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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months

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Injured VI

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: Jenni returns to you

Mapi and Ingrid come over a lot now that you don't see Mami. They visit you and Tia Alba all the time and bring you things like new trains and toys and Ingrid even buys you new ballet pumps when you tearfully tell her that you left your ones at Mami's home.

It's different living with Tia Alba. She works from home a lot and she has plenty of time for you. That's a little weird, you think. The attention is nice but it's a little scary.

All of this is a little scary.

Last week, when Abuela came to see you and you asked the bad question, she cried. Abuela cried and cried and you cried too. She said that she would fix this, she promised you that she would fix this but one look at Tia Alba's face told you that no one was sure that this could be fixed.

You wish things were back to normal. You don't want to live with Mami right now but you miss her. You miss the Mami from before, who would take you to the train store after her games and read you fun bedtime stories with all the special voices.

You miss the Mami who would give you little kisses all over your face and call you her most favourite little girl in the whole entire world. You miss the Mami who would let you crawl into bed with her and sit on her knee before a game.

But now, Mami loves Miss Olga and baby Jaume and the train store near Mami's house is shutting down.

There is no Before anymore and you don't think you can get the Before back ever again.

You don't see Mami and you don't want to, even if you really miss her sometimes. Tia Alba looks like Mami and sometimes you can pretend that she is Mami, if you close your eyes and try really hard.

Tia Alba gives you cuddles and kisses and plays trains with you and takes you to your ballet lessons on time. If you try really hard and squeeze your eyes shut nice and tight, you can pretend that it's Mami doing those things and you're in the Before again, when it was just you and her.

"We have a surprise for you," Mapi says as she gets ready to leave," Me and Ingrid. Would you like to see it?"

A surprise makes you scared. Mami told you about baby Jaume as a surprise too.

You look up at Tia Alba and she nods in encouragement so you nod as well.

Ingrid covers your eyes and that makes you nervous too, straining your ears.

You don't want the surprise to be Mami. You really, really don't want it to be Mami.

"How's my favourite little girl in the entire world?"

Ingrid's hands peal away from your eyes and you're already moving.

The arms around you feel nice and safe. You're tucked securely into the neck of a very familiar body. Familiar hands card through your hair and squeeze you with just the right amount of pressure that makes you go all limp and boneless.

You sniffle.

"Jenni?"

"Hi, Bambi," She coos at you. Kisses land on the top of your head.

You don't even notice Mapi and Ingrid leaving, so nice and secure in Jenni's arms.

"I missed you," You whisper.

"I missed you too. I always miss my favourite little girl."

You sniffle again, pulling away. You don't believe her. Mami used to say the same thing. You want to believe Jenni but you don't because you believed Mami once and all she did was lie to you.

"I missed you so, so much. See?" Jenni says. One hand lets go of you to pull out her phone. She turns on her lock screen.

It's a picture of you and her from the last time you saw each other.

You're smiling and Jenni's smiling too and more tears run unchecked down your cheeks.

"I missed you, Jenni," You whimper.

"I missed you too, Bambi. Do you want another cuddle?"

You nod.

You're absolutely tiny compared to her, so tiny and weak and completely broken. Jenni could scarcely believe it when Mapi called out of the blue.

She was in the middle of training but something told her to pick up and she did. The words came out of Mapi's mouth like an avalanche and Jenni didn't believe them.

"Alexia wouldn't neglect Bambi," She'd replied," Don't be stupid, Mapi. Bambi is the greatest thing in her life."

It was only later that Jenni realised that maybe she was projecting. You were the greatest thing in her life and had been since you were born.

You were even smaller than you were now, swaddled in a pale pink blanket Jenni had seen at a store one day and bought randomly. You had fit so beautifully in her arms with your tiny little limbs. You were everything and more and Jenni had felt jealousy stir within her that you were Alexia's.

You were the greatest thing in Jenni's life and she couldn't understand that there was a world where you weren't the greatest thing in Alexia's too.

You still fit so perfectly against her, like when you were younger, even though you're so different to then. You're so different yet completely the same.

Your trains are scattered around Alba's living room floor. You swing your legs when Jenni picks you up and you rest your head against her shoulder until all she can feel are the soft, sleepy puffs of your breath against her neck.

"You didn't have to come," Alba says softly," I don't want you to miss your matches."

"I took time off," Jenni says dismissively as she moves you until you're tucked more securely against her, completely asleep after crying yourself out," Bambi comes first."

"Jenni-"

"I almost adopted her, you know," Jenni cuts her off, blinking her own tears away," When Alexia and I were still together. Everything was nearly finished. I still have the papers. I'd signed everything. I just needed Alexia's signature giving her permission."

It's new information to Alba, clearly, but Jenni had assumed that. It was meant to be a quiet thing, a surprise for you and the rest of the family.

"And then you broke up," Alba replies.

"And then we broke up." Jenni looks down at you. Even in your sleep, you look troubled, your hand tightly making a fist around her shirt like you're afraid that she's going to disappear. "I was still happy to go through with it but I was going to Mexico and Alexia thought it would cause too much stress on Bambi. She was right, of course, but...I can't believe she's done this."

Jenni's still in shock from it all. She'd left for Mexico thinking that you would be loved, that you would be so loved by Alexia and whoever she ended up with, whoever else would adopt you in Jenni's stead. She didn't think anything like this was even possible.

"Have you got a place to stay?"

"There's a hotel-"

"Stay here," Alba says," I've only got one spare room but I don't think Bambi minds sharing. She's been sleeping with me most nights anyway."

If Jenni didn't care as much, she'd try to resist but you feel so soft and small against her that she doesn't care. She doesn't want to get a hotel room across the city. She wants to be right here, with you.

"Thank you, Alba."

"She's got ballet at three. You can take her if you want. Parents can stay in the reception area and watch."

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, it's to the shocking realisation that Jenni is real. She's real and she's holding you, lounging back on the sofa and watching tv. She's holding you and she lays soft kisses on top of your head every so often. She's laying soft kisses on your head and her nails are gently scratching at your back.

"We've got ballet soon," She whispers to you when she notices your staring," Do you feel better?"

You nod, dropping your head back down onto her chest as more kisses rain down on top of you.

"Do you enjoy ballet?" Jenni asks. Her voice is still soft and low and it wraps you up in a nice bubble that feels like the Before.

"Yes." Your voice is as equally quiet and soft.

"More than football?"

The thought of football makes your stomach go wavy. It churns and swirls and your throat closes up. "Mami was upset," You whisper," Because I was not very good when she took me."

A few months before Jaume was born, Mami took you to a team of kids your age. She had watched you with eagle eyes the whole time as the other kids left you in the dust. She hadn't yelled. She hadn't screamed but she had gone quiet.

You'd asked her what was wrong when she was driving home, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tight her knuckles went white.

"Nothing is wrong," She'd said to you," I'm just disappointed."

She'd taken you back a few more times but every time it was the same. Every day ended with 'I'm just disappointed'.

It was Abuela that told Mami to put you into ballet, spending weeks convincing her that you not playing football wasn't the end of the world.

You're scared Jenni is going to be the same so you scrunch your eyes up tight and wait for this familiar words.

"Do you really like ballet?" Jenni asks instead.

You wonder if this is a trick. You don't know what you're supposed to say so you settle on the truth. Tia Alba always tells you that you can't get in trouble for saying the truth.

"I think I like it more than I like my trains," You murmur and Jenni lands a kiss on your head.

"Well, you've got ballet in a bit," Jenni says," Is it okay if I come to watch?"

"Please, Jenni."

The ballet studio wasn't too far from Alba's house, a walkable distance between it and Alexia's.

You seemed to get more and more excited the closer you got until you were practically vibrating as Jenni swapped your trainers for your ballet pumps, twisting your hair back into a bun for you.

There's a space of parents to sit and wait, able to peer in on the session through the glass doors.

"I haven't seen you here before," One of the mothers say," Usually, Alexia drops her off and leaves. It's nice that someone is staying."

"I'm Jenni."

"y/n's other mother then? It's nice to meet you."

Jenni knows that she should correct this woman. You're not hers. You're Alexia's. But...she doesn't. She doesn't correct her because, just this once, she wants to live this fantasy where you're hers and you're happy.

"You too," Jenni says, neither confirming or denying this woman's assumption.

Her eyes don't stray from you, not even for a second. You're more animated than Jenni thinks you've been in a while. You're smiling and you're moving and that lingering air of sadness is almost completely gone.

Jenni could pretend that you were happy if it weren't for the fact that you keep glancing out the door, looking genuinely surprised that she's there every time you make eye contact.

"It's so nice that she has someone to support her," The mum from earlier continues," It's such a shame that Alexia never stays to watch. She's so talented."

Jenni's eyes stray to the door, a bolt of lightning shooting down her spine when she notices a very familiar women trying to peer through the reception doors.

"Excuse me." Jenni dismisses herself. She grabs the woman's arm as soon as she's out the door. "You've got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here. I heard Eli banned you from seeing her."

There's a fire in Alexia's eyes that tells Jenni all she needs to know. This wasn't a coincidence.

"How can I make amends if none of you let me see her? What are you even doing here, huh? Last I checked, you live in Mexico."

"And last I checked you were a good mother!"

Jenni balls her hands up into fists to stop herself from lashing out. She pushes away from Alexia, taking a few deep breaths away.

"Just...go away, Alexia."

"No!" Alexia looks half to tears. "No, I won't! That's my baby in there! I just want to see if she's okay!"

"She's going to be okay! But you need to leave her alone!"

"I'm her mother! I shouldn't have to leave her alone! She's mine!"

Jenni sighs, turning her back to her ex. "Go, Ale."

"Jenni...Jenni, please. That's my baby."

Jenni ignores her, shoving the door open and letting it swing shut right in Alexia's face.

"Coparenting issues?" The mother from earlier asks. She tuts. "I remember those days. It'll get better."

Jenni makes a noise of acknowledgement and focuses back on you.

When you come out nearly an hour later, you're so excited, grabbing Jenni's hand and pulling her all the way over to your dance teacher.

"You're not Alexia," The woman says.

"Jenni. Jenni Hermoso. I'm y/n's-"

She has to stop herself. She's not sure what to say. She's not your mother. She's not your step-mother. She's the woman that could have adopted you, once upon a time.

"I'm Jenni," She settles on.

"Well, Jenni, if you could pass this along to Alexia? I run another class on Thursdays for the more..." She glances around, lowering her voice. "Advanced students. I really think your y/n would fit right in."

She hands Jenni a permission slip and information pack and Jenni just nods dumbly, one hand holding yours and the other this stack of papers.

"Er...yeah," She says," I'll get it to her."

The teacher smiles and bids you goodbye as the older children flood into her studio.

"Advanced, huh?" Jenni says, beaming at you as she hoists you up onto her hip.

You don't make eye contact. "Is that okay? Mami says sometimes that dance is hard to fit in with her schedule."

"I'm not Mami," Jenni says, her eyes flicking to where Alexia is standing in the car park, just watching," It fits perfectly into my schedule."

Alexia looks pathetic, Jenni thinks. She looks small and curled in on herself, nothing like the strong Barcelona captain she knows Alexia is. She looks exhausted too, more exhausted than someone with just a simple newborn.

It's eating her up inside, Jenni knows this but she can find no sympathy in her for the woman she once dreamed of parenting you with.

She dug her grave. Now she must lie in it.

But Jenni's certain that she's not going to let Alexia bury you too.

"That's Mami." Your smile drops from your face and your shoulders slump when you notice Alexia.

"It is," Jenni confirms, standing in the middle of the pavement.

She doesn't want Alexia to see you but she doesn't want you to stop seeing Alexia if you want to see her.

"Is she here to take me away?" Your voice wobbles and you look over at your Mami from under your lashes.

"I think she's just here to see how your lesson went."

"She got me a train and another present," You whisper," I haven't opened them. Will she be angry at me?"

"No, Bambi," Jenni says and her next words taste like ash in her mouth," Your Mami loves you too much to be angry at you."

"And she won't take me from you?"

"No one is going to take you from me."

You bite at your lip and Jenni hates the uncertainty in your eyes. "Can...Can we see Mami?"

"If you want."

"Please, Jenni."

Her steps are careful and measured and Alexia stands up straight when she notices you both coming. She wipes her hands on her shirt and straightens out her clothes.

Jenni places you on the ground and Alexia kneels, her arms open for you.

You shy away, ducking behind Jenni's legs and peaking out.

Alexia feels like crying as she drops her arms. "Hola, Bambi," She says, trying to control the wobble in her voice," How was dance?"

"Good," You say," I...My teacher says I can move up. She gave Jenni papers."

Alexia frowns, her eyes flicking up to Jenni. "That's nice."

Jenni holds the papers out to her. "It's a permission slip and information pack," She says," For the advanced class. Bambi is very good at ballet."

Alexia flashes you a smile. "That's good, isn't it, Bambi? You're very good at ballet, huh?"

Your head bobs up and down. "My teacher thinks so."

"I'm very proud of you."

The look of shock on your face is heartbreaking, like you can't quite believe she's saying those words to you.

"Really?" Tears glisten in your eyes and Alexia hates herself for what she's done. You never used to be so uncertain around her.

Her throat closes up and she has to push past the lump to speak again. "So, so proud of you, Bambi. I'm glad you're doing so well at ballet. Maybe I can come and watch soon."

It's clear in that moment that Alexia has maybe pushed too far. The wounds of your neglect are still too raw for you, still open and weeping blood.

You recoil again and squeeze Jenni's hand.

"I have Jenni," You say," She watches me dance."

The look on Alexia's face is heartbroken and finally, Jenni feels the smallest bit of pity.

"Maybe not soon," She says, a hand stroking down the flyaways from your bun," Maybe one day."

"Maybe one day," You repeat softly and Alexia gives you a watery kind of smile in response.

"Maybe one day," She confirms. She stands properly again, looking at the papers in her hand. "I'll...I'll get these back to you signed off soon."

Jenni nods. "I'll talk to your mother. Supervised visits might not be out of the question."

"Thank you."

Jenni picks you up again as Alexia gets into her car. You don't leave her arms all the way back to Alba's place.

Jenni wasn't your mother. There was a chance, a long time ago, that she could have been but Alexia never signed on the dotted line, a line drawn in the sand that's now a gaping chasm.

Jenni isn't your mother but that doesn't mean she doesn't wish she was.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #jenni hermoso x reader #jenni hermoso #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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andvys · 2 months

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter eight ⭐︎ Say my name and everything just stops

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! jealousy, angst, low self-esteem (kinda?), mentions of the upside down. weed and alcohol consumption. I will not spoiler anything here, so read with caution

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You blindly began to follow your feelings, hanging onto a hope that died just as quickly as it came.

Word count: 10k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult and I came up with this whole idea and we kept talking about this moment for weeks and now its finally here, I hope you guys are gonna enjoy it as much as we did hehe

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

The spring wind blows through the open windows in your room, touching your skin and slightly lifting the ends of your new dress. The smell of vanilla and the floral scent of your perfume lingers in the air. You’re leaning closer to your mirror as you apply your favorite gloss to your lips.

A tingling, exciting feeling bubbles in your stomach, your heart jumping every few seconds or so at the thought of seeing him today.

Steve’s reactions were everything you were hoping for when you teased him at the diner and in his car, yesterday. His blushing cheeks and the wide, darkened eyes filled you with victory after you had placed a kiss upon his flushed skin. You are still not sure what had caused you the sudden rush of courage, but you’re glad that it hit you because the way he looked at you, the way he reacted, the way his breath hitched in his throat finally gave you the last push to do what you had always wanted to do. Today, you’re finally going to give in to your feelings.

The nervous, insecure part of you is telling you that there is still a big chance that he might reject you, that you will ruin this thing between you both by making the final move.

And usually that weak part of your mind would win, it would fill you with enough humiliating images to pull back, to make you rethink your decision, to keep you hiding in the shadows, the way you always did.

But you’re no longer letting it win.

You will do this, even if you might lose your dignity.

Placing the lip gloss back on your vanity, you reach for your favorite necklace, and put it on. You touch up your hair one last time, fixing your bangs before you take a step back, eying the red and white sundress, the little bows on the straps, the dainty flowers on the material, the shortness of it that exposes enough of your skin to drive him crazy… you hope.

‘Just make your move, babe. Do you really think King Steve would reject you?’

Your smile falls a little when Billy’s voice echoes in your mind.

Every memory of your best friend brings a hurtful pang to your heart.

He was the only one who knew about your feelings for Steve and surprisingly he kept encouraging you to ask him out, to make your move.

Would he be proud of you now?

Or would he still make fun of you for liking someone like Steve?

You step away from the mirror and walk over to the window, closing it before you leave your room and make your way downstairs. Eddie isn’t picking you up for once, even though he called you three times already, asking if he should come pick you up and if you’re truly feeling good enough to drive yourself again – you are. The headaches are gone, the dizziness is gone too. All that is left are the nightmares and the sudden rushes of anxiety but you are okay, you feel okay.

You walk over to the dresser in your hallway, reaching inside the key bowl to retrieve your car keys when something else catches your eye. The one single key, lying in there, you reach for it, furrowing your brows as you trace your finger along the metal, letting it fall in your palm.

You still remember the day when Max had showed up at your house, asking for you to take Billy’s car before Neil would destroy it in a moment of rage.

‘He’d want you to have it anyway.’ She said as she handed you the keys.

You remember how you broke down crying the moment you got into the driver's seat. You missed your best friend and it felt so wrong to sit in the place that once belonged to him.

You got the windshield fixed and anything else that needed to be repaired, before you parked it in your garage, planning to never open the gate again and just leave the car there until Max would ask for it back. And, you did leave it there, for a few weeks at least.

Your car broke down on a hot Friday afternoon and the mechanic at the local shop told you that it would take a few weeks to get it fixed. You walked and used the bus for a few days, and then the rain and the storms crashed upon Hawkins, giving you no choice but to take the blue Camaro.

Max even joked about it, she told you that it was Billy who caused your car to break down and who somehow let it rain and storm over the town so you would finally take his beloved car out for a ride because it’s just too pretty to be hidden and locked away in a dark, cold garage.

You’d sometimes drive around at night, when the streets were empty and no one was around.

When you visited your sister in Indianapolis, you took his car.

But now it’s been a while, the last time you sat behind that steering wheel was right before the apocalypse almost hit the town.

A sigh falls from your lips as you stare at the key.

“Not today,” you murmur as you place it back where it laid before and reach for your keys.

The drive to Eddie’s new place isn’t a long one, he only lives a few streets away from you now, it would only be a ten minute walk but you desperately waited for the moment when you could finally drive again, and you didn’t want to pass up on the opportunity today.

You missed this, sitting behind the steering wheel, instead of the passenger seat, longing to be the one in control. You missed picking the music yourself – not that Eddie’s music taste is a bad one, you just need a mix of everything, not just rock and heavy metal, sometimes you just need a girly pop song – not that you would ever admit it to him.

When you arrive at your destination and you pull up to Eddie’s driveway, you notice that Steve’s car isn’t there yet. Only Jonathan’s car is parked next to Eddie’s Impala.

Steve is never late, yesterday being the first time that he was the last one to arrive, so he is either still waiting for Robin or… running late is his new thing.

“There she is!” Eddie chuckles as opens the front door at the same time as you get out of your car, “and she’s here in one piece!”

A laugh tumbles from your lips as you close the door and lock your car before you make your way over to him, eying the new shirt he’s wearing – which is just another band tee that you have never heard of before. His curly hair up in a bun and a can of beer in his hand.

“I’m a good driver, what are you talking about, Eds?”

He furrows his brows, lips curling into an amused smile, “are you?”

You walk up the steps to his porch, greeting him with an eye roll, “you know what, next time I’ll pick you up.”

He smirks, using his index finger to point at your car.

“What, with your baby Mustang over there?”

You squint your eyes at him, “nope, I’ll take the hidden gem in my garage.”

“Wait what… What hidden gem?”

“You’ll find out,” you wink at him, trying to brush past him when he stops you, placing his hand on your arm, he pulls you back softly.

“Wait.”

You raise your brows at him, “yes?”

He’s got the twinkle in his eyes, the one he always has when he’s happy about something. His lip twitches, pale cheeks slowly changing color, he’s barely able to contain his excitement as he bounces on his feet.

“Guess who scored a date?”

Your eyes widen, lips parting as you remember the pretty waitress from the diner.

Eddie is blushing, lips now curling into a full smile.

“Oh my god, really?” You ask as a grin appears on your face.

“Yeah! I’m gonna take her out tomorrow night, I can’t fucking wait, sweets.” He says with a dreamy look in his eyes. “She was so sweet a-and fuck… she’s gorgeous, don’t know how she said yes to me.”

You frown at him, reaching your hand out to pinch his cheek, “you’re a handsome, sweet boy, Edward, now shush. You’re gonna knock her off her feet. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

His eyes soften, he rubs the back of his neck before his fingers trace the scar on the side – you know that it’s now an insecurity of his, just like it is one of yours. Scars litter your skin from where a bat had left a gnarly wound on the back of your shoulder, from where Jason had hurt you, from where he had left reminders for you that he was the one who did this to you.

But your scars aren’t nearly half as bad as all the ones on his skin.

“I’ve never been on a date before,” he murmurs, eyes flashing with doubt.

“So? It’s gonna be even more special then,” you shrug.

“I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“You won’t,” you smile at him, “you’ve got that special charm, one that makes others like you right away, you’re funny and you’re sweet, now stop doubting yourself or I’ll kick your ass and hunt down every asshole who ever made you feel otherwise.”

He chuckles at your words, though his eyes are still soft as he looks at you. He doesn’t doubt you, he knows that you would actually hunt down every name on the list of people who hurt him.

“Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good,” you say, sternly.

“Good,” he nods.

You stare at each other for a moment before you both burst into giggles. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and he pulls you inside his house, narrowing his eyes as he takes in your dress.

“Who’d you dress up for, sweets?” He asks, “there’s no hot guys here.”

“Well, aren’t you humble?”

“No hot guys besides me, of course,” he corrects himself after clearing his throat, smirking at you.

You only shake your head in response.

You pass by the kitchen and the big shelf that was specifically customized for Wayne’s mug collection. Vinyls are on the walls in the long hallway that leads to the living room where you hear the chatter of your friends and the faint music that sounds through the house.

The smell of weed already lingering in the air.

The sound of Nancy’s giggle, followed by a voice you hadn’t heard in a while makes you furrow your brows.

“Argyle is back?”

Your surprised voice along with the wide eyes you look at him with make him chuckle. He knew you weren’t paying attention when he told you about it days back. You were too distracted by whatever daydream you were stuck in as he let both you and Steve know that Argyle was coming back to spend the summer in Hawkins before going off to college in September – something that Eddie definitely won’t be doing, he won’t be going to college, he won’t be going anywhere, at least not now, not yet, maybe not ever, even though it’s all he ever wanted.

He walked the stupid stage, he snatched his diploma and he finally flipped Higgins the bird, despite the glares, despite the whispers of the people who still blamed him for what had happened weeks back but it doesn’t matter, he tells himself. It doesn’t matter what they say or think because he got people who believed him, people who care about him, people who were willing to fight for him, people who are worth staying for.

“Yeah, he’s here the whole summer.”

“Ooh, means we’re gonna get high a lot, cool,” you giggle.

“Like we don’t do that all that time,” Eddie rolls his eyes, though a smile tugs at his lips as he pushes towards the living room, your feet carrying you closer and closer to your friends.

Despite Steve not being here yet, you already feel the rush of excitement mixed with the nervousness of what you plan on doing, flushing through your veins.

Your eyes first fall on Jonathan and Nancy who are standing by the door that leads out into Eddie’s backyard, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips when she sees you.

“Hi!” She waves at you, a friendly look on her face.

“Hey,” you smile at her before you look over at her boyfriend, greeting him as well. You then turn your head to your right, your smile widening when your eyes meet Argyle’s already very dazed ones.

He stands up from his seat on the couch, his hair falling in front of his face a little, he opens his arms, revealing his Bob Marley shirt to you.

“Well look at what the cat dragged in,” he jokes as he steps towards you, “come here, chica.”

You chuckle, leaving Eddie’s side to greet Argyle, who instantly pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of weed enveloping you, right away.

“I didn’t know you’d be back so soon!”

“So soon?” He slurs, patting your head when you pull back again, chuckling when you swat his hand away. “You didn’t miss me?” He jokes as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, just the way Eddie did before, he pulls something out of his pocket, handing it to you, “here, got you a little gift from California.”

Your eyes lighten up in amusement, a smile tugging at your lips as you look at the blunt he’s holding, you take it, holding it up as you look up at him with a grin, “why thanks.”

“You gotta share that one with me,” Jonathan grins at you, lazily.

“You’ve had enough already,” Nancy rolls her eyes, though not without a smile on her lips. She pats his chest, “come on, let’s go outside.”

“Yeah, you guys go ahead, I’m gonna grab some more drinks,” Eddie says before he leaves the living room.

You all step out into the backyard, walking over to the little fire pit where the flames are already glowing, surrounded by the comfortable seats. The sound of water flowing from the stream filling the air with a fresh scent, the smell of flowers and the trees giving you a sense of peace.

Eddie’s backyard is comforting and nice, despite being close to the forest, it’s making you feel safe. He wouldn’t have this now if he hadn’t been dragged into a world of darkness – unlike you, he didn’t grow up in wealth, he didn’t have a fancy house, a fancy backyard with a pool. No. Eddie grew up in a lonesome house, one that certainly wasn’t as luxurious as yours or the one he lives in now. The house he grew up in was haunted by painful memories of his mother that he lost at a way too young age and his father who came and went as he pleased, it was the only thing that he had, the only thing he called his own, but that was taken from him too and he had no choice but to move in with his Uncle Wayne, who had done everything to give him a home – and now, Eddie gave him that back, he gave Wayne a home, a nice house with a nice roof over his head, a garden that he always wanted to have. Eddie had tried to keep the upside down a secret, he didn’t want to talk about what was out there, he didn’t want to worry him, he didn’t want to tell him where all the money actually came from but Wayne isn’t stupid and Eddie isn’t exactly the best at keeping secrets from the people he loves and cares about.

You wonder what you would have told your parents if they were still here – would you have told them the truth about what actually happened at the Creel house? Or would you have kept it all a secret? You are certainly much better at keeping secrets hidden. Eddie couldn’t even look Wayne in the eyes when he told him that the bite marks on his skin came from a rabid dog and not from interdimensional bats.

Something cold touches your shoulder, making you flinch in surprise. You tilt your head up, meeting the eyes of your best friend again, “where’s your head at, sweets?” He chuckles, holding the can of diet pepsi out to you.

With furrowed brows, you look down at the drink and reach for it, “thanks,” you murmur, “and uh, nowhere. I’m just fascinated by your backyard.”

His dimples show when a laugh escapes him, he takes a seat beside you, snatching away the blunt from your lap, he places it between his lips and uses his red lighter to light it up. He lets out a content sigh as he leans back, puffing out the smoke into the sky before he takes a look around, “it’s nice isn’t it?”

You nod, pulling the tab on your pepsi, it opens with a pop.

“It’s better than mine.”

He turns his head to look at you, a bewildered look on his face, “you’re crazy, sweets. You got a pool.”

“You got one too!” You chuckle, pointing to the pool that has yet to be used, it’s warm out, not hot yet.

“Yeah, well yours is fucking huge, and you got a hot tub too!”

“You got a hot tub, chica?” Argyle gasps from your right, “oh, you’re rich rich.”

“Correction, my parents were rich.”

“Correction, we’re all rich now,” Jonathan adds, pointing at you with a dazed smile.

“Rich isn’t exactly the term I would use,” Nancy mumbles as she takes a sip of her soda.

“Then what term would you use, Wheeler?” Eddie asks, shaking his head at her, “enlighten us.”

Nancy clears her throat, placing her elbow on the wooden armrest, “we’re taken care of.”

Jonathan snorts, putting his hand on her thigh as he gives her an amused smile, while she already rolls her eyes at whatever is about to leave his mouth – there’s no annoyance behind her eyes though, no tension in her body from where he touched her, unlike with Steve, who she always looked tense and irritated with. Back then you didn’t understand why, there were so many questions in your mind when you watched them and when she left him – how could anyone be irritated with Steve? How could anyone be tense with someone that provides so much love and warmth to the people he so deeply cares about? How could she leave him? How could she break his heart? Who could ever hurt Steve Harrington?

“Just admit it, we’re rich.”

A groan echoes through the backyard, one that doesn’t belong to Eddie, Nancy or anyone else sitting in the circle. You all turn your heads towards the house, finding a very annoyed Robin making her way over to you, a six pack of beers in her hand, sunglasses perched on her nose even though the sun is starting to go down already.

Eddie isn’t surprised at her barging into his home, she does it all the time, to him, to you, to Steve, he doesn’t mind it though.

You straighten your back, holding your drink tighter as you look away from her, waiting for Steve to walk through the door.

The feelings inside of you start to rise again, your heart picking up the pace as your skin starts burning from the excitement.

Robin plops down in the seat next to Eddie, placing the beers on the ground as she slumps back, sighing loudly.

Everyone’s watching her, expecting a rant already but you’re still fixated on the door, waiting for him.

“Buckley, why so angry?”

She pulls her sunglasses up into her hair, turning to face him, “I’m glad you asked,” she murmurs as she reaches for one of the beers, “Dingus ditched me, so I had to walk all the way here!” She throws her arms up dramatically.

You furrow your brows at her words, the burning on your skin beginning to die down just as fast as it came.

Argyle and Jonathan chuckle at her.

“You live 3 blocks away from here…” Nancy mumbles.

“Not the point, Nance,” she argues, glaring at her friend.

“Wait, so Steve isn’t coming?” Jonathan slurs.

Your eyes are wide and hopeful, your hand clutching the can tighter as you dig your feet into the grass beneath you, a weird feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

“Wetting his dick with Heidi seems more fucking important today,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes as she raises the beer to her lips.

Your heart drops.

The burning in your skin disappears completely as the fire is replaced by ice, the coldness of it freezing your whole body, stopping your heart and taking the false hope away as it kills every feeling that had taken home inside of you just seconds ago.

Your eyes are stuck on her like you’re waiting, waiting for her to laugh and say it was a joke, that he will be here soon, that he isn’t out with some other girl after what happened between you and him yesterday.

“Whoa, what?” Eddie mumbles, holding his hands up, “so… he’s on a date with the girl he didn’t want to keep seeing?”

“Yep.”

Every ounce of excitement is now replaced by the sickness in your stomach, the lump in your throat that makes you struggle to breathe.

What were you thinking?

That the game you played wasn't just a game to him? That it was something more than that? That he wanted you just the way you always wanted him? That he could ever feel something for you?

You don’t know whether you want to laugh at yourself or cry.

How saddening it is to long for someone who was forced to like you.

While you were getting ready, making yourself look pretty for him, thinking that he might like you in this dress – he was getting ready to take out another girl, a girl that he chose to like.

You slowly slump back in your seat when Eddie’s laughter pulls you back into reality. You blink, masking the shocked, pained look on your face with a relaxed one as you take a sip of your drink, hoping that it will get rid of the lump sitting in your throat – it doesn’t. Nothing does.

Your friends move on to another topic, while you stay there, where you will stay for a while now. The pain of the rejection that has never even taken place, slowly sinking in and everything around you begins to suffocate you – the dress you are wearing, the necklace around your neck, even the presence of your friends.

You don’t want to be here any longer, you need to be alone.

But you can’t go, not now, not yet.

It would be too soon, too obvious and they can’t know, no one can know about your feelings for Steve, about how much it hurts to feel that way for him.

So you hide the pain as best as you can, you nod along to your friends' conversation, you speak and you laugh when you have to, even when everything inside of you wants you to cry both out of sadness and anger.

You’re not even angry at him, you couldn’t be angry at him even if you tried to be. He doesn’t know about your feelings – if he did, he wouldn’t have filled you with false hope, you know he wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t string you along, you know he’s not the type of person to do something like that, not even to you. But you really thought that you had something, that there was something between you, that’s why you let your walls crumble, that’s why you started acting upon your feelings, that’s why you were ready to do more than just the subtle touches and the flirtations.

You wait, you wait for the right moment to leave, when everyone is distracted enough, you get up, after whispering an apology, a lie into Eddie’s ear, knowing that he doesn’t believe you, that he will probably call you later or even show up to check on you. But he lets you go.

And as you leave your friends, making your way back into the house, their laughter echoes in your ears, their happy voices and the cheerfulness they’re all feeling, that you were supposed to feel too.

You blink back the tears, not wanting them to fall just yet.

You make your way back to your car, not wasting a second to start it and drive home, your vision blurred and your throat hurting from how much you want to cry.

How foolish it was of you to think that you could ever stand a chance – there was never one to begin with. You will always be the one in the shadows, the one to secretly watch him, the one to secretly want him, the one with the jealousy and the heartache, the one wishing to be anyone but herself because maybe then, he would want you too.

The smell of smoke from the campfire is now lingering on your clothes and in your hair, tears are now falling freely, ruining the makeup that you have spent hours on, the makeup that you can’t wait to wash off now.

You don’t even want to think about him.

You don’t want to ask yourself what he’s doing now.

He touched you so softly, so subtly, and yet it did everything to set your insides on fire, to make you feel special, even if only for a short moment.

Now he is touching someone else, in far more special ways.

A frustrated sigh falls from your lips when you step inside your home, it’s cold and empty, something that you have felt like for a very long time until he started the fire inside of you, only to make it die again… and all without his knowledge.

You walk up the stairs and past your room, going straight into the bathroom, feeling the need to wash away the day, as though it could ease the aching in your chest. You start the shower before you turn to the sink, not even bothering to look at your reflection in the mirror, it would only make you feel more pathetic.

You can feel the hot tears rolling down your cheeks, the quivering in your bottom lip.

You hate this, you hate the sadness that you shouldn’t be feeling in the first place.

You got no reason to be sad, you should have put your feelings aside, knowing that nothing would ever come out of it.

It was all so obvious, it was just teasing, nothing more, nothing less. Nothing ever happened, so why would it happen now? He just found another way of messing with you, so that you two wouldn’t go at each other's throats like before.

You just have to go back. No more teasing like this. No more letting yourself get sucked into delusions. He is just having fun while you crave something more with him and get hopeful.

You aren’t having fun. You wanted more.

You have no choice but to go back to how you were before this… thing started.

Once your makeup is off and your dress is now laying on the bathroom floor, you step inside the shower, letting the warmth envelope you, hoping for a sense of comfort from it.

Standing there for a moment, you let the water rain upon your skin, matching the pace of your tears that you’re willing away.

You will hunt Billy in the afterlife for making you believe that King Steve could ever want you.

You use your scented shampoo, hoping that it will get rid of the smell of smoke in your hair. You love campfire’s but you can’t stand the stench it leaves on your clothes and your hair.

Your hands run over your smooth skin as you wash your body, reminding you of the fact that you even shaved this morning – you couldn’t feel more stupid than you do right now.

Despite the loudness of your own voice cursing at you inwardly and the water hitting the glass, you hear the sound of your doorbell going off – multiple times.

“What the fuck,” you murmur in confusion.

It keeps ringing again and again – once, twice and it stops after a third time before it turns into rapid knocking.

You know it isn’t Eddie, he wouldn’t even have the patience to ring your doorbell and wait for you to open, he’d just barge right in.

You’d choose to ignore it if the person outside wasn’t so goddamn persistent.

You turn off the shower, squeezing the water from your hair before you get out, and wrap a towel around your body. The mirror is fogged, as the rest of the room is, you open the door and step out into the hallway, that now feels colder than before.

The knocking continues, filling you with anger.

Who shows up at night, knocking like a mad man?

Maybe you shouldn’t make your way downstairs now, maybe you shouldn’t open the door to whoever it is on the other side. It could be anyone or anything but you doubt that Vecna came back from the dead to knock on doors now and hunt you of all people – he could have done that weeks back, you went through enough trauma, he could have easily chosen you but even he didn’t want you.

You rip open the door, ready to curse and yell at whoever is terrorizing you at this hour but every word gets caught in your throat and even your breathing halts for a second as your glassy eyes meet the hazel ones that you have been missing all day. Frustration and anger swirling inside them, blazing fire raging behind his eyes. His cheeks are slightly flushed, his chest rising up and down heavily as he stands on your porch, looking better than ever.

“Steve?” His name tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it as you stare at him in confusion.

He eyes you up and down, taking in the sight of your exposed skin that is still dripping with water before he clenches his jaw, raising his hand to run his fingers through his hair, tugging at it.

Steve Harrington is fucked. He is utterly fucked. You have cursed him in every way possible, he can’t get you out of his mind, he can’t get you out of his system and the thought that you were only playing with him drove him insane. His hunger for you made him desperate, desperate for release.

So in his state of frustration and desperation, he called up Heidi, thinking that a date and sex with a girl he had been with before would help him move on and stop thinking about you but who was he fooling. He couldn’t even kiss her when she leaned in to greet him with her lips, he dodged her. He couldn’t even listen to the things she was telling him after they ordered their drinks. He couldn’t care less about her. All he could think about was you. All he wanted was you. He wanted your lips to kiss him, he wanted your hands to touch him, he wanted your body under his and the more he thought about it, the more he stopped caring about a possible humiliation after he’d finally make a move on you, he needed you, and he needed to try – if you’d reject him, then so be it, at least he would know and not live with the what if’s in his head.

He canceled the date in the middle of it, not caring about how messed up that was. He drove her home and without a second thought, he drove here, he came to you.

And now, you’re standing in front of him, in nothing but a towel, water rolling down your soft skin, big eyes filled with confusion, lips parted, lips that he wants to kiss until he grows breathless.

The sight in front of him does little to make any of this easier for him. You look like you’ve just walked out of one the dreams he had about you.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he murmurs under his breath, surprising you when he invites himself into your home, brushing past you with an intensity that almost knocks you off your feet.

You blink, turning around abruptly, a bewildered look replacing your confused one.

As you take in the sight of him, your sadness begins to dissolve as the anger you started to miss floods through your veins the longer you look at him.

You slam the door shut when the wind causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, you hold the towel tighter against your body as you glare at him, “what the fuck?”

“I have to be the one to say that!” He argues.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your face now burning with rage. Every second that passes now makes you forget about the tears you just shed over him, irritation sparking inside of you so wildly that you want nothing more than to kick him out of your house for behaving that way towards you for no reason. “Weren’t you on a date with… Heidi?”

Steve clenches his jaw at the mocking voice, at the smirk now tugging on your lips. He chuckles, though not in amusement, he points a finger at you, “see, that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

Your brows knit together at his outburst, the fire in his eyes growing stronger and bigger.

“Harrington, if you came to yell nonesense at me, just fucking leave!” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, making your way back towards the stairs.

But his scoff stops you.

“Oh, so you keep running away huh!? Didn’t you already get over that!?”

You turn around with nothing but anger boiling inside of you, “running away!? From what!?”

This should have been enough to make him turn around and leave, because clearly nothing changed, clearly this is still just a game to you – but he has hope, and he is desperate enough to throw every bit of his dignity away and risk something.

“Oh, don’t play fucking dumb right now. Acting like that for two weeks and pretending to be stupid is not a good look on you, Blondie.”

You take in a sharp breath, digging your fingers into your towel as you frown at him.

What does he want from you?

Why did he come here?

Was the date so bad, was the sex so awful that he had to come here to torture you?

Without another word, you turn around and you stomp up the stairs, not wanting to see him, not wanting to hear his voice anymore.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest again, and you can’t help but wonder – did he figure you out? Did he figure out your feelings? Is that why he is here? To confront you about them? To reject you?

You feel more and more stupid about what you had wanted to do when you woke up this morning.

Just when your feet carry you up to the second floor, and you rush across the hallway to walk into your room, his footsteps echo behind you, making you more irritated than before. You turn around to face him, but before you can even say anything, Steve is suddenly right in front of you, and his hands reach out to grab your waist, he pushes you against the wall behind you, gently, careful not to hurt you.

The gasp that falls from your lips startles you. His hands that touch the only thing that covers your body leaving your skin on fire. Your heart rate picks up so rapidly that it nearly steals your breath away. You look up into his golden brown orbs, the ones that are nearly black as he steps even closer, invading your space completely, making you breathe in the scent of his cologne, the one that has butterflies swirling in your stomach.

He catches you off guard completely.

You feel so vulnerable, so exposed as you stand there, caged in by his arms, his breath on your skin, his eyes that are filled with so much hunger.

The words die on your tongue, and yet, after you breathe in more of his scent, you open your mouth to speak.

“Shut up, Blondie… Just shut up for a second,” he murmurs, interrupting whatever words you had prepared to lie to him with.

His right hand leaves your waist, inching closer to your stomach as his fingers trace the hem of your towel, drool already forming in his mouth at the sight of you, he is ready to take you, ready to devour you and make you scream his name before he fucks you for only this time.

He notices the way your chest is moving, the way your breathing stutters.

“W-What are you doing, perv?” You stutter as you watch him play with the opening of your towel.

He can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at your insult.

“Perv? Are you going to continue to play fucking dumb?”

“Dumb? You are the dumb one if you think that I’m going to be the one to break into your teasing.”

Steve’s eyes flash with satisfaction.

This is what he wanted – to hear you admit that you were playing that game with him after all and not because you were playing him and stringing him along just to turn him down to gain something from it, whatever it might be. No. You were doing just what he was hoping for, all along.

You want him just as much as he wants you and that’s all he needs to know.

You roll your eyes at him, turning your head as you try to push your way out of his grasp but before you can even step away from him, his hands stop you but not on your waist this time. His large hands cup your cheeks, making you freeze. You stare at him wide eyed when he brings you closer, and you can’t even react before his whole body is suddenly pressed against yours, your heartbeat lurches into your throat.

As though his touch wasn’t shocking enough, his next move almost causes you to collapse, because now it isn’t only his body against yours, his hands on your cheeks or his breath on your skin, now it’s his lips… his lips on yours, his lips moving against yours in desperation as he takes every last of your breath and makes it his own.

You can’t do anything, you can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t even blink as you stare at him – how his eyes are closed and his cheeks are flushed, the furrowed brows as he kisses you with a kind of passion no one has ever kissed you with before.

Steve is kissing you.

Steve Harrington is kissing you.

His lips are moving roughly against yours, his hands holding your cheeks so softly, yet with an intensity.

This is all you ever wanted, to feel his touch and his lips on yours but you are too stunned to move, too surprised to kiss him back right now, too distracted wondering if this is real or not.

Along with the shock, you feel the slightest bit of insecurity flooding through you because even though he is kissing you, you can’t help but wonder why. Why isn’t he with Heidi? Why isn’t he kissing her right now? Did she turn him down? Did he come here because he just needed someone? Because he knew that you would fall for this? Or is this just another way for him to tease you?

Those questions prompt you to push him away, forcing him to break the kiss that he was so deeply lost in.

You notice the way he begrudgingly pulls away, the way he seems so drawn to your lips, the way his brows furrow in confusion now, his face is flushed and his pupils dilated as he looks at you with nothing but desperation in his eyes – he isn’t teasing, he wants you, he wants you right now and isn’t that all that matters? That he wants you?

His eyes stare into yours as he is breathing heavily. A flash of rejection takes over his features and by the look in his eyes, you can tell that he is beginning to get lost in his anxious thoughts – thoughts that you quickly shut down by making the move that he just made. You cup his cheeks and you pull him down, closing your eyes as you slam your lips against his for the very first time.

Unlike you, he wastes no second to reciprocate the kiss, a sigh of content leaving him as he presses you back against the wall.

Warmth blooms in your stomach, one that doesn’t stay the same temperature for long because the moment he deepens the kiss, the moment his hands hold you tighter and his knee parts your legs, sliding his thigh in between yours as the kiss gets rougher and rougher, you feel the warmth evolving into a deeper, burning sensation – a fire inside of you that only he can mend.

You can’t believe that this is happening, that something that you had been craving for years is now here.

And Steve, he feels his heart pounding in his chest from the rush, from the adrenaline, from his desperation that grows bigger and stronger when he feels just how much you want him as your lips move roughly with his.

You're hesitant with your touch, but when he grabs your face and pulls you even tighter against his body, his thigh pressing stronger against your core, you can’t help but throw your arms around his neck, digging your fingers into the hair that you’ve always wanted to touch.

You can feel him smirking against your lips when you moan into the kiss, which prompts you to tug at his hair and press your tongue against his bottom lip.

He welcomes it into his mouth so eagerly, his tongue now clashing against yours as his palms slide down to your waist while your hands reach for the front of his shirt, fisting the material tightly as you begin to drag him into your room.

You both know, you both feel where this is going, what this is leading to – what the past few weeks have been leading to.

You want this, you need this, you need him, even if just for tonight.

And you know, you already know that you will be done for, that he will ruin you for anyone else but you couldn’t care less, right now. Especially when he kisses you with so much roughness, everything about this setting all your insides on fire, leaving your skin burning and yet aching for more.

Steve is careful not to step on your bare feet as you lead him backwards into a different room. Excitement bubbles in his stomach and he grows even more breathless than before, he pulls away and breaks the kiss but doesn’t hesitate to latch his lips onto your neck, kissing and biting your flesh, “I fucking hate you, Blondie. I hate that I want you so much.”

Your lashes flutter as you close your eyes, tilting your head to the side as you feel your stomach and your heart fluttering at his touch, at his lips on your skin but especially at his words.

Your knees grow weak and a needy whimper falls from your puffy lips.

All that echoes in your mind now is I want you. I want you. I want you.

You don’t even care about the other things he said to you, you only care about the three little words you have only ever dreamt of before.

You almost fall when you feel the back of your legs hitting your bed, but he keeps you upright, not pushing you down just yet. He keeps nibbling on your neck, kissing, biting, sucking as he breathes heavily against you, growing harder against your stomach.

“Couldn’t even finish the fucking date, couldn’t do anything cause I kept thinking about you, Blondie,” he speaks into your neck, fingers now dangerously close to your bare skin behind the towel.

Your heart nearly explodes at his words and you can’t help but sigh in relief, knowing that nothing happened between him and Heidi. And all because of you.

“You drive me fucking crazy, I want to rip the towel right off–”

“Then do!” You whine, not caring about how eager and desperate you sound, “show me how much you hate me, Stevie.”

He pulls away from your neck after placing another wet kiss to your skin, strands of your hair getting caught in his as he faces you again, with flushed cheeks and almost black eyes he looks at you and takes in the sight of you, the pout on your lips, the flustered look on your face, big eyes that you are begging him with.

He doesn’t even bother to look around the room, just caring about the bed behind you.

He rips the towel off your body, letting it fall to the ground, his hands find your bare waist that he grips tightly as he throws you on the bed, smirking at the gasp that leaves your lips again.

Without hesitating to, he reaches for the hem of his shirt and rips it off.

Just like back then on the boat, when he took his shirt off before he jumped into the water, you stare at his chest, almost drooling at the delicious sight in front of you. His broad shoulders, the scar around his neck that makes him look even hotter, the hairs on his chest, the muscles in his arms that have visibly gotten bigger since high school. You bite your lip as your eyes move down, almost whining when you see the bulge in his tight jeans.

You wish you could run your finger down his chest and his stomach, tracing every little scar that the bats have left behind, but instead, you push yourself up, blushing at the fact that you are completely bare in front of him. You reach for his belt, fingers beginning to fumble with the metal when he stops you with a simple touch and a headshake.

“None of that,” he murmurs as he leans over, his hands digging between your ass and the mattress as he suddenly pulls you to the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees before you, he throws your legs over his shoulder and looks up at you with hooded eyes, “I need to hear you first.”

You nearly combust when you feel his breath on your pussy and his lips on your inner thighs. A whimper falling from your mouth as you try to close your legs out of instinct, blushing even harder than before.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he smirks, holding your thighs open as he teasingly slips a finger through your folds, “all for me, huh?”

You don’t answer but you don’t need to, the loud moan that you let out when he dives right into you with his tongue, gives him everything he needs to know.

He moans in content as he grabs your ass roughly, eyes rolling back when he tastes you for the first time, he almost starts drooling over you, finding pleasure in this.

He teasingly licks a stripe up from your entrance to your clit, circling the tip of his tongue around your already aching nub as he uses his fingers to part your lips.

You scrunch up your face as his tongue pleases you in ways your fingers never could, sighs and whimpers start escaping you as he now presses his thumb against your clit and he starts eating you out, his moans vibrating against you.

Your mouth falls open as your back arches in pleasure, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as you fall apart completely.

No words are spoken as you both just enjoy this moment of bliss, him getting lost in you, you getting lost in the pleasure he blesses you with.

You focus on everything and also on nothing – his whimpers send shivers through you, his tongue that he fucks you with making you gasp and drool, and despite the heaviness in your eyes, you manage to open them, wanting, needing to see him.

He eats you out slowly, yet desperately, fingers and tongue now working together to unravel you. His eyes are closed and he keeps moaning and whimpering as saliva runs down his chin. He looks so content, so pleased from only this.

Steve curls his fingers inside of you as he keeps his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles on it.

Tears of pleasure prickle in your eyes as needy sounds keep escaping you. You hold the sheets even tighter now, closing your legs around his head, caging him in between them.

Steve finally opens his eyes, they darken even more now when he sees how you are falling apart for him, it only prompts him to fuck you even harder with his tongue and his two fingers.

Your moans and whimpers are enough to drive him crazy, enough to make the erection in his pants feel painful but he wants more, he needs to hear his name falling from your lips and he gets what he wants only seconds later when your body grows tense and your back arches again as a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Steve!” You nearly scream as you come undone, writhing beneath his touch.

You tilt your head to the side, bringing your hand up to your face, you bite your teeth into your knuckles as hot tears run down your flushed cheeks.

Steve laps at your pussy, moans still falling from his mouth. Only as you whimper weakly does he pull away from you, but not without giving your clit another teasing lick, causing you to spasm which only makes him chuckle darkly.

He carefully removes your legs from his shoulders and lets go of you before he rises back to his full height.

You instantly press your legs together, breathing heavily as you try to calm down from the orgasm he just gave you.

What Steve didn’t do before was take in the sight of your bare body, and now as he does it, he has to swallow harshly, his dick twitching in his jeans, begging for release. He finds himself aching for you, even more than before, he not only wants you, he needs you in ways he can’t even describe.

He watches the way your chest glistens with sweat, your nipples hard from the pleasure that curses through your body, your eyes are shut, your brows pulled together. He licks his lips before he bites down as his eyes trace every inch of your skin, the scars that make you look even more attractive.

It takes everything in him not to drop to his knees and taste you once again.

He needs you, he needs to feel you wrapped around his dick, he needs to hear your moans as he fills you to the brim, he needs to fuck you.

Steve unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking against each other, causing you to open your eyes at the sound.

You look at him through your glassy eyes, pushing yourself up on your elbows as you watch him unbutton his pants but before he pushes them down, he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket and you watch him curiously.

He opens it to take out the condom he had prepared for a different… less exciting occasion. He hastily pushes his pants and boxers down, his dick slaps against his stomach and he fails to notice the way your eyes widen or the way your lips part in surprise at the sight, at the size of him. He steps out of his shoes, cursing under his breath as he pushes them aside before he uses both hands to part your legs, getting on the mattress.

Before he rips the foil apart, he looks into your eyes, wanting your consent first but no words have to leave his mouth because you are the first to make the move, you sit up slightly, taking the tiny foil pack from his fingers, surprising him by bringing it up to your lips and ripping it open with your teeth.

Despite the streaks of tears on your skin, the fucked out look in your eyes, the shakiness in your body, you look at him so dangerously.

And he can’t do anything but watch you in awe for a moment, how you wrap your much smaller hand around his dick, pressing your thumb against his slit to tease him.

“O-Oh fuck…” He shudders, eyes nearly closing at only that.

You bite your bottom lip, trying not to drool as you roll the condom over his length. You look up at him again to find him staring at you with flushed cheeks and lust in his eyes. It’s dark in the room, but you can see each other just well enough, the moon shines brightly into your room tonight.

You can’t even help yourself when you cup his cheeks and pull him down for a kiss, closing your eyes when your lips meet again.

He grabs your waist, making you crawl back until you’re far enough on the mattress for your head to hit the pillows when he pushes you down. He presses his hands on your knees and you part your legs eagerly for him.

His fingers trace your skin as he brings his hand up, passing your hip bone and your waist and grabbing your boob with roughness as he slips his tongue into your mouth, wanting you to taste yourself. He pinches your nipple with his fingers, smirking against you when you whine and writhe underneath him.

You reach your hand down, not wanting to waste any more seconds, you wrap your hand around his dick again, jerking him off a few times before you line him up with your entrance, whining desperately again.

Steve breaks the kiss and opens his eyes to look at you, “you’re so desperate for my cock, huh?” He breathes, still playing with your nipple.

You raise yourself up a little, pecking his lips again as you nod your head.

He can’t believe that you are this needy for him, that you are giving him those eyes.

If only he knew how many times you have dreamt of this moment.

“Please,” you whimper.

“Please what, Blondie?” He teases you as his hand now slides down your stomach, fingertips brushing your clit, making you shiver.

You blink and you breathe heavily as you place your hand on his shoulder, “please fuck me, Steve… Please…”

A satisfied smirk appears on his face, your desperation making him feel smug – but the smugness quickly dissolves into something else when he pushes inside you and feels your tightness around him for the very first time.

You breathe in harshly and hold it, shutting your eyes when you feel him stretching you out. Nothing could have prepared you for this moment, not his tongue, not his fingers, nothing. The stretch is both painful and delicious, it makes you gasp but it also makes you drool as he inches deeper and deeper.

Steve can only curse and whimper in pleasure as he watches his cock disappearing inside of you, he doesn’t push in fully though, too scared to hurt you.

He bites his bottom lip, bottoming out again before he pushes back in, listening to the wet sound and the neediness in your voice as you moan.

“M-More,” you whine, your eyes now watching him, “please…”

His dick twitches at the sound of that and at the look on your face.

“Fuck me, Steve.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, he pushes in deeper than before, until he’s buried inside of you completely. Usually, he would take a moment to catch his breathe, to adjust to the tightness but he is too eager, too desperate for this. So he grabs your hips and he starts thrusting, slowly at first, not wanting to hurt you.

You gasp, hands finding the sheets beneath you again as your eyes follow the movement of his hips, watching the way his dick slides in and out of you. You throw your head back and look at his face next.

Strands of his hair fall in front of his eyes, his lips are puffy from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed. He is moaning, for you, because of you. You are in utter bliss, feeling pride swell in your chest when he moans even louder as you clench around him.

He watches the way he fucks you, eyes growing darker and darker and then, he looks at your chest, the way your tits bounce from the movements, something that prompts him to move his hips even faster, fucking into you harder now.

“F-Fuck,” you whine loudly.

His eyes meet your face and the pleasure on it is suddenly not enough for him, he wants to throw you over the edge, he needs to hear you scream for him.

He curses under his breath when you clench around him again.

Steve’s knees dig into the mattress, his fingers now holding you even stronger than before, he is sure to leave bruises but you don’t mind, you would never mind. He fastens his pace, railing into you and thrusting in and out of you, making you fall apart in the matter of a few seconds. You can’t speak, even if you tried. All that you can do is moan pathetically, letting him use you.

“You take me so well, holy shit, Blondie,” he whimpers, voicing out his thoughts, brows scrunching together as he watches you, your lips parted, moans that he only ever dreamt of leaving you. “L-Look at you, fuck. If I knew that my cock would shut you up, I would’ve done this a long time ago.”

“S-Steve!” You whine with a high pitched voice, something that only leads him to pound you even harder even if a tiny part of him wants to mock you.

Your eyes roll back, the tension in your stomach rolling back in, only stronger and hotter this time, and you already don’t know what to do with yourself, but when he suddenly reaches for your legs, hooking the back of your knees around his forearms, your eyes widen when they meet his again and a wicked smirk appears on his face as he starts fucking you from a different angle, snapping his hips into yours so wildly that you can’t help but cry out as your eyelids become droopy, tears now begging to be released, just like the drool that starts coming from the corner of your mouth.

The room now filled with nothing but the dirty sounds of your skin slapping together, the squelching noises from your pussy and his pleasing moans.

Steve watches you in awe, eyes growing wide when he sees just how cockdrunk you are for him.

He fucks you recklessly, eagerly and as though it is the last thing he will ever do.

Your tears fall freely, your whimpers turning into cries the moment his thumb finds your clit again.

He feels your walls clenching around him, gripping his twitching cock tightly – and he knows you’re close, he knows that he is close but he doesn’t want to stop, he doesn’t want this moment to be over.

Steve savors every second, pounding into you roughly and harshly, grabbing your face with his left hand when your head falls to the side, he needs to watch you, he needs to see you when you cum around him.

“You wanna cum for me?” He asks breathlessly.

You nod eagerly, without letting a word fall from your lips, you only nod and whine.

You feel the overstimulation rushing through you, the fire in your stomach that is about to burst into something bigger. You can feel him everywhere, he is so deep inside of you that it makes your body shake like crazy, but it feels good, so good that it almost wants to make you cry for different reasons when you think about how this could be a one time thing.

His hand leaves your face, he throws his palm into the pillow next to you, holding it tightly as his own eyes fall shut now, moaning your name as he picks up the pace of his fingers against your clit, his hips snapping faster into yours now.

“I-I’m–”

“I know, I know…” He coos, letting his face fall into the crook of your neck.

You feel the urge to feel him even closer, so despite the weakness in your body, you use every bit of your strength to lift your hand and press it against his warm back.

“Cum for me,” he whimpers into your neck before he bites into your flesh, marking you up for anyone to see.

A loud gasp tears out of you as his last thrusts grow rougher and his fingers move faster, you can’t help but dig your nails into his back, scratching him as stars blur your vision and the shockwaves grip your body so tightly as you cum around his cock, just as he spills into the condom, moaning into your neck.

You can’t even feel your tears nor the drool still coming out of your mouth, all that you can feel is him. Your arm now falls back onto the mattress and your eyes shutting as the darkness starts to envelope you.

“F-Fuck,” he whispers as he stops moving, pressing another kiss to your neck before he pulls out of you, hissing at the feeling.

He can feel your trembling body beneath his, the sighs that keep falling from your lips, he smugly pulls away to take a look at you, only to see your eyes dropping as you start to lose your consciousness.

“Shit,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks, “you okay, Blondie?”

You nod as best as you can, slapping his hand away as you snuggle into the pillows, not even bothering with the blanket.

He scratches the back of his neck, pressing his lips together as he watches you fall asleep so quickly. He can’t help but feel smug as he looks at the way your thighs are trembling still.

He stands up, leaving the room to walk into the bathroom, where the light is still turned on. He steps inside, noticing how the mirror is a little fogged, the smell of vanilla and strawberries lingering in the air, making his stomach flutter ever so slightly.

Discarded clothes lay on the ground, he picks them up and puts them on the counter before he rolls off the condom, tying it up before he throws it into the trash. He turns towards the sink and washes his hands before he walks back into your room, a smile tugging on his lips.

He plops down beside you, pulling the cover over you and himself, scooting closer to you.

He doesn’t know where this will go or what is going to happen tomorrow but as he looks at your stained face, and every single previous second replays in his head, he is sure of one thing.

There is not a single fucking chance that this is going to be a one time thing.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals!

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington enemies to lovers #stranger things angst

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saintescuderia · 2 months

Text

pancakes (pt. 3)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :)

A/N: don't come for me. i love daniel. it's all for plot. (also, if the timeline seems odd it’s bc creative liberties have been taken 😌)

P3 - stairmaster endurance

As you walked down the steps to the Drivers Gala in your stunning red dress, you were unaware how one Ferrari driver couldn’t take his eyes off you. Looking at you smiling elegantly to one of the reps who greeted you, Charles realised just how much of a mistake he had made. Carlos was at his side, saying something that was back ground noise. All Charles could focus on was you. Your flowing hair, your eyes glinting in the light as you smiled your beautiful smile at whoever was talking to you. You always spoke with such passion. Charles always loved that about you. He would always love every little thing about you—

The alarm went off.

You blinked and stopped the timer notification that essentially shook you out of the deep rabbit hole of F1 fanfiction you had found yourself falling into. Closing the purple app, you wondered why you still remained on Tumblr even after the 2013 hype of it died and everyone shifted to Twitter. Let alone the fact that your Tumblr had become your closeted way to fangirl about the sport you had dedicated your life to.

Then again, what were you to expect? The algorithm clearly picked up on your interests. That or the government was listening in and knew that Formula 1 was your day-to-day. That would explain how, one day, you were simply scrolling through the random, niche memes and BAM! You were met with the completely random gif-set of Arthur Leclerc and Oscar Piastri sat in an interview for Prema.

It had caught you off guard, seeing that come up on your phone screen. It had also been a while since you had seen Arthur. For the whole duration of that single and endless moment, you didn't know how to react.

So your thumb double tapped the screen.

And maybe it was your fault for liking it, for encouraging the algorithm. But you could’t help but smile at the gif of Arthur confident and proud of his 18 hour screen time. That boy had no filter and never gave a fuck about the social norm. That and he often just didn’t read the room. Even after all these years, and his climb up the motorsport ladders, that youthful element about him had remained. It made you smile. You always liked that about him.

However, with that gif-set came more stuff. Innocent stuff. More F2 bits - you really missed those boys - and then everything else. Funny bits of Max at Red Bull. Carlos and Lando. All the Guenther Steiner moments. It was a little weird to be liking gifs of a team principal, you were well aware, but if anything it just made you feel proud of how far the German-Italian had come.

Back in the old Red Bull days, Guenther would always tell you about his dreams of directing his own team. It was nice to see him finally achieve that. It was also an endless source of amusement for you.

For example: the day Kevin had shattered the door.

When it happened, though, it was definitely not a laughing matter. You had been just finishing up the lunch service at the Haas motorhome - making sure to pack up some food for the drivers and mechanics who still were in a meeting - when you had heard the loud noise. Mack, the sous-chef, had stopped and looked at you with wide eyes.

You had both exited the kitchen to walk out to the main space of the motorhome and see other Haas employees equally as confused and whispering. Not getting a clear answer, you patted Mack on the shoulder and returned to the kitchen to finish plating up Kevin and Romain’s lunch for later.

Fifteen minutes later, however, and you had gotten your answer when Guenther stormed into the kitchen fuming. “He does not slam my fucking office door! What am I going to do? Call Gene and tell him his drivers are some fucking idiot babies?!”

You had simply stared at him, blinkingly.

Guenther had then spied a plate of food sitting on the bench. “That fucking driver doesn’t deserve any of your fucking food!” And he picked the plate and dumped plate with its contents in the bin.

“Guenther," you had began in a calm voice, "that was my lunch. Kevin’s plate is in the fridge.”

“Well eat his fucking food! Or—" Guenther reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card and slammed it onto the table in front of you. “Go to a fucking five star hotel and have lunch there on that fucking idiot baby's pay.”

And the two of you had actually done so.

Even after he calmed down, Guenther had been adamant to take you to lunch which, admittedly, wasn't the most odd thing ever. Guenther was removed enough from all the driver drama and you had known him a for long time. You were the reason he had helped in the debut in 2016 anyway.

Still, no matter how Guenther Guenther was, Kevin was still a driver. You knew how it might look.

Said driver, however, had thankfully just dismissed it when you offered to pay him back. "Make me those mini pizzas next time you're with us and we're good."

And so when you clocked on this morning to see you were covering Haas, you immediately smiled and went to make good on your promise to K-Mag.

You always loved working in the Haas motorhome. If only half the stuff you saw Guenther did and said ended up in gif-sets on Tumblr.

Pushing yourself off the stool, you pocketed your phone and grabbed the oven mitts to pull out the mini pizzas. You had made extra for the engineers since there was an issue with Nico’s PU and knew they would be up late working on the engine. It wasn’t a secret that your pizzas were a coveted snack, being low-carb and high protein enough for even the drivers to consume. You were half expecting Fred Vasseur to pop in and steal some. He did love these pizzas. Any time you were stationed at Alfa Romeo, it was a guarantee you would be making them at his request.

Though, now Fred was moving to Ferrari. So you weren't sure if he was still going to be nice to you. Mattia Binotto had always treated you like the fucking plague.

"Ah, Y/N. For fuck's sake!" You heard the German accent and felt your mouth curve up into a smile as Guenther arrived on scene. He was dressed in the Haas gear for 2023, lanyard around his neck. "You still here running the coffee when you can beat any of these idiots in the car."

You gave him a fake two finger salute. "If I drove, no one would stand a chance."

"Well maybe you could help us score some fucking points." Guenther said. Immediately, he got down to business. "Harry Kane did well last night. Scored two fucking goals."

You snorted. One of the many reasons you and Guenther bonded so well was that you one of the few people amongst this Paddock that took football seriously. Almost as seriously as Formula 1. Almost.

"Didn't see it." You said, shaking your head. Bundesliga was lower on your list of priorities when it came to games. You only paid attention to the German league when it came to teams making it into Champions League. Besides, Guenther should’ve known what game you were watching last night. Still, you reminded him. "The Reds were playing."

He rolled his eyes, though unsurprised. "Of course you're going to watch English fucking football."

"Hey, only because of Salah.” You reminded him and hit your chest proudly, “I gotta represent."

"That much is fucking obvious." Guenther said. One of the many reasons you liked working in Haas so much was that it was by far the most relaxed garage out of them all. For example, you hadn't yet taken off the hoodie you wore which had, on top, the number 10 Liverpool jersey. It looked unprofessional, having a t-shirt over a jumper like that, especially mixed with the headscarf you had tied on your head like a durag, but Guenther couldn’t care less. If anything, he was probably just offended at your choice of EPL team.

“United is fucking Red.”

"Ah, Guenther. You know my heart really lies." You reminded him.

Your uncle, a Spanish man, had brought you up following the iconic Real Madrid. He literally visited the hospital with a teddy bear and Bernabeu membership, adamant he would get his newborn niece into the sport. No matter what.

From the moment he found out your number one team, Guenther was salty. “Los Blancos.” He scoffed. “The fucking villains of football." He came round to see the circular pieces of bread covered with sauce and an array of different toppings. Guenther picked one up - and immediately dropped it. "Fuck!"

"It's hot." You said, dryly. You took out another tray and set it down. You closed the oven door and turned it off. You flipped the towel over your shoulder as you watched Guenther now at the sink, running water over his burnt fingers.

"You don't fucking say." Guenther blowing on his fingers.

“Stop being a baby.” You laughed, bringing up your hands to your head to fix your headscarf.

Guenther ignored that comment. "Fred fucking loves these things. Don't tell him you made them. I don't want him in here stealing them."

You said nothing and turned around to pretend to busy yourself with the trays of mini pizzas. It was best to just remain quiet sometimes. Bahrain testing had kept everyone occupied and at that start of the season F1 Hospitality were usually running around after Stefano Domenicali and the FIA Co. for last minute set up. It was only into the race calendar that Hospitality were eventually went around to the teams.

So, no. You hadn't seen Fred. You hadn't seen anyone. You were just grateful that your first race of 2023 was in the safety of Haas. Nico and Kevin were older and, therefore, a little more out of it when it came to driver drama. If they knew anything, they were old enough to be mature about it.

Though, that couldn't be the same of others from their generation. You were already losing sleep from the feelings that arose from seeing Daniel in Red Bull gear. It didn't help that the last time you two had spoken, things hadn't exactly been civil.

You were on the stair-master. The clock on the machine read 37:48. The sweat was dripping off you.

Your grey jumper had darkened in shades, wet from the sweat. You kept your hands on your head as you stepped and stepped and stepped and stepped. Angsty rap music blasted into your ears. Tinnitus was likely to worsen, but you would take that over the shit storm that was currently breaking all over the Paddock.

I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press statement late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. This is wrong and I have not signed a contract for Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year.

Oscar hadn’t even yet joined Formula 1 and he was already stirring trouble. That was a problem. For you. You were supposed to lay low. The whole point of this was to lay low and not drawing any attention to yourself. The agreement was that you could still be there if only in the role of Hospitality.

And the idiot had tweeted that and then, ten minutes later, decided to follow you.

How he even found your Twitter was surprising? It wasn’t very personal - your profile picture was solid black - so no fans would be able to recognise you. But the Paddock? The FIA and your bosses? They were raising confused eyebrows that Oscar Piastri would drop that bomb and then follow you.

You could already imagine what Otmar was going to say. God, the 2023 season hadn’t fully started and you were already dreading walking into the Alpine home. And then Jos Verstappen was rumoured to be attending more races this year and who could forget about Daniel coming back to Red Bull? The universe apparently needed to give you some character development, it seemed.

Your legs ached, begging to stop. Your mind thought about pressing the red emergency button, to just end it. But you knew better. You knew this was all a mind game. Pain is an allusion. Keep going. Shit hurts but you push through. Keep going. Keep going. Keep fucking going. It's what you always told yourself. It's how you got yourself through everything. It's how you'll get through all of this. If you can push through the pain of the stairmaster, then you can push through the pain of anything. You had learned that pain was temporary and it was just a mind-game. You could always go longer than you thought possible. You just had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. So, right now, it was just practice. Each step you took right now was practicing the endurance of pain from this stairmaster fucking filling your legs. If you could get through this, you would be able to handle any drama in the future.

Unfortunately, drama walked through the door before you could make it through the current pain of said stairmaster.

Daniel Ricciardo stormed into the Driver’s Only Gym, knowing all too well that this was where you would be. He had been the one to tell you about this fucking place in the first place. Before everything, you had always loved working out and exercise was part of the reason you two ended up as you did. Now, you didn’t have the luxury you did before. You didn’t have the lanyard.

So, now, you had to workout in the shadows.

That didn't mean Daniel didn't see you. Didn't hear you. Didn't know what you were doing every single day of every weekend the both of you avoided each other at the Paddock. He knew you still wore your sneakers according to the race location. He knew you still wore headscarves when in the Middle East and covered your tattoos when in Japan. He knew you still avoided Charles just he like he knew you still avoided him. He knew you.

So Daniel knew you woke up at 4am every day to work out. And after Zak Brown told him the news, he spent the night dealing with his spiralling career through a bottle of Jack Daniels. Then he had the idea to come out from the four walls of his hotel room and see you.

Because Daniel knew you had made your pancakes for the rookie, that fucking Oscar Piastri. And Daniel was one of the few people who knew, who fully understood just what that meant to you.

Drunk and emotional, Daniel planted himself right in front of the stair master. He stared at you, caught like a deer in headlights and got right to it.

“You must be fucking happy.”

It was the first time he had directly spoken to you in five years.

So it took you a second to process what was happening.

Daniel Ricciardo was right here, in front of you, at 4:50 in the morning as you sweated your body weight out through the repeated steps you took on the machine.

Suddenly you were aware that you had rolled yourself out of bed with a little less motivation than the norm. You had been extra tired, hitting snooze more than twice. You hadn’t washed your face and you wondered if Daniel would be able to spot the stain of egg yolk on your hoodie. It had been some time since he had been this close to you and you were in bike shorts and currently on a bulk. Suddenly, you wished you were on a cut. Why did the one time he came this close to you had to be so big and puffy?

"Excuse me?" You found yourself saying, shifting one headphone off your ear. “Can I help you?”

"Did you know?" Daniel asked. He didn't give you a chance to respond. "Of course you fucking did."

Without even thinking, you pulled the red plug your mind had obsessed over and jumped down. The pain was already here so there was no point going through any more than necessary. You looked up at Daniel, panting. He, too, was exhaling a little heavier than normal. Too angry and, judging by the smell of his breath, drunk to be stable.

There was no point lying to him. Aside from the fact that Daniel was emotionally charged (and drunk - and he got super passionate when he was drunk) you knew he would immediately pick up on it. You don't spend three years with someone and not know them like the back of your hand. And, unlike him, you can safely say that you hadn't really changed since 2018. If you lied, he would know.

"I signed a NDA, Daniel." You said simply, walking to your gym bag sat on the red bench. You picked up your bottle to take a sip, your throat dry. You tried to keep yourself calm and not shaky. Do my legs look too big? God, Please don’t let me smell like BO. Your thoughts were still running rampant. Despite the extensive cardio, your body was buzzing from the anxiety of having Daniel so close.

Daniel. To think you had once been so deeply in love with the man stood before you.

"Fuck off." He spat. You recoiled. "No one gives a shit about that."

"I do." You said, trying to keep your voice from growing small. "Sorry I care about my job."

Daniel let out a sardonic laugh. You braced yourself, knowing what was to come. You had experienced this many times before during your fights. "What? Making coffee and fucking washing the dishes? Yeah, great job you got there, babe."

"Don't call me babe." You spat back. "And can you not be a dick for two fucking seconds, Daniel."

You said it. His name. When was the last time you had said it? It made you both take a second to process what was happening, to acknowledge how long it had been since the two of you had actually spoken to one another, how long since you had addressed the other as a human being that actually existed.

In that moment, Daniel finally seemed to lose a bit of anger and, instead, show a glimmer of vulnerability. "I lost my seat. I don't know what I'm going to do."

You looked down at your shoes at show of helplessness. New Balance 350s. Red and yellow. They had been on sale. You liked them for stable LISS circuits but hated the colour way. Now, they were the most interesting thing to look at.

Everyone knew that Daniel Ricciardo was always all smiles and that, no matter what, he was optimistic. Happy. He never showed any weakness.

Except, you had seen him when the smiles fell away and the laughter died. In the safety of your private hotel rooms and Daniel could just be, you saw him vulnerable, you saw him hurt, you saw him stress, worry, cry, swear and be open to how he was really feeling. Like right now.

“Daniel I—“

"You didn’t even think to fucking tell me."

You looked up at the change of tone and how he was frowning-- no, sneering at you. This made you change and any remorse, any pity, you felt for the man in front of you immediately vanished. You weren’t in a hotel room. You were in the gym. And it had been five fucking years.

"Are you fucking blaming me right now?"You snapped back. "What the fuck do I owe you, exactly?"

"I’m the reason you’re here!"

By now, your heart was racing. And not from the exercise. This, this was it. You finally had your moment to say it.

"Yes, exactly, Daniel. You’re the reason that I am, as you said, making coffee and fucking washing the dishes! If it weren’t for you, we both know where I would be right now. But you got fucking scared of Max and blamed me for it!"

This hit a nerve. "I was not scared of Max! I outperformed Max!"

"Yes, on the weeks I fucking trained you!"

"Fuck me,” Daniel was shooting straight daggers at you despite the wry grin on his face, “do you really think that was all you?"

You put your hands on your hips and squared up to meet his eyes, narrowing your own. "Considering how your teammate took me on as a trainer and then became the number 1 driver, yes, I will take some fucking credit for that." Daniel's face dropped when you said it. And you knew it was a low blow, but you couldn't help the words before they tumbled out from your mouth. "The world’s fucking moved on from Monaco 2018. Maybe you should too."

"Fuck you!" He shouted.

"Fuck you!" You shouted back. You grabbed your phone and found yourself tapping onto a recent chat and speedily composing a text. You hated how your fingers shook. You also hated how you were texting for help.

"Well, clearly you haven’t moved on from Monaco if you’re bringing it up." Daniel said, no longer shouting, but his tone still as icily. "You’re going to be mad about that until the end of time?"

You closed your eyes and willed your eyes not to think of the image of him with her, the pain you felt walking in and seeing that. Instead, you opened your eyes and stared him dead in the eye and spoke as calmly as possible.

"Jos Verstappen will be coming to the races more often this year. That means I won't be able to work in the Red Bull garage. If I'm at AlphaTauri, do not fucking come."

Daniel ignored this, undeterred. Instead, he kept grinning down at you thinking he found something. "You seriously aren't over it, are you?"

"No, the memory of you putting your dick into another woman still keeps me up at night." You rolled your eyes despite how it still did admittedly hurt. You pretended it didn’t and hoped he believed it. "Please stop thinking so highly of yourself. Remind yourself of why you're here, right now, talking to me."

Daniel's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something but the sound of the doors opening had him closing it. You grabbed your gym bag and finally made a move to turn around and escape the gym.

Ignoring the looks of one very confused Carlos Sainz as you breezed past him.

"I have to go deal with idiots who can’t tell me what’s wrong with the engine." Guenther said. You had brought forth two plates and slide two pizzas onto each.

"Here. For you and Nico." You said, knowing Nico would join the meeting about his car. "I'll bring a tray in a little bit for the rest of the engineers."

"Make me and Nico some coffee, please." Guenther said, taking the plates. "And pour in some fucking whiskey." You laughed and watched him disappear down the hallway of the offices set up. Haas' lack of financial support meant their motorhome was mediocre at best. Still, you loved being here more than anywhere else. It was the safest, really.

Wiping your hands on the towel, you went outside to where the coffee cart was situated. Another example of Haas' lack of funding was needing a Formula One coffee cart and not having an in house machine like everyone else did. You went about preparing the coffees like how you knew Nico and Guenther liked - as well as making yourself one while you were at it.

"No Real Madrid today?"

You found yourself jumping at the familiar Spanish lilt of the other Ferrari driver. Carlos Sainz was someone you never really paid any close attention to. He wasn't close enough to either Daniel or Charles' circles to ever have been on your radar. He had left Red Bull before you did and since he was Ferrari associated, it meant you never really had much to do with him.

Still, he was pleasant and nice. He always had been. He was one of those drivers that if word had spread to him - and it was very likely that it had - he didn't show it. Or care enough about it. Any time Carlos saw you around the Paddock, it was with a warm smile and a quick small-talk question about your thoughts on Real Madrid's latest match. But that was really ever it.

Until that time he had walked in at 5am to see you and Daniel Ricciardo screaming at each other.

"Uh, no. Liverpool was playing yesterday." You said, wondering if he knew you also cared about the Scouse team. Admittedly, you didn’t have the same love for them as you did for the Spanish legends, but you couldn’t have Egyptian heritage and not care about Mo Salah.

"You're Egyptian, no?" He asked. You focused on frothing the milk, unable to really look him in the eyes so soon after this morning.

"Yes." It was there in the mix, yes, but you really weren't up for explaining the complicated heritage of your ethnicity this morning. Looking at the milk circling in the silver jug, you realised your face was heating up. You were slightly surprised he even knew you were Egyptian in the first place. Unlike with Guenther or the splattering of other football fans in the Paddock, you and Carlos only ever had brief snapshots of Real Madrid small talk.

Still, this wasn't an odd conversation, you had to remind yourself. You were talking about the one thing you and him ever talked about. But, again, this was after Carlos had walked in to see you, a Hospitality worker, arguing with a driver.

"Please don't tell anyone about me being in the gym." You finally said, turning off the frother to gently tap the metal jar against the bench and settle the bubbles in the milk. "I could get into a lot of trouble since it's only for drivers."

Carlos waved a dismissive hand and shook his head. When it was clear he wasn't going to, you breathed a small sigh of relief. But then he leaned against the cart and you felt yourself starting to get anxious again. There was a quiet moment for a second as your poured the latte for Nico. Carlos' eyes followed your hands.

"I will say something if Ricciardo upset you." He said in a quieter voice.

You immediately shook your head and finally looked him in the eye. "Please don't. There's enough complication with... everything." You finished lamely.

"So I've heard." Carlos said.

You looked away. He knew.

"So then you'll know I don't need anymore complications." You said through gritted teeth, hating very much the confirmation that word had spread about what had happened.

"You haven't done anything wrong, though."

This caught you by surprise. It was the first time anyone - or, at least, a driver - had said those words to you. At the start, everyone had immediately pointed fingers at you. You were shunned and blamed. Some saw your position with the Formula One Group as part of Hospitality too light a punishment for what had happened. For the longest time, it was the confusion as to why everyone had reacted that way that did that hurt you. You hadn’t thought you had done anything wrong. Not really. You struggled to understand why no one else saw it that way. Least of all any of the drivers that knew what had happened.

Hearing Carlos say that really threw you for a short second. Carlos even caught it. He said your name and you finally looked up at him when you heard him say your name.

"Sorry it’s just - uh, Carlos, man.” You laughed a dry laugh. “You're probably the only driver who thinks so."

"I'm not." Carlos crossed his arms. "I might be the only one who has said so, but if I've understood correctly... then I'm not."

You looked down at metal jug in your hand with the extra milk you had frothed for yourself. Suddenly, you didn't feel like any caffeine. Your anxiety was already through the roof.

"Do you want a coffee?" You asked, sounding, again, very lame as that was your response to Carlos' comment.

The Spaniard looked back down at the spoon and jug in your hands. He nodded. "Have you had one already?" You asked. He shook his head and so you went about pulling down another paper cup to make his piccolo.

"You remembered." He said, laughing slightly.

"First coffee is a piccolo. Second and third are black." You recalled his order. Carlos smiled at you as you poured the milk. "I know everyone's coffee orders."

You didn’t catch how his smile lessened slightly at that.

You looked back at him and tried to ignore the thought of whether his kindness was exaggerated for your sake. A pity thing or something. Carlos accepted the coffee and then he actually offered a thank you in Arabic. You found your lips turning up hearing the marhaba on his Spanish tongue. “Es un placer.” You came back with his own native language.

You don’t work in Formula 1 without picking up a few things here and there.

Hence how you could recognise the German swears that sounded from within the motorhome as Guenther suddenly appeared.

“Where is that Y/N? Liverpool fucking tops the league and thinks she can take her time with— ah, you Ferrari fuckers!” Both you and Carlos looked to where he had come up behind the driver and slapped a friendly pat on his back. “Tell Fred he can’t have any pizza.”

“Pizza?” Carlos asked and looked down at you. “You made your pizza?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before some Haas engineers appeared behind Guenther and called for you and him. Carlos took this as his sign - he was technically on Haas territory - and nodded at you and Guenther, holding up his piccolo in salute. Guenther had already taken the coffees you’d made for him and Nico and disappeared behind the sliding doors. You made a move to follow when Carlos called out.

"I want to try some famous Y/N pizza!” He said, turning on his heel as he walked backwards and called out to you.

You smiled and shook your head, walking back into the Haas home. You went back to the oven and set about plating up the pizzas to be a little more presentable to them. You also made sure to put some aside especially for Kevin. This was supposed to be for him.

You thought idly of saving some for Carlos when some Haas engineers you vaguely recognised walked past.

"Oh nice!" One engineer said, coming up and immediately reaching for one to stick it in his mouth. You watched him do the same blunder that Guenther did.

The other engineer, a woman with a thick Irish accent? was staring at you. Smug. "Damn, who got you smiling like that, missy?"

"What?" You asked, eyes going wide. You hadn't realised the wide smile on your face that was likely the direct result of one Carlo Sainz. Your face became hot again and it took every ounce of will to not seem affected by her words. “No one.”

"Mmm. If you say so.” She said in a sing song voice. “Well and me Mr Cool over here,” she gestured to the the other engineer trying to breathe through the hot pizza, “are heading to the garage now to see Kevin. Can we take them?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Go ahead."

"Not saving some for anyone?"

"No." You shook your head firmly. "Take them all."

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moodcrab · 10 months

Text

Fixing Delphine

This bitch.

I actually like that they made a character that is on your side but is somewhat unlikable, Delphine is Team Dragonborn, but she's not really one of the good guys. And that's cool, conflict means drama. So what's the problem? Well unfortunately, this drama is surface level and isn't used to drive the story, so It's kind of just annoying.

People oversimplify their hatred of Delphine into "She wants you to kill Paarthurnax," because unlike Delphine, people actually like Paarthurnax. Understandable, but barely scratches the surface. We'll get to The Paarthurnax Dilemma in time, but that quest is a symptom, not the illness itself.

If I could sum up Delphine in a word it would be "inconsistent." For example, she's a fugitive waging a one woman war on the Thalmor from the shadows, who's only survived this long from sheer paranoia - but she also uses her real name and leaves a note in Ustengrav for whoever happens to pick it up with directions and a pass word to her secret hide out.

She needs to go through her super secret contact Farengar to use the Jarl's resources to go into Bleak Falls Barrow, a tutorial level dungeon she can see from her house, and she's impressed that you did it - but she also goes personally to the other side of the country to delve alone into the massive Ustengrav to steal the Horn of Jurgan Windcaller, no issues, just a quick in and out twenty minute adventure.

She takes the fact that you found her Ustengrav note as proof you're the Greybeard's new guy and not some Thalmor plant even though she herself, a non Dragonborn, had also completed Ustengrav and taken the horn proving it's totally possible. She even points this out in her own dialogue then demands we prove who we are, even though that was the whole point of the Ustengrav note. It's also a pretty big assumption that just because I'm the guy the Greybeards call Dragonborn that I can't ALSO be with the Thalmor.

We are left with this awkward sense that the writers are flailing to make us think this woman is competent and objective, without actually having her do anything that clever. Just act like the dumb thing was smart and have her act like a cocky brat if questioned about it.

Inconsistency. It's her thing. Does she hate the Thalmor? That would make sense given what we know about her. But that gets dropped half way through the main story and suddenly she hates The Greybeards, for absolutely no reason at all. She gives a reason, but it's bullshit.

In her own words, "If the greybeards had their way, the dragonborn would sit on a mountain talking to the sky." But that's not true is it. We know The Greybeards, they encouraged us to fulfill our destiny. Even if you say you want to follow their Way of the Voice, they'll be glad to hear it but warn you not to let it get in the way of what needs to be done. Delphine even uses Tiber Septim as an example, which is even stupider because The Greybeards actively encouraged Tiber to conquer Tamriel. Have I read more in game books than the dialogue writers??

But that's not the end of it, when it becomes convenient for the plot this hatred is flipped once again from The Greybeards onto dragons. Not Alduin. All dragons. Despite the fact that, as a Blade, she should know about Nafaalilargus, a dragon ally of the Empire and the Blades for thousands of years, and the Blades don't just indiscriminately kill all dragons no matter the circumstances, and that Tiber Septim himself almost certainly met Paarthurnax at some point, she suddenly seems to be acting like she has a personal grudge against dragons. Which brings us to the Paarthurnax Dilemma...

See here's the thing, you could easily write off the frustration everyone feels towards this quest as Bethesda's crappy design, where there is no conclusion other than to kill Paarthurnax, or else leave an unfinished quest languishing in the menu. Bethesda apparently didn't consider the idea that anybody would actually prefer to turn on the Blades, even though the Blades have become a bit of a running joke among the fans, or that anyone would take umbrage with Delphine giving out orders and ultimatums.

But no, it's so much worse than that. Delphine being a surly unlikable c u n t from the day we met her is one thing, but the fact that she has been wrong about almost everything she's ever said in game, and still having the AUDACITY to treat us like her work bitch and us never, not once, getting the opportunity to put her in her place... That's not poor quest design, that's the game gaslighting us.

Let's do a quick list of every one of Delphine's theories, and how many were actually correct shall we:

You are not the Dragonborn ❌

The Greybeards shouldn't be trusted to identify a Dragonborn ❌

The dragons aren't just coming back, they're coming back to life ✅

The Thalmor have something to do with the dragons returning ❌

Esbern is dead ❌

The Greybeards just want the Dragonborn to sit on a mountain and meditate ❌

The Greybeards wanted Tiber Septim to just sit on a mountain and meditate ❌

Paarthurnax, having lived in exile for thousands of years, deserves corporal punishment ❌

As ACTING Grand Master of the Blades, she gets to boss around the Dragonborn ❌

She deserves a seat at the peace negotiations ❌

And these are just the things that are factually wrong, leaving aside opinions on her morality and shitty attitude. This is the woman the game presents to us as a shrewd strategist.

BUT I CAN FIX HER!

Like I said I like the idea of a character who is on your side but is somewhat unlikable. It actually won't take much to make Delphine endearing to the fans. We have to do a Boromir on her. A Lot of people dislike Boromir throughout the Fellowship of the Ring but weep at his death. We have to tweak three things to have the same thing happen to Delphine:

1. Make her actually competent and useful so that while we don't agree with her we can see why she does the things she does, and desire to keep her around.

2. Have her mistakes called out and have consequences.

3. Have her redeem her mistakes with a badass honourable death.

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grapementos · 11 months

Text

perseverance

aged up bakugo x reader

pt. 3 to this

numerous panic attacks had ensued since you were discharged from the hospital, but not all of them reached their final stages like the first had.

you’d grown better at grounding yourself and having some semblance of control over your anxiousness. slowly but surely, you felt the pain ebbing away.

it would never be gone completely, you knew, and every day you questioned the possibility of things being different.

what if katsuki hadn’t quit being a hero? what if he’d proposed just as he’d planned to? would your wedding have been beautiful? your marriage successful and healthy?

there were so many what ifs that hurt your heart just to think about.

yet, all you did was think about it—in the best, healthiest way.

you set aside your pride and fears and confided not only in your friends, but in a therapist. you had sessions weekly, and every time you walked out of the office, you felt a little lighter.

for the first time, you understood that it was okay to still love katsuki, to still want to be with him. in fact, they initially expressed how they wished the two of you had tried couples therapy before everything went south.

that was another what if that hurt.

you were always the more rational, levelheaded one. why hadn’t you thought of it, encouraged it? would it have made a difference? those thoughts kept you awake at night, haunting your mind and mocking you with images of a perfect life with katsuki. the life you could've had.

those thoughts were bumps in your path to recovery. it was only through those thoughts, however, that you learned that the road wasn't linear. you had amazing days when you felt strong and independent, days when you'd feel like you were in a colgate commercial. other days, you wanted to set your apartment on fire and disappear. you wanted to scream until your voice was gone, vocal chords torn to shreds. some days, you just wanted everything to stop.

through the good and the bad, you were able to persevere through the challenging navigation of a breakup. still, you granted yourself permission to still love him. to be in love with him. that love would never just vanish, you'd realized a few months into your journey. it dulled, flickered, and faded, but never vanished.

you'd found that implementing a routine in your daily life had greatly improved your overall mental health.

this morning, you turned on the news as you made yourself breakfast--a meal you forced yourself to consume, no matter how little it was.

as you grabbed what you needed from the cupboards, a name in the news had you pausing everything.

"...following his spontaneous philanthropic streak, former hero dynamight announces that he will be hosting a tell-all session at our local library. there, he intends to, quote, 'make amends with those i might have hurt with my words, actions, or lack thereof...' well, you heard it here. don't miss a valiant display of heroic vulnerability today at noon. in other news..."

you gaped at the tv, the glass bowl slipping from your suddenly clammy fingers.

philanthropic streak? where had you been?

the sound of the glass breaking reached your ears a whole minute after it hit the ground, snapping you out of your dumbfounded stupor.

"shit," you cursed, crouching down to pick up the pieces.

no, don't even think about it.

you looked at the clock, reading 8 as the time. plenty of time for you to get dressed and go.

no.

you could easily make it in time and sit in the back, just to see him and hear what he had to say.

no.

you'd wear something inconspicuous and hide in the back, just being silent. and then you'd leave, after ten minutes.

no.

every no carried a little bit of yes at the end of it, forcefully dragging you out of the kitchen and into the bathroom for a shower. it was closure, you argued to yourself, closure that you desperately needed.

it's going to be excuses, nothing but lies.

dark clothes are the best choice, you decided, anxiously changing into something you deemed inconspicuous. just ten minutes, it was all you needed.

don't throw all your progress away for ten minutes.

you stared at the mirror, trying to find a single good reason to stay home. yet, every thought in your mind convinced you that this, this is what you needed. you needed to hear him express his regret, his remorse to other people. people who once trusted and supported him in his endeavors, only to be woefully let down by his bouts of anger.

this will just make you hurt more. don't do this.

you discarded every invasive voice in the back of your brain and found yourself at the library come noon, hidden behind a bookshelf. you browsed the shelves with unseeing eyes, thoughts drowned out by the low murmur of the large crowd seated in front of the small stage in the center.

the library was home to many plays around the city, which you found ironic. would this be another display of dramatism and lies?

just as you found a book with a flattering cover, the mic whined with a little feedback.

"sorry about that."

you knew the voice, but the genuineness was foreign to you. you peeked over the row of books, your blood running cold as you saw katsuki sitting meekly on a chair on the stage.

"hello, everyone. i'm, uh, i'm bakugo katsuki, but most of you might know me as dynamight," he began, scanning the crowd, "a lot of you might not be fond of me based, um, based on my time as a hero."

many voices mumbled in agreement at that, which made him laugh, just the slightest. it made your chest swell with pride he didn't deserve.

"and i really don't blame you. i carried a lot of my immaturity from high school into adulthood. my biggest problem was that i saw heroism as a means to an end, a," he motioned with his hands, trying to find the words, "a stepping stone to being 'the best'--whatever that means. and i got lost in my obsession with my image."

you listened intently, at least half sure that you were listening to a complete stranger talk. the katsuki you knew had nowhere near this much humility.

"with that being said, my first apology goes to you, the people of this beloved city. you deserved someone who had your best interest at heart, and i'm sorry that couldn't be me. but, rest assured, i am very familiar with the current top ten and can say with confidence that they are the heroes you deserve."

you found yourself tearing up at his words, so awestruck by the complete 360 in his persona.

the crowd cheered at his words, as pleasantly surprised with his chanage as you were.

"thank you," he chuckled when the crowd quieted down, "next, i'd like to apologize to my friends and family. they definitely got some of the worst of it. for years, they suggested therapy for the anger that i just couldn't seem to control. and for years, brushed them off, over and over again. i insisted that my anger was fuel for my quirk, when in reality, it was detrimental. dangerous. so, mom, dad, all my friends, i'm sorry it took me so long to take your advice. thank you for standing by me."

you werent sure if the session was being broadcasted, but you sure hope it was. kirishima, mina, sero, and denki deserved to hear it. more than that, you were shocked to discover that he'd also been in therapy. so he really meant it..

another round of applause.

"last, and most important," he sucked in a sharp breath, "i'd like to apologize to the love of my life."

you stilled, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over your head. no, no way.

"i spent three amazing years with the only person i could ever see myself loving. they were the most patient, the most kind person you could ever imagine. they stood by me during every slandering headline, every angry episode, every single ugly moment. they were there."

you covered your mouth and crouched down to the floor, squeezing you eyes shut. no, hell no, you refused to cry.

he exhaled shakily, rubbing a sweaty palm against his jeans, "they were devoted to me, to us. i'd be nothing without their impact on my life, and i've done the worst job at showing it. i," he stammered, scrunching his eyebrows together, "i ruined what we had, and i've never regret anything more. i know all the philanthropy and therapy and apologies in the world can never take back my insensitivity, but i will never stop being sorry, and i swear i'll grow every day."

you had to clamp your hand harder over your mouth to prevent any sniffles or sobs from escaping and alerting everyone to your presence. his words were so genuine, so wholehearted that you knew he truly had changed.

"i'll love them forever, regardless of if they hate me. with that love, i'll destroy any semblance of the douchebag-asshole-monster i used to be." he smiled out to the crowd as a final goodbye, "thank you, everyone. you don't owe me your forgiveness, but i hope you'll consider forgiving me one day."

people clapped, whistled, cheered for him as he turned off the mic.

meanwhile, your heart was racing. you didn't have a single coherent thought in your mind other than the fact that he loved you. he loves you.

he wasn't begging or crying this time, his acts weren't out of desperation. he was completely and totally vulnerable in front of a group of people that he didn't even know included you.

as people flooded out of the library, you shakily pushed yourself to your feet. what now? how could you possibly be expected to walk all the way to your car and drive home in this state of mind?

with a quick breathing technique your therapist taught you, you calmed down enough to get your hands to stop trembling.

katsuki had started helping the security guards pick up and stack the chairs, making small talk with them as they cleaned up the area.

you wiped at your cheeks, hoping they weren't too blotchy. with a quiet breath, you silently crept away from behind the bookshelf and toward the exit.

unfortunately, your far-from ninja-like skills couldn't get past the years of hero instincts engraved in every muscle fiber of katsuki's body.

"y/n?"

you froze, shoulders tensing as you slowly turned around.

"hey, bakugo," you cleared your throat, averting your eyes, "that was, uh, that was nice of you. good job."

there was something undetectable in his face, something you couldn't put your finger on, "oh, thanks, i-" he stepped closer, but stopped when he sensed your hesitance, "i didn't expect to see you here."

"i didn't expect to be here." you said honestly, fidgeting with your fingers, "but i should, uh, probably get going."

he opened and shut his mouth a few times before he sighed and nodded, "okay. but i really meant it, you know? everything i said."

fuck, you were going to cry again. you didn't want to, not in front of him.

"i know." you nodded, "i don't.. hate you, you know? we both had issues that we chose to resolve separately."

"i just wish," he sighed, looking for the words, "i wish that was't the case."

you couldn't hold in your tears anymore, a few cascading down your cheek, but you quickly wiped them away.

"i know." you swallowed hard, trying to prevent your voice from doing that embarrassing, high-pitched crack, "i do too."

he opened his arms, offering a hug and you just couldn't say no. the space was so perfectly carved for you.

you hugged him tight, burying your face into his shoulder.

"i'm so sorry, y/n. i'm sorry for everything." he whispered into your hair, his voice wet with tears, "i never deserved you."

you just cried harder, knuckles white as you gripped onto the back of his shirt. you wanted to speak, to reassure him that it wasn't completely his fault, but you couldn't pause for a breath long enough to say a single word.

instead, the two of you dropped to the ground, arms wrapped around each other with a desperation that you only feel for each other. a once-in-a-lifetime desperation.

the two of you cried and held each other, and somehow you knew everything was going to be okay.

and this concludes the triology! thank you for the overwhelming support on this series that wasn't even meant to be a series!

taglist: @blackout-ice-biohazard @survivorofmath @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @odessa-is-my-queen @firesmokeandashes @valentineshiftz @sil-ver-shadow @echosfadve

#my.archive.¥#anime #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #angst #drabble #y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakusquad #katsuki bakugo x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #grapeflop$

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tcfactory · 4 months

Text

Good morning, I bring you another very nonsense SVSSS idea today.

Shen Yuan transmigrates as Shen Jiu's shizun. He has a System, but it really doesn't interfere with anything because what would it even do when Luo Binghe's parents haven't even met yet? Su Xiyan hasn't even been born yet.

So Shen Yuan has several really cool centuries to be the immortal master he really wants to be! Since nothing he has done affects the plot, he spends a lot of that time ignoring his disciples (he figures out in the first few decades that teaching is primarily the job of the hallmasters) and focusing on sightseeing and learning all about the flora and fauna of his least favorite webnovel world. He's considered a fine person, kind when he remembers to be present in the moment, but usually detached from worldly matters, which is not a bad thing for an immortal master pushing his fifteenth century to be, but it's to his detriment in some ways: he is both noble-born and beyond mortal weakness. Some of his modern sensibilities have definitely faded after such a long life in this world and by spending much of that time in the company of his nearly indestructible martial siblings. He's a master who does not wield the whip himself, but orders punishment with the ignorance of someone who has forgotten that to people who don't have more than a thousand years of cultivation, the whip does far more than 'sting a little'.

He still tries to speak up about that whole matter with the boy and the sword and the cave. He knows a plant that could help the boy without all this breaking-every-bone nonsense, but that's the first time his System intervenes and stops him. He assumes the kid would have been someone who could have opposed Luo Binghe eventually so he's fated to die instead and lets the matter go. If anything, he's more excited that the System finally made a move, because that means they are nearing the time when Luo Binghe will appear! He doesn't follow the incident and he's daydreaming about a rare beast he discovered on his latest trip when his shixiong announces the appointment of his succeeding disciple, so he completely misses that Yue Qingyuan survived the cave.

During the fated Immortal Alliance Conference he's too busy checking on his own disciples to be of any help in resolving the incident with Shen Jiu, so the sect leader (who is getting really tired of how unreliable his 'sect strategist' is) dumps the semi-feral orphan on his peak as punishment. Shidi likes wild creatures, right? Here's a wild creature for you, have fun making a man out of him.

Shen Yuan doesn't make the connection between Shen Jiu, prickly street kid, and Shen Qingqiu, peerless immortal with a rotten personality, because he falls into the group of readers who assumed Shen Qingqiu was a noble young master. Shen is a pretty common name, after all. He gives the kid some remedial lessons - in reading, writing, etiquette, the arts, etc. - gives him some encouraging words and then leaves the kid to his own devices once it's clear that he doesn't need coddling. He's a tough cookie who can handle himself and besides, the good-natured head disciple from Qiong Ding keeps coming over to check on him, so he already has other support! His shizun hovering over him and favoring him too much would just make him a target and this kid has gone too through much already for him to do that to him.

They hear the first rumors about Tianlang-jun around the time when his shixiong finally starts to bully him about picking a new head disciple, so Shen Yuan makes a timeline in his head: if Tianlang-jun is really doing the part of sightseeing young master in the human world (which Shen Yuan has personally confirmed) then it should take him a few decades to grow bored of it all, sour on the experience and then go and do the attempted world-conquering he gets mountained for. So he should have at least fifty more years before he has to worry about that nonsense, right?

There's still no sign of young master Shen on his peak (goddamn master Airplane, was Shen Qingqiu really so young during PIDW?! A cultivator under a hundred should not be given a position of authority like that, they are barely an adult! The other future peak lords keep popping up around the sect already, so no wonder he was so paranoid of his position, being decades younger than everyone!!) so he promotes his no-longer-openly-feral Shen Jiu as head disciple in the meantime, because that kid is an overachiever like no other and by far the most competent of his disciples.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he is prompted to give Shen Jiu a courtesy name as his succeeding disciple (how did this happen?! This much-abused feral cat is not the one who should be here, System!!).

And the System finally gives him an order he can't refuse: Shen Jiu is to be named Shen Qingqiu. It all starts to break apart at that moment, his leisure and detachment coming back to bite him where it hurts the most.

Shen Yuan announces the name and watches as his head disciple's eyes flash with hurt and betrayal before his mask slots back in place (he never bothered to investigate deeper into Shen Jiu's past than what the boy shared willingly, but now he goes digging. He traces Wu Yanzi's tracks, interviewing ghosts along the way until he reaches the ruins of the Qiu residence and learns of the horrors that went down there. Please forgive your master, A-Jiu! He did not mean to saddle you with the name of your abusers!).

He tries, in those last few, desperate years to be better for the future scum villain, but it feels like it's too late already (the immortal master came back to earth from his unreachable cloud, but it's too little too late). Shen Qingqiu doesn't trust him, he doesn't trust anyone except himself (Shen Yuan is the greatest expert of beasts in the world and he can see the marks of a cornered, crippled tiger in every move Shen Qingqiu makes. His head disciple is angry and terrified and it's his fault that he never helped to make it better.) his relationship with his martial siblings is horrible and he has learned all the wrong lessons from his time on the mountain (because Shen Yuan, spoiled and absent, failed to teach him better).

Shen Yuan watches helplessly as things spiral out of his control (he knows Tianlang-jun couldn't possibly have wanted to conquer anything yet, but his System shuts him up when he wants to speak. He's the one who creates the array, he's the one who puts the final nail in the coffin of a man and his beloved, all for the crime of loving the wrong person). His shixiong gets severely wounded in the fight and they arrange a very hasty ascension before he could perish from his injuries.

He hopes that ascension would make things easier to bear. He has waited for so long, planned to lean back and enjoy PIDW from a front row seat after a life spent playing his part to perfection.

It's so much worse than he could have ever imagined. The System plays one last joke on him and appoints him god of secrets, so he gets to see everything that goes on in the sect. He's already familiar with Luo Binghe's PoV from PIDW, but now he gets to see Yue Qingyuan (clutching his sword and drinking down potions to dull the pain of his ruined body with every meal, screaming himself hoarse for Shen Jiu every night in his nightmares) and Shang Qinghua (walking the high wire of terror and overwork, System window hovering over him with threats of death if he so much as twitches wrong) and Shen Qingqiu, always Shen Qingqiu who keeps spiraling into bitter cruelty with every mocking word he pretends to ignore, every impassable bottleneck and almost-fatal qi-deviation.

When Shen Qingqiu almost succumbs to one of his deviations that leaves him unconscious with a high fever for days he finally breaks and begs the System to let him do something. Shen Qingqiu has grown up to be exactly the kind of scum he was in the story, but for all that he wants to smack him every time he does something shitty, Shen Yuan has grown to care for his horrible, almost-feral tiger of a disciple. He doesn't want him to live the fate of the scum villain, but as a god he's not allowed to act. He will do anything, System! Anything!!!

The next thing he knows, he wakes up as Shen Qingqiu. It's his chance to change fate for the better, but if Shen Yuan is in the body, then where is Shen Jiu??? His soul is in storage and the System will magnanimously allow him to buy him back to life and give him a second chance for all the B-points he amassed over his long life. It's a choice between getting Shen Jiu back or keeping the points as an emergency save that would allow him to return to his previous role if things go wrong.

It's hardly a difficult choice, isn't it?

#svsss #shen yuan #shen jiu #shen qingqiu #tc writes

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luvelylili · 2 years

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LOA MOTIVATION COMPLIATION

for this post i literally just compiled a bunch of motivating things i’ve seen being said over time by multiple wonderful blogs throughout tumblr with regards to the law of assumption.

the intent of this is to basically serve as a pick-me-up for whoever needs a little encouragement with their manifesting, regardless of where you’re at with your journey. the post ahead is filled with the kindest words from some of the kindest souls on this app, all in one place to help anyone in need, anytime.

whatever your motivation for seeking this post, i just want you to know that if you’re spiralling, having doubts, reacting to the 3d - even if the 3d is crumbling to pieces around you and all you want to do is crawl into a hole and never come out again (believe me, i’ve been there!), i want you to know that this is temporary, and that everything you see around you is completely malleable.

breathe. it’ll be alright, you’ll be alright. and now, with this in mind, enjoy. <3

———————————————————————

“★ The things you hear and see in your 3D that contradict your manifestation don’t exist in your 4D. Therefore they aren’t real or relevant because 3D will only materialise whats in your 4D and will get rid of the things that contradict your assumptions. WITH PERSISTENCE.” - @sutheworld

“from this second I will only beleive what I say to myself as true , I don't give a f*ck about anyone saying anything about me and I will only beleive my story and my delusion.

If I get any opposite, intrusive thoughts I will supress them with a single shush and if I say don't come after me I'm not the same old person the thoughts won't come.” - @rayjane

“be kind to yourselves. you’re allowed to have off days, you’re allowed to be demotivated and you’re allowed to feel negative emotions. you’re human after all and it would be unhealthy if you didn’t have your down moments. however, you’re not allowed to give up on yourself. you’re not allowed to quit and throw away your power. none of that. you’re getting your shit. that’s a given. if you affirm, persist and don’t take no for an answer, you will get what you want. don’t overcomplicate the law - as long as you don’t go against your affirmations by doubting yourself and entertaining intrusive thoughts, you’re doing everything right! trust yourself, and do it for you!! that’s the most important part - you’re the operant power, this is your reality and you will get what you want. all it takes is some discipline and persistence! i believe in you, and i’m so proud of you for being here reading this right now!” - @luvelylili

“in reality, your desires are already yours from the beginning. you just need to persist in this fact and the 3d will follow bc it is the law.” - @itssjustjade

“you will NEVER understand the law when you live vicariously through the success and words of others. don’t you think you’ve learned enough? aren’t you ready to feel peace, freedom and GET WHAT YOU WANT??? like hello???

what do you want to work for you? WHAT DO YOU WANNA DO? got it? now do that. and don't ever be a slave to your senses. always think in your favour because there is no separation between you and your desires, regardless of what anyone or any circumstance has to say.

you have it. its done. relax. you cannot mess this up unless you say you can.” - @starsscriptures

“this whole world is your oyster. EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING OUTSIDE OF YOU IS POWERLESS, YOUR ASSUMPTIONS AND DESIRES ARE WHAT MATTERS. LIFE HAPPENS FROM YOU AND THERE IS NO OPPOSING POWER IN THE UNIVERSE. YOU ARE LITERALLY AN UNSTOPPABLE GOD. THE WORLD BELONGS TO YOU BABY 😽💗” - @iivenusii

“You are God, you control everything in your reality. You create and you created everything in your reality. Nothing or nobody can do anything to change, ruin or take away your power/manifestations. Its all yours. It's all from you. There's not a single thing in this world that isn't created by you. If you can create them, you can change them.” - @koreanbarbie

“literally you can have whatever you want, whatever you freaking what. just assume, thats your only job isnt that so easy?? like..all you have to do is THINK & ASSUME, its yours and it shall be yours because thats how the law works theres no ifs or buts. whatever you assume naturally and persist into that assumption..will come into fruition, so you making this whole law of assumption journey difficult for you please remember that its EASY. you’re making it harder for yourself.” - @cinefairy

“Start acknowledging your power. You’re the only person who has the power to change your life. The 3D isn’t what’s defining you, it’s just a reflection of your 4D. You’re so powerful, you can change your reality in seconds. You’re the only Creator, everything must conform to your thoughts. You manifest absolutely everything!!!You don’t need a plan B, you will have everything you want my love.” - @angelicbarbiedoll

#loassumption #motivation #manifesting #self concept #affirming #law of assumption #law of the universe #neville goddard #affirmations #dream girl #best self #loa motivation

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returnsandreturns · 7 months

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they get high and also honest

(i don't KNOW where aziraphale read about shotgunning but it had to happen. also maybe continue on and put this on ao3?)

“It was wonderful to see Adam again, wasn’t it?” Aziraphale says.

“Mmm, yes,” Crowley says, unenthusiastically. “Did you understand a word he said?”

“Oh, not a word,” Aziraphale breathes, relieved.

“He’s just a kid,” Crowley says, then laughs, surprising himself. “That’s kind of–nice, actually. After everything.”

“It is nice,” Aziraphale says, smiling before he walks past him to lock the door to the shop. “Although, he’s really a teenager more than a kid. The smell alone.”

“Smell of hormones,” Crowley says, “and energy drinks and Snapchat and–”

“Marijuana,” Aziraphale says, surprised, and Crowley turns to see him bent down and picking up a small plastic bag folded in half. “I thought I recognized the smell.”

“Why did you recognize it?” Crowley asks, squinting at him, gasping when Aziraphale looks nothing but coy. "Have you partaken, angel?"

“. . .you know that period in the seventies where we didn’t really speak much?” Aziraphale asks, apparently waiting for Crowley’s hesitant nod before he goes on. “I spent quite a lot of it. . .thinking. And smoking, on occasion. Medicinally."

“For what ailment?” Crowley asks, laughing.

“Spot of depression,” Aziraphale says, simply, no emotions on his face besides a small and, frankly, suspicious smile.

“Why were you depressed?” Crowley asks, with every emotion visible on his face, probably. He might not have been the best person to turn to in the event of an emotional crisis but he would have tried. Things got strange and tense after the holy water–perhaps, more specifically, after Aziraphale gently turned him down when he didn’t even know what he was asking for. He wanted to give him his space. Slow down.

In 1972, he bought the newest Bowie album and fell asleep to Starman playing in the background. He woke up two years later, paced up and down Aziraphale’s street fifty times, caught eyes with him through the window for just a moment before he ran off. He bought a copy of Diamond Dogs from the record store nearby then went back to his flat and slept for the majority of the decade.

Aziraphale wrinkles his nose, stares somewhere over Crowley’s shoulder for a long moment before he meets his eyes and says, softly, “We didn’t speak at all that decade, did we?”

“We had lunch once,” Crowley says, feeling like his heart is entirely too aware of this whole situation, wanting to touch him but not sure where, “in 1972.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale says, after a beat, like he’s remembering how painfully awkward it was just trying to be whatever their brand of normal was. “Would you–would you like to smoke with me, perhaps? It would be wrong to give it back to Adam and encourage the behavior. But it's. . .also wrong to let it go to waste, don’t you think?”

“For the record, this is not what I expected to happen today,” Crowley says, smiling, “but sure, angel. Let’s smoke, I guess.”

***

When they’re upstairs, Aziraphale makes sure that the smoke will not penetrate anything to reach the books downstairs or leave a lingering smell, sitting Crowley down on the small sofa to watch as he digs around and eventually pulls out a delicate looking glass pipe. It looks brand new, no burns at all, milky white with pale blue flowers painted on it.

Aziraphale is silent as he neatly packs the pipe and barely rubs his thumb over the rim of it to light it.

“For you,” he says, offering it to Crowley before sitting next to him, just an inch or two between them.

Crowley coughs as soon as he takes a hit, turning into a laugh when he sees Aziraphale watching him kind of smugly.

“Don’t judge me, angel,” he says, handing him the pipe. “I’ve hardly done this. Apparently been living a pure and righteous existence compared to you."

“And God said, behold,” Aziraphale says, solemnly, “I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the–”

“Oh, don’t quote Genesis at me, you bastard,” Crowley says, nudging him gently. “I was there.”

Aziraphale takes a hit and Crowley watches every godforsaken second of it, allowing himself the indiscretion given the context, taking in the sight of the pipe parting Aziraphale’s lips and his eye fluttering shut and the long lingering moment of peace before he slowly blows the smoke out.

“You’re, uh,” Crowley says, faintly. “You’re good at that.”

“How so?” Aziraphale asks, happily.

“Well, you look good,” Crowley clarifies, freezing until Aziraphale blushes and looks even more pleased with himself. “What am I doing wrong?”

“You need to take it slower, I think,” Aziraphale says, relighting it and biting his lip for a distracting moment before he asks, “May I?” and lifts the pipe to Crowley’s mouth.

“. . .uh huh,” Crowley says, shocked at Aziraphale’s soft fingers touching his jaw to keep him still but immediately listening when he tells him to breathe in slowly and tells him when to stop.

“Hold it in,” Aziraphale says, softly, setting the pipe carefully on the table before resting a hand on Crowley’s chest like he wants to feel his breathing. “Now breathe out, dear.”

It’s definitely smoother.

“There you are,” Aziraphale says, satisfied.

“Here I am,” Crowley says, thoroughly shaken.

***

Crowley manages to get Aziraphale to do it one more time, just to be safe, before he takes a hit on his own and already feels like he’s melting into the sofa, staring shamelessly when Aziraphale shifts forward to pull off his jacket and waistcoat.

Aziraphile slowly rolls up his sleeves and unbuttons exactly one button.

"A bit stifled," he says, sitting back again, leaning against Crowley heavily.

"Sure," Crowley says, swallowing hard. "Am I meant to be feeling it much yet?"

"It may take some time," Aziraphale says, smiling sideways at him. "How are you feeling now?"

"Good," Crowley says, smiling back because he can't help himself. "Very good."

***

"You did not," Crowley says, grinning.

"I did," Aziraphale says, laughing. "And I was never welcome at Buckingham Palace again."

"You fascinate me," Crowley says, without a hint of sarcasm.

At some point, he was down to a black t-shirt and jeans, everything else abandoned on the floor with Aziraphale's clothing. It is an unfamiliar sight that he can't stop glancing down at.

At another point, his arm found its way around Aziraphale's shoulders, then his waist instead, and Aziraphale just cuddled close instead of commenting on it. It feels like time is moving differently and like he's breathing under water and, ultimately, like they can be what they want to be without driving away the urge with stupid fears. He can't hold onto a thought for very long other than how good he feels. It's lovely.

"What are you thinking about?" Aziraphale asks, lifting his head, after they've both gone silent.

". . .when you said I went too fast, in my car all those years ago," he says, because that's been on his mind ever since. "What did you think I wanted?"

"Oh," Aziraphale says, softly. "Well, I thought maybe it was. . .what I wanted, as well. What I was trying not to want."

"Angel," Crowley says. He really wants a straight answer for once, something other than wait and see and lingering looks, but then Aziraphale is relighting the pipe.

"Let me try something," he says. "I've never done it but I've read–well, just breathe in when our mouths touch, dear."

Crowley watches Aziraphale take another hit, feeling paralyzed for just a moment when Aziraphale slides fingers into hair to hold him in place before he's leaning in so they're pressed together as he slots his mouth over Crowley's and breathes out slowly.

Crowley doesn't cough at all this time and Aziraphale stays right there, touches their foreheads together, murmurs his name like a goddamn blessing.

"I want you," Crowley says, breathlessly, winding his arms around Aziraphale like he might change his mind. "Please, angel, please-can I have you?"

Every word and every kiss that Aziraphale gives him after feels like it will linger forever, hovering around in the air between them, a gentle buzzing under his skin. He is feeling everything so much.

"Yes," Aziraphale says, kissing his mouth. "Yes, anything you want." His cheek. "My beautiful boy." The tip of his nose. "So brave."

"Dunno about brave," Crowley murmurs.

"For me, you are," Aziraphale says, stroking his cheek. "You always have been."

Crowley would do anything for him. If being brave is part of that, maybe he is.

They kiss for an indeterminate amount of time, Aziraphale mostly in his lap, until Aziraphale pulls away just enough to murmur, "Should we sober up, darling? Maybe talk?"

" I'd like to touch you a while longer," Crowley admits, brushing fingers down Aziraphale's throat, tracing down underneath his loose collar. "I think I might be braver this way, actually."

Aziraphale smiles down at him warmly and starts to unbutton the rest of his shirt.

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #my fic

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taruusmoon · 6 months

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BABY DON’T CRY TONIGHT

Pariring: Bada Lee x Jessica Dal (OC)

Genre: angst

Warning: angst. Used of Korean name Dal which means Moon.

˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

Jessica had always been confident; she had grown up with a father who encouraged her to be better and a mother who told her every day that she was an amazing kid. Since she was a child, many of the people around her supported her, and some children held her up as a role model. Her future was promising, or so she had been told by one of her maternal aunts who had the gift of palm reading.

"You will be successful, but you are destined to suffer for love before you are completely happy” she once told her when she visited her family in Colombia for the first time after a while at the age of fifteen. But at that time and until a month ago, Jessica had not believed what her aunt told her. Of course she believed in fate and the gift, but five years earlier she had met the love of her life and was completely sure she would not suffer for love, or so she thought.

In 2018, five years ago, Jessica came to JustJerk to be part of the staff, YoungJ discovered her potential, and along with him, so did Bada Lee when she first saw her audition at the academy.

Bada was by far one of the most promising dancers at the academy; her career was on the rise, and for Jessica, it was inevitable not to feel a little attracted to the girl. So when they finally met officially, the connection they had even before they spoke to each other became even stronger. Without being able to help it, only a year later they became best friends, but the feelings grew even more beyond friendship, and while they were in Japan due to an academy competition, Jessica confessed her feelings to Bada under the sound of windchimes, and it was reciprocated.

But now, six months after the competition in Japan their relationship has changed, and Jessica doesn't know the reason. But she stood there in the corridors of the academy looking for her girlfriend after walking in the pouring rain with a waterproof jacket that barely covered her.

Carefully Jessica took off her wet black jacket, placed it on the floor, trying not to get the floor wetter, and then turned her gaze to her girlfriend. Bada was leaning against the large mirror that covered one of the walls of the practice room. She had her legs crossed and her eyes closed. She knew Jessica was in front of her, but she didn't feel like talking. It had been like that for the last month.

“I saw Howl coming out of the academy, and as soon as he saw me, he looked down” Jessica said as she slowly walked towards Bada. Lately, it was the only way she had to approach her girlfriend so as not to make her uncomfortable or make her leave. “Was he with you? Did you talk about anything?”

“No.”

Bada opened her eyes and stood up. Jessica stopped in the middle of the room, watching the other girl head over to the stereo to unplug her phone and start picking up the cables. She had been practicing all afternoon, creating choreography for a future academy video.

“I heard Tata say that you and Howl have been hanging out lately. I don't mean to pry, but I'd like to know what you're talking about; after all, you haven't spoken since...”

“Since you and I started dating” Bada interrupted without looking at Jessica.

“Yes, seven months ago, to be exact.”

Both were silent for at least a minute. Bada had many things on her mind, but mainly the conversation she had with Howl a few minutes ago, and Jessica was beginning to despair about the whole situation they were going through. About a month ago, her relationship with Bada had started to decline; the girl was hanging out at the academy, no longer accepting her invitations for dates, and talking to her had become almost impossible since she wasn't answering her texts or calls.

“Hyeokjae has been having a hard time, Dal” Bada finally spoke again, and Jessica felt a little strange to hear her call her Dal after a while. “He confessed his feelings to me.”

“Yeah, but we knew that before we started dating.” Jessica crossed her arms and clenched her jaw. She had a sneaking suspicion that the conversation was going to lead to a new fight.

“I thought it was a simple attraction, but he's really in love with me; he's been suffering because of us, and he doesn't deserve it." Bada slowly turned to face Jessica from a distance. “We've been spending time together, and I think I realized something.”

Jessica swallowed hard, then took a long breath. She frowned slightly and began to deny. Without answering anything, she turned to walk in the direction of her jacket. She was ready to leave and avoid the conversation that was coming; if she ignored him, it wasn't going to happen, and she was willing to play the blind girl’s role if it meant that Bada wasn't going to leave her.

“I think we should take some time, Dal” Bada muttered with a trembling voice. Jessica paused with her eyes fixed on the door, her back to Bada, as she clenched the sleeve of her sweater tightly, wondering what she had done wrong to end up like this. "I'm not saying we're going to end it but I think we should back off a little, at least until Howl gets over it a little and...

“Do you love me, Bada?” Jessica blurted out suddenly, turning around with glassy eyes and a lump in her throat, causing the other girl to frown a little confused.

“I don't think this has anything to do with what I said before.”

“Except that it does. because I'm sure I love you but I'm not so sure you do because if you did, you wouldn't be asking me something like this.”

“Howl was my friend Dal.” Bada wrinkled his nose as she blinked rapidly to keep tears from forming in shis eyes. Somehow, she thought Jessica would agree to give herself some time and understand her decision.

“He was my friend too! My best friend in fact, but I chose us, I chose you” Jessica pointed an accusing finger at Bada inching closer and closer. So answer me!

“I'm sorry.”

“I don't want you to apologize!”

“Then I don't know what you want!” Bada shouted, looking straight into the girl's brown eyes, which were flooded with tears. “I just can't take it anymore, Jessica. It's not just because of Hyeokjae; everyone hates us. The looks of dislike from people at the academy, from people who used to be our friends.” Bada frowned, not knowing what else to say as she ran the back of her hand across her cheek, wiping the tears that fell from her eyes. She couldn't figure out at what point they stopped being Dal and Bada—the ocean in love with the moon— She felt her heart break. “I don’t know what else you want from me”

Jessica closed her eyes in frustration, the mere fact that Bada called her Jessica managed to make her tense up immediately because she never called her that; she always called her Dal or some affectionate nickname, but the last few days—since Bada had started talking to Howl to be exact—the cute nicknames and the Dal had disappeared, and now she managed to understand the reason. And there was also the fact that what Bada said was true; since seven months ago, when they had started dating, their former friends stopped talking to them; each and every one of them took the side of the "hurt" Howl. The looks of dislike towards the two were hurtful, but when Bada wasn't around, Jessica got the worst of it because, behind her back, she could hear many calling her insensitive and a traitor.

“Do you really wonder what I want?” Jessica asked with a trembling lower lip, not waiting for an answer. I want you to tell me that you love me. “I...I was friendless because I was selfish to fall in love with the same girl my best friend was in love with” she paused for a moment to take a long breath to quiet the sob that was struggling to come out. Bada averted her gaze to the wall behind Jessica, pursing her lips and feeling more tears fall down her cheeks. “And I know I'm a shitty person because of that. I understand and accept it, but I didn't regret it because I had you, and that was enough. But now you come to tell me that Hyeokjae feels bad and he doesn't deserve this.”

“Jess...”

“They put his happiness and mine on a scale, and you don't even hesitate to choose him. I didn't doubt for a second to choose you, Bada. You wonder what I want? The truth is, I don't think I want anything from you anymore.”

The two were silent again for a few short seconds. Bada not knowing what to say because her decision is final, but the pain that settles in her chest makes it impossible for her to say it loudly, Jessica inwardly prepared herself to give the last blow, almost sure that it will be in her favor.

“I'm not going to give you time." Jessica said, her voice trembling, "There are only two choices, Bada; you're done with me for good or you choose me.

Bada stared at Jessica without saying anything, and after long seconds, when she finally found courage, she approached her girlfriend to wrap her in a tight hug. Silently apologizing for what she was about to do. Jessica could breathe easily again; however, she couldn't help but feel selfish again, but the warmth of Bada's arms made her forget a little.

“Forgive me Jessica” Bada whispered, pressing her cheek against her girlfriend's hair. Then Jess' heart started up again, beating frantically against her chest. “Please, forgive me.”

Carefully Bada took Jessica's arms to remove them from her waist, and with crystal clear eyes, she looked down, meeting the reddish eyes and confused expression on Jessica's face. Without a word, Bada cradled her girlfriend's face in her hands, closed her eyes tightly, and pressed her lips against Jessica's giving her a kiss that tasted of pain and tears. Neither of them moved for long seconds, both knowing it was their goodbye kiss.

“Why are you doing this, Bada? You wouldn't be able to do this to me” Jessica threw her head back and whispered with tear streaked cheeks. “I'm never going to forgive you.”

“I know, I'm sorry, i don’t want you to cry for me.” Bada ran his thumb over Jessica's cheeks, wiping away the tears while biting her lower lip trying to keep her own sobs and tears. “Please, don’t cry anymore”

With a slight pitiful smile, Bada took a step back and walked past Jessica, who kept her gaze fixed on the mirror, watching as the girl picked up her practice bag and then headed for the door.

“If you go through that door, there will be no turning back." Jessica blurted out in a plaintive tone of voice and almost in a whisper, making Bada stop with her hand on the door handle. She hesitated; it was more than clear to her that she was not sure about what she was going to do, but the decision was made, so she opened the door and finally crossed it. “You... You will regret it, but it will be too late.”

Is this what a broken heart feels like? Jessica thought as she brought her hands to her chest and then let out a painful moan that filled the room. As soon as Bada had closed the door behind her, her chest began to ache more intensely than before, her legs faltered until she was on her knees on the floor and sobs began to come out along with hot tears. She didn't know how long she stood with her face pressed against the floor as she cried but the door suddenly opened again.

“Jessica!” Tatter's muffled cry echoed through the room, and she immediately ran to her friend to take her in her arms. Bada had looked for her in the other practice room and in tears had asked her to go with Jessica. “I need you to breathe Dal, please don't cry anymore.”

“I can't Tata, why do I feel so bad?”

Taeyoung closed her eyes and squeezed Jessica tighter, she felt bad for the girl in her arms, and also for the other girl she knew was on the other side of the door being hold between Lusher’s arms.

“You're going to be okay Dal.”

˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

N/A: just some angst to present Jessica before i drop the first ep of the rock band au🙇🏽‍♀️. Eng is not my first lenguaje so I’m sorry if something it’s not grammatically correct.

Hope u enjoy it

#street woman fighter 2 #streetwomanfighter #swf2 #bada lee #team bebe #street woman fighter x reader #swf2 x reader #bada lee x oc #bada #bada lee x reader #leebada #lee bada #badalee

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luizd3ad · 5 days

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Every Step Of The Way | Regulus Black x Reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader WC: 1,213 TW: heavy talks of depression, depressive episode, depressed reader, self invalidation, no use of Y/N. Author's Note: I've been having a hard time lately and I just needed a comfort fic, this is purely based off my own experience with depression and how I feel when I'm in a depressive episode. If you don't feel like me that's okay, mental health is different for everyone! Just remember you're so valid and so loved <3. Summary: You're just having a hard time but Regulus is always there for you.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

At some point your mind wasn't supposed to be your enemy anymore right? At some point the ‘teen angst’ was supposed to go away and you were supposed to be an adult with relatively healthy mental health right?

The crippling depression and anxiety was supposed to go away with puberty. At least that's what you'd been told, that things would get better and your mind wouldn't mess with you as much.That was what was supposed to happen, but when do things ever go as planned?

The only difference between now and your teen years was that you recognized the symptoms faster, you understood what was coming before it was fully there. Now every so often you can catch it, do things to make the bad thoughts go away or lessen, then other times… you would feel paralyzed.

The numbness would consume you, invite you in like an old friend, along with the loss of appeal to do anything. You didn't want to eat, drink, read, or listen to music.

You didn't want to do anything and sometimes without even realizing you would spent the whole day looking into nothingness.

Regulus would notice the mood change almost immediately. He would pick up on the sign and the overall change in your personality.

Not only would he notice because he was hyper aware of the behavioral changes around him (thank you Walburga. Sarcasm) but also because he dealt with the same feelings.

The emptiness and numbness of it all, it wasn't until Pandora explained it to him that he learned that those feelings were not exactly ‘normal’.

It was normal to be sad, to have a depressive episode here and there especially following a tragedy but it was the consistency that wasn't normal.

The feeling of emptiness that always felt like a shadow following you, the feeling of being the happiest you've ever been but still feeling that emptiness in the back of your head.

It was one of the things you both shared. Sometimes it wasn't a good thing. When both of you were in that state of mind it was hard to help each other, to be there for each other.

How could you stop someone from drowning if you're drowning yourself?

But other times it was a good thing. You knew each other's signs, you two could pick up on the signs before the other person even realized that they were slipping, sometimes. It gave you time to either try and stop it before it went too far or just get prepared.

This was one of those times Regulus knew he needed to prepare.

He had seen you starting to detach for about a day now. Regulus knew this was going to be one of those episodes he couldn't stop, the kind where you were there physically but not mentally.

You just were floating through your days, you were on auto pilot almost the whole day; you weren't really listening, hardly responded and if you did it was short.

Regulus preparing for this meant doing a few things, taking a few days off work, letting Sirius, Pandora and Barty know that he wouldn't be really available so that he could focus solely on you. Making sure your favorite foods were home and ready to encourage you to eat, having some of your favorite movies, books, everything and anything accessible in case you were in the mood to do anything or if you just wanted to try and distract yourself for a while.

It also meant mentally preparing himself to be understanding and patient since it wasn't exactly his strong suit but he'd do anything for you.

When an episode fully hits it isn't always you wake up and start to feel depressed. Sometimes you would be fine most of the day and then suddenly you were hit with a wave of nothingness.

Most of the time nothing would trigger it, nothing would happen, your brain would just decide that it was time to be sad, to be numb, you guessed.

“Mon Amore, would you like to eat something? You can have anything you want.” Regulus touched the side of your face and brought you out of your head. You just shook your head not really looking at him. “No, thank you.” You whisper.

He just nodded and sat next to you. He knew when to pick his battles and since you ate that morning he knew this shouldn't be the hill he dies on.

The rest of the night was spent mostly silence with a few words exchanged here and there, Regulus was there ready and willing to do whatever you needed him to do to make you feel better.

He got you to eat a little eventually and you shared a shower with him. He had helped you wash yourself since you didn't have any motivation or energy to do so.

By the end of the night you were both cuddled up in bed while Regulus ran his hand up and down your back just to let you know he was there.

He liked when you knew he was there, he felt like it helped even just a little, especially to make you feel a little less alone.

Eventually you broke the silence with a sight. “I'm sorry.” You felt regulus's hand stop moving, he stayed silent for a moment.

“Why are you apologizing? You haven't done anything.” By the sound of his voice you knew he was frowning, he knew exactly why you were apologizing but a part of him was hoping, praying, that he was wrong.

“For being this way. You shouldn't have to deal with this. We're not kids anymore, I should be over these feelings by now.”

Regulus sat up, making you sit up in the process, reaching over to the lamp on the bedside table turning the light on. “Do you choose to feel this way? Do you make the conscious decision to feel like this?” Regulus was looking you in the eyes with raised eyebrows waiting for a response.

“Not necessarily, but-”

“Exactly, you don't. You can't control your emotions. You didn't ask to feel this way nor do you choose to. There's no point in apologizing for something that you have no control over. Your brain is amazing and beautiful but sometimes it isn't the nicest to you and that's okay. Do you know why? Because even if your brain is mean sometimes it still makes you who you are and you're so amazing, mon cœur. We’ll take care of this together like we always do. It's going to be hard sometimes but it is not impossible, and I'll always be here with you every step of the way, because I love you more than anything, tu es ma raison de vivre, mon amour.”

Regulus cupped your cheek and whipped a few tears you didn't know you had shedded. All you could do was whisper a ‘thank you’ as you threw yourself in his arms.

You fell asleep that night in Regulus’s arms while he whispered sweet nothing to you.

You weren't better by any means but you felt loved, you felt understood. You knew that no matter how hard things got, Regulus would be there for you, every step of the way.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

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daisygirlwrites · 1 year

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Eggless Omelet (141 Restaurant AU + headcanons)

Pairing(s): Task Force 141 x Reader (Platonic), Reader's nickname is Crash

Note: heavily inspired by @bloodyknucklesforme 's 141 Restaurant AU post. it's a wonderful read, please check them out!

and also this video . (what the mini fic is based on)

a/n: still working on the next König fic, should be done by this weekend. thank you all so much for reading!

taglist: @bobfloydsgf , @warenai , @devilsfoodcake22

gif credit: @cinematv

“Chef?” You look around the large and busy kitchen, spotting the blond man, his back facing towards you. He was talking to Price. You walk up to them, hearing the tail end of their conversation, which you choose to ignore.

“I just don't think it's fair,” Simon says, crossing his arms.

Trying one more time to get his attention, you speak a little louder. “Um, Chef?”

“Yes Crash, what is it?” Finally acknowledging you, Simon looks over to your direction. Tired eyes matching yours. Price gives you a smile before turning back to the dish in front of him.

“A man on Table six wants an eggless omelet,” You inform him.

“He wants an eggless-” He starts, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Crash, you can’t have an eggless omelet now can you?”

“Why? Do we not have any?” Your facial expression mirrors his.

“No, they don't exist, do they? Because there's no…” Simon lets out an audible sigh, trying hard to not run his hands down his face before speaking again. “Breadsticks, what are they made of?”

“Bread.”

“Bread, very good, okay. Take away the bread, what are you left with?”

After a couple seconds, you replied. “Sticks?”

“No.” He wanted to cry at this point. Grabbing a clean plate on the side, he puts it in front of you. Looking at the array of containers filled with toppings, he picks up some chopped chives and drops it on the plate. “There you go, that's an eggless omelet.”

Glancing at the plate then to him and back to the plate, you mumbled a quiet “Oh okay.” You grabbed the plate, ready to turn and walk away with it.

Eyes widened with shock, he stops you “No! Don't take the plate, Crash, what are you doing, please?”

Price, watching the interaction unfold, finally steps in, “Crash, just ask the nice man if he'd like his omelet made with whole eggs or just egg whites.” He gives you a sweet smile, which you reciprocated. You began to turn but Price's voice haults your movements. “You can leave the plate.”

They watch you hesitate for a moment, slowly turning around. You look over to Price, who was giving you an encouraging nod before clapping his hands together as you slide the plate back to them. “There you go!”

As you walk away, passing through the doors, the two men talk quietly amongst themselves again.

“You should mention to Laswell to not schedule her during exam week.”

“And you need to tell Soap to stop giving her Red Bulls before shifts.”

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

As a former hostess and server throughout high school and college, I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve had similar conversations with my cooks before. That being said, if I had to put Crash in this AU, she’s definitely a new server.

(will be basing some of the headcanons from my experiences)

Got the job because Laswell was friends with her mom and Crash’s college was nearby so it all worked out.

This will come up later in my main fanfics but Crash comes from a well off and also influential family. She didn’t really work in the service industry before this, mostly because her family paid for everything and put her in “easy” jobs

However, after a big fight with her dad, he decided to cut off her allowance

Price was really hesitant on hiring her, even with Laswell and Gaz telling him that they’ll train her personally

Crash picks up things quickly and does a pretty good job overall. However, after the whole “eggless omelet” conversation, the team noticed how frazzled she’d get during midterms and finals week. Laswell gives her those weeks off.

Ghost thought Crash was creepy at first. He’d find her staring at him but when he called her out, she responded with, “Watching people cook food is satisfying!”

Usually quiet between you two while he cooks but he’d always answer any questions you’d ask him.

In the beginning, you didn’t have a lot of confidence in yourself and often find yourself getting walked over a lot

You’ve been caught crying in the back storage room by both Price and Ghost. Multiple times too.

“Can you pass me that tray over there?” *still crying* “Sure.”

They’d ask you what was wrong but you’d kindly brush them off, not wanting to trouble them.

They have seen how some of the customers would treat you. Eventually, it was Simon who came up to you.

“I’m going to ask you something and you’re going to tell me no.” “Huh?” “You heard me.”

Basically teaches you how to stand up for yourself (and to also not give a fuck)

If you had a rough day before your shift started, you’d slip Soap a couple bills and he’d supply you with Red Bulls while you worked.

Sometimes would tag along with Soap whenever he needed to pick up a couple bottles to refill the bar since he’d get discounts on liquor.

You and Gaz would always gossip about customers. He’d tell you who the nice regulars are and the ones you should avoid getting irritated with.

Would take turns crying in the back storage room

Sometimes you and Gaz would switch between being a host and being a server, especially if it’s a slow afternoon and y’all are bored.

You’d visit Alejandro and Rudy’s bakery before your classes start, always grabbing a pastry or two.

When they find out that you work at Price’s restaurant, they playfully tease him by asking you to work with them instead

“You’d get free cheese danishes everyday if you come to work at the bakery,” Alejandro says in a sing-song voice. “That sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me,” You look at him as if you are considering his offer. Price shouts from the window in the kitchen, “THAT’S MY KID, NOT YOURS, ALE!"

This causes all of you to laugh

However, when Graves comes in, most of the time Gaz handles him. One of the few times that you did serve him, he told you, “A pretty thing like you should work at my place. You’re sure to bring in customers!”

Personally, you took the complement, not finding anything wrong and you quietly laughed it off. But you did tell Gaz about it, which in turn he told Price

After that, you rarely see him. Though, you'd hear complaints from others, about how he "Doesn't get to see the cute waitress anymore!"

You’d come by regularly in between classes, mostly because Price would always cook something up for you, free of charge.

After you’re done, you’d talk to him. He’d ask about how classes are going and give you advice about anything and everything. And of course, he’d ask you if anyone has caught your eye. Most of the time you’d laugh and say that you’re too busy for that

One day though, when he’d ask you that question, you gave him a different answer.

“Actually, there’s this new exchange student in my Philosophy class. He’s from Austria.” “You’d better bring him over here!” “No offense, Cap, I’d rather not.” “Not for a date. So I can judge his character and see if he’s good enough for you.” “Oh!”

Honestly, not sure how you’d get your nickname Crash. I was thinking either because you crashed into a customer the first night or crashed into dishes. Or like what happened to one of my former co-workers, who got her car crashed and still managed to come to work.

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familyvideostevie · 1 year

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ok but meeting remus lupin during the end of nov and admitting how melancholy this time of year makes u feel and that's it ur invited to all the marauders events over the holidays and spend new years together

my first attempt at remus! this really ran away from me, but i hope you like it! i am still finding my footing with him but this was great fun. | fem!reader, strangers to friends to lovers, nye kiss, 3.3k

You meet Remus at a local book club, of all places.

A flyer on the bookshop notice board tells you the group meets every other week -- a bit frequently, in your opinion, but you've got the time to read so you figure you'll give it ago. Moving to a new place means you haven't got many, or any, really, friends, and you could do with getting out of the house more. The days are getting shorter and you find yourself a bit more lonely with each passing day.

The group, when you go for the first time, consists of eight elderly women (though, they are sure to inform you, sometimes numbers swell to as many as 15), you, and Remus. They ask for your name and your age, which they all titter at.

"I, uh," you say, crossing your legs and shifting in your folding chair. "I'm really happy to be here," you say. "Thank you for letting me join." That seems to soften them, and they all are a bit more smiley as they introduce themselves.

It is clear right away that they adore Remus. It's not surprising -- he's handsome in a tired way, a ragged way. His face is a mash-up of sharp edges and tight scars that slash across his nose, but his eyes are soft and warm. You want to inspect every inch of him, so naturally you look away.

It takes three meetings for you to say much. After four, you see Remus at the grocery store twice in one week. You wonder if he lives around here. By the fifth meeting, you're fairly sure you've got your footing. You chime in more often than not, and they're going to let you pick a book next month. It's the last meeting before you all break for the holidays and you are quite sad to not have these to look forward to for the next few weeks. But you push it down and instead focus on your impassioned defense of the unlikable narrator in this week's novel.

"It's the edge that makes the story so compelling," you say. "We get to judge her because we recognize her, but we don't know why until too late. It's because she's normal, and we're meant to see ourselves in her." You've gone on for too long, and after you finish, you don't know where to look. Remus is smiling at you, as he always does.

"Brilliant," says Florence, the bookstore owner and facilitator "What a way to end! I can't wait to see what you come up with in the new year, dear." She hands out the plates of cookies that she made for everyone and the ladies begin to go their separate ways. You're juggling your book, bag, and the plate while you try to shove an arm through your coat. A hand appears in your vision to grab the items in your grip.

"You alright?" It's Remus. He smells like chocolate and something earthier. You've spoken a few times, but not much apart from a hello here and there. He complimented your sweater last meeting and the words burned in your brain for days. You nod, quickly sliding into your coat before taking your things back. His fingers are warm where they brush yours.

"Thanks," you say. The bookshop is almost empty.

"I agree with you, by the way," he says. You've noticed that when Remus talks to you, even if he's responding to something you've said in the group, he looks at you the whole time. His attention does not waver. It's both warming and unnerving. "What you were saying about the narrator. I hadn't been able to put it into words like that, but I think you were spot on."

You start for the door and he follows. "I just think it's easy to fall into the trap of putting every character on one side of morality or the other," you say.

"Exactly!" He nods emphatically. "With a writer of this caliber the text encourages you to read about her with nuance and to consider that she's not just one thing." He holds the door for you and you both spill out into the chilly night air. The town has wrapped every lamppost and tree in lights that cast everything in a warm glow.

"Listen," Remus says. He looks especially lovely out here. You hug your plate of cookies close to your chest before you reach out to push away the lock of hair that's fallen across his forehead. "I know this is probably not going to come out well, so feel free to tell me to shove it."

You blink at him. What?

"I've seen you at the supermarket around the corner a few times," he continues. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he's being shy. "And I figure you live around here?" You nod. You've no reason to believe he's anything but a nice guy, but you know nothing about him. Even if you have also noticed him at the same store.

"Well," he keeps going. His smile is tight, the creases at the corner of his eyes deep in a way that screams nerves. "I was wondering, if you don't have plans that is, if you wanted to come to the pub with me? I'm meeting a few of my mates and I--." He runs a hand through his hair, fixing the piece you can't stop looking at. "Well, we don't get to talk much during club and I'd uh, like to get to know you?"

"Are you asking me to be friends?" you blurt out. Probably not the best thing to lead with, but he's really so handsome and he seems nice and you haven't got much to look forward to in your empty apartment and this is just a little bit overwhelming. His shoulders creep back down away from his ears and he grins.

"Yeah," he says. "I am."

"Okay," you say. "Lead the way." Remus doesn't strike you as someone who wears his emotions plainly, but his grin softens into something lighter and you think that you want to figure out how to read him.

You fall into step beside him. "It's not far," he says. "I do want to apologize in advance for my friends, though," he says.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, they're great. Don't get me wrong. I love them to pieces." He sighs. "But they're also a bloody pain."

You laugh loudly and suddenly. It feels nice. "Well, that's a ringing endorsement. It's alright though, I could use some friends."

Remus looks over at you and tugs on your elbow just once to tell you to turn with him. "You just moved here, yeah?"

"Well, a few months ago now, but I haven't had much luck with people." Between working and trying to keep your head above water, you haven't figure out how to add socializing into that yet. "And I don't really like...all this." You wave your hands in the air, gesturing at the lights and ribbons adorning the street.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," you say. "It all makes me feel a bit sad." You start to feel embarrassed. "Oh Remus, I'm sorry. We've barely spoken and I'm being all melancholy." He knocks his shoulder with yours and you look over at him to see he's still got a small smile on his face.

"Darling," he says. "I am as melancholy as they come. You're speaking my language."

---

The pub is crowded and noisy and you like it immediately. Remus takes your hand and leads you through the throng to a back corner where two guys are taking up an entire round booth with what seems to be an arm wrestling match.

"Surrender, Potter," one of them says. He's got a knot of dark hair tied into a bun and tiny hoops in each ear and one nostril.

"Fuck off," growls the other. You can tell right away that he's tall, maybe as tall as Remus. He's got messy hair and round spectacles. He is not winning the match.

"Idiots," Remus mutters. He lets go of your hand and places his palm on your lower back. "Hey, knock it off!" This distracts the boy with glasses, allowing the other one to slam his arm down on the table.

"Shove it," he cries. Remus rubs the bridge of his nose. You don't think they've noticed you yet.

"Where are the girls?" he asks. More friends? you think.

"They're coming," says the boy who lost. Potter, you think. His eyebrows climb up his forehead once he notices you standing next to Remus.

"Marlene called and said they had to stop at home first," adds the other one. His eyes find you and his gaze is sharp. "And who is this?" he says, eyeing you.

"Uh," you say. Remus's hand presses a little harder into your back. "Remus and I do book club together?" You put the plate of cookies down on the table like a peace offering.

"Merlin's beard," glasses boy whistles. "She's real."

The one with piecing looks delighted. "James, you owe me a fiver." He holds out his hand.

"Fuck off, Sirius," says...James. "Wait are those cookies?"

"As you can see," Remus sighs, "these gits are James and Sirius. Are you two about finished?" You look at him and his cheeks are a little pink but he's doing his best to look bored. James and Sirius break into roars of laughter as they scoot to make room for you both. Remus ushers you into the booth. "I'm going to get drinks," he says. "What would you like?"

"Whatever you're having," you tell him. You tug off your coat and don't know what to do with your hands.

"I want a stout, Remus," James says.

Remus doesn't even look at him. "I wasn't asking you, dear." He winks at you and turns on his heel, heading for the bar. You feel a bit strange to be left with two guys you just met, but this is how you make friends, right?

"So what's this about me not being real?" you ask. Sirius raps a tattooed knuckle on the table before reaching for a sugar cookie.

"Well," he drawls. "Lupin told us about his book club when he started going earlier this year but we don't hear much else about it. And then a little while ago, he comes to drinks and he says there's a new girl."

James says your name in a poor imitation of Remus's accent. You twist your fingers in your lap. "And he says a few things about this new girl," Sirius continues, until James elbows him.

"Keep your limbs to yourself, Potter," he grumbles.

James leans in, elbows on the table. "Remus hasn't made a new friend since like, grammar school. So naturally we thought he was having us on when he said you two were friendly."

"Oh," you say. He's been telling his friends that you're friendly? It makes your chest tight in a nice way, like you're being hugged. "Well, thank you for letting me crash your pub night," you say.

"Are you kidding?" Sirius deadpans. "We've been begging him to invite you for weeks." Remus returns before you can reply with two pale-looking pints. He sets them down and slides in next to you, close enough that it's clear you know him the most, even if that's barely true, but far enough that you're not touching except for your knees knocking under the table. He stretches an arm across the top of the booth behind you. You hope you're not staring.

"So how were the books this time?" James asks. His eyes say mischief but he seems to be willing to let you off the hook for now. You and Remus recount the drama from today's meeting. The boys ask you basic questions like what you do for work and how you like the city and what club you support, but none of it feels stale or disingenuous. In fact, it really feels like they want to get to know you.

"Well, surely you've been to the skating rink in the park." Sirius is interrogating you on what neighborhoods you've visited. You shake your head and he gasps like you've slapped him. "What about the market?"

"I don't really do the holidays very well," you say, a bit softly. He raps his knuckles on the table again and Remus presses his thigh into yours on purpose. "I just haven't got my footing yet. I haven't been here that long and I don't have a guide."

"Well that won't do," James says.

"You do now," Remus says. You turn to him and find that he's closer than you realized. His eyes bore into yours and he looks rather serious. "Have a guide, I mean. You'll just do everything with us." You blink. Is it really this easy? Making friends? A handsome boy wants to facilitate your holiday season and you don't really know what to say.

"Brilliant idea, Lupin," Sirius says happily. "I always say you're the smartest of us."

Remus kicks him. "Okay," you say. "That sounds nice."

"I'm sure Remus has your phone number," James says cheekily. "He'll sort it." Remus does not, in fact, have your phone number, but you remedy that by passing him your mobile. He taps away at it with one hand, the other still hovering just over your shoulders.

"Where the bloody fuck are the girls?" Sirius grumbles. It seems he can change moods from one moment to the next faster than anyone you've met before. "Marlene has my nice suede jacket from last week."

"And we need Lily here so James stops looking so put out," Remus says, not looking up from your phone. "Lily is his girlfriend," he adds for your benefit. "Are we not good enough for you, Jamie?"

James ignores him.

"More friends?" you say quietly. Remus nods.

"You'll like them. And they'll adore you." You've been friends with him for all of one night, but his tone is sincere. The pub lighting makes his scars softer and you fight against leaning into him as he talks.

"How do you know?"

His mouth curls up at one end in a smile that makes you shiver a little. "I just do."

It wouldn't do to develop a crush on your first real friend in town, so you try your best not to over the next few weeks. You fail miserably. How could you not like Remus? He carts you around the city with his friends -- your friends too, he insists -- going ice skating and drinking mulled cider and market shopping and every time you are struck by how lovely he is. He holds your hand a lot and sends you photos he manages to take of you without you noticing. You meet the rest of the group -- Lily and Marlene and Dorcus -- and you love them, too. You see lights all over the city and laugh a lot and smile so much your cheeks ache. His friends tease you and you end up in multiple group chats and things start to feel good. Even when you go back to your apartment alone, you feel warm. You are just excited for whatever you're going to do next.

And then it's New Year's Eve.

The pub you've become a regular at is having a party and Lily was timely enough to book your regular table for the whole crew. You're running a little late because you could not decide what to wear, but you make it, shoving yourself through the crowd to the back booth.

Someone -- you're not sure who -- spots you and screams your name. You recognize a lot of the people here, but it's not until James enters your field of vision that you relax.

"There she is!" he cries, looking over his shoulder. "Remus, she's here!" Remus emerges from the crowd and scoops you up, pressing his lips to your cheek in a quick hello as he grabs your coat and pulls you in for a hug. He's warm and smells like beer and something spicy.

"You look lovely," he says. He's had at least one drink judging by the color of his cheeks and his general handsy-ness.

"So do you," you say. He wrinkles his nose at you.

"Go sit in my seat and I'll get you a drink. The usual?" You nod. He gently pushes you towards the table and disappears into the crowd. You slide into a space Remus has clearly vacated next to Sirius. He's got some sparkles on his lower lids and an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth as he shuffles a deck of cards. Everyone at the table is flushed and ready.

"Hey, you," he says. "You in?" You've no idea what they're playing.

"Next round, Sirius." He shrugs and you watch something that looks like Hearts happen in front of you.

Remus returns before the round wraps up and you stand to give him his seat. He looks at it and then at you and then back at the bench before he slides in, setting your pints on the table before wrapping his long, slender fingers around your wrist and tugging just enough so that you stumble towards him and end up in his lap. Everyone at the table is fighting smiles and Sirius wraps up the round and turns to you both. He puts the cigarette behind his ear and manages to look extremely bored with your antics.

"Now are you playing?" You nod, breathless. Remus's arm wraps around your back, hand settling on your hip so that you won't fall off of him.

A hand moves your hair off of your shoulder and you feel lips on your earlobe. "What are we playing?" You turn and all of a sudden Remus's face is incredibly close to yours. He does not move away.

"No idea," you say, forgetting that you do know what you're playing. Your brain is a little fuzzy right now. Which is probably why you lose horribly, Remus laughing underneath you as you desperately try to shove aside thoughts of kissing him so you can focus for just one second.

And then it's almost midnight. The energy in the pub changes to something a bit more exuberant and someone passes out champagne in classes of all kinds. You end up holding a whiskey tumblr of fizz and the booth around you empties as everyone gets to their feet, ready to chant in the new year. Remus maneuvers you gently so that you're no longer totally in his lap, just next to him with your legs across it. His arm is a warm band around your shoulders to keep you close. The pub increases in volume as people start to sing.

"Have you got anyone to kiss at midnight?" he yells into your ear, lips brushing your skin again.

You pull back to look at him. He's flushed, but his eyes are clear. "I think so," you say. His eyes crinkle at the corners and he sets down his own glass and grabs your jaw. His thumb rubs over your lower lip.

"Lucky bloke," he says. The countdown chanting starts around you. You cup his jaw for the first time and run a gentle finger along one of the scars on his jaw. He shudders.

You can't wait a second more so you lean in, pressing your lips to his. He gasps just a little bit before responding, tongue tracing the seam of your mouth. His fingertips dig into your party dress and you kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and everyone is cheering and you think some of it might be for you two.

You have a feeling that this year isn't going to be so bad.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders

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xlovingcupcakex · 6 months

Text

M!Kylar x F!Reader - Gaming (Part 1)

You and Kylar meet through League. Two dorks in love. Fluff. I could make it into GN!Reader but I need the reader to be female for the next part, so yeah. There's not much League things, it's more like a plot device. So anyone can read it, even if you don't play league I made it pretty vague on purpose. As always, love y'all!

No trigger warnings, unless you count in League. Kylar is Kylar. Yeah.

2.1k Words. Not including headcanons.

As your game came to an end, the bold letters flashed on the screen. Although the game wasn’t won, you still had a lot of fun. Especially since your support was good, and it seemed like the both of you had a good synergy.

It was no surprise that you sent them a friend request and an invite to your next game, hoping to play some more with them. A feeling of joy rose up in your stomach as they accepted both invitations, their preferred lane positions already picked and ready. You were already ready to start the next game as well.

As you started up the queue, you asked them the basics, getting to know them better. If your synergy together was as good as you suspected, you definitely wanted to play more with them. And you for sure wanted to keep them around if that was the case! Making new friends in-game was fun, after all.

Music played on Spotify as your anonymous support was answering your questions. The answers were short and curt, giving your duo an aura of mystery around them. However, in the end you found out a few things about your lane partner.

First off, they were a man, and his name was Kylar. He was also around the same age as you, he even studies computer science! Although his answers were short, his questions about you were plentiful. You answered most of them without a second thought, as long as they weren’t questions about your exact location. However, you didn’t mind giving him a vague answer, like which major city you live close to.

You also made sure to cheer him up through the messages as best as you could when something didn’t work out on bot lane. His Nami was on point, he was actively using his ability to slow down the enemy, only to follow up with a bubble that would stun them, thus giving you a kill. But sometimes, things didn’t work out the way they were supposed to, all thanks to random visits from the enemy, which would catch both of you off guard.

But you made sure to calm him down each time, giving sweet words of encouragement, effectively bringing him back to his composed state almost immediately, or at least, it looked that way after you saw his playstyle improve. You also made sure to praise him each time he did something good. Although you weren’t sure if it had any impact on him because of the lack of voice chat, you still hoped you made his day, since he kept writing back “Thank you.” each time you gave him a compliment.

Unbeknownst to you, Kylar was a melting mess behind his computer screen after each time you have him a compliment. You were so nice and so easy to talk to! Not to mention, you were really good at the game. And you knew what to say to him to make him calm down. It’s like it was fate for both of you to meet!

Oh, how much fun does he have playing with you. He was actually the first one to ask you to play with him next day, too. Kylar spent the whole day being online as soon as he woke up, since he didn’t want to miss you and he really, really wanted to spend more time with you. He has made sure to give you lots of compliments as well that day.

Hiding behind the screen gave him the anonymity, hence making him more courageous. You appeared slightly later than usual, which made him worry as he started to overthink as to why you could be late by two hours compared to your usual time. So, it’s no wonder he went ahead and asked subtly, disguised under the pretext of asking how your day was.

Oh, so you had to do some grocery runs and buy a few things! Oh, it’s getting colder, and you bought some sweaters, as well! He was sure you looked so good in the virgin killer you bought. Kylar is so sure you bought it for a potential meeting with him, his Darling dressing up all nice and pretty just for him.

Although he didn’t know how you looked like yet, he was sure you were just the most beautiful Goddess on earth. It’s impossible for someone as kind and nurturing as you to not be beautiful to him!

He could only hope that you felt the same excitement whenever you spent time with him. You had to. Otherwise, why spend time with him? You surely had a thing for him too. You had to.

The more you played with Kylar the more attached you got. He was fun to text to and play with, and his mysterious nature made you more curious about him. You tried asking more questions over the last few weeks and lately, you’ve been curious about what he sounds like. At some point your head made up a deep voice, fitting for his mysterious personality.

It didn’t take long for you to take matters into your own hands, asking him whether not he wanted to join a Discord call with you. You were so ready to hear his voice. The thought actually made you all giddy and excited. As you exchanged Discord nicknames, you glanced at the screen. His nickname was Yamada-Kun, the same as his in-game nickname. He also had a picture of Yamada from ‘leveling up Yamada-Kun to lv999’.

Your heartbeat quickened up as you clicked the call button, ready to hear Kylar’s voice for the first time. Kylar answered instantly, which surprised you. You barely even heard the Discord call noise; you were instantly connected to a call with him.

Kylar shuffled about in his room, stumbling over his things. His hands felt shaky. His hands were sweating. He dried his hands by brushing them against his pants, hopefully less sweaty now. Kylar was so excited that he knocked over the microphone by mistake! Getting it took some time, since he had to be sneaky about it, but it was so worth it. Now his Darling can hear him in the highest possible quality! He was such a good boyfriend for you!

As the microphone fell, you shrank a little at the noise, curious as to what happened. “Hello?” you said. “Is everything okay, Kylar?”.

Your voice was so nice to him, so pretty and calming. It felt so good to hear you that he almost forgot about the microphone completely. He gingerly picked it up and placed it back on his desk. Then, he cleared his throat. “Y-Yeah, I’m good. My microphone just fell.”

Oh, he did not sound like you expected. Not in a bad way, of course! You didn’t expect him to sound so shy and nervous, that’s all. But it was so cute that you just had to tease him.

“Feels good to finally hear you, my Dear Duo! I was so excited. And I’m still excited for playing today. You ready?”

Although you couldn’t see it, Kylar was nodding his head repeatedly, black locks of hair flying around and messing up his hairstyle, making it more messy than usual. “Y-Yeah, that sounds absolutely great, my Lovely.”

Oh, he was using back pet names as well. He was so shy you thought he wouldn’t use it. You leaned back in your chair, pulling up League and logging it, then picking your preferred role to play before inviting Kylar to the game.

God, his voice was so nice to listen to, even with all the stuttering and occasional voice cracks when he complimented you on nice actions you did in-game. It was so soft and delicate. Your ears felt hot and you felt a flush come to your cheeks as you listened to his voice. You desperately wanted to hear more, so you gradually asked him more questions, which he seemed to answer gladly, happy to satisfy your curiosity.

The atmosphere on call was comfortable and it was nice to talk to someone during ranked games. Whenever he gave you a compliment or used a pet name, each time more confident than the other, you felt your stomach buzzing with energy.

You reflected the same energy back to him. You did have some kind of crush on him. But that’s because he seemed so curt and mysterious in the beginning, and now you found yourself falling for how cute and shy he was being on voice.

Your throat sometimes squeezed up, making it harder for you to say what you wanted. You didn’t even notice when you started to get nervous whenever you complimented him. Or used a pet name. You don’t remember when the last time was you felt so hot and giddy around someone else.

But you knew that the feeling, despite it being slightly uncomfortable, made you feel mostly good. Happy.

With how cold it was getting lately, your hands started to gradually become cold, to a point where you just couldn’t bear it anymore.

“I think I should lay down and heat up, Kylar. My hands are cold as fuck.” You said. You exited the game and started to slowly close up other tabs you might have had open.

“You could lay down a-and I’ll stream for you, Love! P-Please stay!” he sounded so desperate, it almost made you feel bad for wanting to go and lie down. A chuckle left your lips. He was so adorable. Like a bunny.

“Sure. I’ll call from my phone in a few minutes. Need to change into my night clothes. Be right back, Darling!” and so you ended the call. You got ready and as soon as you laid in the bed, Kylar instantly called you, almost as if knowing you are in bed already. Huh. He must have some crazy 6th sense.

You answered the call, getting comfortable under the covers. You already felt warmer, but not warm enough. Kylar pulled up some videos on YouTube as you guys chatted. Soon enough, he changed to Osu instead, showing you off his skill. Trying his best to impress you.

“Jesus, my hands still feel so cold. F-fuck, my whole body is cold.” you mindlessly complained, snuggling more into the comfort of your quilt and soft pillows, impatiently waiting for your body to generate enough warmth.

“I can be your blanket, Love!”

You almost choked on your salvia as your breath hitched, suddenly feeling shy as you mulled over his words. He wants to cuddle you. Or was it something else? You felt so light-headed you weren’t really sure. You hid your face in your covers.

“S-Sure. And I can be your pillow.”

This time it was Kylar’s turn to blush. He stopped whatever he was doing in Osu, his brain short circuiting. He destroyed his own streak on the current Osu map he was playing and because of the level difficulty you soon heard an old retro melody that would signal that the map has been failed.

His hands felt... Grabby. He desperately wanted to hug you. Feel you under his fingers. Give you the warmth you need. Slightly sweaty, too. He gulped.

“W-We should meet up, if you really want to c-cuddle, Love.... Can we meet? Please, Love. I want to meet with you so badly. Give me the address and I’ll come as fast as possible, no matter how far you are.”

His phone was already in the palm of his hand, looking up how far the busses and trains in his area would cost and how far they can take him. He was pretty serious about it.

You felt so embarrassed by your words. You gripped your pillow tighter, bringing it close to your chest. You were unsure on what to say as you contemplated your next words. You really wanted that hug.

“Okay, but... Only if you are somehow not that far away. Okay? You can come to (address)” you said. It wasn’t your home, but a place that was near enough. A gas station. A place where there are always people. It’s late and it would be the safest.

Kylar immediately looked up the place and noticed it’s 40 minutes away by buss. He started grinning, a red flush took over his cheeks, reaching his ears and neck. He gripped his phone tighter, already packing things he might need into his bag.

“G-Great. I’ll be there in an hour and a half! Jus-st wait for me, Love!” he ended the call, getting ready to meet up with you as fast as possible while you collected yourself and thought about what you have gotten yourself into.

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

A few other things I've thought about while writing this one.

Some Kylar headcanons ahead!

They are probably into Otome dating games.

In games like Osu! or Killing Floor, they are a casual player.

More competitive games make them aggressive, although they don’t show it on chat if there’s a penalty.

They do, however, make noises/sounds of frustration, maybe slamming their hand against the desk or keyboard, but never anything full-on destructive.

Of course, Kylar will hold those reactions back when playing with you!

To be honest, you have a calming effect on them.

I feel like Kylar would be a Nami main when it comes to support, alternatively other cute champs like Lulu, Soraka, Lux. But enjoys an occasional Pyke or Senna.

You bet they play anime songs/openings, Hatsune Miku or other Japanese music while beating the maps on Osu!

If they are not playing anime songs/openings, they sure as fuck play emo/scene music. Pierce The Veil, Breaking Benjamin, Asking Alexandra. Sounds about right to me. Oh yeah, also listens to Night Core.

I feel like at first, they would be court and short when it comes to messages. Mostly because they are shy and so they would seem cold at first. And yeah, you can’t hear their stuttering.

But writing stutters and such also suits them lmao. I think they would use a lot of (…) whenever they write something.

I am sure they would be voiceless at first because they would need to steal a microphone/headphones with microphone first, just so they can talk to you.

#loving's writing #dol kylar #kylar the loner #degrees of lewdity kylar #kylar degrees of lewdity #kylar x reader #male kylar #dol kylar x reader #kylar dol #dol x reader #dol #degrees of lewdity x reader #degrees of lewdity

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