#impossible to talk to someone who has already made up their mind but is now recreationally saying words in a simulacrum of Civil Discourse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dearsnow · 5 months ago

Text

YOUR REAL BOYFRIEND

- you go on your first date with your “bar boyfriend”, who seems a whole lot nicer than the guy that tried to pick you up earlier. (bob floyd x fem!reader, fluff <3, you don’t necessarily need to read part 1 but it provides some context)

PART 1

word count: 1,686

a/n - i did not expect part 1 to do so well, omg 🥹 thank you all for the love. if i had the writing stability I would’ve turned this into a series, but there is still time for that yet lol. enjoy this fluffy part 2 <3

You sit in your small apartment anxiously. Your first text to Bob has just gone through, and in the heat of the moment, you threw your phone across your bed and smothered it with a pillow. It was a simple thing, just saying “Hey! I’m Y/N from the bar :)”, and you really have nothing to be scared of, but your breaths are uncomfortably quick in the early morning. It’s like you just took a five mile run. You pick up the book on your bedside table and flip through a few pages, failing to read a single word.

You only put down your fruitless attempt at calming yourself down when your phone gives a muffled buzz from underneath your pillow. You grab it quickly, seeing his just-saved name flash across the screen.

Bob: Hello, Y/N from the bar! I was a bit worried you weren’t going to reach out, but I’m really glad you did.

You: Of course I reached out. You’re a nice guy, I would be stupid not to.

You internally groan before hitting send. He makes your insides turn to mush just by typing on a screen. At this point, you’re scared of professing your undying love.

He is a nice guy, and a polite guy, and honestly an everything-you-could-ever-want guy. You barely spent thirty minutes with the man and you already find yourself wanting to slip a ring on his finger. He’s different, a really good kind of different.

Bob: I’m flattered.

Bob: This might be too soon, but would you want to go out sometime? I know this nice place by the beach where we could get to know each other better.

You: I’d love to!! Lmk the details and I’ll be there <3

As you fling your phone across your bed again to kick your legs, you almost feel bad for it. The man of your dreams is asking you out, and you can’t physically handle the joy that’s pouring out of you right now. You can just imagine his quiet, smooth voice talking away while his eyes light up. When you get the date plan, you eagerly type it into your calendar.

Saturday, 5:30 PM, Ocean’s Cove Seafood and Bar. It’s perfect.

You don’t know how you can get through the rest of the week with the date looming in your mind, but, somehow, you’ll have to find a way to manage.

Your management ended up being text conversations with Bob so frequently it felt like you were always checking your phone for a new message. For the first time in your pitiful dating history, he was the one reaching out often and matching your energy. Talking with him is like a breath of fresh air. It’s almost better than than the fresh air you’re breathing now, walking through the open entrance of Ocean’s Cove. You immediately notice a very handsome man sitting at the table you’re directed towards, with his sandy hair styled perfectly.

As you walk over, he stands and pulls out your seat for you, only sitting down himself when you’re situated. His cheeks are tinted pink. “Hi.” He offers, clearing his throat. “You look really beautiful.”

“Thank you, Bob. You look amazing too.” You say, reaching out to brush against his blazer’s collar. “You always do.”

His face grows impossibly redder.

Just like the first time you met, you fall into the rhythm of conversation easily. It’s awkward, at first, as things often are, but it quickly becomes one of the best talks you’ve ever had. Your food is eaten between giggles and playful comments.

“He seriously made you do five hundred push-ups for someone else’s mistake? Man, you must hate this Hangman guy after he pulled that.”

“Oh, everyone hates him. In a loving way, mostly. Just be glad you’ve never been around him while he’s drunk.” Bob’s eyes are lit up, and the sight is better than you could’ve ever imagined.

You wipe your mouth with your napkin gently, trying to not rub your makeup on the soft cloth. “Wait, what’s he like drunk? He’s gotta be a character.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, and you engrave the sound in your memory. This is amazing. “He gets so competitive, but he’s too drunk to throw the darts straight or hold the pool cue proper. It’s really funny, because he thinks he’s doing well until the darts end up pinned through Maverick’s uniform.”

“Oh geez,” you laugh. “That reminds me of my old friend. She drunkenly spilled tequila down the front of our boss’s suit while trying to impress our coworker.”

“It seems like we’ve got a lot in common.” He smiles. He’s about to say something else, but your waiter stops in front of your table before he can get the words out.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, sir, but we have another couple waiting for your table. We have a three hour policy.”

Three hours? You’ve been here for three hours? You check the dimming light and realize that what you thought was forty minutes was, in fact, a hundred and eighty. Bob pulls out his card and signs the receipt, seemingly a little embarrassed that he also didn’t realize the time. “Here. Sorry for the trouble.”

The card is whisked away before you can even request a separate check. “I would’ve paid for that.”

“No can do.” Bob says, placing his hand over yours gently. “It’s my treat.”

You try to formulate a response to his kindness, but your mouth falls dry. All you can do is whisper a “Thank you,” as the waiter comes back with his card and ushers you out politely.

The outside air is heavy and chilly, cut with the smell of sea spray. As the sun dips below the horizon, you shiver. Without a word, Bob drapes his blazer around your shoulders. You turn to him, eyes slightly wide. “Are you sure?”

The question is about more than just the blazer. It encompasses everything you’ve wanted to say to him, everything that you’ve been worried about from the beginning. Is he sure that he wants to do this? That he really actually likes the person he just so happened to save at the Hard Deck?

“Always.” Is his simple reply. Your hand finds his, and he entwines your fingers like it’s natural. “I apologize if this is overstepping-“

“Do you want-“

You both start and stop at the same time. “Continue.” You say, a smile working its way up to your eyes.

“No, you go.” He insists. He swings his arm a bit, taking your hand with him. You can feel his blazer dip past your hand and onto his, as the sleeves are too long for you.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go down to the beach with me. It might not be good for our formal clothes, but I really like you, and I want to spend more time with you. As much time as possible, actually.”

This time, it’s his eyes that widen. “You read my mind. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

You laugh, a sound that’s music to his ears. It’s perfect, like everything about you. Like your humor and your storytelling ability, like the slope of your shoulders and the softness of your hands. He could spend his whole life drowning in you. “Then let’s go, before we miss the entire sunset.”

You pull him along, your thumb smoothing over his own, and he thinks he’d let you lead him anywhere. “Look, the beach is so pretty at this time of day! It’s like something out of a magazine.” You exclaim, expensive heels digging into the sand. You can’t bring yourself to care about washing the sand off, not right now.

“It’s almost as pretty as you.” Bob breathes. He doesn’t expect you to hear it, but you do. You turn around and slide your palm over the smooth fabric of his shirt, playing with the collar, before kissing his cheek softly.

For once, you take initiative in your movements. You can’t let him slip away; you think you’d be devastated if you didn’t see him again, if you never told him exactly how you feel. “I’d say it’s nowhere near as pretty as you.” You can tell your face is warm, and his definitely is. “We need to do this again.”

“For sure.” He murmurs. His expression is conflicted, and you feel a small bit of insecurity bubbling up. Does he not want this as much as you do? He takes a small breath of air, eyes flicking up to the sky for a brief moment. His glasses slide down his nose just a bit, but he doesn’t push them up. He’s only focused on the words timidly making their way out of his mouth. “Please stop me now if you don’t feel the same way.”

“If ‘feeling the same way’ means wanting to continue talking, I wouldn’t stop you for the world.” You can feel a hint of anxiety in your tone. Bob takes both of your hands, and the small butterflies are eaten by larger, rougher butterflies. Think atlas moth sized butterflies.

“In that case,” he almost whispers, “would you let me be your boyfriend? For real this time. And I won’t hold it against you if you say no, or want to wait, because I know we’ve only really been talking for a week, and-“

You cut him off with a kiss. His lips are soft and don’t demand anything from you. He reaches for the back of your head, cradling you like you might break. When you finally break away, his glasses are just a bit crooked. You reach a hand up to fix them. “Yes. Yes, I’d love it if you were my real boyfriend.”

“Awesome.” Is all he can manage to say. You giggle anyways, placing your hands on his chest.

“Next time, if a creep hits me up in a bar, we won’t have to lie.”

He places a sweet kiss on your forehead. “If I’m there, I hope he wouldn’t even think to try.”

Taglist: @seitmai

#solar eclipse.#robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #top gun maverick x reader #bob floyd fic #bob floyd #robert floyd #top gun fluff #top gun headcanons #top gun x reader #top gun fandom #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun movie #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fic

700 notes · View notes

magics-neptunes-things · 6 months ago

Text

Cheetah

Hello everyone!

So for once this isn't a request, but more something who was walking in my head rent free and I just had to write it.

I don't know a lot about motorcycle to be honest but i made some research, so if there is some incoherence, I'm sorry!

Also I start to translate the English in Spanish before stopping, because in the end almost everyone is supposed to talk in Spanish and I'm really bad at it (I only can command something to eat and drink).

Please let me know what you think about it and enjoy ♥

TW : Moto accident, Angst, Injuries and a little bit of autodestruction maybe.

“Come on Cheetah, everyone’s waiting for you!”

You sigh softly, putting the picture you were looking at in your bag. It’s a picture of your ex-girlfriend and yourself, during your happy days. It’s been three months since the breakup and you are still mourning the end of your relationship like if it was the first hours. You still feel numb and if like someone is constantly crushing your heart in their iron grip. It’s not getting better, and it probably never will. Ona was, is, the love of your life and it’s just impossible for you to recover from it.

Falling for Ona was easy. You met her when you were both 20, even if you come from Palma de Mallorca and not Barcelona. You are a athlete too, so it wasn’t hard to cross her path at one of the Spanish awards. Patri Guijarro was there too and like you she comes from Mallorca, so she introduced you both and the rest is history.

When Ona moved to Manchester, you follow her. You find a team to train your motorcycle and your skills there. You were still young but promising on the circuit and you didn’t have trouble the find someone to help you getting better. And better you get. Just like Ona in Manchester United, you easily improve your skills and became one of the best in the world. Sure, you were sometimes away from home and Ona for your competitions, but everything was perfect.

When Ona came back to Barcelona, you flow back with her too. Some of your team came with you, some other didn’t but you can’t hold it against them. You find people to replace them and continue to race on the top of the leader boards.

The breakup didn’t come from nowhere, you can’t say that. You knew how much Ona was worried when you race, scared that you hurt yourself. You never had a big injury until now. But just after Christmas, you were implicated in an accident and Ona had trouble to concentrate in something else than that since that day.

It wasn’t your fault honestly; you just weren’t able to avoid the motorcycles already lying on the road. So, you made a gliding flight and had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder, nothing too serious. But Ona was in Barcelona while you were in Qatar, and it took almost two hours for you to be able to call her, even if you make everything possible to have your phone back.

That’s what pushed Ona to break up with you.

“I can’t keep focusing on your future death while I’m in training or supposed to be concentrated on something important, Y/N/N. I’m so sorry.” was what she told you.

Can you blame her? No. Did she told you it was because she doesn’t love you anymore? No. Did you try everything to make her change her mind? Yes. You even told her that you will stop your sport. But she’s not with you anymore and it hurt like hell.

“Hi Cheetah!” make one of your opponent when you arrive in the garage, where the motorcycles are stored.

“Hola” you mumble back.

Cheetah is your nickname, because of your speed and the feline way you stand on your bike. But it’s especially Ona’s favorite animal. You wonder if she’s still looking at your race sometimes. Probably not. You never asked Patri who became your friend with the years, the girl never talked about your breakup either. You like it that way.

One hour after, you are on your bike, ready to start your race. Your helmet is a notch off from what security recommends, but you prefer to wear it like that. Ona had forbidden you to do so and you had accepted her request without flinching. But Ona isn’t here anymore, and you have no one to care about.

Well, your brother who is in your team maybe. And probably your parents, but even if you love them, they aren’t Ona.

The qualifying rounds put you in fourth place at the start, but after a daring overtaking you manage to get gain the third place. The weather is great honestly, a little bit sunny maybe but it’s better than the rain. You are in Italy after all.

The fight for the second place is hard, your opponent always manages to stand in your way to keep you from reaching it. It starts to frustrate you, even if your team keeps telling you in the helmet to take no risks. You don’t listen to them, still being careful not to make faults though, you don’t want to have any penalty against you.

“Lenta, hermanita por favor!” (Slower, my little sister please!)

You hear your brother’s voice but don’t listen to him either. He will probably kill you for it after the race , but if you manage to get the second place, it’s worth it right? Winning is the only thing that you have left. The only thing that makes you feel a little alive.

That’s why you don’t hesitate to take other risks to get the second place. Plot twist, you shouldn’t have.

It’s the first time since you’re a teenager that you lose the control of your motorcycle, but it’s a strange feeling. You feel yourself flying and the helmet getting ripped off your head during the crash. After that it’s all black, you just have little moments of consciousness from time to time.

“No no no no no! ¡ Y/N No me hagas esto! Respira por favor!” (Don’t do that! Breath please!”)

That’s your brother voice. You don’t know where you are, you hear people screaming and probably running next to you. But you are too tired. Falling asleep now probably will help you feel better, right?

“Sigue luchando. Piensa en Ona." (Keep fighting. Think about Ona.)

Ona? You think about her every single second of the day. You are surprised by this statement, but it has the advantage to wake you up a little. Your brother usually never mention your ex-girlfriend, knowing how much the breakup is destroying you.

“Alright we take her to the ambulance, now!”

If you were able, you probably would have rolled your eyes because of the strength that this man screamed with. You are not even able to open your eyes though, and you hate the way you feel your body not responding to what you want. But your head hurt and soon you are asleep again.

The next time you are awake, it was way quiet. You hear your parents and your brother, but you have to make a big effort to understand what they are saying.

“She called her name several times in the ambulance, but she’s asleep since”

Well, that’s embarrassing. It’s useless to wonder which name you called, there only is one woman in your head after all.

“Did you call her?”

Your mother.

“No. Y/N would have probably hated me if I did.”

Is he right? Maybe. You’ll think about it later.

“She has the right to know how Y/N is.”

Point for your father.

“I’ll call Patri instead.”

Well, it’s probably better that way. Patri is one of your best friends and if Ona wants to have news of you, she will ask Patri. But once again, she probably has no interest about your health anymore.

You fall back asleep again soon after that.

Patri’s face is white when she reaches the gym of FC Barcelona Femeni. It’s not Ona who realized it first, your ex-girlfriend is focused on her exercises next to Mariona.

“Patri you alright?” Pina asks, looking at her friend with worry.

Everyone raises their gaze on the girl, but she’s only looking at Ona. And Ona knows, right there. She gulps and stand up, her hand shaking.

“What happened?” Ona asks quietly.

But Patri takes her by the hand to take her out. She doesn’t want to explain to Ona what happened in front of the others. She doesn’t know how the younger one will react at the news, and she’s scared of her reaction to be honest. Every single person in the team know how much Ona is sad about your breakup, even if she’s the one who chose to have it that way.

“Y/N had an accident during the race” Patri starts, looking at Ona with attention. “I don’t know what her injuries are or anything else. But she has that awful crash, and they came with the ambulance and those kinds of white curtains.”

Ona knows what the curtains are for. It’s to protect the dignity of the runner in the case of a serious injury… or worse. Very worse. Her face passes from white to green.

“Is there a video from the crash?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to…”

But Ona doesn’t listen. Like you, she’s stubborn. She wants to know. She needs to know. She doesn’t know when the accident happened, but the video of it is easy to find on social media. She doesn’t react at all during several seconds and Patri wondered if Ona’s mind crashed, too.

“She loosened her helmet” Ona whispers at first.

“What?” Patri frowned.

“She loosened her helmet! She loosened her helmet and now she’s probably dead!”

Ona’s shouting and Patri prefer that, but it’s surprising. Ona isn’t the kind of girl who shout usually. She puts a comforting hand on Ona’s arm before talking.

“We don’t know that for now” she tries, with a comforting voice.

“Haven’t you seen the crash? Haven’t you seen of hard her head hit the ground? She didn’t move after that! At all!”

Patri doesn’t know what to answer at that. Ona’s right and she regrets to have inform her so soon, without having news of you. Or your brother, who had kind of a crush for Patri before realizing that she’s as gay as you are. You still tease him about it years later.

“I’ll try to call her brother, ok? But for now, let’s get out of here.”

When you wake up next time, you have enough strength to be able to open your eyes. You don’t know what time it is, but the sun is shining behind almost closed blinds. There is someone on a chair next to you, but you are disappointed to realize that it’s only your brother. Not Ona.

“Hola” he whispers when he realizes that your awake.

You only answer with a grunt, unable to talk for now. You feel sleepy again, but you want to talk with him a little bit.

“We are at the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

You close your eyes briefly to make him understand that you remember. Your throat feels too scratchy to talk for now. You’ll learn later that they have to intubate you to keep you alive.

“You’re lucky you’re alive, I’ll kill you a second time if you weren’t. They want to get you back in Barcelona tonight, are you okay with that?”

You don’t answer right away. Why can’t they keep you here?

“The team think it would be easier to be somewhere where they speak Spanish. And we will be closer to Mama and Papi.”

Your brother seems to understand your questions. It’s a great thing that you are both so close. You close your eyes again now and he nods before taking your hand in his. You don’t really care where you are taking care off after all.

“You can sleep now. You need to rest to get better, ok?”

You squeeze his finger softly before closing your eyes for good now, falling asleep again. You are still asleep during the transfer to Barcelona and when you wake up again you are in the Spanish’s city hospital.

Once again, it’s your brother who is here when you open your eyes. He changed his clothes but he’s still here, reading a newspaper with his feet on your bed.

“Don’t you have a house?” you groan.

He rolls his eyes after having looked at you for two seconds. Maybe to realize that he wasn’t dreaming. He threw carefully the journal next to you without putting his feet down, but everything is still blur.

“I can’t read it” you whisper.

“The Spanish’ motorcycle prodigy almost died in an awful crash yesterday. Her condition remains alarming” your brother read for you.

He’s angry. You don’t answer anything, what should you say anyway? You know that it’s your fault, if you were a little more careful nothing of that would have happened. You know too that you aren’t on the point to die, your brother wouldn’t have scolded you if that was the case.

“What are my injuries?” you ask without looking at him.

He sighs loudly before answering.

“You have broken ribs, a broken tibia, your cheekbone too, your elbow is in pieces, your shoulder has been dislocated again and you have a massive concussion. They thought that you have something broken in your spine, but it’s just a massive bruise. Oh, and you have other bruises almost on every part of your body, when it’s not burn because of the asphalt. They had to put stitches somewhere on your head and your brow bone too.”

you stay silence for several seconds, completely stunned. These are massive injuries, you know it. It will probably need a lot of time to heal all of them and that mean that you will miss the end of the championship. You were on the top 3, and it’s an awful disillusionment for you. You were already picturing yourself on the podium at the end of the season.

“How many time am I supposed to stay in bed? Before starting my rehab?”

He frowns softly, not expecting this question.

“They don’t know for now if you elbow will be well enough to start racing again”

“Of course it will be” you snort.

“No” your brother answer. “It’s serious, Y/N. You maybe won’t be able to drive a motorcycle again. On a circuit at least.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t have the choice. This is all I have left now.”

Your breakup was awful for you, but it was for your family too. You weren’t always careful with you, but Ona pushed you to be reasonable and stayed in the track. Now you don’t have anyone to hold you back. Ona was the only one you were listening. You don’t listen to anyone now. Only your Abuela when she when she emotional blackmails you. But your loved ones try not to use that card too much to not burn it.

“You have to stop that. You still have people who care for you. The Oldies do, I do, your friends do. I know that the breakup sucks, but you can’t play with your life like you do.”

“Piss off” is all you mumble back.

Because you know he’s right, but what are you supposed to do now that he’s here with you and you would give ten years of your life to swap him with Ona? He doesn’t answer anything, knowing that you’re out of arguments and that you know he’s right.

“Did she… Did she call you?”

“She didn’t have to” he answers after a moment of hesitation. “I called Patri as soon as we were in your hospital room in Italy.”

This hurt a little more, to be honest. You are not aware that Ona was with Patri every time she received a call or a message from your brother. You sight softly before closing your eyes. Your head starts to hurt like hell, which is probably normal for a concussion.

You wake up several hours later and you already know that it’s the night. There isn’t any noise coming from outside your room and no light from outside. But there is someone sitting on the chair next to you.

“Ona?”

It’s seems almost impossible, but it’s definitively Ona. You are able to recognize her silhouette in the dark after all these years passed with her. Even if you haven’t seen her in the last three months.

“It’s worse than anything” she mumbles, looking somewhere near your broken leg.

“What?”

“Not knowing how you are. I thought that break up with you will help me to stop worrying about your races, but it’s worse every time. I almost called you or messaged you before every race just to hear your voice, but I just couldn’t. And then I learned about your accident, and I have to live with the thought that you were dead for several hours.”

She raises her eyes on you, and you have trouble to support her gaze, even if you are in the dark.

“I’m sorry” you finally say.

“Really?”

She seems unconvinced and she has every right to be. She knows you, better than anyone.

“Well, I’m sorry that you were worried because of me. But as you see, I’m alive.”

She rolls her eyes and let her back go against the chair she is sitting on. You still feel strange, without knowing if it’s because of the drugs or because you are dreaming. You don’t have really anything to lose, so you ask.

“Is it real life?”

Ona looked at you with an obvious surprise on her beautiful face. God you missed her so damn much.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it real or am I dreaming?”

“Are you making the move where you ask me if I am an angel?”

You stupidly laugh before regretting it, your ribs protesting hardly. Ona seems alarmed when you groan in pain, putting your non-injured hand on it.

“I’m ok” you whisper, taking several small breaths, the big one would have been too hurtful.

“You are not” Ona mumbles.

She’s right.

“It’s less painful than the thought that I lost you.”

She sighs once again and looks at her fingers before shaking her head softly. You wanted to grab her hand, but she’s on your bad side and your arm is in that awful cast.

“Tell me what I have to do to have a second chance, Oni. I’ll do every single thing you’ll ask me. I swear. Please” you beg when she stays silence for several seconds.

“What if I ask you to stop your stupid moto?”

There is a challenge in her voice, and you know why. One time, she told you that she’s not even sure that if she asks you to choose between her and your sport, you’ll chose her. At that time, you didn’t know that she was serious, you thought that it was something she wasn’t thinking and said due to the fight. How wrong you were.

“I’ll do it” you answer without any doubt.

She seems surprised, looking at you with two big eyes. You have always loved Ona’s eyes, some people said that brown eyes are the most common and expressionless. They never have crossed Ona’s gaze.

“I saw what a life without you is Ona and I don’t want that life. I want you and if I have to stop my sport, I’ll do it if you still want me.”

She sighs and rubs her eyes. She seems tired to be honest, but maybe because it’s the middle of the night and that she’s supposed to be asleep right now.

“I didn’t break up with you because I don’t love you anymore. I still do and I think I will for all my life. I need you to be a part of my life too.”

Her words are melody in your ears, but you feel like there still is something else. Like if something was restraining her.

“But…?” you mumble, looking for her eyes.

“But I can’t continue like this. I thought you were dead.”

She’s crying now and your heart hurt like if someone just punch it. You move in the bed, trying desperately to touch her or anything to try to comfort her. Your ribs and your legs burn awfully, and you ignore your elbow hurting in protest.

“Ona I’m so sorry, I swear” you say, managing to take her hand in yours.

The position is awful, and you wonder briefly if you can throw up even if you haven’t eaten anything since almost two days.

“I didn’t think it will hurt you that way. Please don’t cry” you continue.

She shakes her head softly, kind of laughing between her tears.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you left me. And you blocked me everywhere.”

That point hurts, too. You weren’t even able to look at her social media to have news of her, you were reduced to follow fan’s account of her.

“I just couldn’t live with you popping randomly on my timelines. It hurts too much every time.”

You nod and that the gesture who make your position too hurtful. You roll on your back, trying to hold your whine of pain. But Ona sees it anyway and frown almost instantly.

“Do you want me to call them to have more painkillers?”

“Are they ok with you being here? I don’t want them to make you leave” you admit with a law voice.

There is a beam of silence.

“I won’t leave your side” she says in a comforting voice.

You want to believe that she means it for like all your life. But having her tonight is what you have best for now. So, you nod, closing shortly your eyes when she rings the nurses. The door is open only a minute after and you open your eyes again when you hear Ona’s voice.

“I think she’s ready for more painkillers” the brunette says.

“I will give some to you” the nurse says to you before adding something in your intravenous. “What hurts?”

“Everything” you admit softly.

She nods and gives you a smile in sympathy. You look at her doing her things, missing Ona’s small winces at your admission. The nurse starts to talk again when she’s at the door, ready to leave.

“You will feel better like this. After that it will be great if you try to eat something. You will be sleepy for now though.”

Your eyes fly to Ona who is already looking at you. She said that she will stay by your side, but does she meant while you sleep too? She probably has training or somewhere to go. A match to play? You don’t know which day is it anymore, the painkillers are starting to kick already, making you confuse.

“Ona” you manage to say.

“Sleep, Hermosa. I’ll be here when you wake up, ok?”

Two weeks after, you are finally leaving the hospital. You still have to leave in a wheelchair, much to your disappointment. But with almost half of your body injured, there is no way that you are able to walk with crutches.

The only positive thing is that the person who is pushing the wheelchair is Ona and that she managed to make it funny, sliding on it in the hospital’s floor. Your brother is following with your suitcases, smiling softly while watching both of you.

After learning that you will be alright, you parents went home in Mallorca two days before you were authorized to go home. They proposed to you to come back to Mallorca with them and you have to admit that you miss your island, but there is no way that you are somewhere Ona isn’t.

When you felt better, you had a very intense and long discussion about your relationship, both of your feelings, what you both expect from that said relationship and where you want it to go.

Ona is the one who will look after you on daily basis, but sometimes your brother will need to take you to your appointment when Ona is away or training. The end of the season is soon here, but there still is the Olympics this Summer so she has to prepare herself intensively.

Your girlfriend’s here, one month after, when you are in the doctor’s office for the worst moment of your professional life. Sitting next to you, she’s holding your hand when the doctor looks at you with an awful sorry face.

“I don’t know where to start” he begins, playing with the sheets on his desk.

“Just go straight into it, Doc” you sigh softly.

You know already that you will hate what is going to be say. Ona’s fingers stroking your hand help, but your heart is still beating faster than ever.

“You are making good progress, I saw that they removed your cast on your feet, but we are really concerned about your elbow. We don’t think it will be fit enough for you to be able to start motorcycle in a professional way anymore.”

You were waiting for it, but it’s still hurt to hear that. Motorcycle is the only thing you knew since you were a teenager, you never thought about doing anything else in your life. You swallow softly before passing a hand on your face. You did everything you can to be able to start again, followed every advice your team gave you. But it’s not enough.

“I don’t know what to say” you finally mumble, looking at an imaginary point somewhere on the desk. “It’s all I know; I don't know how to do anything else.”

“I can pick you an appointment with our psychotherapist if you want to. It can help.”

“Can we leave? I’ll tell you if I want one”

For now, you just want to get out of this office and be able to breath some fresh air. Ona helps you to get up even if you don’t need help anymore. You suppose it’s a way to comfort you. You are glad for her. She doesn’t say anything while you are getting out of the building, but she doesn’t let your hand go when you lean against the railing once outside.

“What am I going to do, Ona?” you whisper softly.

She let go of your hand now, but it’s only to pass her arm around your waist and hold you close.

“Whatever you want mi Amor. It’s ok not to know now, but you still have a bunch of possibilities. We will figure it out together, yeah?”

She kisses your cheek, and you close your eyes, letting yourself being cuddle a little more. It’s not the same feeling that the one when you lost Ona. You know there is different exit doors, you just have to find the good one. Ona will be your light in the dark.

Several weeks later, you are in France. Not for a race, but for playing the WAG for your girlfriend who is playing the final today. She introduces you to others girlfriends/wife of her teammates and you get along great with everyone. You watched every single game in the stadium, and you were able to see Ona several times in between. You missed her and she was worried sick to let you alone at home, but you are pretty fine.

You are famous in the world of sport so it’s not a surprise that you are not able to skip some interviews while going to the stand to attend the finale.

“Y/N” said one journalist when he puts her microphone under your mouth, with an awful French accent. “You announced your retirement sooner this month because of your massive injuries. How are you feeling?”

“I’m still sad about it, of course. It wasn’t my choice and I think it makes it harder but I didn’t have the choice. I’m sad not to be able to finish the championship this year, I was really well ranked, but you know…”

You shrug, thinking that’s between his accent and yours, people on social media will have a great fun.

“Do you think you will come back in the motorcycle world one day?”

“Not as a racer obviously, but why not. I still need to figure what to do with my life, but first I have to heal correctly.”

“Thanks for your answers” he smiles. “Do you have a favorite for today?”

“Spain, obviously” you smile back.

“Have you a favorite player?”

You almost roll your eyes at that. Your relationship with Ona is a common knowledge for everyone, you are not hiding yourself. You both weren’t as famous before and you were posting without really thinking about it.

“Oh, I don’t know… Number two is pretty great” you smirk, looking at the jersey you are wearing.

You hear someone giggle in the background, and you are pretty sure to recognize Irene’s wife waiting for you with Mateo. You soon say goodbye to the journalist to find your place in the stand. You are sitting next to Ona’s family obviously and your family made the travel too. They are sitting next to other Majorcans people, Cata’s family and Mariona’s brother and mother aren’t far away neither.

When Ona smiles at you during the national anthem after looking around to find you, you smile back and say “T’estimo” to her. You know that she can’t hear you, but she easily can read it on your lips.

You don’t know what the results of this game will be, like you don’t know what you will do in several months. But you know you will be fine, because you will be with her.

Ona is your forever and you don’t want another.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #woso one shot

482 notes · View notes

hellobykittys · 6 days ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 (𝐈𝐌)𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍 ✦ 𝐂𝐋¹⁶

SUMMARY: Charles Leclerc, a Formula 1 star, faces the decline of his reputation after breaking up with art curator Alexandra Saint Mleux. Under pressure from his team, he is forced into a fake relationship with one of the most popular influencers of the moment. NOTES: English is not my first language, so there might be some writing mistakes. I apologize for that, and feel free to point out any improvements. WC: 2.6k WARNING: enemies to lovers, teasing, fake relationship

MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

The meeting room was lit by cold lights reflecting off an impeccably clean glass table. Charles Leclerc sat at the head, his chin resting on his hand, visibly bored. The tension in the air was thick, and he already knew this meeting wasn’t going to end well. Around the table, members of Ferrari’s PR team sat, along with Lorenzo Leclerc, Charles’ older brother and personal manager.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” Lorenzo began, crossing his arms. His voice carried the firmness of someone tired of useless discussions. “Charles, we need to talk about your reputation.”

Charles rolled his eyes, setting his phone down on the table.

“My reputation? You mean the circus the media makes out of everything I do?”

“It’s not a circus if you keep giving them material,” Sofia, Ferrari’s PR head, cut in. A woman with short hair and piercing eyes, Sofia was known for her blunt and impatient approach.

“Seriously?” Charles raised an eyebrow. “Now you want to control my personal life too?”

Lorenzo sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Charles, we’re not here to debate who’s right or wrong. We’re here because your image is directly affecting your career.”

“My career’s fine,” Charles shot back, crossing his arms.

Sofia slammed a folder full of tabloid clippings on the table, making a sharp noise.

“Is it? Because from what we see here, it doesn’t look like it. ‘Charles Leclerc spotted at a party until 5 AM with a mysterious model.’ ‘Ferrari driver involved in a new controversy after a fight at a club.’ This affects the sponsors, Charles. It affects the Ferrari brand.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face.

“Look, I get it. But what do you want me to do? Lock myself in my house?”

“Not exactly,” Sofia replied with a cold smile that made Charles immediately suspicious.

Lorenzo cleared his throat, trying to soften what was coming.

“Charles, we’ve come up with a solution that could help clean up your image quickly while you focus on what really matters: your performance on the track.”

“Great. So, what’s the plan?” he asked, clearly impatient.

Sofia leaned forward, clasping her hands on the table.

“We’re going to put you in a fake relationship.”

The silence that followed was so deep that you could hear the clock ticking on the wall. Charles blinked a few times, sure he’d misunderstood.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“We’re not,” Sofia replied, serious. “The idea is simple. We want to associate your image with a public figure who’s seen as positive, inspiring, and… balanced.”

“You want me to fake being in love with someone to save my reputation? This is ridiculous!”

“It’s not that simple, Charles,” Lorenzo tried to intervene. “We’re not asking you to fall in love. It’s a contract. An agreement. None of this has to be real.”

Charles laughed humorlessly, shaking his head.

“And who’s this poor soul you’ve hired for this?”

Sofia smiled, clearly expecting this question.

“Y/N.”

The name hit the silence like a shot. Charles frowned, trying to remember where he’d heard it. It didn’t take long before the girl’s face popped into his mind. She was impossible to ignore on social media, with her impeccable style, viral videos, and appearances at fashion and entertainment events.

“You’re talking about that… influencer?” he asked, incredulous.

“Not just any influencer. She’s the influencer right now,” Sofia corrected. “Everyone loves her. She’s elegant, charismatic, and has a solid fanbase. Associating with her will change the public’s perception of you.”

“You want me to fake dating a girl I barely know and who probably thinks race cars are just fancy toys?” Charles shot back, irritated.

Lorenzo took a deep breath, visibly trying to stay calm.

“Charles, no one’s saying it’ll be easy. But think of it as a strategy. Y/N isn’t just an influencer. She’s professional, ambitious, and has as much to gain from this as you do.”

“Great. So, she’s doing it for personal gain too,” Charles said sarcastically.

Sofia rolled her eyes.

“This isn’t about what she wants, it’s about what you need.”

Charles sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at the table. The idea seemed absurd. He didn’t want to give up his freedom for some farce that, deep down, made no sense to him.

“You guys must be crazy if you think I’ll agree to this,” Charles declared, suddenly standing up. His voice echoed through the room, but no one seemed surprised by his reaction.

Lorenzo sighed, already expecting this kind of response. He knew his brother too well to think he’d accept something so outside his comfort zone without resistance.

“Charles, sit down,” Lorenzo said, his voice firm and authoritative. “You have every right to be angry, but if you keep acting like a spoiled child, you won’t get anywhere.”

“A spoiled child?” Charles laughed darkly, pointing at his brother. “This coming from you, trying to convince me to join this ridiculous show. It’s my life, Lorenzo! I’m not a puppet for you guys to manipulate.”

Sofia intervened, trying to stay professional, but her patience was clearly wearing thin.

“Charles, understand this: we’re talking about your career. It’s not just about you. It’s about the team, the sponsors, the thousands of jobs that depend on Ferrari’s success. Formula 1 is a business, and in this business, your image is as important as your driving skills.”

“My driving skills should be the only thing that matters!” he shot back, pointing to himself. “I’m a driver. That’s what I do. I’m not a celebrity who needs a fake romance to get attention.”

“Don’t be naive, Charles,” Sofia replied coldly. “In today’s world, public perception is everything. You could be the best driver on the grid, but if your image keeps getting tied to scandals, no one will want to invest in you.”

Lorenzo crossed his arms, looking at his brother seriously.

“You know she’s right. You don’t have to like the idea, but you have to accept that it’s necessary.”

Charles took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but the knot in his throat only tightened. He hated the idea of being seen as someone who couldn’t control his own life, but Lorenzo and Sofia had a point: the external pressure was becoming unbearable.

“Why her?” he asked, his voice a little quieter.

Sofia gave a slight smile, as though she’d been waiting for this question.

“Because Y/N is exactly what you need. She has an impeccable reputation, knows how to handle the media, and most importantly, knows how to play the game.”

“And how are you so sure she’ll agree to this?” Charles asked, crossing his arms.

“We’ve already talked to her,” Lorenzo revealed. “She agreed. Obviously, she has her conditions, but she’s willing to collaborate.”

Charles laughed, incredulous.

“Of course she agreed. She’s probably loving the idea of being associated with me. She’ll gain even more followers and the ‘Wag’ title. That must be her dream.”

“Don’t underestimate Y/N,” Sofia warned. “She’s far from being a superficial girl. If she agreed, it’s because she saw value in the proposal, just like we did.”

Charles fell silent for a moment, processing everything that had been said. He felt a mix of anger, frustration, and, in a way, helplessness. He hated being put against the wall, but he knew refusing wouldn’t solve his problems.

“And how long is this going to last?” he asked, his disgust evident.

“The contract is for a year,” Lorenzo answered. “Long enough to solidify the lie, but short enough not to be unsustainable.”

“And what if it doesn’t work?”

“It will work,” Sofia assured him confidently.

Charles let out a heavy sigh, running his hands through his hair.

“I hate you guys.”

“Feel free to hate us all you want,” Lorenzo replied, standing up. “But do what needs to be done.”

Sofia grabbed the folder and gave one last look at Charles.

“Y/N will be here tomorrow to talk officially. Hope you’re ready.”

With that, everyone began to leave the room, leaving Charles alone. He slumped back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, trying to accept that, like it or not, his life was about to change.

The meeting room was spacious and well-lit, with glass walls offering a panoramic view of the city. Charles Leclerc was already there, on time this time, sitting next to the conference table in a relaxed yet attentive posture. He was casually flipping through a document, but his mind was elsewhere. The decision to accept the deal still felt surreal.

When the door opened, he lifted his eyes and saw Y/N entering with confident steps. She looked calm, self-assured. She wore a fitted blazer and pants that accentuated her confident posture. Her perfume reached him before her voice, subtle yet striking.

“Hope I’m not late,” she said, placing her bag on a chair and giving Charles a brief glance before looking away.

“You’re not,” he replied, giving a slight nod, observing her carefully.

Lorenzo and Sofia entered right after, carrying folders and an air of seriousness.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here, let’s get straight to the point,” Lorenzo began, taking his seat at the head of the table. “You both know how important this partnership is, both for the team and for your respective careers.”

“It’s not like we have much of a choice, right?” Y/N commented, not aggressively, but with a touch of realism.

“Not exactly,” Sofia answered, unfazed. “But we expect you to see the mutual benefit in this.”

Charles leaned his elbows on the table and glanced at Y/N for a moment before speaking.

“And you? What do you think of all this?”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the direct question, but maintained her composure.

“I think it’s… unexpected. But I won’t deny it’s an opportunity. And you?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering.

“I think it could work, as long as we follow a few rules.”

“Rules?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he answered, with a slight smile. “Like, don’t try to kill me in front of the cameras.”

Y/N let out a short laugh, almost genuine.

“I think I can follow that.”

Lorenzo interrupted, trying to keep the focus.

“Great. Let’s start by clarifying expectations. You’ll need to attend events together, create interactions for social media, and above all, look natural.”

“Does that mean we need to get to know each other better?” Y/N asked, looking directly at Charles, this time with less provocation and more curiosity.

“Probably,” he replied, her eyes holding his for a moment longer than necessary.

Sofia cleared her throat.

“For that, we recommend starting with something simple. A dinner, maybe. Nothing formal, just so you get used to being together outside a professional setting.”

Y/N looked away, pretending to think, but there was something uncomfortably intimate about the idea.

“Seems fair,” she finally said, grabbing a pen to sign the contract placed in front of her.

Charles didn’t say anything but let the corner of his mouth curve into a slight smile. He grabbed his own copy of the contract and signed it right after her.

When they finished, Lorenzo looked at both of them.

“Perfect. From now on, you’re officially a couple.”

Lorenzo’s statement hung in the air like an uncomfortable reminder of what had just been signed. Y/N grabbed her bag, ready to leave, but hesitated at the door.

“Charles?” she called, without turning around.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t plan on complicating this, but I hope you do your part.”

Charles adjusted his watch nonchalantly, as if this kind of deal was something he had mastered.

“I always do.” A discreet smile formed on his lips. “But maybe we should establish a few rules to make sure it works.”

“It’s so nice to see you both so… invested!” Sofia interrupted, letting out a light laugh. “But I’ll leave the details to you two. Just don’t kill each other, please.”

Lorenzo stood up shortly after, giving his brother a nearly conspiratorial look before giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. When he said goodbye to Y/N, he smiled warmly, as if to say, “Good luck.”

Once the room was silent, Charles broke it with a casual tone.

“So, about those rules…”

Y/N crossed her arms, clearly determined to make everything crystal clear from the start.

“The first limit is simple: don’t touch or kiss me without prior notice.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, surprised, but entertained by her firmness.

“You do realize that’s basically what couples do, right? Touch, kiss, look close… How are we supposed to convince anyone we’re real if we’re so mechanical?”

“I never said it was forbidden,” she corrected, remaining calm. “I’m just saying, don’t do it without a reason or without letting me know first.”

He chuckled softly, tilting his head slightly.

“Do you really think I’m interested in anything beyond what this contract requires?” He stepped forward, not breaking eye contact. “What happened at the club was just an impulse, not a sign that I’m in love with you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, as if analyzing every word he said.

“Great. Then it shouldn’t be hard to keep your hands and lips off me.”

Charles opened his mouth to retort but stopped when he saw the look in her eyes. It was a clear challenge, with something more hidden behind that confidence.

“Of course,” he replied, finally curving his lips into a nearly provocative smile. “But I’ve got my conditions too.”

Y/N adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, unfazed.

“Alright, go ahead.”

“You have to attend my races whenever you can. And when you can’t, show support on social media. It’s the least I expect.”

She let out an incredulous laugh.

“I’m gonna be your fake girlfriend, not your number one fan.”

“As my girlfriend, you should show support. Isn’t that what girlfriends do? Plus, my fans will love it. It’ll be good for our image.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but knew he had a point.

“Fine, but I’ve got commitments too. Don’t expect me to be at every race.”

Charles shrugged, still with that annoyingly confident smile.

“It’s a start.”

Silence fell between them again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was as if both were evaluating the other, trying to figure out what was coming next.

Y/N adjusted her bag again and took two steps toward the door before stopping.

“One more thing, Charles.”

“What?” He raised an eyebrow, curious.

“If you want this to work, stop trying to always have the last word.”

He smiled, a mix of challenge and amusement.

“That’s asking too much.”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head before finally walking out of the room.

Charles stood there for a moment, staring at the door she had just walked through. There was something about her that made him feel intrigued, and he knew this story was far from simple.

Outside the building, Y/N got into the waiting car and took a deep breath. “This is going to be more complicated than I thought,” she mused as the driver started the engine.

Back inside, Charles picked up his phone and quickly sent a message to Lorenzo.

Charles: “If she thinks she can challenge me, this is going to be fun.”

On the other side, Lorenzo just laughed as he read the message.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic

323 notes · View notes

unabashegirl · 2 months ago

Text

The Cover — sneak peak

Y/N and Harry, lifelong best friends, pretend to be a couple for a family wedding weekend in Edinburgh. As they navigate the event, old feelings resurface, and what starts as an act turns into something real, leading them to confront their true emotions for one another.

Author's note: hello, the cover has already been posted on Patreon, but I wanted to give you a sneak peak to it. Just in case you want to give it a read on my Patreon. It's a four part story. The final part will get posted tonight.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all chapters, various one shots and much more :)

masterlist

---------------------------------------------------------

Harry sat next to Y/N, his body half-turned toward her as he read a book, legs tucked beneath him like a cat seeking comfort. There was a distinct softness about him when he was in his own space, away from the flashing cameras and curious eyes of the public. His hair, dark and messy, tumbled over his forehead, catching in the dim light, giving him a boyish charm that contrasted sharply with his usual confident and polished public persona.

He wore a simple white t-shirt, the fabric clinging loosely to his lean frame. His broad shoulders spoke of strength, but his posture, slightly hunched as he leaned into his book, gave off an air of vulnerability. His long fingers traced the edges of the pages absentmindedly, and now and then, his green eyes flicked up from the book, studying Y/N with a kind of quiet amusement, like he was aware of the unspoken understanding that lay between them.

Harry had always been attentive, almost in a way that felt second nature, as though he knew more about her moods than she did. There was something undeniably magnetic about him—his laugh was a little softer here, his voice a touch lower. His fame could never overshadow the gentle heart he showed her when they were alone.

Y/N’s eyes hovered over the same paragraph for what felt like the hundredth time. The words blurred together, the meaning lost as her mind wandered to the man sitting beside her. She was supposed to be reading a novel on leadership—something meant to inspire her as she navigated her demanding corporate job—but her thoughts kept drifting back to him. It was ironic, really. The book talked about control and decisiveness, yet here she was, lost in the one thing she couldn’t control: her feelings for Harry.

She had always found him attractive. No—more than attractive. Beautiful in the kind of way that felt effortless. His messy hair, the way his lips quirked into a half-smile, those green eyes that seemed to see straight through her… It all added up to someone she could never quite believe was real. He’d always been larger than life to her, even before the fame. Back when they were younger, when they were just two young adults with dreams and no idea where life would take them.

But then, his life had soared into stardom, and hers had stayed grounded in the corporate world. He became Harry Styles—the Harry Styles—and she remained his best friend, hidden away from the glamour of his world. She had watched as women swooned over him, throwing themselves at his feet, and she had silently swallowed her feelings. She knew she could never compete. He was out of her league, in every possible way.

And yet, sitting here next to him, as close as they were, it was impossible not to be reminded of just how deep her feelings for him ran. His presence had always had this effect on her, an electric undercurrent that made her skin tingle and her heart pound just a little harder. She stole a glance at him over the top of her book. He was engrossed in whatever he was reading, completely unaware of the thoughts swirling in her mind.

That’s what made it all so painful—he would never see her that way. She was just Y/N, his best mate, his confidant. The one person who was always there, but never the one he looked at with desire. She felt a knot tighten in her chest as she allowed herself, for just a moment, to imagine what it would be like if things were different. If she were someone else. If he saw her the way she saw him.

As if sensing her gaze, Harry suddenly looked up, catching her in the act. His lips twitched into a small, knowing smile, and he set his book down on the coffee table.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, his voice low, breaking the silence between them. His eyes locked onto hers, and the way he studied her made her feel exposed, as though he could read her thoughts without her saying a word. “You’ve been staring at that same page for ages.”

Y/N quickly dropped her gaze, closing the book to avoid his probing eyes. “It’s nothing,” she mumbled, though the heat rising to her cheeks gave her away.

He tilted his head, not buying it for a second. “Come on,” he coaxed, a teasing edge to his voice. “Spill it. I know you. You’ve got that look.”

She shifted uncomfortably, trying to laugh it off. “What look?”

“The one where you’re overthinking everything,” he said, leaning back against the couch, still watching her closely. His gaze softened. “Talk to me, Y/N. What’s going on?”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as Harry’s green eyes bore into hers, his expression filled with gentle concern. She had always struggled to lie to him. Whenever he looked at her like that, like he truly cared, she felt like he could see right through her. The panic rose quickly, threatening to bubble over, and she knew she had to say something—anything—to steer the conversation away from the thoughts that were tangled up in her mind.

She blurted out the first thing that came to her. “My cousin’s getting married.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. “Which cousin?”

Y/N let out a long sigh, glad for the distraction, though the topic she’d chosen wasn’t much better. “The worst one. Out of the three, I mean. You know, the one who’s always got something to say about everything. Perfect life, perfect fiancé, perfect job… perfect everything.”

Harry’s expression softened into one of amused sympathy. He knew exactly the kind of family pressure Y/N was talking about. He stretched out his legs, making himself more comfortable, as if settling in for a story. “Ah, her. That sounds like fun,” he teased, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Y/N rolled her eyes, tucking her legs beneath her as she faced him. “It’s not just her. It’s the whole family. They’re all so excited, and for some reason, they’re all hell-bent on me bringing a date.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “I don’t even have a boyfriend, but everyone keeps asking if I’m bringing someone. They’re already assuming I’m going to show up with a ‘plus one,’ and I just… I don’t want to deal with the humiliation of telling them I’m still single. Again.”

Harry’s brow furrowed slightly as he listened, a small frown tugging at his lips. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at her thoughtfully. “Y/N, you don’t owe anyone an explanation. If you don’t want to bring someone, then don’t. Your family’s expectations shouldn’t dictate your happiness.”

Y/N smiled weakly, appreciating the sentiment, but her heart was still heavy with the weight of the situation. “I know, but it’s just… hard. It’s like they see me as incomplete because I don’t have someone.” She let out a bitter laugh. “They don’t understand that I’m happy with my life. But at a wedding, it’s like a flashing neon sign that I’m alone.”

The room fell silent for a moment as Harry absorbed her words, his gaze softening even further. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but then paused, seemingly deep in thought.

Y/N bit her lip, realizing she was rambling, but it was easier to talk about this than the real issue she was trying to avoid. And with Harry sitting so close, his concern for her so palpable, it made her feel even more off-balance. Every time he cared, every time he listened so intently, it reminded her of how much she longed for something more than just friendship.

But that wasn’t an option. Not with him. So, she buried it all under the wedding invitation and the pressures from her family, hoping it would be enough to keep him from asking more.

Harry studied her for a long moment, eyes searching her face like he could sense there was something more she wasn’t saying. He tilted his head slightly, lips pressing together in that way he always did when he was thinking hard.

“Is that really why you’re freaking out?” he asked gently, his voice laced with quiet skepticism.

Y/N felt her stomach twist, the question catching her off guard. She hated how easily he could see through her, but she wasn’t about to crack. Not when it came to her deeper feelings. So, she nodded quickly, clutching onto the family wedding excuse like a lifeline. “Yes, it is. It’s a big issue, Harry. Every time I visit my family, it just… it tears me down a little more. They make me feel like I’m somehow falling behind because I don’t have someone. It’s exhausting.”

He sighed softly, his eyes softening with sympathy, though there was still a trace of doubt in his gaze. Without saying anything more, he leaned back against the couch and picked up his book again, his fingers absently running along the spine.

For a few minutes, silence fell between them, the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of turning pages the only sounds filling the room. Y/N watched him out of the corner of her eye, heart still racing from the close call. She didn’t know what she’d do if he pushed further—if he managed to pry open the lid she’d been keeping on her feelings. She shifted in her seat, trying to focus on her book, but the words refused to make sense.

Then, just as she was beginning to lose herself in her own anxious thoughts, Harry broke the silence.

“I’ve got an easy solution,” he said suddenly, his voice calm and casual, like he hadn’t just spent several minutes in contemplative silence. He didn’t even look up from his book. “I’ll go with you.”

Y/N blinked, his words not quite registering at first. “What?”

He glanced over at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll be your date. To the wedding,” he clarified, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Problem solved.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her mind racing to catch up. “You… you’re serious?” She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Harry Styles, her best friend—and secret crush—offering to be her date to her cousin’s wedding?

“Of course,” he said, shrugging as if it were no big deal. “If it’ll make things easier for you, I’m in. I’ll go, smile for the family, and be the perfect distraction. You won’t have to deal with any awkward questions about being single.”

Y/N stared at him, stunned. He made it sound so simple, like it was no trouble at all. But for her, it was anything but simple. Having him at her side, pretending to be her date, while she tried to keep her feelings under control… It sounded like both a dream and a nightmare all at once.

She swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. “Harry, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, closing his book and turning his full attention to her now. His gaze was steady, sincere. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. If this is stressing you out, let me help. I’d be happy to go with you.”

Her heart swelled at his words, warmth spreading through her chest at the thought of him being there, by her side, at a time when she felt most vulnerable. But at the same time, the reality of pretending—of standing next to him, feeling things she shouldn’t, knowing it was all just for show—made her feel dizzy.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost unsure...

247 notes · View notes

meazalykov · 3 months ago

Text

nobody's type

sydney lohmann x reader

summary: people wonder why you don't want to make the first move..

warnings: insecurities, overall sadness

you stand at the edge of the pitch, the crisp air nipping at your skin as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the bayern munich training ground in a soft, golden glow.

the stadium lights flicker on one by one, their harsh brightness chasing away the twilight shadows.

training has ended, and most of your teammates have already made their way inside, but you linger, your feet rooted to the spot as your gaze settles on sydney.

she’s the last to leave, her laughter ringing out like music as she jokes with a few others– tuva and pernille– who stayed behind. she looks so at ease, so effortlessly beautiful, that it makes your chest tighten with something achingly familiar—a longing that you’ve carried in silence for far too long.

it’s not that you don’t want to talk to her. it’s that you can’t. every time you think about approaching her, the words you want to say dissolve on your tongue, replaced by the bitter taste of insecurity.

sydney, with her easy confidence and radiant smile, seems like she belongs in a world far removed from yours. sometimes you wonder how you ended up on the same team as her. she’s someone who could have anyone she wanted, someone who would never look twice at someone like you. at least, that’s what you’ve convinced yourself.

after transferring from spurs to bayern munich in 2023, you found a bit of relief. you’ve always struggled with this feeling of inadequacy, this deep-rooted belief that you’re not attractive enough, not interesting enough, not enough in any way that matters.

you had confidence in your football ability as a striker– but still— you’re awkward and quiet, always feeling out of place even among people who know you best. you’ve never quite managed to shake the feeling that you’re somehow less than everyone else, that the flaws you see when you look in the mirror are just as obvious to everyone around you.

the idea of someone like sydney seeing you—really seeing you—fills you with a fear so intense it’s paralyzing.

so you keep your distance, blending into the background, watching her from afar like you have for months now.

you’ve learned to be careful, to avoid letting your gaze linger on her for too long when she’s nearby. but even then, it’s like your eyes are drawn to her, seeking her out without you even realizing it.

you watch the way she laughs, the way her eyes light up when she talks about something she’s passionate about, the way she moves with a grace that seems effortless. and every time you do, that same painful ache settles in your chest, a constant reminder of everything you want but can never have.

you’ve spent countless nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling as your mind replays every interaction you’ve ever had with her. you analyze every word, every glance, every smile, searching for some hint that maybe, just maybe, she feels the same.

but then the doubt creeps in, the voice in your head reminding you of all the reasons why that’s impossible. you’re not good enough for someone like sydney. you’re too plain, too shy, too broken. and so you push the hope away, bury it deep down where it can’t hurt you anymore, even though you know it’s still there, waiting to resurface the next time you see her.

the sound of footsteps approaching pulls you from your thoughts, and you glance up to see georgia walking toward you.

she’s one of the few people who seems to notice when you’re struggling, and even though you appreciate her concern, it also makes you feel exposed, like she can see all the things you’re trying so hard to hide.

“y/n,” she says softly, coming to a stop beside you. “you know your crush on sydney is pretty obvious to everyone, right?”

your heart skips a beat, panic flaring in your chest. “what? no, it’s not… i mean, it’s not like that,” you stammer, the words tumbling out in a rush as you try to deny it.

but georgia just gives you a look, one that says she knows exactly what’s going on.

“it’s okay,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “but, y/n, you’re selling yourself short. sydney likes you. you’re attractive and she sees that but she’s been waiting for you to make a move.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, disbelief washing over you.

you shake your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips as you try to process what she’s saying.

“there’s no way she could like me. i’m… i’m not enough. not for someone like her.”

georgia’s expression softens, her eyes full of sympathy and frustration. “y/n, you’re more than enough. you’re caring, talented, and honestly, anyone would be lucky to have you. but you keep convincing yourself that you’re not worthy of love, and that’s not true.”

you want to believe her, you really do. but the voice in your head—the one that’s been there for as long as you can remember, whispering that you’re not good enough, not pretty enough, not worth anyone’s time—drowns out her words.

you look away, your gaze drifting back to sydney, who’s now slinging her bag over her shoulder, ready to head inside. the idea of walking up to her, of telling her how you feel, seems impossible.

you’ve spent so long building these walls around your heart, convinced that no one could ever love you for who you really are, that the thought of tearing them down is terrifying.

“what if she doesn’t feel the same?” you whisper, the fear creeping into your voice. it’s the fear that’s been holding you back all this time, the fear that if you let her in, she’ll see all the things you hate about yourself and turn away.

georgia sighs, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “you’ll never know unless you try. but, y/n, you’ve got to stop tearing yourself down. you’re incredible, and it’s time you start seeing that.”

her words resonate with you, but the insecurities that have rooted themselves in your heart are stubborn. they cling to you, wrapping around your thoughts like vines, choking out any glimmer of hope.

you want to be the person georgia thinks you are, the person who’s brave enough to take a chance, but every time you try to take a step forward, the doubts pull you back. they remind you of every time you’ve been overlooked, every time you’ve been hurt, every time you’ve convinced yourself that you’re not worthy of love.

you watch as sydney disappears through the doors, the opportunity slipping through your fingers once again.

you can feel georgia’s gaze on you, a mix of concern and sadness in her eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to meet it. instead, you stay silent, trapped in the fear that has held you back for so long, wishing you could be someone different—someone who could believe in themselves, someone who could believe that they’re worthy of love.

as the last traces of daylight fade and the stadium lights cast their artificial glow across the field, you turn to follow your teammates inside. the weight of your unspoken feelings, of your unfulfilled desires, settles heavily on your shoulders, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever find the courage to break free from the chains of your own self-doubt.

for now, all you can do is hope that one day, you’ll find the strength to see yourself the way georgia does, the way sydney might if you ever gave her the chance.

but until then, you’ll keep your distance, hiding behind that brick wall you’ve built, afraid to let anyone meet the real you.

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

#sydney lohmann #sydney lohmann x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #bayern frauen #bayern munich

288 notes · View notes

goldfades · 4 days ago

Text

KNOCK-THE-WIND-OUT-OF-ME-GORGEOUS ─── JOE BURROW

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 967

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | request: can I request a Joe x shy reader? Maybe something similar to Cinderella in a sense she’s wearing an amazing outfit and he’s just so smitten by her and absolutely infatuated. Any compliment and act of affection has shy reader in a tumble of blushes and butterflies?

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | sweet joe! shy reader, just tooth rotting fluff!

The faint hum of soft music drifts through your bedroom, setting the tone for the evening as you lean closer to the mirror. The silver clasp of your earring catches the light, a tiny flicker against the elegant sweep of your outfit. You’d spent the better part of the week talking yourself into wearing it, a bold choice for someone like you. The fabric clings in all the right places but not too tightly, cascading down your frame like it was made for you—and maybe, for once, it’s okay to feel that way.

Your hands tremble slightly as you adjust the neckline, the sheen of your necklace resting perfectly against your collarbone. It’s a small thing, but it feels like armor, like maybe you can stand a little taller tonight. "Deep breath," you whisper to your reflection, offering a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. But that’s okay—it’s a start.

The thought of him flickers through your mind as you reach for your perfume. Joe. You bite your lip as a warmth blooms in your chest, a mix of excitement and nerves that feels impossible to shake. You can picture him now—broad shoulders filling out a suit, his sharp features softening when he sees you. It’s ridiculous, you think, how easily your heart trips over itself just imagining it.

The soft mist of your perfume lingers in the air as you step back for one last look. You don’t feel like yourself, not exactly. You feel...more. Like someone who could actually walk into a room and not disappear into the edges. Someone who might be brave enough to meet his gaze and hold it, even for a moment.

The click of the front door echoes faintly down the hall, and your chest tightens. You’d been so focused on perfecting your eyeliner—steady hand, just a little wing—that you didn’t even hear Joe come home. The subtle rustle of his keys on the counter and the low murmur of his voice as he calls out, “Babe? You ready yet?” send a ripple of nerves through you, as though this isn’t the same man you’ve woken up next to a hundred times.

You glance at the mirror, a little unsure. The dress hugs you just so, the fabric catching the light in all the right places, but there’s still that little voice in the back of your mind telling you it’s too much. You smooth your hands over the material one more time, as though that will calm the fluttering in your chest.

“Still getting ready?” Joe’s voice is closer now, and when you glance over your shoulder, he’s leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom. The sight of him almost steals your breath. He’s already dressed, his black suit perfectly tailored, the crisp white shirt open at the collar just enough to make you wonder if he did it on purpose. His hair is slightly tousled, that easy, confident grin tugging at his lips as his eyes—bright, sharp, and undeniably focused on you—take in the sight before him.

“Wow,” he says, low and drawn out, like the word physically pulled itself from his chest. “Look at you.”

Your cheeks burn instantly. “Joe, stop,” you mumble, looking down at your hands as you fuss with the edge of your dress. The fluttering in your stomach turns into a full-blown hurricane when he steps into the room, closing the distance between you with an ease that’s almost unfair.

“Stop?” he echoes, his voice laced with teasing disbelief. He’s right in front of you now, one hand gently catching yours to still your nervous fidgeting. “How am I supposed to stop when you look like this? Damn, baby. I’m gonna have to keep you glued to my side tonight. Don’t want anyone else getting ideas.”

You can’t help it; you laugh softly, a mix of flustered and giddy as you try to shake your head. “You’re exaggerating,” you say, though the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to hold onto even a shred of doubt.

Joe’s thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles, his grin softening into something that makes your heart ache in the best way. “Not even a little bit. You’re gorgeous,” he says, his voice quieter now but no less certain. “Like, knock-the-wind-out-of-me gorgeous. You’re gonna be the best-looking person there by a mile.”

Your heart stumbles over itself, and your breath catches as he leans in, pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple. “You nervous?” he asks softly, his lips brushing against your skin.

“A little,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You can’t meet his gaze, not when you’re sure your face is the color of a ripe tomato.

He tilts your chin up gently, forcing your eyes to meet his. There’s nothing teasing about his expression now, just that steady, unwavering sincerity that makes you feel like maybe you could conquer the world if he was by your side. “You don’t have to be,” he says, and it’s not a platitude. It feels like a promise. “Just be you, alright? That’s more than enough.”

The warmth in his words wraps around you, quieting the nerves in a way you didn’t think possible. When he finally steps back and offers you his arm, the boyish grin returning to his face, you take it without hesitation.

“Ready to make everyone else jealous?” he teases, his tone light and playful as you walk toward the door.

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face gives you away. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re perfect,” he counters easily, giving your hand a quick squeeze as he holds the door open for you.

By the time you step into the car, your heart is still racing, but it’s not from nerves anymore. It’s from him. Always him.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#nfl fic #nfl football #nfl imagine #joe burrow #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fan fic #joeyb #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fanfic

294 notes · View notes

justwonder113 · 8 months ago

Note

would you please do a reaction for when other members are being a little too close with their s/o baby bump cause they want to be the better uncle than the other members if that makes sense? like theyre trying to get the baby to recognise all their voices before its born. this would ne so cute ngl and then the member finds their s/o cuddled up with the other member having both fallen asleep on the sofa or some place like that. thanks a lot in advance!

This has to be one of the sweetest and unique asks I have ever gotten. Thank you so much for it!! I'm really terribly sorry it took me this long to write it and it's only Hyung line too. I was in really terrible headspace and I'm trying to get myself out there again. so I hope you understand. I will try to update Maknae line as fast as I can.

Warnings: There's not much to put here but if I missed any please let me know. The baby's gender is only specified in Changbin's. Just pure fluff

Masterlist

Maknae line here

Bang Chan

When you announced to the boys that you were pregnant it was safe to say that boys were over the moon. Hell, the restaurant you and Chan decided to invite boys to and annoynce the news almost banned you from how loud you were being. You were immediately showered with questions like how long you were due, when would the baby be born, if you knew the gender, everything! They were really excited to be uncles.

Ever since one could only imagine how protective they were of you. Chan and the boys did their best to support you in any way, you didn't even have to lift a finger now, everyone kept doting on you and the baby. You were also swarmed with countless questions about the baby, if you needed anything, if you craved anything, if you felt the baby kick and ect... Listening to them alone you already knew that your baby was going to be spoiled rotten. Even though you found it adorable hearing their plans and what great uncles they were going to be, you knew at some point you would have to to sit them down and talk about boundaries. Which was an impossible task! Because now as Innie talked to you (mostly your babybump) all cute and excited how much things he was going to teach the kid and how he was going to bring them with him to the coolest events ever and stuff. He even bought up an idea of maybe even convincing and possibly setting up a deal with Alexander McQueen for having your kid as the cutest model ever, Mind you the baby wasn't even born yet. As the baby of the group who was always babied and doted on he was the most excited having someone small around so he could be this cool reliable hyung to. You and Chan found it absolutely adorable how giddy he was. Heck you even made a promise to him, after convincing him to keep this a secret, much to his dismay and out of everyone's earshot, that he'd be the one to hold the baby first out of the boys once the baby was born.

Chan couldn't help but smile once you saw Innie who normally hated physical contact soundly asleep with his head on your shoulder, with you snuggling next to him all cutely. He couldn't help but to take a picture of you two, smiling, excited the most of all for the baby to be born.

Lee Know

Once you announced your pregnancy everyone was extatic. They all hugged and congratulated you, asked you hundreds of questions they were curious about. You really loved how excited they were for and you were more than happy to answer all their questions even the silliest ones. The evening was peaceful, everyone was here gathered at your house and you were spending lovely time, but everything changed when the fire nation attacked, meaning, someone, you really didn't catch who, but probably Jisung, asked if you had decided who was going to be the baby's godfather, and let's just say the hell broke loose after that, the kind not even the avatar could salvage. One second there was silence the next thing you knew was that everyone kept screaming and yelling at each other. You and Chan watched from afar, thankfully he was mature enought not to cause a scene, which couldn't have been said about your husband who was also yelling some incoherent stuff. Chan tried his best to solve the situation but at some point even he had to get involved in the fight to stop it. Everyone was yapping about god knows what at this point, you sat there on the coutch watching from the couch sipping your drink, praying that your neighbours wouldn't call the cops on you.

Jisung sat down next to you after a while all sad and pouty. The boys were yelling about something else now but you didn't really pay much attention to it. "It's not fair right! I'm Minho's and your closest friend, I should be the godfather right?" You couldn't help but huff out a laugh about Jisung's dramatic outburst. "Really Ji? The fact that I'm the one thirdwheeling whenever you're around my husband, which is a lot I might add, isn't enough for you and now you're coming for my baby too?" You couldn't help but raise your eyebrow at the audacity, Jisung looked taken aback but he quickly gathered himself and gave you the biggest smile ever. "Pretty please?" His eagerness was actually kind of endearing, you couldn't help but laugh. "I'll think about it little homewrecker." You were barely done with your sentence when Jisung basically quickly but also really carefully wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheek very eagerly. You stayed cuddled up like that for a while and chatted for a bit while everyone was at each other's throats. Jisung talked to your bump all excitedly that he couldn't wait to meet them and that he was going to be the coolest godfather ever. Next thing you knew he was asleep still cuddled next to you. How this boy managed to fall asleep in this absolute chaos was beyond you but it was cute. Your eyes met Minho's who only raised his eyebrow at you, intrigued on what went on while he was distracted, you gave him a wink in return. You lovingly stroked your bump, You really couldn't wait for the baby to be born.

Changbin

When you and Changbin announcede that you were pregnant to the boys they were beyond extatic. They were about to pounce on you and give you the biggest hug ever but thankfully Binnie and Chan stopped them in time and warned them to be careful with you. So instead all of them decided to basically jump on your poor binnie, who was on the floor in seconds with 7 bodies on top of him, and hopefully without a concussion.

After that everything went smoothly, the boys tried to be as supportive as ever and helped you in every way they could. Your sweet Husband was also an absolute Godsend. You didn't know what you would do without him. Even now he basically helped you with everything. You really wanted to have a gender reveal party and he really jumped out of his skin trying to make everything perfect. The boys also helped out a lot, all of them were really excited to hear the gender of the kid. Jisung even wanted to place a bet but Binnie quickly stopped him by softly whacking him on the head.

The party went perfectly, your sweet husband even made the impossible possible. It was just perfection. Also everyone was so excited when they heard that you were going to have a baby girl. Binnie even burst out crying while hearing the news. You really couldn't wait for your sweet angel to be born.

You were having time of your life when Hyunjin approached you with the sweetest idea ever. He said that he knew that you still hadn't set up a nursery for the baby and suggested that he could paint the room for you and even showed you some of the inspiration he got from the internet earlier. You couldn't help but tear up at how sweet he was being. It was really one of the cutest and meaningful presents ever. Also he was so cute cute talking about how he wanted to help you create the prettiest room for the baby girl, which would be as pretty as her. You and Binnie almost burst out crying, Binnie couldn't help himself and literally almost smothered the poor boy by giving him the tightest hug ever.

You really were so thankful. You spent almost whole evening talking about various designs and ideas. Even the baby must have been really excited because she kicked for the first time that evening. Binnie and you even joked that it must be a genetic thing being obsessed with Hyunjin. Hyunjin got even more excited after witnessing it, and for the whole evening he talked to your bump about the prettiest colours and designs he was going to use for her room so she could have as pretty room as the prettiest girl deserved. You and Binnie couldn't be more grateful to have sweet people like him around especially when others also chimed in and gave you their ideas too.

Hyunjin

When you first announced your pregnancy to Hyunjin poor boy almost fainted, but once the news set in, he was more than overjoyed. He was on top of the world and since day one he was set on for giving your baby the best life possible and to spoil them rotten. You couldn't help but find it endearing how he thought about making every moment special and memorable.

He even planned the most dramatic and over the top way to announce your pregnancy to the boys and family members. He made custom envelopes with custom shirts and letters, ordered the cake which had your due date written on it with see you on top of it, ordered the best drinks and food. Also ordered most beautiful flowers. He was so excited to announce the news he wanted everything to be really beautiful and elegant, maybe it was a little over the top but it was made with taste and what's important with lots of love.

Everyone was over the moon once they heard the news, all of them congratulated you and wished you all the happiness. Hyunjin was over the moon he looked so happy like this was his greatest achievement ever. You couldn't help but tear up everything was so beautiful about this day.

All of the boys were so excited to become uncles. They already started planning how many things they were going to teach your kid, how many cool places they were going to take them too, how they were going to dote on them and spoil them rotten. The baby wasn't due yet but you already knew they were going to be most spoiled and most loved baby ever.

Out of the boys Felix seemed to be the most over the moon, he was so excited to have the baby around, he could barely contain his excitement. Which showed because in next couple of days you had almost every piece of Louis Vuitton's baby line and he had so many more plans too! Imagine that and also countless many presents from the boys too, it was like there was no space left for you and Hyunjin in your own house from all the boxes and envelopes. Of course you and your husband were more than thankful. But felix was really outshining everyone with his gifts. He even sent you his baked goodies which on you happily chewed on. Baby must have really loved his baking and you were really satisfied too with the devine taste.

Hyunjin kept joking that how would it look if baby was covered head to toe in Louis Vuitton when he was Versace ambassador himself. Felix and Hyunjin even jokingly argued which designer brand was better. They even tried to bring you into the little argument. And now you had a little ongoing bet on which designer brand was going to be your baby's favorite. You couldn't help but smile as you eyed the boys who slept on each side of you soundlessly all smiley and cuddled up to you as if they weren't the ones jokingly arguing earlier. You were really grateful that your baby was going to be surrounded with all the love in the world.

496 notes · View notes

dira333 · 2 months ago

Text

Aren’t you lonely? - Bakugo x Reader

He’s not yet asleep though no longer fully awake when his phone rings.

For a moment Katsuki considers not picking up, but then his curiosity wins over his exhaustion and he glares at the display, surprised to see your name.

You ditched today’s get-together for a date.

“Don’t tell me he wasn’t that great,” he greets you, voice gravely.

“Never mind,” you answer and there’s something in your voice, far away and empty, that has his alarm bells go off.

“No, shit, sorry.” He scrambles and you don’t hang up. “What’s up?”

For a moment all he can hear is your breathing and the distant sound of traffic.

“Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, no.” He hears movement and imagines that you’re shaking your head. “I’m walking home, I’m fine.”

“You’re walking? At this hour? Let me get you-”

“No!”

He halts, halfway out of bed. Now he’s sure there’s something in your voice.

“Okay, fine.” Katsuki grinds his jaw as he settles. “But we stay on the phone until you’re home.”

“Fine,” you huff and he laughs. “You called me.”

“I know, I… I needed someone who wouldn’t lie to me. You know, out of compassion or some shit.”

He grunts, pulling at a loose thread in his trousers. “Tell me.”

It’s not meant as an order, but you oblige nonetheless.

“Do you think my expectations are too high?”

Katsuki hesitates for a second and that’s a second too long.

“So you do think they’re too high,” you breathe out, almost too quiet for him to catch without hearing aids.

“No, that’s not it,” he defends himself. “I- Your expectations are high, but not too high. You’re like me.”

“Yeah, single.”

That stings more than it should and his mouth is already open to bite back when you sigh, the sound heavier than he’s ever heard from you. And he’s fought battles with you.

“Look, I… I don’t know how you do it.”

“What?” He barks, still a little put off by your comment.

“Being content with being alone. You don’t seem to miss anything. Are you never lonely?”

The word hits him like a train.

Lonely. Is he?

He looks around his apartment, clean, organized, everything where he wants it to be. He’s got a few plants, mainly because his father insisted on “cleaning the air”, but other than that there’s no living thing present. He’s alone.

For a minute, Katsuki just opens and closes his mouth, thinking of what to say.

He can hear the traffic from your end, the quiet rhythm of your steps.

“I’m home,” you tell him softly, your voice heavy with an exhaustion that’s probably not just physical. “Sorry about that, me being so… depressed. I’m going to be back to normal tomorrow, I promise.”

“Is that really your normal or are you just faking being happy?”

It’s your turn to fall silent.

And he might not have caught it with the traffic in the background but in the stillness of your apartment and his own, he can clearly hear the first whimper, the first sob breaking free.

“I’m coming over,” he decides in a heartbeat, slipping out of bed.

“No! No, Katsuki, don’t.”

“Why not?” He grumbles, pulling on his shoes. “You’re not doing good, I wanna be there for you.”

“All it will do is give me the false hope that you could like me as more than a friend.”

Katsuki freezes, staring at the front door.

He’s never thought of that before.

Okay, that’s a lie. There had been a time when he considered it, back when all of his friends were single and you’d smiled at him in a way that made falling asleep impossible.

But where has the time gone? And that smile?

“Do you want me to like you as more than a friend?”

“Please,” you scoff, your voice watery with tears. “If you wanted to, you would.”

“I didn’t know I was allowed to.”

“It’s love, Katsuki. You don’t need to be allowed to fall in love.”

His heart gives a painful beat at that.

“I’m coming over,” he decides, grabbing his keys. “We’ll talk when I’m there, okay?”

“Okay,” you sniffle. “I’m going to make tea.”

The air smells different as he steps outside, colder and clearer, cutting through the haze in his mind.

Things are going to change tonight, he knows.

But as he looks up at the dark windows of his apartment he can’t help but think that it’s about damn time.

Join My Taglist

#my writing #mha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #bakugo Katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo

184 notes · View notes

dont-tell-anyone-im-here · 2 months ago

Text

Obsession

You may be attracted to your career counselor, but he was obsessed with you.

***TW: Power Imbalance; Stalking; Obsessive Behavior; Breaking and Entering; CNC; Choking; Dirty Talk; Rough Oral; Forced Penetration; Afton/Raglan are not good people so they're written as such***

Tags: Reader Has No Specific Genitalia; Oral M Receiving; Masturbation; Sex Toy; Pet Names (White Rabbit/Bunny); x Reader; Blowjob; Penetration; Cross-Posted AO3

It was hard looking for jobs on your own. Especially in this day and age with the classifieds drowning in ads that aren’t even job listings. You are known as a, “job-hopper”, and in the somewhat-small town that you lived in, it was starting to get difficult to find a position that you hadn’t already filled. Luckily, you were the ideal customer for Mr. Steve Raglan, “Career Counselor Extraordinaire”. (At least that’s what he introduced himself as when you had first met.) Other career counselors had given up on you, not seeing a reason to try to get someone employed if they’re just going to quit within a month. However, he saw dollar signs with you. Why would he push away someone who’s a repeat customer? He’d be more than happy to help you, as long as the checks cleared.

You sought help from this man to find work and it was unfortunate that things had to be professional. Steve Raglan wasn’t the usual type to be the object of your sexual desires. It was rare to find yourself fantasizing about older men that weren’t celebrities that littered magazines and the big screen. Silver foxes of the real world were few and far between, and most didn’t age as gracefully as your career counselor. You admit, you weren’t attracted to him when you had first met. He seemed to be like any other middle-aged man trying to get by with an office job that he hated. The second time you met, he was surprised to see you back, joking that he must be losing his touch if you were back so quick. You found that this dry sense of humor was something that you would look forward to hearing at your appointment by the fourth time you had met. It was during the fifth appointment that you noticed how intensely he looked at you from across the desk when you spoke. You noticed the veins in his forearms as he would hand you paperwork. He had strange, patterned scars burned into his skin that sparked curiosity within you, but you never dared to ask. You noticed how he studied every move you would make, like he was dissecting you in his mind, trying to figure out what exact muscles were used to make your body move like that. After you started to notice the little things, you couldn’t stop. Every time you’d come into his office, he’d shake your hand, and every time you’d try not to pay too much attention to how easily his hand enveloped yours. You’d try not to stare as he would look over his files, even though it gave you a moment to watch him when he wouldn’t notice. You’d try not to squirm in your seat when he’d stare you down from across his desk, tutting about only staying two weeks on the last job.

As much as you had a little crush on your counselor, you were also a little afraid. That intense stare sent shocks to your core but it always left a part of your stomach churning. Those scars made you worry about how strong he had to be to survive what caused them, strong enough to do something to you. Him studying your body as if for dissection could very possibly be the reality of what was going through his mind. His hands were a reminder of how much bigger he is than you. You weren’t sure if your infatuation gave you rose-tinted glasses to ignore those feelings of danger when with him, but it had seemed that way, because what you felt for your counselor was pure lust. It was becoming near impossible to be able to sit through those meetings, to be under his scrutiny and not beg for him to take you on his desk.

This was now the tenth time you’ve met with Steve Raglan. Or, it will be the moment he calls you back to his office. Your knee bounced as you waited, impatience starting to eat away at you as you looked around the waiting room, seeing that you were the only one in the lobby, the office secretary the only other body in the room. The secretary told you that your counselor would see you in ten minutes when you had arrived, and when you checked your wristwatch, you saw that a half hour had passed. You weren’t upset, moreso annoyed. Why have you show up at a certain time if he’s not even going to abide by it? You fidgeted in your seat, switching the bouncing knee to tapping your fingers on the armrest of your chair. The door to your crush’s office opened and the crush himself stood on the other side, extending an arm to hold the door open for you as you as he called your name. You tried not to look too eager as you jumped up from your chair. You quickly made your way into the office, trying to keep your eyes on your feet as you ducked under his arm to get past. You saw in your peripheral that he held out his free hand for a greeting and you expertly ignored it. There was a subtle frown when you passed him without a handshake, putting his hand into his pant’s pocket without a comment on how much he didn’t like that.

“Late for somethin’, white rabbit?” Mr. Raglan asked as he closed the door behind him, watching you take your seat in front of his desk. He went to his coffee maker, and began pouring himself a cup. He looked over his shoulder at you, raising the coffee pot with a quirked brow. You wave your hand, dismissing him as you got comfortable in your seat. Steve sniffed, putting the carafe back in its place then turning, a mug in hand. You shook your head, ‘tsk’ing as you pulled an exaggerated disappointed look.

“You’re the one that’s late. We were supposed to meet 20 minutes ago.” You chided, picking at your nails. A part of you liked being the one to tease him for once. He let out an, “Ah!” as he understood, taking a brief sip of his coffee before explaining himself.

“Last appointment was rough- desperate for a job and can’t even do nights? You’re makin’ me push a camel through a pinhole.”

Odd. You didn’t notice anyone walk out of the office when you were called back. Maybe you just hadn’t seen them- you were looking at the floor when walking in, they must’ve just slipped by. As rational as you found that explanation, something still seemed off. There was a slight unease in your stomach that you fended off with your rationalizations. You were so busy figuring out your thoughts that you didn’t notice your career counselor place himself between you and his desk, leaning back on it and sipping his coffee as he turned his torso to open your work file, angling it so he could read it better at the position he was in. You came back to reality when you felt his leg press against yours. You couldn’t help the wave of heat that rushed through you upon seeing how close he was. His desk was no longer an island keeping you away, he was right there, you could take him, right then. You wanted to, but kept your face to your lap, still picking at your nails. You didn’t want him to see the growing blush on your cheeks, feeling embarrassed at the thought of him seeing how much you worked yourself up over something so insignificant. He frowned. He didn’t like that you weren’t looking at him.

“So-“ He started, taking a quick glance back on his desk to read something on your file then turning back to you, “- serving drunks ‘til 3 am wasn’t the dream job?”

“More like a nightmare job.” You said as you inched your leg away from his. He didn’t like that either, but his quick flame of anger died out when your eyes finally met, able to look at him without a blush caused by his limited touch. He had raised a brow at your comments, waiting for you to elaborate as he took a sip from his mug.

“It would’ve been different if the drunks were at least cute.” You joked, when the counselor didn’t laugh, you sighed. “But the real answer is that I was tired of the bouncer walking me to my car- most nights he’d try to take me to his car instead.”

“Sounds like the perfect gentleman.” Mr. Raglan muttered, taking another sip of his coffee then setting it down on his desk. “So, cross ’bartender’ off future lists?”

You bobbed your head side to side, thinking, “… All the ones with creepy bouncers and customers.”

“That’s all bartending then.”

You slumped back in your seat, caught up in your own defeat as yet another job became unattainable to you. You slipped further in your chair as you thought of anything else you could possibly do as a career, your mind so preoccupied that you didn’t notice your legs interlock with his. But he did. You were advancing his touch, clearly you wanted him. Images and scenarios clipped through his brain of all the terrible things he wanted to do to you. Bend you in half over his desk, tie you to your chair with your legs spread, push your head into the coffee stained carpet and pound into you until your rug-burned cheeks bled. The things he wanted to do to you just in his office.

“Is there anything like stocking? I could put stuff on shelves.” You broke the quiet of the room. As Steve took a couple extra milliseconds to answer, blinking a few times to bring himself back to reality, you finally saw how your knees had pinned him to his spot.

“Sure- we’ll just trade in the pervy bouncer with a pervy grocer.” He said once he got the image of your crying, naked, marked body out of his imagination.

“I feel like a pervy grocer would be more mild-mannered.” You sat back up, freeing his legs from yours, trying to get rid of the sexual power you felt keeping him in his place. He really didn’t like that. You had somehow managed to piss him off for the third time and you’d only been in his office for five minutes. He was going to have to do something about that.

“Seriously though, do you have any stocking jobs? I can ignore whatever awful thing there is about the place- I just need a job.” You sounded desperate. Oh, that was what he was going to do about that, perfect.

“I don’t think I have anything like that.” Mr. Raglan said flatly, knowing damn well that he had about five different offers of exactly what you were asking for. He just wanted to see you beg, something that he could take home with him for the late hours when he can’t sleep.

“Could you check?” You asked, just as flat, annoyed that he seemed to not care. When he just brought his mug to his lips and drank the last few gulps of his coffee, you added a, “Please?”, as sweetly as you could. He sucked air through his teeth, holding a now empty mug, looking at the coffee remnants pool at the bottom, debating whether he wanted to get another cup or not.

“C’mon, for an old friend?” You joked, adding another “Please?” that dripped with melted sugar. He could listen to you say please like that for the rest of his life and not get enough. He hummed as he weighed the nonexistent options. You looked up at him with clasped hands and a slight pout. You were only being silly, you didn’t know that it was just what he wanted. He wanted to see you pout and beg, give him puppy-dog eyes and look up at him pathetically. It would’ve been picture perfect if you were on your knees. He hid his mischievous smile behind a hand as he pretended to rub his face in thought.

“Lemme take a look.” He ended his sentence by putting his mug behind him on his desk. As Mr. Raglan stepped away from his desk, he patted your knee as he passed. It was something subtle, but it was an action that you’d be thinking about for the rest of the week. The counselor went to one of his filing cabinets, flipping through the files until he found what he was looking for. He closed the cabinet then opened the file, glancing through to make sure it was the right one. It was full of blank applications for a grocery store in town, just what you had asked for, but he wouldn’t let you get them that easily.

“Looks like things are already full of hard-working employees.” He said, flipping the applications about in the file as if he was reading documents. You felt that the ‘hard-working’ bit was a jab at you.

“Is there anything you can do?” You asked, your hands still clasped, your pout a little more severe. He wished there was a way to get you on your knees without outting himself as the actual perv that you should be worried about.

“I may be able to pull a few strings.” He gave a small smile and he closed the file, moving to his desk and taking a seat behind it. He picked up his phone and he dialed the number on the applications.

“Let me make a call.” He winks at you as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs as he listened to the ringing line. No one would pick up though. The number he put in was nonsense, he just wanted you to think he was doing a huge favor for you.

“The number you’re trying to reach is unavailable-” The automated message began, but Steve carried on conversation as if someone was on the other line. You squirmed a bit in your seat, his gaze not leaving you as he began to talk into the blaring receiver.

“Yes, this is Steve Raglan, the career counselor? Yeah, how’re you doing today?”

As your career counselor spoke on the phone, convincing this imaginary person to hire you, you tried to look around his office. Your eyes went from each object in the room. The coffee maker, the little table it sat on, the little trash can under it. But his eyes felt like they were burning into you. Your gaze was magnetically drawn back to him whenever you tried to focus on something else, you felt like you couldn’t look anywhere else but at him. When you finally gave in, making eye contact, he grinned. A chill ran down your spine.

“I know- I know you said that you’re full of stockers over there but I got a very hard worker here that is in a bind.” Mr. Raglan sat back in his chair, uncrossing his legs to push back a bit from under the desk to make room for his long legs. You immediately looked at how his legs spread apart to get comfortable. You could fit perfectly between his thighs, hide under his desk and quietly suck him off as he tried to keep a straight face as he met with his clients. You looked back to his face and he was still staring at you, his grin growing. You looked down to your lap, embarrassed, beginning to feel like it was too hot in this office.

“They’re very experienced with dealing with authority, they take orders well.”

You couldn’t help but think that he meant more than what he was saying. You took a glance back up to see that his eyes never left you. You felt like you were sweating buckets at this point. You started to pick at your nails again, needing something to focus on besides his searing gaze that somehow still felt so dark and cold. Mr. Raglan’s voice picked up, your ears perking to his tone, yet you kept your gaze to your hands.

“I’m willing to put my reputation on the line here- if you can’t hire them, you can take me off your call list.”

There it was. He was putting his credentials on the line for you. He almost felt too prideful when he saw your eyes widen hearing him. You were convinced that he was willing to go so far for you. He watched you fiddle with your fingers, knowing you were trying not to look at him.

“Yeah, send a fax of the application and I’ll have them fill it out, and I’ll send it right back.”

Steve put the phone on “hold”, pushing a button and setting the phone back on the receiver. His elbows propped up on the arm rests of his chair and he raised hands up, giving the air of a humble brag for his technique of negotiation.

“Am I good, or what?” He said, flashing a smile before getting up, picking up the file of all the applications he had and leaving the room. He had to kill a few minutes to make it look like he was picking up the fax from the secretary. He walked back to the employee common area of the offices, going through the cupboards for the sake of doing something, saying a quick hello to the coworkers that passed him. He walked back out and went into the bathroom, the file still in hand. He felt too clever for this, feeling sinful for being so proud of himself for how smart he was. It was the little details that made the lie all the more believable. Taking out one of the applications, he tucked the file of remaining papers under his arm. He activated the hand drying machine, holding the paper underneath the fan that loudly roared hot air onto it. He ran each sheet of paper under the fan for the allotted time of the machine, getting off-looks from the other employees who had come in to use the restroom or were leaving, (who opted for drying their hands with the paper towels).

When your counselor handed you the application for your new job, it was still warm off the printer.

“Oh thank you, Mr. Raglan, thank you!” You said as you quickly filled the papers out, thanking the counselor over and over in a mantra of gratitude. He took in your thanks, wanting to remember you thanking him repeatedly for when he’s by himself with wandering hands. You have an excited grin when you hand back the papers, his smile felt so genuine as he took the application to fax back out to the employer. You still couldn’t believe that he had stuck his neck out like that for you. You watched as he got up and left the room once again. Your eyes wandered as you waited. You noticed the counselor’s desk phone, and that there wasn’t the usual blinking light of a call on hold. Odd. That unease in your stomach returned. It felt like a primal sense of dread. It disappeared when the door opened, Mr. Raglan smiling as he came in and sat back down at his chair, following your gaze when you glanced at the phone again.

“Ah, looks like they hung up on me.” He frowns, but his smile returns when he gives you his full attention.

“I’ll have to give him a call back.”He placed his hands on top of the files on his desk, folding them neatly as he looked you in the eyes. “I’ll let you know if you got the job or not when I can.”

“Thank you Mr. Raglan! You don’t realize how much this means to me.” You say, slightly bowing your head in gratitude. “Please, if there’s anything I could do for you to repay you- let me know.”

That chimed in his head like church bells. Oh, he could use that. You probably thought maybe a fruit basket or a cheap ticket to a game, but he had other ideas.

You got up from your seat, seeing that now was the right time to leave.

“I know you kinda put your reputation on the line for me, I’d really like to be able to show my gratitude somehow.” You add with a smile, making your way to his office door, him following you to it.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to let you know.” He smiles, opening the door and holding out a hand. You gladly took it, shaking it with a newfound giddiness that could only be from getting a chance that was undeserved. You didn’t know how much he would be thinking about this, going over every single second in his mind over and over, reading too deeply into how grateful you were. You were indebted to him now, and you were going to have to repay that debt, whether you wanted to or not. He watched you walk out of the office, and you could feel his hot gaze on your back as you did, you tried not to shiver.

When you had completely gone, Steve looked at the clock and pretended to debate in his mind, acting like he was trying to make a tough decision before telling the secretary that he’ll be in his office the rest of the day, so he’ll see them tomorrow. They bid their goodbye, giving a small smile and wave as he closed the door and locked it behind him. He reached to his neck and loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, and stood in front of his desk, leaning back on it as he had done when you had first walked in. He stared at the empty chair in front of him, imagining you sitting there, naked, legs spread, and mouth open. He shuddered a breath as he couldn’t help himself undoing his belt buckle and reaching into his pants. God, he was rock hard. He replayed in his mind you begging for him to help you, hearing your pleads echo in his ears, only now asking him for help to make you cum. He didn’t realize he was so close until it was too late, cumming on the empty seat and imagining he had done so on your face, once again, your voice echoing in his head your repeated gratitude of before, now thanking him for his seed decorating your body. His grip on his desk was hard as he panted, your figure fading away as he came down from his high. He rubbed his face with his clean hand, taking a deep breath before finally calming down and out of sheer curiosity, he checked his wrist watch. You had only left his office 7 minutes ago.

As he cleaned up, the inner cogs and mechanisms of his brain began to turn and devise a plan. A plan on how he was going to get that payment out of you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was a beautiful day outside, perfect for a nice walk in the neighborhood with a dog on a leash and nothing but the sun and the birds to tag along. Yet Steve Raglan sat in his car, parked at the side of the street in a suburban neighborhood. He looked down at the file in front of him. Its papers were unorganized but he easily found what he searched for, as if he’s been studying the pages for months.

That was because he had been, and it was your file.

Since you’ve become a repeat client of his, he’d become more intrigued by you with each meeting. The intrigue became a dark obsession, and it has now come to a head. He was parked about a block away from your home, feeling that overwhelming self-pride at figuring out when your neighbors were usually out, leaving a suspicious car to go unnoticed in your neighborhood. (At least for the amount of time he predicted he would have with you.) He really was too clever.

As he glanced at the sidewalks around him, seeing how many people were around, he thought of how long it had been since he had last seen you, and how it was because of the absence of you that he was there. It’d been over five months. You’ve been excelling at your new job at the grocery store. The store manager had called him to say that “he had sent a great employee to him”, and that if “he had any others like you to send them right over!” He scoffed after he had hung up the phone. There wasn’t anyone else like you. That’s why he was obsessed with you.

He got out of his car, closing the door and locking it before pocketing the keys. He began a walk down the block, something he’s grown familiar with. This wasn’t the first time that he’s walked your streets. He preferred to do it at night, memorizing the walk to your house in the dark and taking peeks into your windows from the view of the sidewalk, not wanting to draw too much attention if anyone happened to be looking out the window. He wanted to stare into your windows desperately, to watch you, but he couldn’t hurt this good thing he had going. He could walk past your home at night and see you lounging in your living room, completely unaware he stared at you as he passed your home, it was bliss.

Today, however, was different. He was going to actually go into your home. He really was too smart, he knew everything about you and today he would finally get to execute on his plan. From the outside, it would look like he knocked on your door, and that you let him in. But he was actually going to pretend to knock on your door, and act out you letting him inside. He was going to overstay his welcome, whether you liked it or not, and he was going to get away with it. He knew that you would be home today, he had gotten your schedule from your employer, as an old favor for an old friend. He knew from small talk that you lived by yourself, and that you didn’t have a dog. He had even suggested that you should get a dog, you’re all alone, who knows what could happen.

Steve finally came to your street, holding back his urge to run the rest of the way to your house. As he approached your home he took a quick glance through the windows. You weren’t in the living room. Perfect. As he stood on your front porch, he took a deep breath, taking a final moment to prepare himself for what he was about to do. With the lightest touch, he knocked on the door, his knuckles barely registering on the wood. No response from inside the house. Perfect. He tried the door knob. He hadn’t expected for it to turn with a soft click- he had a screwdriver to jam into the doorframe if it wasn’t- yet the door was unlocked. Perfect. Swiftly he opened the door, peering inside carefully, no one in sight. Perfect. He stepped into your house, closing the door behind him, and locking it. He dropped to a crouch, untying his shoes and leaving them neatly by the entrance, carefully placing his keys in the shoe so as not to make any unnecessary noise. He crept further into your home, sticking to the walls to not creak your floorboards, taking every precaution to not let you know he was there. After checking the kitchen, which was empty, he made his way to the halls, starting to hear a sound he couldn’t quite place. It sounded sloppy, wet. A door in the hall was ajar, the sound coming from there. Another sound joined the wet slapping and he grinned. He realized he actually knew what that sound was. As gently as possible, he opened the door more, slinking inside and quietly closing the door, locking it before finally turning to what was in the room.

He could’ve fallen to his knees seeing the state you put yourself in. Your naked ass in the air, your face pressed into your mattress, unbeknownst to you, giving Steve Raglan full view of you masturbating. One of your hands clawed at the edge of the bed as the other worked between your legs, pumping a dildo in and out of you, desperately trying to get yourself off. Your muffled whimpers could still be heard through the blankets, pulling your head up only to breathe and plead to the open air to make yourself cum. Your arm ached, but your need to satisfy yourself overpowered what fatigue ailed your muscles. You found a compromise by slowly pulling the sex toy out, your moans drawn out like a song, before slamming it back into you with a guttural cry.

“Misterrr...” You drawled from deep in your throat. Steve’s ears perked. He was more than interested in knowing who you were imagining as you fucked yourself, jealous bile rising in his throat at the thought of you thinking of someone else. He could easily walk forward, spread your ass apart and have his way with you, teach you a lesson for thinking someone else could make you like this. His envy quickly changed to pure hunger when you continued your lustful ramblings.

“Mr. Raglan, please…” You begged into the bed, repeatedly pulling the dildo then bottoming out, each squelch punctuated with your helpless whimpers. His mouth went dry when his name left your lips, your words going straight to his cock. He was already erect seeing you in this position, but now knowing that you were in the throes of ecstasy because of the mere thought of him? He couldn’t take his dick out fast enough. His grip was hard on the metal of his belt, not wanting to alarm you of his presence. He didn’t want you to know he was here, not yet. This was a surprise for him, and he wanted to return the favor with a surprise of his own. He felt he could already burst watching you lose yourself over him. He wanted to make you never forget him, no matter how hard you tried to fuck yourself, it could never be him. He was more than happy to remind you. He carefully took off his belt and set it aside, rarely taking his eyes off you, especially when your pace began to quicken. His hand wrapped around his hard cock, swiftly pulling it over the waistband of his boxers and matching your pace, watching intently how tightly you wrapped around the sex toy. He bit back his own moans as he imagined it was his cock you were rocking back into, his teeth scraping his bottom lip to hold himself back.

Your hand became erratic, your rhythm lost to the coil in your stomach tightening to a point you felt sore. You planted your face into the blankets as you pushed your arm through the last bit of energy it had, you cried out. A warm liquid coats your legs as you finally came, your back arching as you rode out your euphoria, panting as if you haven’t breathed in hours. Your hand fell to the bed, leaving the dildo to slowly fall out of you and thump to the mattress. Steve could’ve screamed watching your relaxed muscles push the toy out of you, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer, and with a long stride, he was directly behind you. The hair on the back of your neck prickled, finally out of your stupor enough to feel like you were being watched.

But it was too late.

A cold hand slapped across your mouth and you felt a weight on your back as someone leaned onto you. You could feel something hard rubbing against your ass and you whimpered against the strong hand, feeling tears begin to prick your eyes as the situation settled in. Who is this? How’d they get in? What were they going to do to you? Were you going to die before or after they were done with you? Your nose stung as the tears pooled in your eyes, you felt so vulnerable, so scared, starting to feel sobs build in your chest as you found yourself begin to pray to whatever higher power existed to save you from this. You felt there was no other option. You were cornered and you were alone with someone who had intentions that you didn’t even want to fathom.

“Aww, what’s wrong, white rabbit? I thought this was what you were fantasizing about.” A voice cooed into your ear. Your eyes went wide, your tears sliding down your cheeks as you recognized the voice. You knew who was behind you, and you were sure you didn’t find that comforting. You looked over your shoulder to see Mr. Steve Raglan. He was so close to you, your lips could’ve met if it wasn’t for his rough hand muzzling your lips. There was something in his eyes, something that made fear shoot down your spine to the bottoms of your feet. You felt disgusted with yourself as a tinge of excitement pooled in your groin as you saw he was naked from the waist down. Of course this would turn you on.

But, he wasn’t wrong. You were fantasizing about him, wanting him behind you in this exact position, fucking you. It could become a reality now and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As much as you wanted to fight against this, a part of you knew he didn’t have to take you by force. You wanted to say something, to tell him all he had to do was ask and you would’ve let him have his way with you, but his hand was firm on your lips, muffling what little noises you could make. You watched him as his other hand started trailing up your thigh to your ass, spreading one of your cheeks apart for his dick to slide right in between.

“Perfect fit.” He grunts, leaning back for a brief moment so he could take in how neatly your ass wrapped around his cock. You couldn’t stop your hips from pushing back into him, an animalistic instinct wanting him to be pressed against you once more. A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned back down, it felt degrading.

“So quick for your next fix.” His teeth ran along the side of your neck before placing a chaste kiss behind your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “But you want the real thing, don’t you?”

You nodded, whining against his hand as your ass ground his hips. He let out a breathy moan, desperate, wanton. He was as needy as you were, his free hand beginning to roam your naked body as if he couldn’t feel enough of your skin. It was as if he was starving, a crazed man who couldn’t be satisfied. Your fear, though still very present, ebbed away at the edges, feeling a wave of authority surge through you as you realized just how desperate Mr. Raglan was.

You could control this situation if you wanted to.

But right now, even though you knew how fucked this was, what you really wanted was for him to do whatever he wanted with you. His free hand came back up your hips, slowly reaching around, calloused fingertips tickling your skin as he teased you, only touching your pelvis, somehow scraping past without actually touching you. You felt his dick pulsing between your ass cheeks and you moaned against his hand. He let go of your mouth, moving down your jaw, down your neck, gripping your shoulder tightly as a new way to keep you in place underneath him.

“Mr. Raglan, please-” you breathed, pulling your hips away from him to allow his dick to slide right against your entrance, getting onto your elbows to ready yourself. You heard him laugh aloud at how ready you were to have him in you. “I want you to-”

You didn’t even finish your request. He grabbed himself and was pushing into you. You gasped. It was burning. It was burning inside of you and you loved it. Fuck, you wanted this burn to overtake you, to completely consume you. As you caught your breath, Steve groaned, blinking hard as he gathered himself. His plan was going perfectly. This was everything he wanted and more. (Well, he kind of wanted more of a fight, but beggars can’t be choosers.)

He was the perfect size for you, fuck, his dick felt exactly like you had imagined it would, if not more amazing. He filled you completely and you couldn’t ask for anything better. His fingers drummed once before gripping your hips, finally back in his own body after the thrilling experience of just entering you. You felt better than he had imagined, if not more amazing. He had been dreaming about this, obsessing about this for months on end, never leaving his train of thought, and he finally had it. He leaned forward against your arched back, one hand moving slowly up your body from your hips, and wrapping lightly around your throat, his lips by your ear, breathing lowly. You felt his fingers begin to squeeze your neck, your breathing hitched into a moan.

“This is what you get for teasing me with that body of yours.” He says into your ear, his hold on your hip growing tighter. “You come into my office, sat there with your legs spread- god, you wanted me to fuck you right then and there, didn’t you? You’re such a slut.”

Steve began to move his hips.

He wasn’t slow or gentle and it didn’t matter if you weren’t ready, he did as he pleased and you were meant to just go along for the ride. His grip was tight around your throat and you could feel your face growing hot with blood gathering in your head. You felt amazing. Your eyes rolled back as you wasted what little air you had on uncontrollably moaning. You choked out a whiny, “Please,” that he rewarded by releasing his vice, allowing you to take a few deep breaths before his grasp tightened once again, earning a moan that he found particularly delicious.

“Listen to you whine- it’s pathetic.” He grunts under his breath, slowing down for a moment so that you can actually hear him over the sound of your skin slapping together with each thrust.

“I knew you wanted me to destroy you the moment your skin touched mine- that first handshake was enough to tell me just how desperate you were for someone to show you how it’s done.”

You can’t respond with words, only able to whimper and groan the more he choked and fucked you. He released his grip around your throat and as you gasped for air, his fingers massaging the sides of your throat. It was almost a nice feeling, especially coupled with the quick pecks he left at the corner of your jaw. But then his hand moved up under your chin, his fingers digging into your cheeks to force your mouth open.

“I want to hear you. I want to fucking hear you tell me how desperate you are for me.” He demands, his pace picking up again, throwing you into moans. Your jaw hurt from being pried open, his nails stabbing into your skin, but you still couldn’t give an answer. Not getting what he wanted, you felt his hand on your hip let go, then his arm wrap around your waist. You felt yourself being lifted off your elbows to an upright position on your knees, his dick reaching a new spot inside of you. The moan that escaped you was almost unnecessarily loud. You felt a chuckle rumble against your back, he was laughing at you, though it was between his own quiet, breathless moans.

“That’s not what I told you to do.” He hisses, though he didn’t let up, knowing you’d struggle to get anything out other than sounds of ecstasy.

“Hng- I was- fuck- so des- ah!- ‘perate,” You’re finally able to spit out. He slowed, allowing you to speak more. “I wanted you- fucking christ, I want you so bad-“

Steve took a hefty bite into your neck, sucking and grinding his teeth with your skin between, your groan mixed with the sound of his pelvis hitting your ass over and over in an unrelenting fuck that made you feel as if your body would soon give out. When he pulled away, it was already beginning to bruise. He thought the hue of red looked wonderful on you.

“If you want my dick so bad-” Without warning he pulled completely out of you, making you cry out upon feeling an emptiness you’ve never experienced before. He let go of you, your body collapsing onto the bed, you hadn’t realized he was the only thing holding you upright. As you collect yourself, whining about how close you were to cumming, you looked up and found him standing at the edge of the bed, hovering over you. You licked your lips at the sight of his treasure trail to his erect cock, glistening from being inside you, now inches away from your mouth.

“Why don’t you choke on it.” He finishes, grabbing the back of your head and forcing your gasping mouth around him. For the first time you heard him moan. Really moan. It was intoxicating, you instantly wanted to make him do that again, you needed to hear him make that noise again. Maybe if you were good, you would. His dick tasted like you and you hated how much you loved it, living up to being a so-called “slut”. You opened the back of your throat, doing everything you could to take him in entirely. You let him hold your head in place as he fucked your mouth, more moans escaping him that you rewarded by taking him even deeper. Your teeth dragged along his shaft and you heard him hiss- the sharp sting of his hand slaps your cheek.

It wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark, but it was hard enough to tell you to, “Knock that shit off.” The sudden slap did, however, cause you to lose focus on keeping your airway open, and you were now choking on the dick that was halfway down your throat. Your chest seized, but he didn’t let you move, still deep in your mouth. It seemed your struggling only made him more excited, his grunts increasing the more you gagged. You were able to wiggle your arms out from under your body and reach for his legs, tapping one of his thighs twice as if asking for a tap out in a wrestling match.

Surprisingly, Steve listened, pulling out of your mouth, letting you cough and catch your breath. You could feel tears streak your face as you looked up at him with bleary eyes, and he grinned. The very same grin you saw when he had gotten you the job at the grocery store. That familiar feeling of unease churned in your stomach, if it was anymore intense you would be nauseous. It was then the fog of hormones cleared and the reality of what was currently happening came upon you.

Finally, it registered to you that he had been planning this.

What was happening right now, at this moment, was all part of a scheme he designed. Him getting you the job, him breaking into your home, him fucking you. You weren’t sure what the outcome of the plan would be. You hoped it wasn’t with your dead, naked body in bed.

But you’d be damned if he murdered you because you were a bad lay.

Not knowing if you were doing this out of your own will to survive, (or if you were just so horny you couldn’t help yourself,) you looked him in the eye, and took his cock into your mouth to the hilt. You saw his eyes roll back, and the moan that emitted from him was enough to tell you that you would not be dying tonight.

“Oooh, white rabbit,” He purred, his eyes returning to yours, watching as you drew back and pressed the flat of your tongue to the underside of his dick, allowing him to easily slip in and out of your throat.

“You’re everything I’ve dreamed,” He continues, holding the sides of your head as he gently rocked into your mouth.

“Keep doin’ that an’ I might just keep you with me forever.” He managed to wink at you. You weren’t sure if he meant that as a life partner or as a prisoner.

Your spit collected in his pubes, your chin now coated with a mix of your spit and his pre-cum, not breaking your eye contact with him. Your tongue wrapped around his dick, enjoying the sweet noises he was making. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him more, the grunt he made was almost primal. His grip on your head grew and his pace quickened, you knew he was going to cum, and this time he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Your lips pressed tightly around his cock, keeping it in your mouth when he finally came down your throat. You took it completely and compliantly, gratefully swallowing all of his cum. You licked your lips and upon realizing that some had dribbled out of the corner of your mouth, your tongue darted out to finish your meal. But Steve’s strong hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you. He leaned down, pulling you up to meet him and the flat of his tongue licked away the cum before you could, continuing its stripe onto your lips, and into your open maw. You moaned into his mouth as your tongues curled around each other and he sucked yours as he pulled away. He finished with a quick peck on your pouting lips, still keeping you a centimeter away, his words brushing you as he muttered,

“You’re such a good bunny-” He kisses you again, this time leaving you dizzy- “Swallowing without even asking-“ He kisses you a third time- “Oh, you’re everything to me.”

You weren’t sure you were just playing along with his plan anymore. All the things he was doing, all the things he was saying to you were only making you hornier and hornier. Your core felt like it was on fire, begging to be touched by him, wanting to be fucked, wanting to finally cum because of him. You didn’t care that he had set all of this up, you didn’t care that he had broken into your home, you didn’t care that he was taking advantage of you. You just wanted him to make you cum. So you begged for it.

“Mr. Raglan…” You breathed against his lips, letting him kiss you between your statements, “Please- I need you to make me cum-“ Another kiss, lingering longer, his harsh lips making yours feel pillowed when he pulled away.

“Please make me cum.” You pleaded. The grin on his face looked maniacal.

“White rabbit, you only had to ask.” He drops you back down to the bed, pushing your shoulders down, your back flat against the mattress. The air hitched in your lungs when Steve harshly grabbed your legs and pushed your knees damn-near either side of your head, bending you in half as he leaned on top of you, pinning you in the position.

“I’ve been wanting to hear you beg for me to make you cum for so long.” He sighs. “Oh bunny, you look so good under me like that.”

You hissed as he bit into the backs of thighs as one of his hands left your knees, skimming down your body until it fell off, leaving your mind to race as to what it was doing. You were quickly distracted by his sharp teeth in your flesh again.

“It’s too bad that gorgeous mouth of yours sucked me dry.” He tutted. You felt his hand return, along with a familiar feeling of silicone.

“I’ve been dreamin’ of cummin’ in you,” The dildo you were masturbating with when he arrived was in his hand, the tip playing at your entrance, making you whimper.

“Ya know, I should punish you for taking away that pleasure.” He pulled the toy away completely, your whine choked back when his other hand grabbed your throat swiftly and squeezed. Fear pumped your blood, unfortunately only making you want him more. You lifted your chin as much as you could in the position you were in, giving him more access to your neck, your eyes half-lidded and watching him, waiting for him to do what he saw fit. He chuckled, knowing that he had you wrapped around his finger, that you would do anything for him now, just as he had planned.

“But I think makin’ you wait this long is punishment enough.”

The dildo was slammed into you and the noise you let out was garbled between a cry and some noise an animal would make. In the position you were currently in, the toy reached a new spot in you that you’ve never felt before, and each pump drew a whiny moan out of you, you windpipe still being squeezed by his strong hand.

“Those noises you make- I could get hard again just hearin’ ‘em.” His hand let go of your throat, his fingers now playing at your hairline at the nape of your neck, his thumb on your bottom lip, playing with how swollen it was. He bit into your thighs again, leaving behind dark marks that made you cry out in pain that sank down into groans of pleasure the more he fucked you with your toy.

“Oh, make those noises for me, white rabbit.” He says against your skin, his hand moving the dildo faster and harder into you. You had found the more you heard it, the more you loved the pet name he had given you. You didn’t know why he called you ‘white rabbit’ or ’bunny,’ but you didn’t want to bother asking. You loved that it was yours and it was something that you could always be for him. What you loved the most about it was how he always said it so adoringly, bordering on obsessively- and you realized what this was all about.

Obsession.

Steve Raglan was obsessed with you and he wouldn’t be able to rest until he had marked you, until he had claimed you, needing you to only be for himself. No one else will be able to fuck you again. Not only because you knew that he would never let it happen, but also because you knew that you would only be thinking about him. Considering everything, that wasn’t a shock. How could you ever be with someone else after this?

His thumb on your lip dared to enter your mouth, marveling how warm and wet it was and how soft your tongue was as it lapped the calloused pad of his thumb, the ridges of your teeth biting into it. He sighed dreamily as you sucked on his thumb, a whine in your throat when you felt like your body might give out.

“Are ya gonna cum for me? So soon?” His voice was in a mocking tone yet you still answered with a whimpered, “yes,” and screwed your eyes shut to focus on the knot in your stomach growing so tight it genuinely hurt.

He thought that your head might explode from how red it was getting. From the position he forced you in, the blood collecting in your head was enough to make your face glow and grow hot to the touch. The current image he was seeing of you was something he would take with him for the rest of life. He knew he would be thinking of this encounter on his deathbed, feeling nothing but bliss at the memory of taking advantage of you. (Though, with the way you were moaning, he didn’t really think this could be considered taking advantage.)

“Look at me, bunny. I wanna see you come undone.” He demands. You’re able to roll your eyes open and lock your gaze with his. His eyes bore into your very being and it felt like it was setting your very soul on fire, finally sending you over, the knot releasing. His grip was hard on your face, making sure you kept your eyes on him as your orgasm took over your whole body. Your groan was long and drawn out with a mumbled version of his name, your eyes struggling to keep open from how hard the waves of pleasure hit you.

As you struggled to catch your breath, he pulled you towards him and kissed your forehead tenderly, then allowed you to lay back on the bed, letting your eyes close. His body slowly got off yours, allowing your legs to drop unceremoniously onto the mattress with a slight bounce of the springs. The dildo was still inside you, and Steve watched with a hungry eye as your relaxed muscles pushed it out for the second time today. Fuck, he could never get used to that.

Your breathing finally slowed, your body sore from holding positions for him despite lack of flexibility. You felt him get off the bed and upon hearing the jangling of a belt you lazily opened your eyes. He rolled his shoulders and neck as he tucked his shirt into his pants. He looked back over his shoulder at you, and he broke into a grin seeing you still a sweaty mess on the bed. He came over to the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning back to capture your lips with his in a breathtaking, passionate kiss. He pulled away with a soft groan, feeling a raising anger that he couldn’t stay longer, but unfortunately he had business at a certain abandoned pizzeria to take care of, (the new security guard was getting too comfortable to his liking,) and he knew if he left his car any longer it would look more suspicious than it already does.

He looked at you and put a hand on your cheek, kissing you again, more softly this time, as if that was a sufficient enough goodbye for what you just endured. His hand taps your cheek before it slips off your face and he stands, heading for your bedroom door. You watched, dumbstruck that he was just going to leave without saying a word, without saying anything about what just happened.

“Will you come back?” Your voice is so soft you thought he wouldn’t hear it, but he does, stopping briefly to answer you before closing the door behind him.

“Oh, white rabbit,” Mr. Raglan smirks over his shoulder, “I always come back.”

145 notes · View notes

ssentimentals · 4 months ago

Text

seventeen members as love tropes: joshua

soulmates

'hand in hand, you and me. today, tomorrow, forever.'

when 00:00 glow green in the darkness, you clutch your bedsheets tighter, feeling light burn on your right wrist. it's happening. what everyone talked about, waited for, dreamed of. it tingles for few seconds and when it stops, you know that name of your soulmate is now etched on your wrist with black ink which will not come off no matter how hard you'll try. unspilled tears sting your eyes and you're about to go to the bathroom, when you hear careful knocking and gentle 'love?' from the other side of the door.

'joshua?' you question loudly before jumping from the bed and rushing to open the door. just like you predicted, your boyfriend is waiting on the other side, wearing oversized hoodie on top of his light blue pjs. 'babe, what-'

'your roommate is here?' he asks, interrupting you gently. at the shake of your head, he then points inside. 'can i come in then?'

for the first time since you started dating you hesitate. should you let him in when you don't know if it's his name on your wrist and vice versa? there are so many things on the tip of your tongue: have you checked? is it my name? am i your soulmate? your insides are churning just from the possibility of someone else's name being written on his wrist. joshua takes a second to assess your state and it doesn't take him long to understand what's happening with you. he's always been good at figuring out your feelings even before you did, always knew what to say or do to calm you down. before you can voice out your fears, his arms find their way around your waist, gently but firmly pulling you towards him. 'shh,' he whispers, hugging you tight. 'i know, love, i know.'

'i'm scared,' you mutter, hiding your face in his neck. and it's such a familiar place for you, you can't imagine not being able to do that, can't bear the thought of not having joshua this close to you.

you didn't know how joshua felt the same, how holding your trembling body in his arms made him want to tuck you away from this world and just forget about everything. if the stars decide that you two are not meant for each other then he'll write his own story, create another univerise in which you are his and he is yours because that's the only correct way of how it should be. he hasn't looked at his wrist, mostly because he is scared too but also because he doesn't have to look at it to know who is his fate. gulping, he tightens his arms around you, leaving small kisses on your shoulder.

'have you looked?' you ask in a small voice, biting your lower lip. 'what if-'

'look at me,' joshua asks, leaning back until you move your head and make eye contact. 'i haven't looked. we're both going to look right now but before we do, i just want you to know that it won't change a thing, okay? you are it for me and i don't care if universe agrees with me or not.'

'b-but, if it's not my name..' you start, not being able to finish that sentence because every word breaks your heart.

'then i will cover that name with yours,' joshua says with sureness of person who will not change his mind. 'i will go to the tattoo parlor right now and will make sure that only your name is on my wrist. i love you. do you love me?' at your nod, most beautiful smile blooms on his face. 'ah, i'm just the luckiest guy, aren't i? universe already blessed me with your love, let's check if it blessed me again, shall we?'

it's scary. your throat tightens up and heart rate slows down in anticipation. you didn't think that figuring out who's your soulmate will happen in the middle of the hallway of your dormitory with your boyfriend right in front of you, but life has its own plans. grasping sleeve of your sweatshirt, you look up at joshua, who's already looking at you with impossible fondness. you are it for me, he mouths and with this rolls up his sleeve, looking down. you don't have to look down at your own wrist, because watching surprise and happiness glow on joshua's face is the answer enough for you. when he looks back at you, there are tears in the corners of his eyes.

'it did bless me again,' he whispers, not looking away from you. his eyes are filled with awe and he brings your faces close, so close that your foreheads are almost touching. 'i would've created another universe for us but i don't have to. you are mine in this one.'

what comes out from your mouth is a mix of hysterical laughter and whimpering sob. joshua smiles and takes your hand in his, showing you both his own name written prettily on your wrist. he strokes it lovingly with his thumb as you stare transfixed, not being able to utter a single word. relief floods your system and you sag against him, smiling at the way he keeps on leaving small kisses anywhere he can reach.

'you are my soulmate,' you let out, still in shock. 'josh, you are my soulmate.'

he chuckles, nodding. 'yours, baby. forever and ever.'

he hugs you tight, looking up to the ceiling for a second, silently thanking whoever is responsible for this to happen. he prayed yesterday, promised that he won't ask for anything else as long as he'll get this wish right. i will never ask for anything else, he thinks, mentally sending this message to the universe. you gave me everything.

a/n: oh the feels :') impossible to picture anyone else for this au, so of course it's joshua. tell me how you liked it! - nini

my other works can be found here

#seventeen imagine #seventeen reaction #joshua hong #joshua imagine #seventeen fic #joshua seventeen #seventeen fluff #joshua x reader #seventeen scenarios #joshua hong x reader #joshua hong imagine #seventeen #seventeen joshua hong #svt joshua #seventeen x reader

293 notes · View notes

bri-cheeses · 4 months ago

Text

Our Little Secret - Part 2

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 787 | Part one is here |

“Can’t you just tell me plainly like any other normal person?”

Evan ignored that.

“Ravenclaw party. Fourth year.”

“What?” Barty asked, shocked back into bewilderment once more.

“That’s when I figured out I liked guys.”

Barty’s response was a beat late. “Uh… okay?”

“Do you want to know how?” Evan pressed. He took a step forward. He wasn’t sure whether he was gratified or angry that Barty took a step back.

“Yeah, sure,” Barty huffed. “Whatever gets you to finally spit it out.”

Evan closed his eyes. Barty’s barbed words were almost enough to stop him from saying it, but he had already made up his mind. And he doubted that their relationship could really be salvaged now that they had both managed to mess it up so terribly, so really, there was nothing holding him back anymore.

He opened his eyes slowly, calling to mind dim lights, bad music, and too many teenagers in one space. He took a deep breath.

“You were dancing with this girl,” he began slowly. “I don’t even know who it was, because I didn’t spare her a second glance. Not when you were there next to her, dancing and smiling like you were having the time of your life. And then you looked back over to me and somehow you smiled even wider, then gave me this stupid little wink and in that moment all I could think was how much I wanted to kiss you.”

Barty’s breath hitched. Evan ignored it.

“Olivia Gleaves, fourth year again. The first ever girlfriend you had, who I hated so fiercely that Cas had to corner me and tell me to knock it off, that you were my best friend, yes, but that didn’t mean I could feel entitled to being your number one person all the time. And so I shut up and stopped glaring and I was a good little “best friend” until you two broke up three weeks later.”

“Barret Fay, fifth year. The first guy you ever kissed. Coincidentally, I broke my hand that night, and a dent found its way into the wall. Lucky for me, I suppose, that we had a big Transfiguration paper due the next day and I could easily write it off as frustration with schoolwork.

“December 16th, fifth year. We got caught under the mistletoe, and instead of laughing it off and kissing me on the cheek like you had with every single one of our friends, you refused to even touch me and spent the dinner afterwards eating in complete silence, and I made sure to never walk through doorways with you again during the holiday season.

“Cooper Covenhelm, sixth year. The first actual boyfriend you ever had, and the first guy to threaten me to stay out of the way and to not talk to you unless I absolutely had to. So I took the back burner for the next two months and let Regulus fill in as your best friend, then tried not to let anything slip when you finally cornered me and asked why I had been avoiding you. I don’t remember what I said, but you broke up with Cooper a week later and I felt so relieved I could hardly breathe.

“There are a bunch of other things I could talk about. The runs I started going on just to get a break from you and clear my head. All the people who threw themselves at me but I rejected because I was too hung up on someone else. The way Regulus figured it out at the end of last year and actually looked sad on my behalf, because, I’m assuming, he knew how impossible it was, too. The fact that I lied about what I smelled in Amortentia, the way literally everyone else in our friend group has figured it out, that time that you accidentally stole one of my shirts and I didn’t say anything because I liked how you looked in it… the way you kissed me last night, then told me just now that it was a mistake and I should keep quiet about it.”

“So you’ll excuse me if I’m a little angry right now. But I’m sure that you’re right. It was a mistake, and I’ll keep quiet about it because that’s what I’m best at, isn’t it?”

Evan waited a beat for Barty to say something, then shook his head when nothing came. He should’ve known better than to expect anything, honestly.

“I’m going to breakfast,” was all Evan said. And he turned around and walked away, cursing Barty for never being able to see him as anything more than a friend, and hating himself for hoping that he ever would.

(Part three)

#rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #slytherin skittles #marauders era #rosekiller microfic #my microfics

172 notes · View notes

teardropsonmypaper · 1 month ago

Text

To Win Her Back~ Pt1:Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve and Nancy just broke up, an idea pops into his head. To make her jealous and his way to do so is fake date you, a girl who can't resist the offer he had made. A/N: This is going to a part of a series, I don't know long as of yet. I just got back into writing, I'm always accepting to feedback. Please re-blog and feel free to comment! I had so much fun writing this, I hope you enjoy! Word Count: 3188 Warnings: Use of Y/N, Parental loss, Sick Parent, The reader uses she/her pronouns and identifies as female, intimate remarks (nothing towards Steve and reader). I think that's all I can remember, lmk if there's anything else. ......

You walked silently to your locker in the ever-so busy hallway of Hawkins High School, people lined the walls, gossiping, making out with their fling of the week, or just minding their own business. Your headphones were blaring with some Black Sabbath song, making it near impossible for you to pay any attention to the soundsaround you. You were the silent type, but somehow in this small town, everyone knew your business, how your mother passed giving birth to your little sister 4 years ago or how your father was recently diagnosed with leukemia. Everyone knew everyone’s business and you weren’t excluded by any chance. You make your way to your locker, and open it collecting your belongings before heading home. As you walk away, someone slams your locker for you, loud enough for you to hear it through your headphones. You jump and see King Steve standing on the other side of your locker.

You quickly pause your music on your cassette player, “What the fuck was that for?” You ask, crossing your arms. Even though you were typically a quiet girl, you had quite the temper.

Steve smirked and ran his hand through beautiful hair. You never really talked to him, you used to sit next to him during your Freshman year, but that was the only interaction you had with him in high school. “Just tryna’ get your attention”, he said casually, the smirk still evident.

“Why?” You asked sassily, arms still crossed. It wasn’t like Steve normally wanted your attention, you never thought he even noticed you, you really just blended into the crowd.

He moved closer to you, now leaning onto your locker,”I have a proposition for you.” You raise your eyebrow, curious. “And that is?”

“Nancy and I broke up”,he said, his smirk faltering a bit. You knew that, everyone in Hawkins knew, gossip spread like wildfire around this stupid little town. You nodded, not really understanding why he was telling you that. “How does that involve me?, Harrington.”

He suddenly became a bit nervous, his body language shifted, a nervous hand running through his hair, once again,”Um..I was wondering if you and I…god this is weird..um if we could..shit I don't know how to say this..”

“Just spit it out already.” You say impatiently, along with your temper you didn’t like to keep waiting.

“I want you to be my fake girlfriend”, he blurted. At first, you feel your eyes widen,but then you start laughing. This has to be some joke or prank or something. “Gosh, you’re a real comedian, Harrington.”

“Y/N”, his demeanor turned serious,”I’m not joking.” For the second time, your eyes feel like they're bulging out your head, you couldn’t believe that Steve Harring, the King of Hawkins High, was asking you to become his fake girlfriend. Every girl, maybe some guys wanted Steve Harrington, he was the dream guy, he was an asshole 99% of the time, but it didn’t matter, he was hot and the captain of the swim team and star player in basketball. Every girl wanted him.

“Why?”you began,astounded by his question,”First off, you literally just got out of a relationship. Second of all, everyone goddamn girl in this school will willingly jump your bones if you ask them, or even look at them. I’m not that kind of girl, Harrington.”

"Y/N”, he began,”That’s exactly why I want you to be my fake girlfriend, you’re the only one who wouldn’t try seducing me the first chance you get.”

I sigh,”Why do you even need a fake girlfriend?” I ask, curiously.

He let out a nervous chuckle,”I want to make Nancy jealous,”he pauses,”Y’know show her what she’s missing.” You nod, understanding what he’s saying, but you can’t help but feel weirded out. You felt weird that somebody would even ask you to be their fake girlfriend,”Steve..I don’t know..it’s kinda weird and-”

“I’ll pay you!”, he blurts. You cross your arms and scoff, feeling suddenly offended that you offered to even pay you. He quickly senses your shift of mood and opens his mouth,”100 bucks per week, I know you could use the money for you dad.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, frustrated. You did need the money, you were only surviving off of your mom’s inheritance and your father’s disability check, and the medical bills were not cheap. Your waitress job was barely even covering the rent at this point, you groan before finally agreeing.

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver”, he says, pulling you into a hug. You pat his shoulder, trying to push yourself off, you’re not a big hugger. You only really hugged your sister and dad for the most part. “You’re welcome”, you quickly change your tone to something more threatening,”Listen, Harrington, I swear to fucking god, Harrington. If you get any ideas into the fucking head of yours, I swear I will kick your ass.”

He puts his hands up defensively,”Hey, hey, hey”, he reassures,”Trust me, no funny business from me.” I nod, pulling my bag up to my back.

“I gotta go, Harrington.”, you started before trying to walk away through the now-empty hallway,”Gotta sister to pick up from preschool.”

He nods before calling out,”We need to make a set of rules, sometime”.

You turn your back to him and call as you walk towards the doors,”My house, 7pm, don’t be late.” You quickly make yourself to the back parking lot to find your old beat up station wagon, your dad’s turned yours. He couldn’t drive much anymore so he gave it to you, to run errands and what not. You hop into the car and turn your keys into the ignition before speeding off to the preschool. You were already 10 minutes late.

During the drive you couldn’t help but think about your new situation, you were now Steve Harrington’s girlfriend, well fake one but nobody could know that. You find yourself groaning at the thought, Steve Harrington was the most popular guy in school and you were practically a nobody. You just faded into the background, nothing was particularly special about you besides your great taste in music in style. It was safe to say, you were different but not noticeably. You wore light makeup and opted for more of a 70s look, you loved the decade prior to the one you were currently living in. Everything from the music and to the fashion and the hair, you were in love. Most people called you dated, but you called yourself cultured. But now since you were now “dating” Steve, you were now going to be more in the spotlight.

You pull into the pre-school, quickly spotting Melissa and her pre-school teacher. You pull up to them and quickly get out of the car, ushering to Melissa. "You're late again, sissy”, Melissa nagged. You quickly picked her up in your arms,”Sorry Lis, got caught up.” You apologized and turned to her teacher,”Thank you for waiting.” She hummed in response as you quickly opened the back seat up and put her in her carseat.

“Miss Y/N”, the teacher began,”We love having Melissa with us, but you owe us almost a hundred dollars. We've been trying to be patient, but we need you to pay your bill.”

You nod and sire, tiredly.”I’ll try having it by the end of the week, thank you.” She hums in response and you wave her a goodbye before getting into the station wagon and driving off.

The ride home was surprisingly quiet, Lis passed out in the backseat, apparently her day was exhausting. You hummed to some rock song on the radio as you drove home. Hawkins was a nice town, you’d have to admit, however it had its disadvantages. Like the town aesthetic, perfect and beautiful, however the people were annoying. All they did was gossip, about everything and everyone. Oh, you’re married to an alcoholic? Exposed. Pregnant before marriage? Exposed. It was like you were automatically shunned if you were different. You silently pull up to your driveway. Getting out of the car and carefully unbuckling Lis as you made your way over, carrying her in your arms to the house.

You prop open the door into your small abode and walk in. “Hey girls”, you hear your father call weakly. You walk to the living room with Lis still in your arms, “Hey dad”, you say softly as you find him sitting in his leather arm chair, the thing has to be older than you. It has been his spot since you , yourself were an infant. You carefully set Lis on the couch before turning to your father,”Long day?”, you ask.

He shrugged,”Just slept most of it”, he said,”tried to clean up a bit, but it didn’t work so well.” You nod sympathetically and place a comforting hand on his back. It’s been hard to watch your dad struggle, he used to be the most hardworking man you ever knew. After your mother’s passing, your father worked 2 jobs and made sure to come home after his late night shift, just to make sure he had tucked you and your sister in. But now, he struggles to move or do things on his own. “It’s alright dad”, you say.

He looks at you and it pains you, his eyes are always glassy and he’s been getting more pale. It wrecks you apart, truly. “Pumpkin, want to watch a movie?”, your father asks. You nod, and sit on the floor beside him as puts on E.T, you both fall into a comfortable silence as the movie plays.

Hours pass and you find yourself in the kitchen, making dinner as you hear a knock on the door. “Sissy! Someone’s at the door!”, your sister calls.

You huff,”I hear that, Liss”, you interject,”Can you get it?” You hear her groan before she stomps to the door, like you, she has an attitude.

“It’s a guy here for you!” She calls. Your eyes widen as you remember about Steve, you completely forgot you had invited him. “A guy?”, your father chirps from the kitchen table where he is now sitting, filling out a crossword puzzle.

You glance over to the clock hanging on the wall and realize it’s 6:58, you quickly set down the can of tomato soup before walking to the front door and see your sister interrogating Steve. “Alright, Lis, stop questioning the poor guy”, you huff. She looks up at you,”Wasn’t questioning”. You give her a look before she scurries off into the kitchen.

“She’s cute”, Steve said. You nod.

"She sure is something”, you move aside and let him in.

He laughs a bit. “I’m making dinner right now if you’re hungry, tomato soup and grilled cheese”, you say.

He nods, suddenly shy. It was unusual to see Steve shy, he walked around with some sort of arrogance and charisma usually. You lead him into the kitchen and your father immediately takes in Steve’s presence. “Heh”, your father begins,”This is a first, my daughter bringing a guy home.” You roll your eyes as your dad chuckles at his own comment.

“Steve”, Steve says, outstretching his hand. Your father takes it, amused. “Oh, I know who you are. You’re dad owns that big ol business”

Steve nods and your father pats the seat next to him, “Sit, let’s talk.” Steve carefully sits next to your father.You bite back a smile, you knew what was to happen, your father was going to interrogate Steve, brutally. You didn’t bring guys home, not since sophomore year,when you got yourself a boyfriend, Eddie Munson. You couldn’t forget it, your father was newly a widower at the time, but oh did he bust Eddie’s balls, alright. He walked out the house after, acting like he just confessed to a murder or something. You ultimately wonder if that led to your break-up, but you knew it was really because you were just better off as friends.

You continued to work on dinner as your father tore Steve a new asshole, your father may have been sick but he still acted like his old self, busting people’s balls. Your sister listened in, softly giggling as Steve would get flustered at a question your dad asked or when your father swore. Soon enough you finished supper and placed it on the sable along with some bowls and spoons. “That’s enough dad’”, you lightheartedly,”Don’t want another guy leaving the house scared shitless, do you?”

Your dad shrugs,”Wouldn’t hurt.” You give your dad a look as he begins to chuckle, you smile to yourself before taking a seat next to Steve. ‘Well dig in, guys.”

Dinner was full of your sister rambling about her day, everyone else digging in trying to pay attention to her babbling. You look over to Steve and see him listening intently to the four-year olds rambling, it melts your heart for a second.

She stops her rambling as your father begins to speak,”So, pumpkin”, he addresses you,”What is Mr.Harrington’s relation to you?”

“He’s awfully cute”, your sister quips. Steve begins to chuckle softly as a pink shade tints his cheeks.

You internally groan as you remember about the deal you made with Steve, to be his ‘girlfriend’. You try your best to be on a smile before taking Steve’s hand to yours, you swear you see Steve’s eyes widen as you touch him. “We’re dating”, you try to exclaim but it comes out more of a question than anything. Your father raises his eyebrows before humming.

“You guys are dating?!”Lis breaks out smiling. Her chubby cheeks prominent as she grins,”That’s so cute! That means you guys are in love!” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that one, whilst Steve nearly chokes. “So in love”, you sarcastically.

Your father raises an eyebrow at your comment but says nothing. He takes another spoonful of his soup in his mouth before speaking up,”About time”, your father says,”You’ve been working too hard and worrying too much, maybe Harrington here might loosen you up.”

You let your eyes widen surprised, you never thought your father, the ball buster himself, would accept a guy for you to date. Well as he thinks you’re dating. You nod stunned to speak. Dinner finishes shortly after that, you help your father back into his recliner as you send Lis to clean up the table. You make your way back to the kitchen and find Steve washing the dishes. “You don’t have to”, you intervene.

“I want to”, he says, washing a plate,”I insist, you cooked and I’m gonna clean up at least, as a thank you.”

Before you could reply, Lis beats you to it,”He’s such a gentleman, he’s your gentleman, Y/N/N.”, she teases.

“Melissa, shut it”, you say embarrassed,”You’re just happy because you don’t have to rinse.”

Your sister nods before running off to the living room. “I’m sorry about her, she’s a handful”, you apologize.

Steve laughs,”It’s all good, she’s cute”. You both begin to fall in a comfortable silence, you wipe the counter and sweep the floor as he finishes the dishes. You never took Steve to be the type to wash up or be gentle with a child, you always thought he was too egotistical to be caring or sensitive but maybe you were wrong after all, or maybe he changed. Shortly, the kitchen is clean and you bring Steve up to your bedroom to discuss the rules of your relationship.

Once in your room, Steve looks around your room. Admiring the band posters of Fleetwood Mac, Black Sabbath, and many others that showered your walls. He stepped further and saw some of the artwork Lis had made that was pinned to a corkboard. “I like your room”, he compliments. He traces your light green quilt that sat on your bed, as you grabbed your notebook. “Thanks”, you mumble.

You sit down on your bed and pad the spot next to you, encouraging Steve to sit next to you. He obliges and sits. “So time to make up the rules,” you announce, suddenly nervous,”1st rule, no heavy PDA. I don’t want to be those weirdos that are practically dry humping in the halls.”

Steve laughs as you write that down,”Yeah, no need to worry about that. We only need to hold hands and hug, maybe kiss on occasion.”

“Hug? Kiss?”, you say with a grimace on your face,”Fore-warning, I am a terrible hugger and only kiss me if it’s absolutely necessary.”

He laughs at your remark,”Yeah, that’s fine, nothing you aren’t comfortable with.” You write that down as well.

“You have to attend parties with me”, he adds. You raise your eyebrows,”Parties?”

“Yeah, it’d be weird if my girlfriend didn’t show up to them with me”, he points out. You internally groan, you did not like social gatherings but he had a valid point, so you complied and wrote it down.

A thought comes to your mind, and instantly you shiver at it before opening your mouth,”We are not going to have sex or anything along the lines”, you say, determinedly.

He throws his hands in the air backing away slightly,”Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that. You’re pretty and all but not my type”, he brushes it off. You couldn’t help but feel a bit upset with his words, not his type? That’s weird because you heard from a lot of girls that anyone that was a girl, was his type. You quickly right down ‘No sex’ onto the paper.

“Last of all”, you begin,”No falling in love with me, this is simply to get you back with Nancy, alright?’

Steve nods,”Only if you promise not to fall in love with me, sweetheart.”

“Trust me I won;t”, you roll your eyes and write down ‘no falling in love with one another’ down. “I think that’s it”, you say before shutting your notebook down.

“Alright”, Steve says standing up,”We’re officially fake dating, I’ll pick you up tomorrow before school?”

You look at him with wide eyes,”You’re driving me to school?”

He nods,”Yes, Ma’am. I’ll be your chauffeur to and from school.” You cross your arms before opening your mouth,”Y’know I have to drop Lis off at preschool and pick her up too, right?”

‘She can come too”, he says. You sigh before agreeing. You bid goodbye and crash onto your bed once you hear the front door shut. A million thoughts were racing in your head, you were now Steve Harrington’s girlfriend and you were scared. This was out of your comfort zone by far, but you know you had to do this. You were struggling financially and Steve offered money, and in your current lifestyle, it wasn’t something you could turn down.

.....

A/N: I feel like there is wayyyy to much dialogue and it's a bit awkward, I accept feedback and requests! I hope you enjoyed!

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #no vecna #fanfic #fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fic

138 notes · View notes

babyangelsky · 5 months ago

Text

Peat's acting is stupendous and it's hurting my feelings

I need to talk about the bedroom scene and the fight that preceded it because it felt like I was having a mirror held up to me and looking at my younger self and in doing, so I've come to love Tongrak as a character even more than I did before.

I talked about the expressions already but I just cannot get past this one. Rak's eyes are so dead and he looks so tired in a way that I understand so deeply. He knows what's about to happen. He screened Prin's call earlier precisely in hopes of avoiding it but she showed up anyway.

I do have to acknowledge that a lot of my interpretation and feelings about him and these scenes are very much a product of my own experiences, but believe me when I tell you that having a family as fucked as his and having to deal with relatives like this drains you. You fight back because you have to, not because you want to. You don't go seeking the bullshit but somehow it always seems to arrive at your door.

I know exactly how he must be feeling because I've felt it. Because I've fought back and made sure my mask was firmly in place for as long as I needed it to only to break the second I could turn my face away.

I'm impressed that Rak didn't run from Mut and that he didn't start crying on the way to his bedroom. That powerwalk he did instead though? I know it all too well.

To Rak's mind, Mut has already witnessed far more than Rak ever intended for him to. That fight was nasty. It poked at so many wounds, touched on so many painful, intimate things about Rak's family and about him. Prin wanted to hurt and humiliate him and she succeeded.

I can confidently say that if someone I cared about witnessed that happening to me, the last thing I would want is to break down in front of them on top of it, so I completely understand why Rak's first instinct was to put distance between him and Mut. You know the breakdown is coming and the only thing you want is to have it in private.

I know people feel some kind of way about Rak's refusal to let Mut into his bedroom and essentially shutting him out but Mook tells us in episode 4 that no one is allowed in Rak's bedroom. This isn't just about Mut. Everything we have learned and seen of Rak so far tells us that he's a person who needs a safe place to hide. A place where he can close the door and know he won't be intruded upon.

Sure, it's his house and ideally he would have the freedom to break down wherever he wants to inside of it but given that Mook comes and goes pretty freely, he doesn't really have that luxury by his standards. There's always a chance she'll walk in. And he certainly doesn't have it now that he's no longer living alone.

So he goes to hide in his bedroom so he can process and feel what he needs to.

And when Mut comes after him, this happens. Mut pushed at that boundary out of genuine care and concern and he's not wrong for that. I've been on his side of this equation too and the impulse to help in whatever way you can is impossible to resist, even if all you can offer is a meal.

But I also understand Rak. God do I understand him. That need to be alone, demanding to be left in peace, lashing out when someone won't despite it being with good intentions. When you've been pushed to your limit and you know a breakdown is coming and that there will be shrapnel when it does, the very last thing you want is for the people you care about to get hit with it.

Like @bird-inacage said in their post, Tongrak is a caged animal at this point. He's feeling vulnerable and defensive and he lashes out. He doesn't want to, he tries to stop it, but it ends up happening anyway.

And he regrets it. He does. The way I see it, he couldn't bring himself to knock on Mut's door both because he'd exhausted all his nerve in the fight with Prin and because a part of him was probably worried that he'd be rejected if he did. When you lash out, especially when you don't mean to, there's always a worry that you've done irreparable damage to your relationship with whoever was on the receiving end and that you won't ever be forgiven.

Sometimes it really is something as simple as a sticky note that brings you to tears and has you sobbing into your dinner in the middle of the night.

The note and the meal are proof that Tongrak hasn't been rejected, that he's still cared for despite the way he reacted after the fight and the things that he said. We know that Mut wasn't going to reject him but Rak needed to know that as well.

And now that they had their moment in the dressing room and the issue of the money has been talked about, we're paving a way forward for Rak to be able to express what he feels without using it as a defense mechanism. He still will, and he will hurt me many more times before we're done, but we're making progress.

#this was very rambly but i needed to get it out #because i cannot hug tongrak or my younger self #peat is making me feel everything #tongrak #rakmut #love sea #love sea the series #meta

168 notes · View notes

miwiromantics · 7 days ago

Text

Let’s talk about this.

Why both will and el are so connected is because they both have the same storyline. They both have the same end purpose: acceptance.

!!warning: long post ahead!!

Will’s storyline: acceptance of love.

Unlike what most milevens believe, the duffers aren’t planning to end Will’s story with him accepting that he is gay because he HAS already accepted it. He accepted the fact that he was gay and in love with Mike, hence, the painting.

The painting, from the start, was a way of Will confessing his feelings (etc. you’re the heart) but it was never going to be said out loud. He had just planned to give it to Mike during the airport scene and it was supposed to be over.

But instead, he used it as a way to build up Mike’s confidence in himself and also lead up to say ‘I love you’ to El. He used El as a shadow over his own feelings to help Mike.

Will accepts that he likes men and is attracted to Mike. What he doesn’t accept is that he is going to fall in love. We see this in season 3 when he’s talking with Joyce.

This was a scene directly after a canon couple’s scene. Both Jonathan and Nancy are in fact in love with each other and when Joyce says the words ‘you won’t think it’s gross when you fall in love’ it indicates she meant when Will is in a relationship, not when Will is some one-sided love triangle.

So when Will says he isn’t going to fall in love, he is saying this because he knows he’s feelings in a relationship are not going to be reciprocated. He isn’t saying it because he hasn’t fallen in love with someone, he’s saying that it’s impossible for those feelings to be mutual.

Also to remind you, there was no need to put this scene in the first place if it was not hinting at something. It could’ve just been Jonathan and Nancy getting away and Joyce wiping lipstick off his face, indicating that she knew Nance was there anyway.

Throughout season 3, we can clearly notice that Will is struggling with something not related to the mind flayer. He’s struggling with his childhood, his friends and change. And the most important change is his feelings towards a certain friend.

Because of these feelings we get the rain scene. This was Will struggling to accept that he was different (gay) and in love with Mike. This was season 3’s struggle. But in season 4, through the painting, we see it’s been resolved.

He has accepted this but knows he isn’t going to be in love. He knows he’s feelings aren’t going to be reciprocated. So he does the next best thing other than confessing, and help mileven build up their already broken relationship.

Even more so, the scene with Jonathan and Will in the pizza place was acceptance enough for Will to come out. Both Will and Jonathan knew what they were talking about, the subtexts were very obvious. This was the acceptance of Will being gay and in love with Mike.

Now anybody with a right mind would see that this is clearly building up to something more important. A gay boy who thinks he’s feelings are not going to be accepted using he’s only way of confessing as a tool for a problematic ‘straight’ couple.

We must give the duffers credit as we know they aren’t just going to ignore Will’s feelings next season or slap him with some background character as a way of resolving this. There has to be more.

El's storyline: acceptance of independence.

Throughout her whole life, El has always been told what to do. Whether it has been for positive or negative means, she's never made a decision in her entire life leading up to season 2.

Let's be clear that before this girl knew the word 'friend', 'family' and 'love' meant, she had already gotten into a relationship. That before she ever knew what she liked and disliked, she was already in a relationship with the supposed boy of her dreams.

Anyways, independence is something so rooted in El’s storyline. It’s something repeated throughout the seasons. We see it in season 2 when she goes out on her own to find her mother and sister. It is important to note that Mike was not a part of this journey. Mike was not the sole focus or someone El thought she needed at that time.

Even in season 3, we are given the fact that El has never made a decision for herself. The strongest decision we ever see that season was her breaking up with Mike and even that has been disregarded by milevens, saying that Max influenced her or that she ‘didn’t know what she was doing’ or that ‘she’s just a teenager’.

Let’s be clear that anybody in a relationship is given the option to break up and leave the relationship if they want to. Max did not ‘influence’ her, she merely gave her the option. The option that is rightfully hers. By saying that it wasn’t really her decision or that she didn’t know what she was thinking, it’s like saying she doesn’t have an option.

She has the right to leave a relationship if she wants to.

The words ‘not hopper, not mike, you’ is so important to a character like El. A character that has been locked up and dependent throughout her life, finally given a choice to decide for herself is powerful.

Season 3 is important in El’s arc to independence because unlike what Milevens say, she doesn’t require Mike to be there for her to feel complete. The reason that El went to find Mike in season 2 was because they need each other is debunked in season 3. It shows that even when Mike is within her reach, she doesn’t go find him.

Now in season 4, we see a very big shift in her attitude from the previous seasons. She’s pretending to have a normal life when she clearly isn’t. She’s lying and hiding behind a fake persona to make her seem happy. She is still grieving from hopper while trying to put everything behind her and live a ‘normal’ life.

She, like many milevens, is building a reality where her and Mike are the supposed perfect couple. A reality where they are truly in love. She lies to Mike and herself throughout the rink-o-mania scene. And this all unfortunately breaks when Angela (that bitch) comes into the picture.

She throws El’s persona into the fire and absolutely humiliates her in front of the one person she didn’t want to be humiliated in front of. And this is where we see their relationship break (even more).

We see the first crack when El says that Mike doesn’t understand how she feels. To be honest, she’s right. Mike didn’t know how it felt to move to a whole new side of the country without her father and to be subjected to brutal bullying. But disregarding his feelings towards bullying is also something she does.

Now the curtains are open and everything is shown. We then get a scene of El basically pleading Mike to tell her he loves her. But instead of admitting it, Mike gaslights her and tells her their problems are caused by other people.

Mike says he says he loves her but if this was really the most important couple in the show I’m sure the duffers would’ve included the supposed scenes where Mike and El say they love each other TO EACH OTHER. And when she brings out proof, he calls her ridiculous.

Even in the van scene, he says that he’s scared that El won’t need him anymore. He wants to feel like a hero to her, someone that can protect her when in reality, she is way past it. She wants him to love her but he wants her to need him. He wants her to be dependent on him.

Through the beginning of season 4, we see her define herself in the way Mike sees her. While giving him a false narrative of her life, she pretends she lives in them. Plastering a fake smile just so that Mike would think she’s enjoying herself in Lenora and lying about parties to make herself seem cool.

You can see how defeated she looks when she realises that Mike might not love her at all.

She, like so many more milevens, want Mike to be the perfect lover, the person who is with her through all her problems and a shoulder to cry on. But he isn’t that person and she knows it.

But after she leaves Mike, we can truly see what her goals are. There isn’t a scene throughout her journey where she thinks of Mike and you can see her gain more confidence in herself, once again proving that she doesn’t need him to feel complete.

She does better without him.

Her arc was never about romance. Her arc was about finding who she truly is. It was about her finding a place in this world where she doesn’t have to be the hero or villain in the story. It was about her growing alongside the people she loves and the family she built.

We see that she realises that she is her own superhero, that she can solve her own problems and that she doesn’t need a shoulder to cry on. She can take on a challenge headfirst without letting anyone define who she is.

She doesn’t need Mike telling her that he loves her to realise that she is loved or that she can live a normal and happy life just like how she doesn’t need to forgive brenner to know that she is a good person. She is her own person.

And before anybody comes at me, yes. A woman can be in a relationship and still be independent. But once it come to a point of lying about and to yourself and defining who you are through another person’s feelings, it is not healthy.

She has taken on challenges before Mike, during Mike and will continue to do so after Mike (and all this happened without Mike). She doesn’t need him.

Both Will and El need support and love through their journey. It only comes down to what type of love they need that’s important. El does not need romantic love to thrive while that’s the only love Will is lacking.

Anyways we also clearly see that in the end El is on her own journey and that Mike and Will are a team alongside all the other endgame couples.

So byler endgame and El independent arc era.

(My writing is a bit sloppy here and there so if there are any questions regarding it pls ask. Also again, sorry for long post)

92 notes · View notes