get my message?"

"Yeah, about being a criminal," you answer as innocently as you can manage, still recovering from the shock.

"Exactly. As criminals, we take, without question, what we desire," Yujin whispers the last few words in your ear, a heavy, breathy tone that takes any resolve left in you and melts it before it's even fully formed. Her scent surrounds you. It overwhelms you.

"Yesterday, what you saw me do," she begins, her fingers reaching for your arm, gliding gently and purposefully, drawing slow patterns with a single nail, "you had the decency to resist temptation, but I don't want that." Her fingers grip your forearm tightly.

"It doesn't matter why you resisted. All I know is that you watched me... touch myself, pleasure myself. Do I turn you on?" She knew damn well the effect she was having.

You answer her question with another question. "Yujin, what are you playing at?"

"You're smart. Don't you know how this goes?" She steps, smooths around the shape of you, and into your field of vision. "Don’t you know why you’re here?"

She raises her arms slowly, making a show of her body. With all the possible casualness, she smooths her hands up her sides, slowly, passing her stomach and onto her chest, and gently caressing. A shirt clings to her slim frame. The thin fabric is practically see-through, clinging to every delicious curve. The bottom few inches lifting, revealing flesh and the lines of lace trim on her matching her cream panties.

"I can't fight it, Yujin." Your hands find their way to the curves of her waist. She wriggles under the touch, happy to have the reaction she desires.

"Fight what?" She smirks, clearly amused by your confession and how easily you give in to her. Her hands roll gently across her breasts.

"The alarm in my head saying it’s a bad idea."

"Don’t fight it. Because I'm really, really hot," she whispers as pulls her top up her body. It rolls over her head and flops to the floor and you marvel, breathless and hungry, at the expanse of silky skin and feminine curves.

Her hands stroke at your crotch and she laughs softly. "Hard already?"

Her fingers curl and squeeze around the outline. She gives an approving smirk at the way it twitches under her touch, even as she mocks its hardness. "For me, huh?"

You nod, and she smirks. You move your hands up her body, but just as you begin; she twists free and walks towards her bed.

"Go, stand." Yujin points at the centre of her bedroom, towards the foot of her bed.

The carpet beneath you is soft, and you're barefoot. Walking. Watching. Eyes never leaving Yujin. Her bare thighs, defined, slender and soft. The curves, so gentle, and her accentuated hips. Her round, shapely behind, cradled so perfectly in tight-fitting panties. You have barely reached your position when she looks at you from over her shoulder and wiggles her panties slowly down her legs and leaves them on the floor.

She's crawling on the bed. You can't move—you barely manage to breathe. Each breath burns your throat. You're motionless, speechless, hypnotised in awe at Yujin. As requested (perhaps ordered) you remain. Watching from afar. Yujin seats herself on her bed with delicacy, her knees pressed together.

"I have to be honest with you," she confesses. "I'm not going to fuck you. But you can help me. If you're willing, that is."

"Anything" is your reflex response. You're powerless. She has you in the palm of her hand, and the growing ache in your groin, which was eager to be free of the confines of your pants, only affirms your thoughts.

"Are you sure?" Her head tilted to the side, teasing you with naivete. Yujin laid a single, slender finger on her lip and pulled it down suggestively. "If you come over here," Yujin insisted, her free hand parting her knees and patting the bed between her thighs, "then we could help each other."

There's a flurry of activity. You pull off your shirt and leave your trousers behind. Now you're kneeling across from her.

"Watch me. Just watch." Her voice is softer now, sultry, as her fingers ghost down the column of her neck, along her collarbones and then tracing the curve of her breasts, with the lightest grazes against her nipples. Her eyes fall closed as she carries on tracing feathery touches on her torso.

To be here now is all you could have wanted, really. If anything is happening beyond the sound of her shortening breaths and soft hums and her hand snaking between her legs, it's beyond your awareness. Yujin is shifting in front of you, wiggling and squirming; biting at her lip until it reddens and fills; gasping at the gentle caress of fingertips sliding slick against the smooth lips between her legs.

"No touching, just look." As if to drive the point home, her gaze holds on you for a moment, her lips curling into the sweetest smile. As a reward for your patience, her eyes grow warm and welcoming. Her legs spread wider, and Yujin hums. Her touch builds slowly, making small circles. There's no sign of urgency to her actions, none of the frustration that Wonyoung showed when waiting for her release. But Yujin isn't simply touching; it isn't about release. She's revelling.

Her breasts move with her heavy breaths. Her body trembles; her legs shake. She leans back slowly, taking support from her elbow, exposing herself wholly to you, with her head pressing back into her pillow, her hair sprawling in a mess and her pink lips slightly agape as her mouth shapes sounds that die as quickly as they're born.

"Yujin, I..." You lean forward onto your knees, placing an arm by her hip and another by her shoulder. You're hovering over her. Watching the display before you in stunned silence.

She grabs a handful of her tit, squeezing and moaning. "Keep talking," she breathes, her lips still quivering.

"I want you so bad."

She presses harder and slides her finger a little lower, dipping inside her cunt. Her other hand goes to your arm, then strokes over your bicep up to your neck. "You can do better than that." She whispers, wrapping her hand around your nape.

"How could I not want you?" Your knees are between her legs, you lower yourself closer without breaking her rule. You do not touch. "Not when you smell so enticing. Or sound so delightful. Or look so stunning."

Her mouth opens, panting breaths and half-uttered sighs fill the air. "And?"

Strands of hair fall over her face, you bring a hand up and hover it near to them, seeking her approval. Her eyes dart to your hand and consider it for a moment before giving the gentlest of approving nods. Your hand brushes the strands to the side. Her cheeks are bright and rosy, her skin damp, moist with perspiration, though still like silk to touch, you discover as you run a finger down her cheek.

"And when you look at me... with that smile. You have such a cute smile, like right now, that innocent—"

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me."

You oblige. Yujin rises to meet you. And you take her in a hungry kiss. She falls back against her pillow. You slide a hand around her thigh, gently holding it against yours. The sensation of skin on skin is electric.

"M-more. Give me more." Yujin demands, and you give her thigh a squeeze in agreement. Your hand moves to her ass, giving the swell an approving touch, caressing the skin, and kneading ever so slowly.

You watch her, in the dimness between kisses, studying her delicate expressions and tiny reactions and all the while you enjoy the feeling of her pliant flesh beneath you.

This goes on and on. The kissing. The touching. The moments of separation. When Yujin pauses and lays her head down, catching her breath. A few heartbeats pass, she opens her eyes and watches you. Languidly, she smiles and beckons you to lean closer, to hold her again and taste her sweet lips once more.

The dim, orange sunlight of early evening has long since faded. A soft, blue light envelops her bedroom. As the minutes passed and the two of you enjoyed each other's touch, Yujin never stopped. Never stopped her hand buried between her thighs. And this time your kiss broke by the jolt of her head, thrown back into the pillow. Her neck is at full stretch and her lips agape.

No moans come from her mouth. Instead, her breath hitches and holds. She freezes like this, under the moonlight piercing between the curtains. Reflecting from her skin. An image of pure beauty. Unadulterated pleasure.

Her eyes remain shut, but a beaming smile grows.

Finally, she sighs deeply and lets out her last shuddering, shaky breaths. She rises again and searches your eyes with her half-open ones and smiles once more.

"That was perfect," she murmurs, satisfied, as she lolls back into the pillow and rubs her hand—the hand covered with her cum—over her heaving, sweat-slicked chest.

You can only admire as she rubs her hand over her tits, smearing them with a mixture of cum and sweat. And when she's done, she lets her hand fall beside her head, the other resting on your shoulder.

"What are you thinking?" Her question came slowly, her speech still languid.

"How amazing you are."

Yujin smirks before stretching, arching her back from the bed, thrusting her tits at you. "You've probably thought that a lot." She's hot, and she knows it. "Anything else? With me here like this?"

"Your body is better than I imagined. Perfect."

Yujin brings a hand up to cup her tit, as if offering them up for you. "Glad you think so." The next word was a demand, "Taste."

Her chin tilts down and her gaze lifts. Her eyes watch curiously as your head dives to her chest. The most overpowering thing is the smell. The combination of her rich perfume and the scent of sex.

"That's it. Let me guide you." Yujin reaches round, holds the back of your head, and pushes your lips on her nipple. She giggles as you suck greedily, nibbling at her and lavishing her flesh in sloppy adoration. Yujin's skin glows a hue you'd never seen before. And tastes a taste so sickly sweet that you swear is so addicting that as a second becomes a minute, your tongue would never tire.

"Good." Her voice is soft and doting, but her breath catches for a brief instant as you roll your tongue over the swollen peak, drawing a tighter grip on your head. Her hands bury into your hair, her nails against the scalp. She pulls at you, guiding your tongue across her chest.

Yujin whines. And for all the sounds that you've heard today, there is none so sweet, nor one that cuts so deep as when she pulls you away. "God, I feel so sexy now."

Yujin lets her leg rub up to yours. Gyrating gently and grinding your thigh with hers, she works herself closer. Then her legs curl, capturing you and holding you. Yujin raises up so her face is millimetres away, whispering into your lips, "You don't even know what a turn-on you are right now."

She guides your hand with her own, down between her thighs. And she rubs your fingers up against her slippery opening. "Feel that? That's for you, and I can't wait any longer." Her eyes fall closed and her forehead rests against yours.

"I want to fuck you, Yujin."

"We aren't going to fuck." She punctuates each word separately but speaks without anger. Her tone is honey. It's dripping with lust despite the coldness of the words. "But I am going to let you cum now."

Her hand leaves your own, leaving your fingers pressed against her cunt. Both her hands now. Both against your body, rubbing at your chest and working their way down. Yujin's got a devilish, vapid expression. An insufferable confidence.

"And maybe this is selfish, but," Yujin grins wickedly as her hand takes a fistful of cock. "I'm also going to get off to watching you blow a load."

Her thumb, smeared in her arousal, rolls and drags. It's a wicked gesture that plays you like a marionette. Yujin draws her wet thumb up your length. The pressure and tension are enough to bring your breath hitching.

"It'll be huge." You lean into the feeling and whisper hotly. The heat building between the two of you is dizzying. She wraps her fingers around the base of your cock and squeezes firmly, jerking her hand up to the head.

"Good." The word escapes her parted lips as she takes the first full stroke. And then she doesn't stop. Her fingers tighten and the movement is repeated, finding a quick rhythm that you follow along to.

"Touch me," Yujin orders again. She looks down between your bodies, the tangle of arms, where she strokes your cock rhythmically. Using her other hand on your wrist to push you into her. Two fingers. That's what you give, gently stroking down along her cunt. Two fingers inside and curling up slowly inside her. Your hand pressing against her cunt, palm rocking against her clit. "Keep doing that."

You follow along. Obeying her directions and fulfilling her commands, making short little motions between her legs. You've watched her cum once and know exactly how to bring her there again. You push further, probing deeper, massaging the hot slickness. And you must be doing it right. Her grip on your wrist slackens and her body collapses back into the silk.

Finally, she fully focuses on you. Her hands work your cock. Up, down. Smooth, measured, fluid strokes. Unsurprisingly, she's perfect, each action purposeful, coordinated, and calculated. You know from the tension already winding, growing tighter and tighter, that it's a race you're destined to lose.

Yujin sighs heavily. Her lips remain open but her eyes grow serious. Head propped by the pillow, she's watching her handiwork. Watching the first drops of cum leak out and she palms them, taking them into her grip, making it messier as she continues to pump. Her eyes lift to watch your face as it distorts, and as you let out a groan.

"Are you close yet?" Her hand tightens. Faster. Rougher. Her fingers graze your sensitive cock, your body convulses and the involuntary reaction is a knee-jerk buck of your hips into the warmth of her hand. And her laugh follows. Delightfully warm, innocent, genuine. It fills the room and pierces through any self-conscious embarrassment. "Guess so, huh? Come on, cum. Just for me." Her thumb drags over your cock's head.

Your hands still moving, and Yujin's body beginning to quiver. With her orgasm fast approaching, she's determined to make you finish first. Her other hand has a hold on your balls, encouraging them to let loose.

Your lungs hurt from the shallow gasps and a sick knot forms in the pit of your stomach. A tingling buzzing and a throbbing that overcomes everything, wiping the thoughts from your mind. Only her eyes. Yujin's warm, hazel, angelic eyes are what remains. They stare with determination, urging you on.

She knows. You know. You can't hold it anymore. Your body isn't yours anymore, it responds to Yujin, and when she grins, you have no power. Yujin's in control, the only words in your mind. "Cum. Cum all over."

"Ugh, fuck..." is all the warning that you can manage. Her grin widens into a malicious smile and her hand becomes a vice. You can barely breathe; a dull buzzing rings in your ears. Your vision is a blur. All-consuming pleasure blinds. You buck into her hand and feel the thick ropes of cum leave. Firing onto her toned stomach. On to her tits. Wherever her hand directs you.

"Wow, really came hard," Yujin grins teasingly at her messy hands.

Breathing is easier now, and the rush, though it fades, lingers still in every inch of you. And as feeling comes back, as your mind clears, you realise your own hand never stopped. You're still mindlessly fucking her with your fingers. Still making Yujin writhe and moan. She's so warm. Wet.

"Fu-ck. Ke-eep doing... that." Her legs pull at you, forcing your body on top of hers. You respond in your movements, curling your fingers into her and slamming them harder. Your palm hits her cunt every time with a slap.

She's got a hand on her tit, squeezing the cum-covered mounds, her hand sliding around in the sticky mess. It's spreading—the mess, all over her tits—and she's using it for pleasure. It glistens in the soft blue moonlight, catching your eyes.

"I-m..." Yujin starts, then gasping a sharp intake of breath, then more noises, stunted. This goes on until, finally, she takes one slow, heavy, deep breath, filling her chest and holding it there. Her eyes are glassy as if she's not looking through them. And she's still gripping your sensitive cock, hand covered in cum. You groan softly as her hand rubs the last few drops out.

She cums again. She tried to warn you, but this time she's nothing but moans. Erupting from her. Rough. Deep. Coming from within. She gushes. Wetness coats your fingers. Her cunt overflows and runs out onto your hand. A mess of her cum on you, a mess of your cum on her. You watch her breathing as the final few gasps leave her, slowly returning to a steady, even rhythm.

Yujin is breathless. "W-wow..."

You kiss her cheek gently. Your body finds its place beside hers. "Fuck me, Yujin," you exhale.

Yujin's breathing is slow and even, a smile beaming, radiating that warm glow that is her. She takes a deep breath in, then lets it out again.

"No." There's not an iota of sympathy.

You let out an audible sigh, but Yujin holds her finger up. "No sex tonight," she corrects herself, before pushing on your shoulder, rolling you over until she sits atop you.

Her lithe, cum-covered body presses down upon you. Her hips against your spent dick. She leans back, straightening her torso. She barely weighs a thing. Her body is as light as a feather. Yujin gives an innocent look, smiling but avoiding the eyes, but after a moment her smile turns coy, even teasing. She runs a hand over her body and pulls it away, strings of sticky cum stretching from her fingers to her stomach.

"I need a shower." She runs her eyes over your body. "We need a shower."

"Or we can continue..." you speak as you run a hand up her thigh.

Yujin moans in response, and she closes her eyes at the contact. A tremble wracks her for a moment, until her eyes snap open. "No." She pulls back and pushes off you. "Come. Let's shower."

She's standing beside the bed, and you admire her. "You look gorgeous." The words float in the air, and Yujin lets a soft, barely visible blush form. She takes it well; you would've thought she'd dismiss the words, but she smiles warmly.

"Come on." Her finger beckons you.

You follow and don't take your eyes off her. And why should you? Her body is so enchanting, swaying her hips from side to side in her lustful saunter. Her ass and shoulders roll in sync perfectly.

***

Hot water and steam. One runs down your body and the other fills the air. Not thick enough to block your sight but still veiling everything in a white, blurry mist, just enough to muffle the sound, enough to add something in the background.

"Mm..." Yujin murmurs as you rub her back. A luxurious bar of soap. You lather your hands and work it across her body. Underneath her arms. You guide your slippery hands to her sides, lifting and moving with them as they run along her stomach. You tickle gently above her hip bones, smiling at her small reaction—how her hips roll away instinctively.

"So, what happens now?" you ask. Yujin had been completely quiet during the shower. But you can't help but think that you need to address what just happened, what could happen.

"Well, I could bend over right now, right?" Her voice is bubbly, still in a post-orgasmic high.

You chuckle. "But you won't."

"But I won't," Yujin confirms. "I haven't decided yet."

"That's ominous."

Yujin closes her eyes. "Not like I'm the only girl who you're fooling around with."

"So you want it to be exclusive?"

"No." Yujin takes the soap and turns to face you, rubbing it over your chest.

"You're a hot guy, with a nice cock," Yujin's eyelids fall half-closed and her lips spread to show her tongue running over the corner of her mouth, and with the faintest shrug, and adds: "We both know I could have my way with you anytime I want."

Yujin moves past you towards the jet of running hot water. She bows her head under it and lets it rinse off the foam. The suds flow down her body. The streams turn to rivers. Bouncing, trickling, coursing between her supple breasts, down her narrow waist, over her toned stomach, then along her long legs. She takes a second longer than necessary, basking in the spray and enjoying the sensation, and the visual she knows she creates for you.

She reaches out and pulls you under, body against body. She brings her mouth to your ear. "But no one can find out. That would cause you a lot of problems." Her hands grip you tightly as if to emphasise the seriousness. And while her tone remains jovial, there is an underlying sternness.

"What do you mean? What would happen?"

"The position my dad is in, we can't afford to have this come out. He would have you out of the school and out of my life in an instant." Her voice lowers, almost a growl, but there's amusement in it. Her smile widens as she looks you in the eye. "But that won't happen, will it? We'll make sure of that."

"No, won't happen."

"And while we're on the topic..." Yujin grabs at your crotch, stunning you. "If you're gonna keep fucking Wonyoung, you might want to do a better job of hiding that. It'll end the same way."

"Y-you don't mind if I fuck Wonyoung?"

"Please, I encourage it." Yujin wraps a hand around the nape of your neck and pulls you in closer. You move your arms to hold her back. Skin on skin. Her breaths are hot, and steamy. She whispers the next few words, drawing out every syllable, each sound heavy with meaning.

"I..." You lose what words you want to say, flustered by her open, unexpected, and totally cool, reaction.

"Why would I? It's hot as fuck." Her lips brush over your cheeks, ghosting over the skin with a soft, supple touch. "And I know she won't fuck as good as I will."

NEXT PART HERE

#wonyoung smut #yujin smut #ive smut #male reader smut #x male reader #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #wonyoung x reader #yujin x reader

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chrollohearttags · 5 months

Text

“silly boy, come find me when you’re older!” • a. artlert

synopsis: two lovers realize their relationship isn’t meant to be but that doesn’t mean they have to part ways forever..

content + themes: fem!reader (black coded), age gap (2-3 years, armin is 19, reader is 21-22) college au-ish (armin is going to nursing school + reader is a business grad), star-crossed lovers trope, angst + comfort, missionary, riding, hand holding, heavy kissing, crying (not dacryphila), accidental creampie, pet names (baby, mama, baby boy, angel), drug mentions, he gets possessive for like .2 seconds.

word count: 3.1K

📝: I have been so in love with fluff and the idea of soft smut lately (maybe it’s the holidays, maybe it’s my hormones..who knows!) but this is a part of a new au I’m starting! A new story that’ll be coming out soon and I can’t wait. For now, enjoy one of several side fics to accompany it! Also, please tell me y’all know this title reference 😭

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“I really wish you wouldn’t look at me like that…”

the phrase seemed to have alluded him yet again..slipping through one ear and out the next. Almost as if only his body was present and his mind and spirit were elsewhere. It was to be expected though..

“..armie..? Aren’t you going to say something, baby? Anything?..”

you had just confided in him quite possibly the worst thing ever. In truth, his heart was breaking and there wasn’t a single thing that either of you could do to mend it. Although, you felt solely responsible..that the reason for his pain was entirely your fault. But it was a necessary confession nonetheless. One that you truly believed would benefit you both. Distance. Distance between the two of you so that he could properly pursue his education. A long sought after dream of becoming a nurse. Following directly in his mother’s footsteps and making her proud..it was all Armin ever wanted. As it stood, that was a mere concept and it was thanks to the girl lying next to him. His sweet, beloved (y/n). The (y/n) he reunited with at a house party one night and had been wildly entangled with ever since. Hooking up, drinking and smoking…what most peers your age was doing but you also had bigger aspirations for both Armin and yourself. He wanted to become a registered nurse, working with children and you were already two years deep into your collegiate journey as a business major. Laser focused and ambitious..ready to conquer your goals. You couldn’t waste your lives away in the back of his car, hotboxing and having sex. As fun as this little whirlwind romance was, you had to cut things off. At least for the foreseeable future..for both of your sakes. It wasn’t an easy decision in the slightest and you were far more torn up by the situation than what you were letting on but it had to be done. Regardless of your emotions..

“..I just don’t understand..I mean, is there someone else? Why don’t you want me anymore?…”

there it was..underneath all of those newly etched tattoos, shaggy blonde locks and suave charm lied that sweet, gentle boy. The same nerdy kid you’d first encountered whilst attending the same high school. Although two years apart, you found him to be adorable and couldn’t help but to grace the awkward brainiac with a smile every morning on his visits to the library. A beautiful goddess like you even acknowledging him? He was grateful for that alone! But it wasn’t until his senior year did the two of you reconnect. By that time, he had shed his thick, wire framed glasses for icy blue contacts to match his own..grew out his blonde bowl cut to a curly shag and had even acquired a couple of art pieces on his arm. Not to mention, gained some muscle from playing basketball. Some say you were the catalyst for his sudden change. Although this appearance was new, deep down, he was still that wide eyed genius with unbelievable intelligence. And best believe, your kindness wasn’t lost on him. So it came as no surprise, when you happened to cross paths with him at a graduation party that your younger sister, who happened to be in the same class with him, was attending..he found the courage to finally talk to you face to face. All of his newfound confidence flew out of the window when he saw you..that ethereal skin, deity like features and of course, that smile. That smile that made his heart flutter. “You haven’t changed a bit, baby boy…”

certainly his looks had, but you saw through all of that. You saw Armin for who he truly was and for that, he couldn’t allow you to slip away without confessing his true feelings. So that night, with liquor in his veins, he charmed you with sweet words and told you that he’d always had the biggest crush on you. It didn’t take long for you guys to get involved..days after that party, you began seeing one another. Both romantically and intimately. However, your relationship wasn’t exactly conventional or ideal..you were good for each other, perhaps a little too well. Because every moment that presented itself, you’d find yourself in every bed, couch, bathroom or backseat..going at it like rabid animals. The sex was insane and you couldn’t get enough of each other. It was only coupled by the sensation of the drugs coursing your veins..stimulants that sent your mind to places you didn’t need to be. Although there was never a single fight between you two, you knew the relationship wasn’t a healthy one. You encouraged each other’s worst habits. He had gotten a full ride scholarship to his dream school and you had obtained several as well for your ideal program. But you both stood to lose those if you didn’t make some changes. Ditching class to go smoke and then fucking him in every square inch of your off campus apartment. Sending him nudes and salacious messages during class, along with always being underneath each other. He’d never be able to focus and stay on track at this rate! Hence why you had to be the mature one and break things off. Even if it brought you to tears as well. So with a shaky palm, as you lay in bed next to one another, you’d bring a hand to his face and quell his doubts.

“You couldn’t possibly think that..you're the only one I want, Armin. I swear on everything..but..we can’t keep doing this. I love you so much but we’re no good for each other. At least not right now..”

but he’d attest, almost immediately. Insisting that he could buckle down and focus on his goals at hand. However, your mind was made up. That blind obsession and adoration for you would never allow him his room for growth. It wasn’t fair. Here you were only another year shy of receiving your degree and he was barely even started. You had to give him a fair shot, even if it meant removing yourself from the equation. You had even found an internship. He’d try to talk you out of it, convince you that he could juggle both college and you but regardless of how smart he was, nursing school was an entirely different beast in and of itself. It would require his full attention and dedication if he wanted to be an exceptional caregiver. No drugs, no distractions…no you. His studies deserved all of his time.

“So why can’t we make it work then? Isn’t that what couples do or was I nothing more than a joke?”

“Armin…”

in that moment, he’d tug away and roll over onto his side, giving you the proverbial cold shoulder and it stung like hell. The last thing you wanted to do was fight the man you loved. If anything, you wished things could stay like this forever. But you both had growing up to do and until that happened, it was best you parted ways.

“..I have an idea..”

But it wasn’t something that had to be permanent..for now though, there was no need to be upset with one another when you could spend your remaining time enjoying yourselves. Gently pulling him back towards you, you’d maneuver your legs until you were able to crawl on top of him. Those long acrylics scaled his freshly tattooed chest as you gently straddled his waist..at that moment, his little cheeks flushed red and you’d feel his breathing becoming slightly heavier. You’d lean down and begin peppering light kisses to his temple and all around his face..all while slowly rolling your hips against his crotch. With you, he was vulnerable..at his softest and would undoubtedly listen to whatever you said. “I’m all ears..”

that’s when you’d devise a plan that you believed that both of you could agree upon. An agreement of sorts.. “..two years..in two years, we can see each other again, just like this. We’ll work hard and reach our goals. You’ll be in your senior year, doing clinicals and I’ll be at my new job. We can find a place and finally start our lives together. Armin, I love you so much and I don’t want to see you throw your life away. Please..promise me you’ll find your way back to me when you’re ready. When we’re both in a better place..” once he spotted your tearful plea and heard the tone in your voice, he knew what had to be done. Personal feelings aside..you were absolutely right. He knew if he stood any chance of keeping you in his life, he had to blossom into a grown man that you could be proud of. One that was worthy of being called yours. Reaching up, Armin would grasp your hand and bring it to his lips for a gentle kiss, holding it close. He wanted to remember that feeling..savor it and savor you as well. God, he didn’t want you to leave, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye!..but this was the only way. The only way he could ensure that he got to have you in the long run. He wanted you two to grow old together so he’d make this temporary sacrifice to be able to share an eternity with you.

“..you have my word, angel. I promise..I promise I’ll come back to you a better man than what I’ve been..”

“Then take me…right here.”

just then, you’d feel his hand snake up your spine and tug you down towards his chest..not another word was exchanged. Just slow, tender pecks and breathy moans..immersed in the covers and in one another, you’d allow the moment to take you both. Your palms cupping his cheek and his gripping your ass, you’d tousle around underneath the sheets. It didn’t take long for the endearing moment to become rather heated but it was a true testament of the passion between you two. In a moment of haste, his nails would gently dig into the curvature of your back as you leaned up. In a matter of minutes, you’d feel his once flaccid erect growing harder underneath you. The sensation of your dripping heat making direct contact with him..and it was driving him crazy! He needed you so badly right now and you were just the same.

“Armieeee..”

calling out with a high pitched whimper as you ground yourself against him. You couldn’t stop either..almost as if you’d simply combust if you were to be pulled away from him right now. Frail cries would escape his lips as well but he’d find a semblance of control to satisfy your desires, which took precedence over everything else.

“Yes, baby? Tell me what you need..”

cooing to you in that sweet, loving tone that always managed to turn you to meet putty in his hands every time. You were still hopelessly rutting yourself against him; arousal overflowing from between your thighs that quickly. He knew what you wanted but he needed to hear you say the fateful words..give him instruction and guidance the way you had always done. “Hey, look at me, mama..” gently snatching your head forward and forcing eye contact as your chest heaved. “N-need you. Need you so bad, baby..please. Make love to me..” and with that whiny declaration, he’d make haste in fulfilling your wish. With a cocked smile, Armin would reign you in tighter, reaching for you. “Then here..take my hands, angel..” on his command, your hands would join in a gentle clasp, combining as one as you adjusted your lower half to align with his. He’d buck his hips upward and you’d lower yourself down as your bodies became one… meeting in an instant. “Fuck…” the word escaping your mouths simultaneously along with gentle moans. That seemed to be the theme for the night. A stark comparison to the wild nights you shared together previously. Perhaps.. it was the realization that this was really the last time you’d get to do this for a while. That he wouldn’t be able to feel the comfort of your body, to smell your intoxicating scent..to clash with your plump lips..to taste the sticky gloss that coated them. To stare into those gorgeous brown eyes. So as he lie underneath you, being rode to kingdom come as your tightness constricted around him once more, Armin would close his eyes and absorb every memory, every fiber of you..ensuring that he’d never forget his first and true love.

“There you go, baby. Right there..ride me—fuck!”

and he couldn’t possibly forget how you made him feel. How you set him ablaze with your overwhelming passion..still bound hand in hand, heart to heart, you’d keep going. Throwing your head to the wind and calling out your lover’s name, lifting it to the heavens as you bounced up and down. Taking him to your hilt; allowing that swollen tip to prod your most sensitive area. “Armin, baby! Yes..oh my gosh, you feel so good.” For the first time, you didn’t just fuck him. His flesh was more than a mere vessel of pleasure..it was your soul becoming one with his own. You were experiencing true pleasure in its purest form..and neither of you wanted it to end. Finally opening his eyes, he’d be greeted by the ethereal view of your breasts swaying and your beautiful face throwed in ecstasy filled bliss. “Aw, baby..you’re so beautiful. My favorite view in the entire world.” Smiling as tears streamed generously down your cheeks. “Oh my God—I love you, Armin! I love you so much.” Confessing with all that you could muster. And that warm, gushing sensation derived from your sex wasn’t lost on Armin either. He’d find himself in a fit of heaving as your walls closed in around his cock. Squeezing him as if to never let go. “Ahh!-shit..I love you too, baby!—“

in that moment, he could no longer hold back his urges. His need to claim full dominion over you..hastily, he’d bring you to a cease before maneuvering and flipping you over onto your back. It was then that he’d mount you. Diving between your legs as he held each in place. He didn’t even take a moment to adjust. It was mere seconds before you’d find yourself filled with him yet again and he’d begin his descent into your mix. Sloshing and drumming up slick as your thighs collided in a fiery haze. The bed..the one that you’d messed around in so many times before served as the place of consummation for your devotion tonight..ricocheting and colliding with the wall as thunderous slams erupted. Your limbs entangled as your legs found home around his waist and your arms on his back. His entire frame lay bare and pressed to your own as those hips crashed into you. It felt unreal..so unbelievably unreal. But this was the present..your reality for the time being so you’d savor every last moment you got together. Drilling further into your body, his pace sped to a barrage of more steady, consistent strokes. Ones that he would accompany with sloppy tongue kisses. Filling your mouth with them as he pounded you gently. You couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. Regardless of how many times you slept together, something about this moment was starkly different. “Look at me, (y/n)!…” once again, snatching your head forward to meet his gaze. “You’re mine..you’re mine and I don’t give a damn where you go. I belong to you, you hear me? Don’t forget that..” those tears that had been brimming in his eyes finally fell and you’d affirm his sentiment with a fierce nod of your head, assuring him that no amount of distance or time could ever dissipate the love you shared for one another. “Yes baby! And I’m all yours, forever. I won’t ever leave you.” Sealing your promises with one final act..

“Yeah? You mean that?” “Every word, baby. I want you to always be with me..” Vocalizing back and forth as he continually thrashed around inside of your pussy until he sensed the urge that you were close. Upholding one another’s heads in a passionate fury, you’d exchange breathy words amid your love making. Telling him you’re near your peak and him telling you to let go. “Come for me, baby. You can come all over—“ but alas, before he could grant you permission, it would seem that he’d reach his climax first; glaring with a wide eyed expression as his seed filled you to the brim..something he’d never done before! Cursing himself and apologizing as he shook violently, draining every drop of himself into you. Perhaps he took your words a bit too literal but it was far too late to turn back now and shortly after, you’d follow. Showering him with a splatter of sticky rain. Squeezing and dripping all down his shaft. You’d convulse and flail around the mattress until he was able to quell you with gentle kisses. “I’m right here, mama. Let it out, it’s okay..” but once you were back into consciousness, you still wouldn’t let go and you remained entangled like this minutes afterwards. Exchanging “I love you’s” and sweet nothings. Along with tears..shedding them not for what would be lost but the time you had together and the comfort in knowing that you’d reunite soon enough. This time as more than friends with benefits or even mere freshmen sweethearts. But as an entity, an item that could never be separated because your bond was forged on a stronger foundation than one made of pure lust. It was love that would drive you to be better versions of yourselves, to work hard and it was love..that would bring you right back to one another when the time was truly right!

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@citysweet @greenieweeniesworld @hoohoohope @c0pkiller @bey0nseh @violetxxvenom @dragonmaiden79 @fuck-your-chickenstrips-hoe @saiki-enthusiast

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bluberryfields · 8 months

Text

This is what happens when you're raised by TV and trained in literary analysis

Beyond the crushing heartbreak of that finale, one thing in particular has stuck with me when I look at it in the context of S2 as a whole.

He lays out their relationship, "We're a team, a group. A group of the two of us. And we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't."

He then turns his head away and says, "I mean, the last few years, not really."

He pauses here, facing the interior of the bookshop. Really looks it up and down.

Turns back, "And I would like to spend" before choking on his words and looks toward the window. He can't finish saying something like "And I would like to spend eternity with you" because that's too much, too fast, for both of them.

But it's that "last few years" bit that has firmly lodged itself in my very broken brain.

According to Gaiman, it's been "a few years" since the end of Season 1. Armageddon has been averted. Heaven and Hell have reluctantly retreated. Crowley and Aziraphale have been effectively cut loose from their "sides," leaving them to form their own side.

So at the start of Season 2, we get a glimpse of the “fragile existence” they have carved out for themselves. To me, the biggest difference that we see is how they exist together in front of others. Going to the coffee shop, the pub, and the other shops along the street that Aziraphale has lived on for over 200 years. And don’t forget how they act in front of Nina, Maggie, and sweet, dim Muriel.

At the coffee shop, Aziraphale stammers a bit when Nina asks who Crowley is, but he still seems to have affection in his voice when he says, "We go back a long time."

Compared to Shakespearian "He's not my friend! We've never met before. We don't know each other!" panic, this is an incredible difference.

Of course, each time, Crowley is cool and cheeky and does nothing to indicate that they aren't a pair. Though, of course, he does deny it when Nina asks about Aziraphale being his side piece. “He’s not my bit on the side! He’s far too pure of heart to be anyone’s bit on the side.” And refers to him as an “Angel [swallows]I know.”

When they go the pub, Crowley's joy at doing something together in public that they do not normally do is super cute, including his cheeky order for Aziraphale's sherry. Then, when bringing the drinks over to the socially trapped Aziraphale, he greets Mr. Brown with a truly adorable, "Hello" and a signature DT smile. Then upon hearing how “excited” Mr. Fell is to host the meeting, he looks down and says, “Oh? You astonish me.” while Aziraphale sips his sherry and squirms.

We also watch as Crowley follows Aziraphale as he goes to each shop and talks to the owners about the meeting/secret ball. In theory, Crowley has no reason to tag along, and he certainly doesn’t help sway anyone who doesn’t want to/can’t go. He goofs around at the magic shop. He splays out on the bench, chin on hand, looking for all the world a husband waiting for his wife to pick out a dress at the department store. They are so married it’s ridiculous.

Finally, their behavior in front of Muriel while inside their sanctuary. Crowley sits on the arm of Aziraphale’s chair, somehow looking supremely comfortable on the old-fashioned furniture. He folds up those gloriously long limbs and presses himself as close as possible.

He smiles and plays along with Aziraphale’s coaching of Muriel in her disguise. Calls him Angel and asks to speak in private. And at the end, during the awful wait while Aziraphale talks with The Metatron, Crowley cleans up the shop and tells Muriel that he and Aziraphale will need some “us” time after all this. No beating around the bush.

Without oversight, they can be openly together and happy. But Heaven just can’t let that happen.

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helen-with-an-a · 1 month

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I need to be perfect

Hi. So I kinda don't like this, but I kinda do at the same time, and I wasn't quite sure how to end it. It was also a really good request so I might use the prompt again in another way. Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

Barca Femeni x Reader ; Alexia Putellas x Reader (Platonic)

Description: R needs to be perfect and doesn't know how to stop.

Word Count: 2.4k

“When I say ‘jump’, you say ‘how high, coach?’ Got it?” The overweight, middle-aged man with an awful comb-over had shouted to you when you were just 9 years old. His methods were basically abuse, but he produced superstars. And that is what you were going to be. A superstar. It didn’t help that you already had perfectionist tendencies, and your parents were pushy – always expecting brilliance. No, not even brilliance. The best, you had to be the best. Perfect. Flawless. Faultless. Textbook. There was no other choice.

It was no surprise that Barca had come knocking when you were barely 16. You had mixed emotions: elation that Barcelona wanted you, happiness that you could leave the cruel atmosphere you lived in, fear that you weren’t as good as they may have thought, and nervousness that you needed the horrendous conditions to thrive.

Again. More. That wasn’t good enough. You’re not trying. You need to be better. Again. Again. Again.

You had seen the media asking how Barcelona could have signed a 16-year-old rising young talent from a lower league club. The world expected you to be great, Barca expected you to be great, and your parents expected you to be great.

But you didn’t feel great. Not at first. You had turned up to pre-season and noticed how far behind you were from your teammates. You hadn’t considered that it was because they were almost double your age and had been at the club or other high-level ones for years. You were struggling slightly to get the drills – Catalan was the preferred language, and you were still barely competent in Spanish. When the season started, you weren’t used as a sub very much, making your debut in November about 85 minutes into the match. You didn’t get your first start of the season until February. You had gone from being the best in the team at your old club to being a mere blip on the team sheet.

You are useless. You can’t even make it as a sub? You are a waste of time and money. All the effort we spent on you.

Your parents weren’t helping the situation. You already had the voice in your head telling you you weren’t good enough, and the constant barrage of texts, voicemails, and phone calls after another match where you weren’t used was starting to get to you.

So, you started to push yourself. After a season of being on the sidelines too much, you knew you needed to start working harder. You didn’t realise that Jonatan had been hoping to use this first year to let you get accustomed to Spain, the style of play and build your fitness. At first, it was nothing major. You stayed late a few days a week to work on drills, set pieces and technical skills. But then it was staying late every day you had training. And then coming in early. And then you began to run to training, leaving your bags in the locker room overnight for you to go and get changed. And then you began to run back from training, too. And then you added extra at-home workouts (nothing too crazy in the beginning; mainly yoga that turned into Pilates, which turned into an additional 2 hours of bodyweight exercises). For some strange reason, you had been allowed to live by yourself. You think that it was because so many of the girls lived nearby. Ingrid and Mapi lived in the same building as you. Lucy lived on the same road as you, as did Keira, Ona and Aitana. Alexia lived less than a ten-minute walk away, and you were within easy driving distance of everyone else. But because you lived alone, no one noticed how much you were putting your body through, even on your days off and mid-season breaks.

But the hard work was paying off. You started the next season well; pre-season had gone fantastically, and your name appeared on the Starting XI for the first match of the season. It stayed there throughout the year. You had also broken into a constant starter for your national team.

Again. Again. Again. Be better. Do better. Worthless. Poor. Again. Again

You couldn’t see a problem with it. You were fast, strong, technical, good, and great. You were going on two years at Barca, thriving, and playing your best football. You were barely 18, yet you had already been nominated for the Ballon d’Or. Everything was brilliant football-wise. You had to keep going. You couldn’t stop.

Do better. Awful. Again. Be better. Shocking. Rubbish. Useless. Horrible. Again

It was your day off after an intense few weeks when the truth came crashing to the ground. The Champions League had started up again, and a series of away games took place in a short space of time. It was hard with long days away from the comfort of your own home, and your daily routine was not helping the situation. Everyone could tell you weren’t ok – but they assumed it was from the travel. Lucy had picked up a cold or something, Keira was tired, Aitana and Pina were a little achy, and Alexia and Frido were more vigilant over the needs of their bodies. Everyone was exhausted. But you had to keep going. You couldn’t stop.

In your constant pressure to improve, you failed to notice Alexia’s troubled stares, Marta’s questioning looks, Patri’s concerned glances, and Irene’s worried gazes. They knew how hard you pushed yourself … almost. They knew you stayed every day after training, and they were a little concerned. But they didn’t know the extent of it. Not in the slightest.

It was El Clasico. Real Madrid vs Barcelona. A historic rivalry. You wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep until May, but that wasn’t an option. Everything was fine. You were on the score sheet, winning and playing great football. And then Athenea slid in for a tackle, catching you on your ankle in precisely the wrong spot. You tried (successfully) not to cry, but you couldn’t help the pained gasp that escaped your mouth. Alexia had been by your side instantly, ushering the medics over and holding you in place with her Captain’s stare.

“It’s your ankle, sí?” Alexia knew it was a matter of time before an injury came for you. If only she had stepped in sooner and helped you from overworking yourself. She helped you to your feet and walked you to the dugout.

“What? No! Ale, I’m fine. See,” You stood on your sore foot to prove your point. It hurt like nothing else you’d experienced, but it was fine; you just needed to walk it off.

“No, you sit the rest of this game out, get re-assessed back home and then we see if you can play.” She said with a note of finality as you huffed, turning around and walking off before you could comment.

Terrible. Awful. Be better. Dreadful. Terrible. Hopeless. Incompetent.

You knew it was silly. Your ankle was not ok, but you needed to train. It had been 2 days since El Clasico, and you were forced not to train yesterday, but it had been a travel day, so there wasn’t much you could do. It would be fine; you had trained on injuries before. You had waited until you knew the team would be out on the pitch as you snuck into the gym. Your ankle was heavily taped, but that was fine. You could put some pressure on it – that was all you needed.

You were determined to get at least a little run in. Just a gentle jog, really, barely above walking. Just a quick 5km. Nothing too crazy. You couldn’t afford to stop training, not after everything you have worked for. With your face in a determined expression and the idiocy of a terrified teenager, you got to work. You started on the bike. The movement was a little painful, but it raised your heart rate and got blood flowing. As you moved across the equipment, the door to the gym flew open.

“Qué crees que estás haciendo?” Alexia roared, making you jump out of your skin. Your first thought was that you hadn’t spent enough time on the bike, that she was angry at you for not working hard enough. For stopping. For taking a breather. “You are injured! Why the fuck are you not resting?” Alexia stormed over to you – she seemed angry. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her eyes were dark and stormy, and her mouth was a hard line. She was angry at you. Why was she telling you to rest? Rest? You couldn’t rest. You had to be better. Keep working harder. Push yourself to be the best.

“I …” You couldn’t answer her, you couldn’t make her angrier. You couldn’t disappoint her. “I’m sorry. I just needed some water. I’m starting again in a minute.” You rushed to get your explanation to her. She needed to know you weren’t stopping. You were just moving to a different exercise. You weren’t slacking.

“Again? What have you done already?” She wasn’t calming down. If anything, you were making her angry. With the lack of sleep, the mental exhaustion, the injury, it was becoming too much for you. Tears clouded your vision, Alexia becoming foggy as you tried to stop the emotions from bubbling up.

“I was just moving from the bike. I’ll start running now. I’m sorry. I’m not stopping, I promise.” You were a mess as you moved to start the treadmill.

Alexia stopped to look at you. Really, look at you. Your tired eyes, your dark circles and your sickly skin. The fatigue was evident in the way you stood; your body seemed too heavy for you to hold up. You also looked terrified. She couldn’t work out why, though. Yes, she was angry. A trainer had come into the medical room wondering who had cleared you for exercise. Alexia knew no one had done so; they had told her after the match that it would be 2 weeks or so before you could rejoin training at any level (after the string of injuries, the medical staff were also over-cautious in their assessments of minor injuries). So, she knew you were doing this against their advice. And that made her mad; it was one thing to push yourself in training despite coaches telling you not to overdo it but another to actively go against medical advice. But looking at you, she knew you hadn't asked for medical clearance. You were just a scared little girl.

“No, Chiquita. No, running.” Alexia was a lot calmer now, seeing your lip wobble and your eyes blink rapidly—clearly holding back tears.

“I have to. I can’t stop. I need to be better.” You whispered, ashamed of your perceived weaknesses.

“Cariño,” she cooed, reaching out to you. You flinched, not used to kind touches. Any touches you had received from coaches or captains were ones that would push you into running more, doing more drills, and practicing more set pieces. “Pequeña. You’re injured. You need to rest, mi amor.”

“I can’t rest. I need to train. I need to be better, do better.”

“No, Chiquita. You don’t. You need rest; you need to get well again.” Alexia stepped forward. She could see the war raging in your head – the desire to stop but the need to keep going. “Cariño?” Her kindness made you break. You launched yourself at her, arms wrapping around her neck as you cried into her. “Oh, amor. You’re ok. Está bien. Todo está bien. Prometo. Usted puede parar.” You sobbed into her shoulder, tears dampening her shirt as you howled. Everything was too much. You hurt, you needed to sleep, you wanted to stop, and yet you couldn’t. The voice in your head told you to keep going. Your parents and old coaches told you you weren’t allowed to stop. It was far, far, far too much for you.

“Neña, deep breaths. In … and out … vamos … in … and out.” Alexia instructed as you were becoming hysterical. She made her breaths exaggerated, slow and obvious, helping you to match hers. “Bien hecho, pequeña,” she pressed gentle kisses to your head as she eventually slowed down. “Y/N, I am not angry at you; no one is. But I need to know why you are in here and not at home resting.” Alexia implored, her hazel eyes looking directly at yours.

“I can’t stop,” you said meekly, slightly ashamed of your outburst.

“No entiendo. You can’t stop what?” She spoke slowly, like you would to a child or a scared animal.

“I can’t stop training. I need to be better. I need to do more,” you said, getting agitated—at her lack of understanding or at yourself. You weren’t quite sure.

“Amor, why do you need to be better?” Alexia was truly at a loss. You were so talented; you didn’t need to be better.

“Because everyone says so. They say so.” You looked so fragile and nervous, eyes darting around the room, your fingers twisting around each other.

“Who is ‘they’?”

“My parents … my old coaches.”

“Chiquita, listen to me. You do not need to be better. You are more than enough. You are so, so talented. You work so hard. But pushing yourself will not be good for you, the team, or anyone else. You need to rest, slow down, and allow your body to heal.”

With Alexia’s kind questioning, she soon got to the bottom of everything. You had told her about the harshness you had experienced from a young age, the disappointment and anger your parents had expressed during your first season at Barcelona, and the voice in your head telling you to keep pushing. She knew you had a way to go, but with gentle reminders and constant check-ins, you learnt how to quieten the voices. Training became easier, your home was no longer a place to get more workouts in, and you finally stopped listening to the devils in your life and started paying attention to the angels.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And that was all they could hope for.

I hope you enjoyed it. It was kinda short and I don't know if I really like the ending but yeh.

#barca femeni #barca femeni x reader #fc barcelona #woso blurbs #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso fluff #woso oneshot #woso #womens football #woso angst

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sporadicbeans82 · 1 month

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Used to Be || Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Reader

Part 2 || Part 3

Summary: You used to be in love with Mapi Leon. Maybe you still are, but now Mapi has a girlfriend... who is very, very pretty. Playing against Barcelona brings up old feelings that you're going to have to bury as you're about to transfer to Barcelona Femení.

Warnings: Maybe a swear word, brief mention of smut, it's a little bit angsty, unedited writing (done at 4am)

Word Count: 4.9k words

A/N: Hi lovelies-- I'm working on a request atm, but this came up and I got carried away. It may not make any sense and may be taken down, but could also be five parts... please let me know what you think :)

The crowd roared as the players of Real Madrid and Barcelona Femení made their way onto the field to find their positions for kickoff. The noise within Estadio Alfredo Di Stefano was absolutely cacophonous, and downright overwhelming to anyone who wasn’t used to it.

As you made your way to your position, you couldn’t help but glance up. Your eyes navigated across the stands, catching onto numerous waving flags, banners, and other collectibles and trinkets which represented either team. You also saw people wearing your jersey, which never failed to put a smile on your face, your chest alight with pride.

The smile, however, disappeared as you caught sight of someone you’d expected to see but… not so soon. Before you knew it, your thoughts were caught in those of the past. Their familiar figure sent so many memories zipping wildly through your brain that, like the noise, it was nearly overwhelming.

You remembered sharing your pre-match rituals with them, sharing the same breakfast together, and a few kisses before the two of you would set off to your match. It was your routine together, the one which made you feel confident and safe before a match.

When the two of you had separated, you also remembered how you’d struggled to find a new routine. Your entire life had been disrupted when you’d broken up with your girlfriend of two years in María Pilar León. Even now, close to seven years later, you still felt like a small piece was missing from your life… had been carved out of your chest and never quite sewed back together.

Your chest burned, and you quickly turned away from the stands in favor of going through your pre-kickoff ritual. You side-stepped to your position, working at your hips and calves as you waited for everyone else to get ready.

You performed three high jumps, making sure to tuck your knees up into your chest– or as high as they could go. As you went through your usual movements, your nerves seemed to meld away with the familiarity of the routine, and with it– the thoughts of a certain Barcelona player watching from the stands.

You’d been prepared to see Mapi, had seen her many times since you’d broken up– through matches played against each other at the international level, and then through matches played against each other at the club level. You’d seen pictures of her, too, with her partner, Ingrid Engen. Each time you saw Mapi, or Ingrid, you felt that same familiar burn in your chest.

Sometimes, that burning would become so much more, almost traveling up your throat and into your eyes, making you feel like you were choking on thoughts and memories of what used to be and what could have been. You felt like you could cry, years later, which was stupid. You’d been the one to break up with Mapi, not the other way around. You thought that you had no right to feel the way that you did, especially since it seemed that Mapi had been able to move on, while you were still stuck in the past.

Someone nudged you, and you almost startled at the contact. One of your Real Madrid teammates, Hayley Raso, placed a hand on your shoulder. Her eyes held a certain amount of concern, almost silently asking you if you were alright.

You managed to give her a small nod, and Raso rubbed up the bare skin of your arm once and then twice before pulling away. It was a comforting gesture, one that reminded you that you weren’t alone in this match. You and Mapi hadn’t been mainstream news when you’d been together– sure, there were a few rumors which had floated around the internet back in the day. However, they’d all been pushed far from the spotlight.

Few people knew that you’d actually dated, and one of those included your teammates Raso and Misa Rodríguez. Throughout your years at Real, Misa had become a close friend of yours. In the deep hours of a night spent watching old football film and hyper analyzing your own team, you’d confided in the goalkeeper. She’d sensed that you were nervous about facing a certain Barcelona team within the next week and had asked you about it, and you’d told her– albeit nervously, as you were aware that they were international teammates. As far as you knew, Misa had kept your secret safely.

Raso was an entirely different story, having taken you home when you were drunk after a win. You’d apparently let slip that you’d missed Mapi and cried into Raso’s arms. Thankfully, the Australian woman hadn’t considered you to be as pathetic as you’d felt, and you’d told her about it all.

The fact that two of your teammates knew about your past with Mapi made you feel better about facing the team. It wasn’t as if you needed a shoulder to cry on– you were over it, really… but things still felt tense between you and Mapi. The two of you had never spoken after you’d broken up, save for the occasional quick congratulatory phrase at the end of a well-fought match.

It was weird, almost– the way someone could go from the best and brightest thing in your life to a stranger.

As Hayley made her way back to her position, you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes. You allowed yourself to take some calming breaths, closing your eyes and letting the loud crowd fade into the background as you tried to refocus once again.

As the ref blew their whistle, you rocked forward and opened your eyes, nearly missing the ball which had already been kicked your way. You strode forward a few steps before being dispossessed, the ball being cleared to the other side of the field before you had a chance to try to win it back. As you glanced up, you were nearly breathless as you realized just who had so quickly dispossessed you.

Ingrid Engen was taller in person. And prettier.

You couldn’t fault Mapi for being with her, not at all. From her long black hair which had been pulled back into an immaculate braid, to her light colored eyes– from the angle you were at, you couldn’t tell if they were green or blue, but you knew that they were gorgeous. You wondered, briefly, if Mapi ever got lost in them like you were right now-

A call of your name had you spinning, nearly stumbling over your own feet. You saw Hayley receiving the ball from another of your teammates, attempting to pass the football over to you. A Barcelona midfielder intercepted the pass, though, and sent it back over to the other side.

You didn’t have to look at Hayley to know what her eyes were saying– get your head in the game!

The next time you received the ball, you were more prepared. As Ingrid came forward to challenge you, you tipped the ball behind yourself and turned away so that your back was to Ingrid. Then, you were dashing forward once again, eyes set upward towards the Barcelona goal and the only person who now stood in your way-

Your body was flying forward before you could even attempt to kick the ball. Engen had caught up, having been at your hip when you’d made to run away. She’d slide her legs in front of yours, catching the ball and sending it out for a corner kick. She’d also caught a piece of you, judging from the way that you’d sprawled out on your face.

You rolled over slowly, tucking your knees under you as you started to climb to your feet. A hand was held out to you, and you took it without checking who was offering it. As they helped pull you to your feet, you took in their blue and red jersey, which was very unlike your white one.

Ingrid Engen gently patted your back, wiping some grass from your shoulder. Briefly, you wondered if her hands were this soft when she touched Mapi, too. They were large, and comforting, and warm against your skin– a harsh contrast to the breeze which had picked up as the game continued on.

You wondered if Mapi touched her like she’d used to touch you, and if Ingrid touched Mapi as she was touching you at that moment. You knew that you had no right to think those thoughts, but your brain prattled on and on as if morales had gone out the window as soon as you’d set eyes on the defender in the crowd.

Briefly, you remembered the first time you’d ever seen Mapi. It had been on your first day at Atletico Madrid in 2014, newly arrived from England. You didn’t know a lick of Spanish and had gotten lost on your way to the locker rooms.

As you’d wandered aimlessly around the building, you’d quite literally run into some girl with blonde hair and pretty brown eyes.

“Hola?” The girl had looked at you questioningly, confused by the way you stared wordlessly at her. You couldn’t help but admire the other girl, as if running straight into her wasn’t embarrassing enough. She was gorgeous, simply put, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to be her or… something else.

“Hi– Hola?” You’d finally managed to get out. Your accent was thick, the Spanish word unfamiliar on your tongue. A sudden shyness had overcome you, the feeling akin to feeling like a fish out of water.

Mapi didn’t know a lick of English, and so the two of you had stared at each other awkwardly, waiting for the other to extend an olive branch of sorts. Finally, Mapi pointed to the Atletico badge on her chest.

“Aqui. Football?” Mapi mouthed the two words slowly, unsure how much you’d manage to understand. You felt stupid– what kind of person came to a Spanish football team without knowing how to speak Spanish? Still, you managed to catch what Mapi was saying and nodded quickly, almost eagerly.

“Yes1 Madrid!” You said, pointing to your own chest despite the fact that it didn’t have a badge on the shirt you were wearing. Thinking quickly, you attempted to mime kicking a football, to which Mapi pretended to kick the ball back to you, complete with over dramatic sound effects that put you at ease as you laughed at the other’s theatrics.

“Ok,” Mapi said, before making a “come on” gesture with her hand, one which was universal in most- if not all, languages. You followed the other, trying to at least introduce yourself. Mapi turned towards you as you said your name, pointing at yourself.

“Es hermosa. Soy Mapi.” Mapi responded. You only caught a little bit, enough to know that her name was Mapi. You stored that information in your brain before catching a hold of the other girls’ wrist. She turned towards you, momentarily stopping and giving you yet another questioning look.

To this, you held out your hand. As Mapi went to clap her own against it in a high five.

“Nice to meet you!” You said, and Mapi smiled a little bit, nodding.

“Mucho gusto-”

You blinked the rest of that memory away, refocusing on Ingrid. You didn’t bother thanking her, instead simply walking away before you did something that you knew you’d regret. The way in which Ingrid looked at you, brushing the grass off of you apologetically, had your stomach churning in a way that reminded you of how you felt before an important match. Except now, you didn’t think that sidestepping and jumping a few times would help dispel that feeling.

As you set up for the corner, you tried to ignore the way that Engen followed you, her eyes making sure you didn’t stray too far away so that she could mark you. You’d set up between two of your teammates, and as the ball was kicked in you ran forward, jumping and tapping your head up against the ball. You thrust your neck to the side, trying arduously to direct the ball into the net, but Cata Coll hopped up and grabbed the ball between her two gloved hands.

You rubbed the spot on your head that had hit the ball as you sprinted further out into the field as the ball was kicked to one of Barcelona’s center backs. Throughout the game, Ingrid continued to mark you at each corner, staying close to you. She’d almost become your shadow, and it was becoming extremely hard for you to concentrate when thoughts of how frustrated you were with Ingrid soon turned to how hot the Norwegian was as she anticipated your every move, or when she went head to head with you and wasn’t afraid to make a challenge. Thoughts like those inevitably led to Mapi, who you knew was in the stands, eyes on her girlfriend who was guarding her ex-girlfriend.

Ex-girlfriend. The term soured in your mind, one which you rarely had to actually apply to yourself– you remembered when you’d broken up with Mapi.

You’d managed to catch a few days off at Arsenal, and had flown to Spain. You’d put this off for far too long now, and you were emotionally exhausted. So much had happened in your life since you’d transferred from Atletico Madrid to Arsenal, and since your girlfriend of two years, Mapi, had transferred to Barcelona.

The two of you had tried to make the distance work. At first, you’d manage to call each other at least twice a week, and visit each other in person at least once a month, and sometimes more. You’d made an effort to go to Mapi’s games, and Mapi had made an effort to attend yours or, at the very least, watch them on television.

After six months at Arsenal and six months of being apart, it had been almost four months since you’d seen the Spanish woman. You’d spoken to her a week ago, and had tried to call her a few times to let her know that you were coming to Spain, but your calls had gone unanswered.

You were upset, of course, feeling like you were being ignored. However, a larger part of you knew the truth– neither of you had time for the other at this point in your busy careers. The thought was painful, especially the first time that you’d realized it. The fact had been on your mind for the last few months, clutching and squeezing painfully around your chest in the darkest hours of the night, like a python around its prey.

As you and Mapi had gone on and on, you couldn’t keep the feeling at bay any longer. You felt like you were dragging your relationship on for the sake of being afraid to end it. You loved Mapi, yes, but you felt like you were… baggage, like another box to check at the end of the day.

“Call your girlfriend” right next to “Feed the Cat” and “Do the Dishes”.

You knew that that was how you felt about Mapi, at least. As if that weren’t enough, you felt ashamed about your relationship.

When you’d been in Barcelona, you hadn’t had to worry about what your parents would think about you dating a woman. Sure, you’d known that they would disapprove, as they’d always spoken negatively about “those types of people”. However, being in another country helped you keep Mapi as your secret. This secret was much harder to keep now that you were back under your parents’ clutches.

Mapi knew how your parents felt, which weighed heavily on your mind as well. You felt like it was too much for the girl, that you were too much for the girl. You didn’t want to speak to Mapi about it, for fear that the girl would dismiss her own feelings in favor of simply staying with you.

So, you’d made the decision alone.

You’d come to Mapi’s doorstep, a place that you’d only been once or twice since she’d moved there. Knocking a few times, you were greeted by your girlfriend, who looked confused by your appearance.

You’d done it then, giving Mapi a parting hug before you’d walked right back down her stairs. You had felt her gaze on your back, and had had to hold back your tears as you’d walked away and left the girl you loved behind.

You’d convinced yourself that it was for the better, had repeated that mantra as you’d paced away from her house. You’d essentially screamed it, in fact, when you’d stood in the mirror of the sketchy hotel room you’d rented for the night.

You’d wanted to go back to Mapi so badly, to cry into her arms and let her wrap her arms around you. You wanted her to tell her that it was okay, and that everything would be okay. You wanted her to tell you that the two of you could and would work, that you would try harder to talk and to visit and to love each other.

But you’d given up the right to ask for Mapi’s comfort the second you’d broken up with her. The shattered, dazed look in her pretty brown eyes had cut into you like a dagger, and served to haunt you for the next year whenever you thought of the girl.

You feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, their touch somewhat familiar from how often you’d felt them throughout the match. By now, your team was trailing Barcelona 1-3, which certainly didn’t help your quickly-souring mood.

From behind you, you heard Ingrid speak. Her voice was calm and collected, despite having played nearly 80 minutes of football. It was deeper than you’d expected too– not that it was super deep, it was just… it was nice, you mentally admitted to yourself. Calming and soothing like her touch, almost like Mapi’s but more relaxing and cool where Mapi’s was comforting and warm.

As if you weren’t torturing yourself enough, you wondered if Ingrid had used those hands and arms to comfort Mapi. You wondered if Mapi had run to Ingrid when you’d broken up with her, had been hugged and held in the way that you had so badly yearned for when you’d left her. Realistically, you knew that Ingrid hadn’t even known Mapi then, and so your thoughts trailed further.

“-okay…?”

“Huh?” You mumbled, glancing back towards Engen whilst trying to keep your eyes downfield.

“I asked, are you okay?” Ingrid repeated.

“Yes. Stop touching me.” You couldn’t help it, your tone biting and harsh. Immediately, Ingrid’s hands fell from your shoulders. Internally, you screamed for her touch again– it had been a very, very long time since you’d allowed yourself to be touched or held, and you supposed you were probably touch-starved at this point. Even still, you knew that you had no right to seek comfort in your ex-girlfriends’ current girlfriend, no matter how badly you yearned for it.

Maybe, once you moved from Real Madrid to Barcelona, you could get a cat. You’d heard that they could give good hugs.

Ingrid didn’t say anything, but throughout the match she kept her hands off of you. That is, until one of the last minutes in injury time. You’re surprised that you’re still in the match, given how badly your team is losing and that you’ve not done much for most of the match.

Ingrid had done well to silence any attempts or moves you’d made, and between the players in midfield and the center backs, you’d been muffled incredibly well throughout the match.

You knew that you had nothing left to lose by this point, and so as one of your midfielders received the ball, you called out for it and began your run.

The pass was gorgeous, rolling up through your feet and right in front of you. Indrid in front of you began to backpedal, twisting her hips so that she could gain enough momentum to keep up with your run while keeping her eyes on you.

You attempted to flick the ball ahead of her as you caught up to the Norwegian, just as Ingrid stuck out her foot. With the ball ahead of you, Ingrid clipped the side of your foot with her own instead, and you cried out in pain as you were sent sprawling once more.

It was a clear foul, and pain radiated throughout your ankle as you rolled onto your back. You didn’t think that it was too serious of an injury, but it still smarted and made its presence known. You didn’t expect for Ingrid to crouch down next to you, hand hovering over your shoulder as she went to pat your back but seemed to remember your earlier rudeness.

“Are you okay?” Ingrid asked, and you turned to glare at her.

“No, the fuck was that about, Engen. You could have broken my ankle.” Your words, like earlier, were harsh and immature. They were flat and scathing, meant to harm and dig deep into Ingrid’s chest.

A part of you hoped she’d fight back and give you a taste of her own scathing words as you’d been doing to her the entire game. Instead, she took a deep breath and shook her head.

“I certainly did not mean to do so, are you alright?” She asked again. Her words were calm and cool, just like her touch, serving almost like ice water to the flaming hot rage you felt.

You froze, before nodding slowly. You’d anticipated a verbal fight, had hoped for one, but Ingrid had given you nothing to work with. As you agreed, she held out her hand for you to take once again, and you stared at it for a moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your teammates making their ways over and your captain talking to the ref, attempting to appeal for what you figured was a yellow card or a penalty kick.

You hesitated, only for a moment. The girl in front of you was an anomaly and you couldn’t, for the life of you, understand her.

It was attractive. The way that she defended was attractive, and the way that she kept a calm and level head was doubly as attractive. You battled the thoughts away as soon as they arrived, but they were already in your mind, spreading through your thoughts like the plague as you reached out and took the girls’ hand, allowing her to pull you to your feet once more.

She filled your thoughts for the rest of the game, right up until the referee whistled three times to signal the end of the match. The Barcelona players went to celebrate while you trekked over to your own teammates.

Some of them gave you comments about how good you performed, which you were surprised about. You hadn’t done much for most of the match, but you supposed that you’d done well against defenders of Ingrid’s caliber and had given a few good attempts on goal.

You praised each of your teammates in turn as well, before someone had wrapped their arms around your middle and lifted you up from behind.

“Muy bien chica bonita!” You heard someone call out, and you were familiar with them and the way they held you and spoke. You giggled.

“Gracias Misa.” You said, waiting for her to plop you back down to the ground before giving her a quick fist bump. The girl looked you up and down, as though to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“You are ok?” Misa asked, voice rising towards the end of the statement to make it into a question. You nodded.

“Sí. Estoy bien.” You responded, nodding to affirm your own statement. Misa seemed satisfied for the moment, reaching out to pat your back before she was off to converse with more of your teammates. You knew that the nosy girl would be asking for details about what had been going on with you and Ingrid, but for now the girl would just have to wonder.

As you turned away from the Real Madrid goalkeeper, you were met with the sight of Mapi and Ingrid. The two were talking quietly with each other, and you were stunned by the image of them both together. Ingrid now wore a puffy Barcelona team jacket, reminding you of the fact that you were cold.

Mapi wore a pair of black trousers with a pair of casual tennis shoes and a white jacket. It was a simple outfit, but you couldn’t help but think the girl looked absolutely gorgeous. Your heart throbbed, unable to keep the thoughts of both girls out of your mind.

You were just about to turn your back on them, too, when Ingrid caught your eye and gestured with her hand for you to come over to them. You froze, hesitant to do as she was motioning for you to do, but slowly made your way over anyway.

Mapi looked at you curiously. Once upon a time, you would have been able to read her facial expressions like a book. Now, however, you were unable to tell what she was feeling. She appeared guarded, but her lips and eyes, which were normally so expressive, gave nothing away.

Unlike her partner, Ingrid smiled warmly at you. It was the kind of smile that you couldn’t help but smile back at, and Ingrid stuck her hand out for you to take and shake.

“Congratulations, you played really well.” You were the first to speak, directing your sentence towards Ingrid.

Ingrid nodded, “You played well too.”

“Thank you…” Your voice trailed off as you were at a loss for what to say. Your mind was at odds with itself, as a part of you wanted to ask how Mapi was doing, while another part wanted to intertwine your fingers with Ingrid’s and never let go. You were so confused and conflicted, your heart and mind working overtime as you struggled to figure out where to go from there.

Ingrid seemed to realize that you were struggling and made up for it.

“I’m excited to play with you and not against you!” She said, and you swallowed nervously, your smile tentative, now.

You’d nearly forgotten about that.

You were set to join Barcelona within the week, having played your last game with Real Madrid. You were sad to see it go, but you were beyond excited to join the team of your childhood dreams.

Even still, you were terrified of joining the team which housed your ex-girlfriend and her current relationship, and your eyes strayed from Ingrid to Mapi and back again at the thought.

“I’m excited too-” You said pathetically, and you were saved from saying any more as you heard someone from your own team call your name. You gestured awkwardly behind you, towards the voice, and began to walk backwards as you waved at the two. “I’ll see you later!”

You blushed as you turned away, mentally chastising yourself for the lame way you’d managed to say goodbye.

-----

Later that day, as you spent one of your last nights in the apartment you’d lived in for four years since joining Real Madrid, you couldn’t help but allow your thoughts to stray back to Ingrid and Mapi.

You wondered what they were doing– were they holding each other and watching a movie, like you and Mapi used to do after a match when you’d used to play together? Or, perhaps, they were out dancing with each other, celebrating the win against their rivals at a club somewhere.

A part of your mind fought to imagine the sight of the two grinding up against each other, and while you were quick to turn away from the thought, you could still imagine Ingrid’s large hand cupping Mapi’s hip and directing her movements as Ingrid whispered in her ear-

What was happening to you?

You swallowed nervously, sitting down on your couch. Your elbows sat propped on your knees as you gazed straight ahead at the wall,

You were, simply said, conflicted.

The way you had felt today had been a feeling that you’d buried a long time ago, one that had been reserved for Mapi and nobody else. However, the way Ingrid had looked at you and had talked at you, and the way she’d calmly patted you or helped you– the feelings had resurfaced.

You tried not to think about what that meant. You knew what it meant, and you knew that you couldn’t feel that way– not now and not ever.

If you wanted to succeed at Barcelona and to keep your heart safe, you had to bury these feelings once more.

And so you did– mentally, you threw those thoughts into a cage and locked them up tight. You promised yourself that you would stop feeling like this towards your ex-girlfriend and her current girlfriend. No matter what, you would stop.

It was a promise you made to yourself.

A promise that you knew you would break.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen x mapi leon #ingrid engen x mapi leon x reader #harper writes

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eveningepiphany · 9 months

Text

welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.

warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!

a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.

also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig

———

There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.

That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.

You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.

You’d waited years just to get here in general.

When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.

But you’re here. At the front.

You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.

A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.

Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.

But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.

Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.

You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.

Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.

“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.

You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.

“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.

Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”

Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.

“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.

“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.

You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”

You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.

“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.

“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.

You could stay in this moment forever.

As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.

You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.

Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.

Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.

Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.

And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”

“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.

Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.

The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.

You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.

You were enamoured by him.

Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.

His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.

“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.

“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.

He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”

You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.

But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.

From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.

But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.

This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.

And then he reads the sign.

‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’

His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.

You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.

“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.

As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.

However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.

He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.

“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”

“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.

Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.

‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.

A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.

“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.

He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.

“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.

“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”

A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”

Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.

You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.

He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”

You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.

The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.

Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.

“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.

“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.

“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”

And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.

You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.

And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.

But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.

You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.

It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.

To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.

Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”

You blow a kiss back.

And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.

Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.

You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.

Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.

———

Post love on tour depression is a real thing.

There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.

But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.

The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.

And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.

The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.

You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.

You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.

It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”

It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.

That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.

Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.

“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.

He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.

He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.

“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.

You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.

But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.

You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.

“Hi…” You flush profusely.

“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.

Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.

The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.

That are very intensely locked onto yours…

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”

He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.

“Y/N.” He tuts gently.

“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.

“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.

“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.

Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?

You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.

“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”

“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.

“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.

You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.

He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.

Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.

You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.

Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.

Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.

You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.

You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.

You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”

He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.

“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.

“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.

“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,

“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”

Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”

He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.

In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.

“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.

The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.

“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.

“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”

He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”

“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.

“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.

“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.

“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”

“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.

“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.

“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”

He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.

You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.

Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.

The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.

He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.

Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.

You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.

But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.

You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”

He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”

A friend of his?

“Alright, bye, I love you.”

And just like that the phone hung up.

“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.

“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.

You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.

“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.

It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.

“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”

“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”

As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.

Your brain stalls at his comment.

“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.

“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”

“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.

“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.

You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”

He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”

“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”

You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”

He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.

You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.

“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”

He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.

You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.

“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.

“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.

He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.

Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.

You check your phone to see the time.

1:53pm

1 new notification

Unknown Number | :)

So that actually did just happen.

———

To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,

so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?

And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.

———

part two!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #fanfic #harry styles smut #famous harry #fan! y/n #fangirl! y/n #italyrry #he’s so cute

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sabrinashrts · 4 months

Text

interview

parings : percy jackson cast x fem!reader ( only walker, leah, & aryan )

warnings : none really.

summary : you and the cast do a wired autocomplete interview ! if your not sure what it is it’s just answering most searched questions on the internet :) let’s pretend the character you play is hazel levesque ik like she’s not even in s1 but like who cares 🌚

“3.. 2.. 1 action!”

You smiled at the camera “Hi my names y/n y/l/n” as you let the others introduce themselves.

“My names walker scobell”

“My names leah sava jefferies”

“And im aryan simhadri”

You and the others discussed that you would do the intro when they finished you spoke “And we are doing the weird autocomplete interview!” One of the workers handed you guys boards with your names showing blank lines.

“Alright who should we do first..?” Aryan says looking at the boards. Walker looked at you smiling “I think y/n should go first”

“Yeah I was also thinking y/n!” Leah added on you laughed softly “Wow.. of course it’s me” Aryan handed you the board with your name on it. You sighed “I’m scared to what people have searched about me” Aryan laughed to your comment. You saw the first blank.

You read it out loud “What’s..” you ripped off the piece of paper finishing your sentence “Y/n y/l/n favorite color?”

You turned to your friends “Do you guys know what it is?” Leah spoke right away “Is it ( your favorite color )”

You smiled “Yes good job!” Since she was right next to you, you gave her a high-five. You looked at the next question “What…” you ripped off the paper once again “Character does y/n y/l/n play in percy jackson” you looked at the camera “i play hazel levesque”

You looked at the other question “What happened to..” you ripped the paper off “Y/n y/l/n foot?” You suddenly remembered what happened. Walker had a laugh “oh my god I remember this!” Aryan nodded “Yeah why don’t you tell them what happened y/n?”

You laughed softly looking at the camera “While filming i broke my foot.. it was honestly kinda funny” you smiled.

Leah spoke “And it’s crazy how you still filmed! Like i could never” Walker nodded “Yeah y/n is a strong person” you smiled at his comment.

You looked at another question “What is y/n y/l/n eye color” you looked Walker and you looked at your eyes “There ( your eye color )”

You nodded looking at the camera “There you go..”

You finished the rest of your questions and threw the broad behind you “alright that’s all for me” It was now Aryans turn and he read his first question “aryan simhadri rolling in the deep”

You laughed right away and so did everyone else Aryan put one of his hands on his face smiling “No.. I don’t wanna remember this guys.” You looked at the camera “Guys go search rolling in the deep by aryan simhadri, you guys will love it!” Leah laughed softly.

After some questions it’s now Walkers turn. Aryan handed him the board he adjusted himself in his seat “Okay.. who does Walker Scobell love” It got kinda awkward.

You broke the silence making a joking “Me.. and Leah Sava Jeffries, and Aryan Simhadri.” Leah looked at the camera with a smile. Walker looked at you and nodded “Yeah.. you guys.. the cast of percy jackson I love many people.” He nodded and looked back at the board. “How old is walker scobell” he looked at the camera “I’m fifteen years old.”

He finished and now it’s Leah’s turn. She grabbed the board “Alright let’s see what people say about me” you smiled and Leah pulled off the paper “What has Leah Sava Jeffries been in.” She stopped for a second then looked at her friends “Uhm I’ve been in this one movie called beast, this other movie called… something from Tiffany, and now I’m in Percy Jackson!”

You made a small comment “You were amazing in the beast I saw it with my family you did good!” Leah turned to you smiling “Thank you!”

She did the rest of her questions and now it was time for the cast to answer questions about Percy Jackson. They let you told them board “Is Percy Jackson and the Olympians for kids?” Leah said reading the question.

Leah nodded softly, you sat yourself up “Yeah it is for kids. There’s nothing bad so I think your kids would be okay watching it” you said.

Aryan read the next question “Is Percy Jackson and the Olympians good?” Walker shrugged “I don’t know you’ll have to find out for yourself” you laughed softly he was right maybe watch it and you’ll see after.

You read another question “Is Percy Jackson and the Olympians just like the books?” You made a confused look “I mean.. what do you think it’s based off..?” Leah laughed “No y/n.. be nice about it” you smiled “What? Like I’m just saying it’s obviously just like the books.. there something out of place but overall yes”

Walker and Aryan also laughed and after some questions it was time to end it. You threw the board behind you once again but you accidentally hit Walker in the face. You turned to him laughing “Oh my god I’m so sorry are you okay?” Aryan and Leah were laughing and Walker was too.

“Yeah I’m fine it just hit me in the head” he said with a smile you gave him a side hug with a laugh “Im sorry again I didn’t see your head there” Aryan spoke “Y/n your always hitting someone” you turned to the camera with a smile “Okay guys you know what…”

Leah spoke “Okay that’s all we have for you.. today as you can see we are chaotic like always!” You laughed covering your mouth “Thank you guys for watching! Go watch a Percy Jackson and the Olympians streaming on disney plus!”

#walker scobell #aryan simhadri #leah sava jeffries #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #fem!reader #walker scobell x reader #leah sava jeffries x reader #aryan simhadri x reader #interviews #percy jackson cast

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feverdreamjohnny · 10 months

Text

The Epitaph of Anything Goes

I decided that this morning I would talk about The Museum of Anything Goes and the subject of lost media.

For the uninitiated, The Museum of Anything Goes is an obscure "game" released in 1995 by Wayzata Technologies, a company that is so far under the radar that I was unable to find any useful information about it outside of TMoAG.

All I could uncover is that they published a few multimedia projects (which are essentially lost now) alongside some asset discs (clipart, SFX, etc.). That's it.

The brains behind Wayzata are even more difficult to locate these days: there are only two main names credited inside of TMoAG - Michael Markowski and Maxwell S. Robertson.

The game alleges that Michael and Maxwell are well known in the art world, but any additional information about the duo is scarce beyond the confines of the museum. Attempting to search for either name online turns up plenty of rabbit holes - but none of them have anything to do with the Michael and Maxwell responsible for TMoAG.

This is particularly fascinating because it essentially means that TMoAG is the only accessible record of their lives. Before we dig any deeper into that statement, let me step back and actually address what this game is.

The Museum of Anything Goes is, by definition, a virtual art museum. Functionally it's a prerendered point-and-click adventure game where you can explore a bunch of multimedia exhibits that give the surface-level impression of a children's edutainment game, but once you start exploring further it reveals a side that firmly plants the game's feet into a haze of substance abuse and surreal humor.

Many exhibits are essentially just toying around with the astonishing new powers of CD-ROM. Everything has to make noise. Everything has to spin and flitter around. There's an air of genuine excitement for the medium, and I can't help but find it extremely charming.

The game also functions as a scrapbook, filled to the brim with photos of random trips to the zoo and snow-mobile rides with friends. At one point we even get insight into something as specific as Michael's one-year job as a tutor at a Chicago middle school, where he talks about how it opened his eyes to how poorly funded and mismanaged the school system is.

It's simultaneously quaint and chilling to see so much personal history packed into a world doomed to obscurity. As I explore the deeper parts of the museum, I contemplate if the creators are still alive today. It's a bit morbid, but imagine that - you create a single obscure game with your friend and it's all the world can see. TMoAG is currently the only surviving piece that gives any insight into who these two men were.

While many exhibits are lighthearted or nonsensical, there are occasional moments where the game dips into the eerie.

One exhibit has the player kill a man by dropping him from the sky, and after burying him you open the coffin to a video of a rotting pig carcass being put into an incinerator.

Other exhibits just feature simple 3D renders shifting around a dark screen while haunting groans play in the background.

While I would never refer to the game as "scary," its darker moments combined with the occasional mature subject matter definitely begs the question: Who is this game for?

You have to remember that this game came out long before the concept of "alt-games" had become codified in the digital space. Sure, unconventional digital art had been around before the advent of 256 colors, but TMoAG was being sold on disk as a game! It came out 2 years after DOOM hit shelves!

The trend of using the PC for entertainment was certainly on the upswing around that time, but It's not like TMoAG had a massive audience to find a niche in. With its mature themes it certainly wasn't suited for the kids market either, so who was it for?

At the end of the day, it's a moot question. We already know the target audience for The Museum of Anything Goes: Nobody. It doesn't have an audience because by its nature, TMoAG wasn't being made FOR someone, it was being made BY someone. It's a raw, unfiltered form of personal expression.

I think games like these are pivotal, because they question why people assume a game has to exist for the sake of being a consumable product. TMoAG certainly has the shape of a product: it features an intro cutscene, it has a tutorial, it features intuitive UX, it even has a map! These are all features that are solely integrated to provide comfort to an end-user. But once you actually wander around the museum for a bit, you realize how bizarrely its packaging fits its contents.

I think TMoAG is criminally underrated. It's not because its core content contains some earth-shaking truth, it's because the game defied all odds and cheated death.

How many thousands of other personal projects were deemed a little "too exotic" to be archived? How much history was lost these past 40 years as the digital space evolved and ate its old skin?

God knows how many other TMoAGs we'll never learn about because they weren't lucky enough to be preserved.

The Museum of Anything Goes isn't just some nonsensical art piece, it's a grave marker for so much lost media. Its existence is a reminder that some people's lives were fossilized, then macerated into nothing because a construction company built a skyscraper over them. The only evidence we have of those other games existing is this little fossil that somehow slipped out from under the skyscraper unscathed.

Even though so much has been lost, TMoAG survives as an epitaph.

#the museum of anything goes #TMoAG #writing

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johnnie-guilberts-eyeliner · 4 months

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Pls I love this idea sm thank you anon!

[I probably won't be answering asks in order, I'll most likely just do them as the ideas come to me, but I'll try to get them all done!]

Johnnie X Fem!reader (she/her pronouns used) (and jake and tara are still dating here!)

Context you and johnnie have been dating a little over two years. You live w him and Jake webber.

Today you wake up in your shared bed with johnnie, him still sleeping. You turn over and watch him sleep peacefully, not trying to be creepy. He's just genuinely so beautiful in his sleep and he looks so peaceful. You tuck a strand of his hair behind his pierced up ear and kiss him. This wakes him and he kisses back sweetly and passionately. "Good morning sweetheart" you greet him as he groggily tells you "good morning y/n" before smiling at you and kissing you again. Just then your closest friend in LA, tara yummy (also a fellow youtuber) Burst through the door yelling "ITS NEW YEARS EVE BITCHES, WERE GOING TO A PARTY AND YOU WHORES NEED TO GET READY" she laugh yells at johnnie and you before blowing yall a kiss and leaving the room to get yourself ready. Leaving you and johnnie to laugh for a moment before getting up and starting to get ready. You decide on matching outfits. Johnnie is wearing a white dress shirt, his pinned black leather jacket, black pants with white designs, leather boots and chain for his pants and his normal black eyeliner and eyeshadow. You are wearing a cropped white band shirt, with a short black leather skirt w a chain, fishnets, heeled leather boots, and a black leather jacket with studs and spikes on it. You both have your normal rings and other jewelry on. You straightened your hair and curled a couple pieces before doing your normal makeup/eyeliner with glitter. You snap a picture of your matching new years outfits and post it to your Instagram story. You both walk out of your shared room to find jake and tara ready to go and sitting on the couch. "OH MY GOSH YOU GUYS LOOK SO GOOD AAAH IM OBSESSED" tara squeals as she snaps a picture of you two sends it to you. You laugh before telling her "thank you boo, you look mighty fine today as well i should add" you look at tara as she does a little spin and laughs. Jake watched the interaction and says to johnnie "what's the point of having girlfriends if they just flirt w each other" they both laugh before starting to walk out the door. The girls following suite. Jake's driving, Tara's in the passenger seat with you behind her and johnnie behind jake. "So who's hosting the party this year" you ask jake as he drives. "Sam and colbys this year, since we went to kian and jcs last year" jake says keeping his eyes on the road, then hooking his phone up to the aux and playing a random playlist.

*timeskip a while later*

Everyone is enjoying themselves at the party drinking, smoking, vaping and generally just vibing. Johnnie is by your side the whole night with his fingers intertwined into your fishnets and a drink in the other hand. You and johnnie get many comments and compliments on your matching outfits which makes your heart flutter.

*another timeskip*

Your now sitting on the couch with johnnie next to you. Your leg swung over his, one of his hands on your thigh and the other holding his jack and coke. You take your hand and pull his face to meet yours, pecking his lips. He responded by pecking yours again. Just then you get a text message notification from tara and it's a picture of you and johnnie, literally 2 second ago, kissing. You look up from where you are and see her smiling directly at you two before flashing a thumbs up and continuing doing what she was doing.

As midnight approaches you and johnnie observe everyone getting drunker and drunker, like jake and Kian are currently fighting over a cupcake. Couldn't explain how or why that's happening but it is. You watch the time and see that it's 5 minutes away from midnight. Everyone gathers in the living room with their drinks and/or smoking / vaping device and start counting down. By this Point you and johnnie are now stood up, side by side, hand in hand in the crowd of people.

"5..." they start counting down

"4..." as each second goes by johnnie inches closer to you, his drank sat down somewhere he'll probably forget.

"3..." his arms creep up your thighs to sit comfortably on your waist and he holds eye contact with you

"2...." his gaze is so intense as you snake your hand to hold his face and the other to lay comfortably on his shoulder

"1..." you kiss each other with such passion and love as the countdown ends and all the drunk and high people are cheering and throwing confetti and glitter everywhere. You and johnnie stay kissing for a while longer than you intended. Allowing tara to snap yet other picture of you two, sending it to you again.

After the countdown, people almost immediately start leaving and piling into their cars and ubers. You took Jake's keys hours ago because he's way to drunk to drive and so is tara. Johnnie helps lead the drunk jake out the door and to the backseat of his car, a drunken tara following who is just mumbling and rambling on sits next to jake in the back, laying on his shoulder when she gets in. Johnnie then joins you up front in the passenger seat, pecking your lips before buckling his seat belt.

*yet another timeskip. Youre now at you, Jake's, and Johnnie's. *

You decided tara is spending the night bc she's too drunk to function on her own. After taking care of the drunk couple and making sure they get to bed, you and johnnie resign to your shared room where you both quickly change clothes and crawl into bed together. You laying on Johnnie's chest.

"Happy new year my love" you tell him as you kiss him "happy new year pretty girl" he responds before kissing you again and cuddling into you. This is the way you both end up falling asleep. Which you couldn't be more happy about.

(Lmk if you enjoyed and happy new year everyone!)

#johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert fanfic #johnnie guilbert fic #johnnie guilbert request

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ayasuki · 5 months

Text

6th Bakugou x Reader FANFIC RECS

some are short but they're good hehe (most of these are suggestive :P)

> • 𝑹𝒆𝒄 𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕

" Dream Eater " by justatypicaltrash

dream eater!bakugou x reader

warning: slight angst

bakugo is an eternal living dream eater.

" I Like You, Okay?! " by kikyo-bnha-imagines

bakugou x fem!reader

summary: katsuki struggles to confess to his crush.

" Workshopped Romance " by itsmm4hiii

pro-hero!bakugou x fem!reader

summary: working for a hero costume designer has its perks like; meeting heroes, playing with cool technologies, getting you're name out- y/n didn't really expect her own boss will try and hook her up with a customer.

" Blood Moonlit, Must be Counterfeit " by irisintheafterglow

pro-hero!bakugou x reader

warning: swearing ofc cuz it's bakugo, mentions of drinking and alcohol, halloween party, first meeting, emotionally constipated katsuki and reader is kinda oblivious lol

summary: a guy at a party has a really good dynamight costume, and you two get to talking about your favorite heroes.

WARNING | beneath the cut are slightly suggestive to full on smut fics

" no title " by moominsuki

bakugou x fem!reader

warning: ch. 359-362 spoilers kinda. a little suggestive but fluff all around

summary: katsuki hates being off the job. but what he hates more is being treated like glass, especially by you.

" as the years go by " by quitesins

pro-hero!bakugou x fem!reader

warning: suggestive, slight nsfw, friends to lovers, unrequited love ig? virgin!reader, drabble

summary: being friends with bakugou since UA, watching each other change as the years go by, but still having room to learn more, so much more.

" no title " by izvmimi

warning: palace drama au, multiple wives, fem!reader, brief explicit sex.

" One More Time " by yanderenightmare

warning: derogatory dirty talk, spanking, angsty but with a fluffy ending

" no title " by dreamland03

bakugou x reader

warning: mention of sex like once, drinking, mention of trauma, bad self image

" Come Sit " by saturnorbits

bakugou x fem!reader

warning: cock-warming

summary: after a long day, all you need is bakugo.

" Feral " by smiley-babe

wolfhybrid!bakugou x fem!reader

warnings: aged up characters, lowkey monster fucking (hybrid bakugo has wolf ears, a tail, and fangs), knotting, HUGE breeding kink, no specific dynamics, biting, small blood kink (if you squint), marking/ bonding, heat/ rut behavior, panty sniffing, kind of rough sex, oral (f receiving), and fingering

summary: taking in a wolf hybrid already didn’t seem like a good idea, but when spring hits… all hell breaks loose.

" Personal Trainer!BKG " by bakubunny

personal trainer!bakugou x plus size!fem!reader

warning: oral sex (m receiving), rough sex.

" On To Better Things " by savnofilter

prohero!dilf!bakugou x fem!reader

warning: angst, strangers to lovers

sfw | toxic & abusive relationship, toxic baby daddy, mentions postpartum, mental health, arguing, mentions of legal proceedings, counseling, drama, cultural family expectations, love bombing, manipulation, a man being a hypocrite, reader low-key needs a new circle of people around them but that's neither here nor there, reader loves their daughter to pieces </3, reader's daughter is a hand full but we stan!, reader spaces out a lot, "our kids are best friends but we never met before and so happen to be single" trope.

nsfw | fingering, cunnilingus, groping, praise kink, reader has multiple orgasms (2, hinted 4), reader is a bit shy as it's been awhile and feels nervous, vocal queen reader, clothed sex, protected sex, comforting!bakugo, non-established relationship.

" Swipe Right " by ryukatters

bakugou x fem!reader

warning: dubcon, quirkless/college! au, jealousy, possessiveness, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, cum eating, cunnilingus, overstimulation, praise, biting, bkg gets a little rough with you, and bkg's also a fucking simp

summary: your boyfriend decides to make a fake tinder profile for you just to see how many matches you get. he comes to a realization just how many other people want what’s already his.

" no title " by katbakubae

bakugou x fem!reader

warning: language, dom!bakugou, possessiveness, jealousy, (mild) stalking, name calling, spanking, rough oral.

summary: sick of your boyfriends lack of time with you because of his busy schedule, you decided to take some time for yourself. unfortunately, letting that happen was never an option for him.

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fortheloveofkonig · 11 months

Note

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the 141 x Male reader, they know alot of medical like they use their knowledge of the human body against anyone whom threatens them (or people the care about). They aren't a medic are doctor parday but have extensive knowledge of the field that helps the team. Seem cold uncaring and ruthless but if anyone of them is injured its like a total switch of 'mom bear mode' checking them over the gentle hands and worry.

(Kinda of trope of don't mess with the doctor lol)

Summary: TF 141 reacts to Reader who knows a frightening amount of medical knowledge.

Note: I'm going to do this as more of a headcanons type of post ^^ hope this is good enough! ^^ I did 95% of this all in the last 2 hours

Content: Medical speak, Injuries, Slight Torture, Slightly Bad Medical Research, But I Did Research. Roach Talks.

Word Count: 1085

TF 141 x Knowledgeable in Medic Field M! Reader

Ghost

Probably first heard about your knowledge from Soap talking to him about how terrifying it is to see it come into play

Doesn't believe him.

You've always been good at what you do but have never shown any previous knowledge or interest in the medical field so, who can blame him?

There was also no way you could've went to medical school unless you were years above your usual education range

He finally sees it come into play when you two were 'interrogating' someone.

"If you're gonna stab, don't do it right there. Price said he needs to stay alive."

Ghost looks at you, annoyed. "I've stabbed many people and seen many people survive stab wounds of surrounding areas."

"In lower places of the abdomen and with quicker medical care, if you do it there" You point to where he had the knife, pointed at the tied up man's skin. "It could puncture an intestine and we will be fucked. If you want to stab, move the knife below the belly button...about right... right there. Do not remove the knife once it pierces through."

He did as you said, with questions, but still followed your lead.

From then on he watched everything you did, even noticing that you took care of some of the rookies that ended up with minor cuts and damage that wasn't enough to bother the medics with.

Needless to say, he also ended up coming to you for some patch ups, mostly when he wanted to keep his new damage a secret from Price.

He ended up finding it kind of hot during the interrogation thing so he often asked to do things like that with you again.

Soap

Honestly, probably figured out about your medical knowledge after he was being a dumbass with explosives and almost got hurt.

"Go change into some shorts and a tank top." Your voice was in a serious tone as you went to grab a nearby first aid kit.

"Already wanting to see me strip?"

You just glared at him until he actually left and did what was told.

Despite having only a few scratches, you still cleaned them up as best as you could.

You also went on a rant about it too, about how dumb he was

"Do you realize how dumb you are? What if you actually made a big explosion and a piece of shrapnel flew and hit one of the carotid arteries in your neck?

"My What?"

"Do you realize how fast you would've died? Why weren't you wearing any protective gear?"

"I'm pretty bad at forgetting protection."

If looks could kill, he'd be dead.

That was not the last time you had to clean his wounds, he seems to be a magnet for them.

Asks you more about medical stuff, just to get an idea on how much you know.

You know a lot.

Unsure at this point if he hurts himself in new ways just to hear you yell at him for what dumb way he could've gotten himself killed this time.

Gaz

He falls out of helicopters a lot, that's the truth. What's one more time?

This time (and somehow not the last?) he ended up hurting his foot, you were there the whole time when it happened.

When the both of you were both safe in the safety of a van, you got him to put his leg up so you could check it.

"This is stupid" He mutters, "It's nothing more than it has been in the past."

"Shush, let me concentrate" You mutter feeling around his bootless ankle, nodding your head when you hear him hiss at a pointed touch.

"Any pain when you walk on it?"

"Possibly....yes."

"I'm gonna say it's a sprain for now but I think we should take you to the infirmary after we get back to base. Doesn't seem dislocated. Possible fracture though."

It was just a sprain

Was surprised when you spoke fluent...doctor to the doctor.

Honestly felt like a little kid in the doctor's office, watching his parent's converse with the Doctor telling them what was wrong.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

Price

Always knew, almost nothing gets by him unnoticed

Was probably one of the reasons he wanted you on the task force.

He knows how soap and gaz the boys are

Has you teaching rookies how to probably put a tourniquet on.

"What the fuck are you doing? That's not how I taught you."

The rookie you were speaking to just looked down at the dummy that they were working on and the tourniquet, "It looks-"

"Terrible! He's still bleeding out! Retry it."

Definitely has to sit in on these sessions, some rookies have complained to him that you take it too far.

You always just use the excuse that if those were real people and not training dummies, they'd be at fault for letting them die.

He agrees with you.

The rookie looks over at Price.

"Get to it. He told you to retry it. The man is bleeding out."

Mostly just sits in because it's less complaints now that he is showing he agrees with you in front of everyone.

Roach

This fucker needs a friend that has medical knowledge

Much like Soap, it seems like he is a wound magnet

Was probably the first of the 141 that you had to go full protective, medical knowledge out and work on him.

Man's like a tank too, no matter what the day brings to him it seems he's just able to walk it off

You don't let him

"You're limping, sit down."

He just waves it off, "'m good."

"Like hell you are." You walk up to him and grab his wrist, dragging him to a nearby chair and pushing him onto it. "Stay or I'll have Ghost lay on you."

Does not stay.

You cannot get Ghost to lay on him.

You just end up pelting pillows at him until he joins into a pillow fight, and you both end up getting exhausted.

"I'll rest right here."

"Good."

Stubborn but still okay with medical help

Often comes to you with oddly specific questions.

"Hypothetically, if a car blew up in the near vicinity of where I was at, what is the possible health issues that could arise?"

"Well, burn marks obviously, depending on the distance it could be any degree. If it was enough to knock you over, then a possible concussion. Depending if you hit the ground and hard enough, possible broken or fractured bones. Not to even mention the possible pieces of metal and glass flying, and just blast trauma in general. Could cause damage to internal organs with enough force."

"Okay, so...hypothetically, if that happened, I should go to the infirmary?"

"Roach, were you next to a car when it blew up?"

"..."

"Gary???"

You immediately dragged him to the infirmary.

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mo0nfairy · 1 year

Note

I gotta see a part of yandere Leon where reader remembers him as they get through los Iluminados maybe some yandere in action lol (at least only if you want to!)

part 1. part 3. part 4.

tw :: obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, mention of drugs, framing, handcuffs, stalking, trauma, guns, wounds, heights, being locked up.

⸺ ooooooo !!! i've been meaning to make a part 2 of my last ask, but had zero idea where to go from where i ended. i also had played a bit of RE2 before the remake came out recently, so a piece of my brain has been kept up in raccoon city for a little while. i would love to express my thoughts and mesh these two games together !!

let's start with where we left off in los iluminados.

upon having your handcuffs taken off by the stranger who is far too close for comfort, you pace backwards, far away as you can get from this insanity of a man. his attitude abruptly shifts into something softer, a major contrast to the emotional breakdown he had just seconds prior. he realizes you're afraid — afraid of him. and as much as the mere thought destroys him to the point of breaking down again, he shoves a sob back down his throat and keeps his distance, despite how desperately he wishes to close it.

6 years. 6 years. he has been waiting over 2,190 miserable days for this single moment. all the sleepless nights spent searching the world for you; all the hopeless nights spent clinging to pillows, praying by some miracle it will somehow become you. every second of these past 6 years has been spent dreaming of this single moment. and even though your reunion wasn't the teary-eyed, passionate kiss in the rain he had hoped for, you are still here with him nonetheless.

and like hell will he let you slip from his grasp again.

with as much time as his needy self would grant him being physically away from you, he is soon at your side. leon then wraps you in his jacket and you swear you hear a harsh gasp escape from him when his finger accidentally makes contact with the skin of your neck. despite your negligence and more-than-obvious discomfort, you do appreciate the new warm embrace after a week of cold rain and damp clothes. it smells exactly like him, as well.

and with that, he's got a gentle hand hovering over your lower back as he guides you through the depths of this hellhole. and piece by piece, memories that had been buried in your brain begin to disinter themselves.

for example, you got a staring problem bro?? for the entirety of the time you spend with leon in los iluminados, there is literally never a single moment where this mans eyes are not on you. half of the time it is to ensure you are unharmed, but the other half consists of him staring in complete and utter awe. it's kind of hard to focus on surviving when leon is constantly staring into your soul. but it has just been so fucking long since he has been able to see you in all of your glory, so please excuse him for any inappropriate behavior on his end.

also, you knew you have lived in raccoon city for a short period of time before the events of RE2 happened, but like everything else that relates to that damned place, you couldn't remember a thing.

except now. leon's gaze uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held in one of the RPD holding cells. the atrocious scent, the uncomfortable bench, the paint peeling from the walls. you try and scrutinize what on earth you could have been arrested for, but your attempts are merely futile. but unbeknownst to you, your arrest was nothing but bullshit. and to say leon has had a crush on you from the second you moved into RC would be nothing short of the truth. so, by pulling some strings, the rookie had managed to lock you up for what he calls 'bonding time'. he'll place a chair backwards in front of your cell, prop his arms on the backrest and admire you with your full attention finally on him (instead of just stalking you around town).

two things you now remember about this man: he was so adorably baby-faced back then and my god, was he awkward. he still cannot talk for shit and i mean this with my whole heart. his sweet, innocent eyes gaze at you while he tries to play it cool, pulling cards like "yeah, i workout" and "you come here often?". all as if he hadn't personally arrested you for possession of illegal substances he planted himself. (nothing will happen to you, obvi. he just desperately needed a second alone with you to show off how charismatic he can be. or try to be, at least).

and for the short second of seeing him after 6 years, his eyes were just devoid of any life. you had assumed the trauma inflicted from that night had caused such a contrast in his physical appearance, and you would be right to assume that. but the soulless eyes, monotone voice, and lackluster personality was entirely due to your disappearance. days upon days of the lonely, eternal torment destroyed his sanity. however, that illustrious boy you can barely remember seems to have returned with your presence.

another thing you can't believe you had forgotten was how intense his stare is. the way he stares is illegible and sometimes overwhelming. he shivers in his stance, whimpers at your every move, and his mind runs rampant with all sorts of obsessive declarations of love. although it may seem creepy to others and especially yourself, do not fret. he has no ill intent towards you, god he could never! this puppy-dog of a man is simply marveling at your sheer existence.

you are able to retrieve another lost memory when you have to jump from a window and into his arms (for those who say he won't be able to catch you, stfu. have ya'll seen how beefy his arms are??? anyways....). the secret agent you have grown to like during your stay in los iluminados jumps down marvelously (most def showing off his james-bond-esque agilities to you). he now watches from below as you stare at the distance beneath you in trepidation. this distrust you have — he is going to travel to the ends of the universe to fix it. no matter what.

you begin to ponder, he has savagely brutalized all threats in your path and held your hand as if he were holding the world all in the same breath. you should trust him, especially after witnessing the pure display of loyalty he has for you.

"don't be afraid, y/n. i'll catch you, i promise!" there is 10000% a way to walk through the house and down the stairs to get to him, but ofc he's not gonna tell you. why would he willingly throw away the opportunity to be your knight in shining armor?

"you will?" your voice is full of apprehension. his stare on you feels like the same bullets he's forced upon your attackers.

"always."

with that, you rip the bandaid off and jump from the ledge. and leon was most certainly not lying. you land safely in his embrace and he wraps his arms tightly around your form. and to finally have you so close, after so, so long of devastatingly praying he could feel you once more.......... if he had a tail, it would for sure be wagging so fast it would morph into a blur. and the way he holds you is different, as if his gentle nature is reserved for you and you only (which it is. this is literally him in a nutshell).

and when you had instinctively buried your face into his neck upon landing, clinging to him out of fear of hitting the ground, he literally melts. i'm serious, he literally just 🫠🫠🫠🫠. the faint hum of laughter and adoration that escapes his throat breaks you out of your state of shock. you made it safely to the ground without breaking every bone in your body, hooray! (as if there is a single reality in existence where leon would ever allow that to happen, but i digress).

you meet his gaze and there is that all-too familiar stare he gives you. leon's arms holding onto you like a lifeline uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held like this all those years ago. you can't recall exactly where in raccoon city you were, but you can remember how humiliated you were when you tripped over a crack in the pavement and ate shit. there was the fairest of scrapes against your shin, but the mortification hurt far more than any wound. while you dust yourself off and attempt to ignore the burning stares of pedestrians, a shout of your name sparks your attention.

the RPD gear and besotted eyes you're met with could be no other than that baby-faced rookie. you ponder of what he was doing on this side of town. was it a simple coincidence you had run into each other? or perhaps, had he followed you? just when you think you can't feel more embarrassed, leon gets down on one knee and dramatically inspects your wound. and my god, he acts like you were shot or something. he visibly shudders from the sight of your leg; people begin to gather around the commotion. with pure ease, he then scoops you into his arms to bring you to safety. you can feel his heart pound like a machine gun beneath the palm of your hand.

despite the humiliation deprived from this event, you fortunately are free from anything mortifying in los iluminados. however, leon doesn't seem to understand when to take a hint.

"uh... you can put me down now." you come out of your memory to thrash in his grasp and avoid his intense gaze, but your prince charming seems to still be caught in his y/n-filled daze.

after a few long seconds, your comment seems to finally reach his brain. "huh?" his response is faint and you almost don't hear it.

you repeat yourself and begrudgingly, leon then slowly puts you back onto your feet, savoring the last few seconds spent with you in his arms. exactly where you belong. you can only fear how much more suffocating affection you'll have to endure before you can finally remember what happened that night.

i think someone legit needs to slap me across the face and bring me back into reality cause holy shit...... i went WAYY too far with this. my brain is a mess thank u for reading.

i have more thoughts about this........ just incase u were curious........ ;)

#resident evil 4 #re4 #re4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #yandere leon kennedy #yandere resident evil #yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader #venus’ brain #moonfairy

2K notes · View notes

soapsilly · 5 months

Text

Betrayal - Roronoa Zoro Imagine

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x reader

Spoilers for One Piece (?)

Summary: It's been two years since the straw hats got seperated by Bartholomew Kuma. Two years since (Y/N) and Zoro have last seen each other but when the day finally came to reunite things didn't quite play out like they had envisioned.

Requests are closed

Part 2 Part 3

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

It wasn't love at first sight. Not at all. It wasn't like they disliked each other either - far from it actually. When the Straw Hats picked her up, it didn't take long for (Y/N) to make friends with almost the whole crew. When they arrived on her little autumn island it didn't take much convincing for them to make her part of the crew. She liked her little home outside of the village but she was never part of it. The Straw Hats found (Y/N) when they made a stop at the island for supplies. Whilst Nami and Sanji stormed to the market in the search for pretty things and food supplies respectively, Zoro and Luffy wandered into the next bar for drinks and meat - also respectively. That left Chopper and Usopp on the look out for medicinal herbs and whatever else was needed for Usopp's ammunition. When they asked the townspeople they told them about the witch that lived outside the village. The villagers usually avoided her unless they needed something - which made (Y/N) a rather lonely person. When Chopper and Usopp told their captain about what they've heard, Luffy was immediately excited. So the whole crew made their way up the hill to the hut where the alleged witch was located.

Once they arrived, Chopper immediately went for the flowers and herbs that grew in the garden infront of the little house.

"I wouldn't touch those. Most of them are poisonous", the girl that came out of the house didn't look like a witch at all. No warts, no hooked nose, not even a witchy hat or black boots. In fact, she was young and -

"Beautiful!", the tall, blond guy was at her side at an instant. He took her hand in his and starred deeply into her eyes, "my name is Sanji and you are?"

"(Y/N)", she giggled.

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

It was easy for (Y/N) to make friends with the crew - well most of them. Luffy was a friendly guy by nature so no problem there, Sanji was swooned as soon as she stepped out of her house, Nami was just happy to have another girl on the ship and Chopper was happy about the few healing balms and herbs she could provide him with - even though he had hoped for more when he saw the densely vegetated garden in front of the witch's house. Much to his dismay most of them were poisonous plants, not because she planned something foul but rather just because she liked them the most. Usopp wasn't as easy to win over as he seemed to be rather sceptical of strangers, but as she handed him some ammunition for his sling shot she finally gained his sympathy. The first batch was a little too strong for Usopps liking - lethal to be specific - but after careful calibration, whoever was hit fell into a temporary paralysis, much to Zoro's dismay who quickly became Usopp's favourite victim for target practice.

The swordsman however was a different story. He wasn't outright mean to her but no matter how much she tried, how many smiles she sent his way or how many attempts at small talk she started, he just didn't seem to care. She didn't take offence to that though. She still enjoyed his company whilst the crew sat down for dinner or during their excursions to different islands. It was during those times that she noticed his abysmal sense of direction, his affinity for hard liquor and his dislike for a certain curly-eyebrowed cook. She always enjoyed the seemingly pointless fights that the two would get themselves into. It's not that she disliked either of them - quite the contrary in fact - she grew rather fond of both of the men even if one of them didn't want much to do with her and the other wanted a little too much. It was rather that entertainment on deck was scarce and they never really hurt each other in a serious way anyways - so no harm, no foul .

One night after dinner when most of the crew went on to do their separate things, (Y/N) decided to try it again with Zoro.

"Is it your turn to keep watch tonight?", she asked as she approached him on deck.

He looked at her for a few seconds but decided to answer her anyways. "No, I think it's Usopp and that shitty cook tonight"

That's just what the girl wanted to hear. "Great!"

He sent her a suspicious squint but let her continue.

"You like alcohol" - she stated and as if to confirm her statement he lifted his cup, which was already filled with some kind of liquor - "I got us some", she continued.

"I got my own", he grunted.

"This one's better. Believe me, I made it", she grinned.

"You made this?"

"Yep"

"Yourself?"

"Yep"

"With your poison plants? Are you trying to kill me?"

"Yep.... Well, no", she sighed, "it's really good. In a low dosage it has a euphoric effect. I usually drink it as a tea but I made it as a drink.. for us to share?"

The green haired man contemplated for a moment but then shrugged and held out his cup for her to fill.

After the first sip, he let the taste linger for a second and then decided to chug the whole thing before (Y/N) could protest.

"I like it. Give me another cup"

"What? No! This is stronger than normal sake. It's not supposed to be downed. You can't have another one so soon after the first"

"I don't feel a thing. I can handle it. Give me another"

She thought for a moment. What was the worst thing that could happen?

"Only if you drink this one slowly..."

He sent her a short nod, indicating his approval.

So for a while they sat there in silence sipping their drinks with the occasional question here and there.

"So, you're a witch, huh?"

"Me? Nah.. The townspeople liked to say that because I like to do tarot card readings and sold them potions and healing balms. There's nothing magical about it but rumours spread fast in such a little village"

"Why didn't you correct them?"

"I don't care. I made money off of it", she shrugged.

They both fell into silence again but it felt comfortable. She could feel the slight buzz already forming and by the glow on Zoro's cheeks, she could see that the drink started to have it's effect on him too.

"I wouldn't mind another drink, you know", he grinned at her mindlessly.

It was late already but (Y/N) didn't feel like cutting the time with Zoro short. Who would've thought that the way into a man's heart was freshly distilled alcohol?

Just as she was about to fill their cups yet another time, Sanji made his way patrolling around the ship. Only the sight of the cook was enough to make Zoro clench his jaw.

"What's your problem with Sanji?", she found the interaction hilarious.

"You wouldn't understand anyways. That talentless ero-cook..."

"Hey.. he might be a pervert, but his food is amazing!", she scolded the moss-head.

"You don't seem to mind the way he dances around you and Nami", he huffs.

"No, I think it's kinda nice actually but I wouldn't put too much thought into it", she shrugged, "he can't control himself around women. I wouldn't fall for a guy like that"

"Hah!", the swordsman seemed to like hearing that. One man's misfortune is another man's treasure. Especially if the first man happened to be a curly-browed cook.

The night went on and on and the more the two of them drank the more they opened up about their past, their dreams and aspirations. But since (Y/N)'s alcohol was indeed stronger than what Zoro was used to after a few more cups the deep conversations turned into silly jokes and stupid impressions, which was not unusual for (Y/N) at all but when Usopp told the others about what he saw in the morning neither wanted to believe Zoro had partaken aswell.

"I knew she was a real witch... She cast a spell on him", Chopper whispered.

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

Since that night Zoro and (Y/N) would consider each other as friends. Neither would talk about it but during meal times they would sit by each other, during island walks they stayed with each other and during night patrol they kept each other company. And every now and again at night they would sit down on the deck with a bottle of (Y/N)'s liquor and repeat the first time they really talked to each other. And it was during those times that during a moonlit night they shared their first kiss. The next morning neither could say who it was, that initiated it but it didn't really matter anyways. For the most part nothing really changed between them and they never gave it a name but they never kept it a secret either.

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

Zoro wasn't the same after Thriller Bark. He spent all his free time excercising and training without giving his body the time to properly heal.

"Zoro... please", she stood in the doorway of the crow's nest, "you need to heal"

He ignored her and just kept going.

"You heard what Chopper said. I'm worried about you"

Still no response.

"Damnit! Zoro, is your deathwish that big?", her voice was equal parts angry and sad, "how will you become the best swordsman in the world when you're dead?"

With a loud 'BANG' Zoro dropped his weight and turned to the girl in front of him, "I made a promise! Don't you understand I need to become stronger?"

(Y/N), of course knew about Zoro's past. She knew about Kuina and his promise to her but why did he have to be so stubborn?

"Is that promise more important than all of us? Your nakama?", she was on the verge of tears now.

"It's not just that", he yelled back. Why was she so stupid? "If I don't become stronger, I can't protect any of you"

"You can't protect us either if you're dead! And then you'll never be the world's best swordsman and I'll be alone again!", she screamed.

The Straw Hats could hear the fighting all the way down on deck. They were used to their fights being loud but this was different. Sanji was already half-way up the ladder to break up the fight, outraged that Zoro would dare to make (Y/N)-chan cry but Robin held him back telling him that there were some things that a couple needs to sort out themselves.

That night (Y/N) took the time to put a heap of pillows and blankets into the crow's nest to make it easier for him to relax a little. At first he refused to follow her at all but once she grabbed his hand and really stared into his eyes he realized how serious she was. Once she got him to settle in, she turned to leave but his voice stopped her.

"Stay", his voice was quiet, "please, stay"

She nodded and turned back to him. Usually she was the one to initiate closeness between the two, so moments like those were rare. Once she nestled into the mountains of pillows she heard his voice again.

"I'm sorry"

She was stunned. All the years and all the fights, she never heard him apologize to her before. She tried to say something but he continued.

"I know I'm stubborn, but the thought of not being strong enough to protect any of you kills me. I won't always have time to heal and when the time comes and we'll get attacked I will have to fight. And if anyone, especially you, gets hurt because I wasn't strong enough, I wouldn't be able to live with that"

The witch didn't know how to react to his confession. Instead she opted to brush her fingers to Zoro's green hair and soon after she could hear the deep snores of her lover.

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

The Straw Hats were hopelessly at the mercy of marine admiral Kizaru. There was nothing they could do. All of them were battered and bruised already from the fight with the Kuma Androids and now (Y/N) had to witness Zoro collapse from one of the Admiral's attacks. In the distance she could hear Luffy scream his name. She knew it was too soon for a fight. Almost automatically she sprinted to the sprawled out form of her boyfriend. Once she reached him, there wasn't much time to spare. She grabbed his form and dragged his body away from the impending kick, that would kill him. Brook and Usopp tried to attack Kizaru while (Y/N) created some distance but in the blink of an eye the admiral stood above Zoro once again. One leg on his back, the other hovering above his head.

"I won't let you get away. It's no use", he said almost too calmly.

The thoughts inside of (Y/N)'s head were racing and before she knew what she was doing she threw herself over Zoro's exposed form.

"You fool. That won't save him. You'll die together", Kizaru laughed almost carelessly.

Her heart was racing and she felt the blood rushing in her ears, but she didn't dare to open her eyes.

"Get away!", she couldn't quite tell whose voice it was that reached her ears first but after the first exclamation another followed and another and another... but she only shook her head repeatedly tears streaming down her face.

"Go", Zoro's deep voice sounded raspy and like even that small little word hurt him immensely but (Y/N) only shook her head yet again not caring that the man beneath her could probably not even see it. But the deadly stomp never came. Instead, Rayleigh, Gol D. Roger's first mate, decided to come in and fight with admiral Kizaru himself.

"Grab Zoro and get out of there!", she heard Luffy yell. Usopp grabbed Zoro underneath his arm and dragged him out of the danger zone.

"You - You should have left", the swordsman tried to scold his girlfriend but his voice was weak.

"Can we fight about this once we're safely back on the Sunny, please?"

He tried to laugh, their bickering was one of his favourite things about their relationship but they never even got the chance to return to their home. Shortly after Kizaru, the real Kuma showed up and one after the other the Straw Hat Pirates disappeared.

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

It's been two years since Kuma seperated the crew, two years since Luffy lost Ace, two years since Zoro has last seen (Y/N). But the time has finally come to reunite. Zoro was actually the first to arrive ten days ago. Shortly after the other Straw Hats arrived one after another. It was only the witch that was still missing. Zoro couldn't wait to tell her that not only did he arrive before her AND that shitty cook, he also arrived first overall. He decided to conveniently remain silent about the help of a certain Ghost Ghost Brat.

"Has anybody had any contact with (Y/N) in the last two years?", Nami asked the group but she only earned headshakes as a response. Zoro felt a touch of melancholy. He would never admit it infront of the crew but eventhough he had used every single day of those two years for training with Mihawk, he did miss her. And then just like that, there she was walking up the gangway.

Zoro felt like his heart skip a beat once he saw her fully. She didn't change much, she was still beautiful. So much infact, that the ero-cook almost bled out once she went to greet him. The only thing that changed were the many tattoos that littered her body - mostly her arms. Flowers, beetles, stars and moons.

She came up to him last but something was weird. He expected her to leap into his arms like she had done so often in the past. He never initiated PDA infront of others - or rather at all - but he never complain when she did it, but this time she just stood there.

"Zoro, your eye..."

For a second he felt insecure. He never paid the fresh scar that decorated his left eye any mind and he didn't think that (Y/N) would either.

"Are you okay?", she seemed worried.

He grunted as to confirm that he was fine.

"You look good", she sent him a reassuring smile.

For a while the two of them just stood there but then Luffy's loud voice pulled them out of the moment.

"So now that we're complete let's set sail!"

(Y/N) flinched and then looked panicked.

"Wait, no, no no. There's something I need to tell you guys"

The crew waited in silence for their friend to continue.

"I won't come be coming you"

It was quiet for a few secong before Luffy's booming laugh filled the space, clearly thinking she was joking but Zoro knew something was wrong. In all those years as a fighter he learned to observe high stress situations and this was one. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but something was very wrong.

"Luffy... I'm not - I'm not joking", her voice was quiet.

Luffy abruptly stopped laughing. She didn't dare look up into the faces of her former crew mates in fears of what she might see but her decision has been made. It's not like she had much of a choice anyways.

"What's going on? Who's making you say this? Is someone threatening you?", Sanji asked. Even he mellowed out considering the tense situation. As much as he disliked the cook, Zoro approved of the questions, he knew she wouldn't leave them on her own accord.

"Nobody is threatening me and nobody is making me say this. I just can't - I don't... I will not be coming with you"

"But why?", Nami tried to reason with her.

"You guys don't understand. I have a home, a little house with a garden..."

"You can have a garden here on the Sunny...", Franky interjected.

"Whatever you'll need from your home, we'll get it on the way. Don't you worry about it", Luffy laughed, still not understanding how serious the situation was. Everybody was talking, asking questions, yelling suggestions but (Y/N) just kept shaking her head vehemently.

"Don't be an idiot. Just tell us what's going on", that was the first time Zoro spoke up. He had enough of the excuses. His voice cut through the noise like a sword and now all eyes laid on him.

"I had a child!", she yelled.

For a few heartbeats nothing and nobody on deck made a sound.

"A little boy to be specific", she continued, "I have a family now"

Zoro could've sworn there was a ringing sound that filled the air but the truth was, it was probably just the blood rushing through his ears.

"What?", Nami's voice sounded cold, mechanic even.

"I-"

"Don't!", (Y/N) had never seen Nami so enraged, "You found someone else? How could you do that? To us? To Zoro?"

"It's been two years...", the witch pleaded.

"So? So? None of us had any issues keeping it in our pants but you had to go and play house with the next best guy ?"

Nami's words hurt but (Y/N) knew that she deserved them. It was never her intention to hurt anybody - especially Zoro - but two years were a long time and a lot has changed.

(Y/N) looked around but the other Straw Hats avoided looking at her. Once her gaze landed on the spot where Zoro was leaning against the railing, she noticed that he was missing. She didn't know at what point he had left but she didn't blame him.

(Y/N) tried to say something but as soon as she opened her mouth Nami interrupted her.

"You should leave"

The other woman nodded and turned to say her goodbyes to the rest of the crew.

"So... Fish-Man Island, huh?", she sent Robin a little smile. The older woman was always so understanding even when the other person didn't really deserve it.

"Yes.. but first we'll have to make a stop at the next island over. Sabaody is full of marines, we didn't get all the supplies we needed, soooo if you change your mind ...", she suggested.

"I don't think Nami would let me live if I'll ever show my face around here again", she answered, "not that I could blame her"

"Give it some time", Robin hugged the younger woman as a farewell.

For a moment (Y/N) just stood there staring at the ladder to the crow's nest. But before she could even make an attempt to say her good-byes to Zoro Nami interjected.

"Don't you even dare. Don't think about it. Just leave."

(Y/N) was happy that Zoro had his friends that cared so much about him. Nami really cared about every single one of them - even if they sometimes drove her crazy. And if somebody hurt them, may it be their own nakama or anybody else, her mama-bear instinct kicked in. The boys always acted like the strongest, toughest warriors of the sea but deep down she knew they were idiots at heart. Her idiots.

"Nami-", the witch decided to try it a last time but the navigator only turned away from her former friend, signaling her that she doesn't have anything to say to her anymore.

As (Y/N) was walking down the gangway Usopp climbed up the crow's nest.

"Zoro... (Y/N) is leaving..."

But Zoro did not make a move. In fact, he didn't even react to Usopp at all. He just kept on exercising the way he usually does whenever anything is on his mind. In times like these, it was (Y/N), who would calm him down and get him to eat and even relax a little but now it was her that caused his isolation. He never felt the need to open up to anybody. Love was more of the ero-cook's thing even if he never actually had any success with the women he made his feeble attempts at. Zoro remembered how him and (Y/N) used to make fun of how much he was doing with so little payoff. He put some more weights on to get his mind away from the hurtful memory.

He would've never thought that she'd do something like that. Zoro wasn't the jealous type - never has been. Even when they were together the cook wouldn't stop flirting with (Y/N) but the swordsman was never worried. And whenever a slimey fool in the bars during their island journeys got a little too close for comfort, his girlfriend would easily send them away.

"I'd keep my hands to myself if I were you", she'd say, "Do you see that mosshead over there? He'll be the strongest swordsman in the world. You reeaally shouldn't bother his girlfriend"

His girlfriend...

Zoro shook his head. He was a fool. Of course, she'd find someone else. She basically always told him that she wasn't a person that could deal with being alone easily. That was probably the only reason she was ever with him to begin with. He put yet another set of weights on the barbell. She already said she wouldn't fall for Sanji. So was he just the next best option? But a whole family? A child? If it was just a new boyfriend, she could've surely left him after the two years. She could've come back to him. Zoro was so hopelessly in love with her, he wouldn't even care. But now she had a family. A family that she would never leave alone. She knew how much Robin suffered from losing her mother early. She wouldn't do that. Zoro let the weights drop to the floor with a loud 'BANG'. With all that thinking the swordsman however never once stopped to consider that his former partner made her choice not only out of obligation but rather because the truly was happier now...

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Epilogue

(Y/N) never felt as lost as the moment when she stepped off the Thousand Sunny. Within just a matter of moments she lost her family, her friends, her nakama. And even worse, she hurt someone, that she very deeply cared about. For a while she just stood there, thoughts rushing through her head. But whatever scenario she made up, there wasn't any other way. So after a few deep breaths she made her way back to her new home - back to the moss-headed boy, that reminded her so much of his father already.

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