emile-hides · 1 year ago
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Oh my god I’m so so so sorry for like spamming on your other blog !! (o;Д;)o I did not realize how many posts I was liking/bookmarking until it was way too late D: And I was also borrowing my friend’s blog that she hasn’t used in a while, so I looked like bot or something else which probably freaked you out even more !! :C Again I’m really super sorry and I really hope that I didn’t scare you or anything like that !! (∩´﹏`∩)
YOU SUPER LOOKED LIKE A BOT FDGJKFDJGKDF IT'S FINE
I don't normally block people for like spamming but holy shit I thought you were just gonna go through my entire library of posts that freaked me out fjgjdfhjg I've unblocked the blog now though I just needed a way to force you to stop in the moment (but also Agender-Vampling should be blocked from view to those without their own account so you might not be able to find it again)
Wait.. If you were borrowing a friend's account why'd you follow me??? Thrice??? And WHY were you borrowing a friend's account???
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httpsserene · 4 months ago
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𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐚 - 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒 (& 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏)
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summary: you and lando are blessed with a beautiful baby boy. content warning: fluff, humor, slightly suggestive at times, and mainly crack/shitpost energy. reader owns & works in her bakery in monaco. images used are not mine. pairing: lando norris x fem!black!reader (& platonic oscar pastry) genre: smau & written fic combination (it's a longgg one)
author's notes: y'all i'm warning you i took it too far this time. it's long aslllll. but it might be the best thing i've ever offered to f1 tumblr in my entire career.
grab a snack, drink, and tuck yourself into a comfortable position xxx
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join the taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents ↻
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imessage • preseason 2023
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That’s how you find yourself outside of the MTC in the mid-morning two days later. You’re mildly…exhausted, after commandeering the kitchen in Lando’s Silverstone flat to make a sickening amount of banana bread to feed all of McLaren. After tipping your Uber to the MTC double what the ride costs (for allowing you to stuff his car with a hundred pounds of your decadent treat and helping you unload them into the lobby), you’re greeted with warm welcomes and hungry eyes from the staff. Eager to eat, they’re quick to find you a couple of carts to help you move all the banana bread to the communal area. You’re walking backward to make sure none of your sliced loaves fall, smiling with all the workers as they follow you through the building. Setting up shop, you hand out your sliced banana bread, chatting and catching up with everyone as they sing praises over your sweet treat. Word travels around the MTC quickly when it comes to you bringing baked goods and it comes as no surprise to you when you see a perplexed and overwhelmed Oscar Piastri join the line. You’re bursting with excitement and anticipation by the time he’s picking up his slice.
“Thank you for the banana bread,” Oscar expresses softly, his smile boxy.
“Oh, of course,” you dismiss his gratitude lightly, struggling to keep your cuteness aggression at bay, “I’ve been doing this for the factory since Lando joined–and I figured it would be a good welcoming gift for you!”
“Wait–are you Lando’s girlfriend?” Oscar chokes on his bite of bread.
You rush forward to pat his back, ordering for someone to get him a glass of water; you would hate to be responsible for the death of Mclaren’s rookie driver. When his airways are cleared, you exchange proper greetings and you are quick to make sure Lando has been treating him well. 
“Honestly, I should’ve known it was you” Oscar chuckles, “Lando cannot stop talking about you. Zak had to establish a rule that only allowed him to mention you two times an hour.”
“That must have been rough for him,” you snort dryly, “the rule was five times an hour last year. Anyways, Oscar–who do you main on Mario Kart? This could make or break our friendship.”
You find yourself enamored with Oscar as the conversation goes on. He stands and keeps you company as you continue to hand out banana bread. It’s mostly you doing the talking; Oscar’s quiet, a man of few words but he listens well. He has a sarcastic sense of humor that is similar to Lando’s yet completely different: Lando’s jokes are loud, Oscar’s are hushed. He’s humble, shy even, flustering when you lightly tease him. You’re well past having Oscar as your friend—you’re convinced that he’s achieved little brother or son status.
“Banana Bread!” Zak shouts as he walks up to the two of you, Lando at his side, “Please tell me this is your homemade version?”
“I would never settle for store-bought banana bread,” you gasp dramatically, “It’s homemade as always, Zak. This time I did my grandmother’s recipe instead of my own.”
The CEO practically jumps with glee and rushes to grab a couple of slices–he’s only had this version of the dessert once, and swore it changed his life. Lando walks to you, pressing a kiss to your temple before nodding at Oscar.
“What do you think, love, “Lando hums to you softly, “Did he pass the test?”
You blink up at him and whisper, “I invited him over for dinner tonight—do you think we can use one of the printers here to print out adoption forms?”
bahrain • 2023
After qualifying, it felt like you and Zak were the only people in the garage who remained optimistic for race day. Lando was less than pleased with placing 11th; he parroted words of positivity and hope for improvement but in the privacy of your hotel room he crumbled. He buried his face in your neck muffling just how low his expectations for this season are. You tried to convince him it was too early in the season—the first race weekend—to make that decision but, he was too in his feelings to see reason. 
Oscar was disappointed in himself for placing 18th. When he took off his helmet after returning to the garage, you could see the doubt in his skills lingering through his eyes. You pulled him to sit with you as you continued to wait for the second session to begin and gently reassured him that this wasn’t an accurate representation of his skills; Formula One is a massive change from Formula Two. Oscar nodded at your reassurance but you could tell he was still freshly in shock at his “terrible” performance so your logical advice wasn’t believed. 
On race day, however, you found your positivity dip as well. Oscar DNF’d on lap 13 and rage filled the spot that optimism used to inhabit. The Australian was handling his retirement better than you were; he brushed off everybody’s apologies and went straight to reviewing his data and watching Lando’s race—you, however, wanted to snap at any of his mechanics that walked by. It wasn’t like Lando’s race was any better if you could call what he was doing a race. Slow pit stops, six pit stops at that, the fast lap gamble failure, finishing last, and being two laps down from the race leader…Zak took one glance at you and quickly made himself scarce.
You rode back with both of the boys to the hotel and nearly cried for them with how down the mood was. On the walk to your rooms, Oscar attempted to exchange goodbyes with you and Lando before you cut him off.
“Uh-uh, nope,” you shook your head, “I pre-ordered dinner for us. Come eat?”
Oscar stuttered, “O-oh? I don’t want to intrude–”
“Oscar Jack Piastri,” both he and Lando winced at the sound of his full name, “I’m not going to let either one of you go to bed on an empty stomach. You’re going to eat dinner with me and Lan and you’re going to drink several glasses of water so I can make sure you’re properly rehydrated. Understood?”
“I would love to have dinner with you guys,” Oscar blinked at you in fear, “Also, how do you know my middle name?”
You laughed as you unlocked the door, holding it open for both of the boys as you walked in, “I had a wonderful conversation with your mother, of course.”
“When did you meet my mom?!”
australia • 2023
You were on the edge of losing your voice as you screamed and cheered with Nicole Piastri and Adam Norris for both of the McLaren boys and their double points finishes. The two drivers finishing in the midfield felt like the team had figured something out for Oscar’s home race (if you ignored how almost half of the drivers retired their cars). The Piastri’s invited everyone to a local restaurant to celebrate Oscar’s first points in Formula One, but before you and Lando headed out, the two of you nearly lost your minds.
The two of you forced him to pose with his car and take several pictures with it, strongly suggesting that he smiles big and wide for the camera. Fernando and Lewis walked by and burst into laughter, claiming that you and Lando were treating Oscar like a child. So, obviously, the two of you committed to the bit. You guys cooed and called Oscar’s name, clapping and jumping to pretend like he was a toddler whose attention needed to be grabbed to have him look at the camera. The rookie cringed in embarrassment, cheeks burning red as he tried to convince you guys to stop making a fuss over him.
Lando gasped, sickened at Oscar’s words, “Oscar! How could you say such a thing to your mother and me? We only want to celebrate our boy!”
You nodded furiously in agreement, nearly breaking character at the dumbfounded look that rose to the Australian’s face.
“What the fuck,” Oscar blurted out, yet he continued to smile for your camera.
“Oh my god!” You said appalled, “Lando did you teach our son that foul language?! I told you not to curse in front of the baby!”
instagram • bakewithyn • april 6th • melbourne ⚑
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liked by, oscarpiastri, landonorris, mclaren, markwebber, and 413,257 others
bakewithyn: happy birthday oscar 🥳 there’s no birthday gift like scoring your FIRST EVER POINTS in f1 at your HOME race but !!! i’m super happyyy you enjoyed the 🐨 cookies i made for you (lando helped ig 😐) 🤗🤗🤗
tagged oscarpiastri
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📌 yninstagram ps! these are limited edition cookies at my bakery for oscar piastri day!!! first come first serve until sell out! all proceeds go to the australian koala foundation as it was oscar’s personal request 😇
➥ user charitable king shit fr 👑
➥ user FUCK i wish i was rich enough to visit/live in monaco
➥ user don't worry, they're nearly sold out already and the bakery opened three hours ago !!!!
nicolepiastri these were so tasty! i wish i had your baking skills
➥ yninstagram tysm mama piastri !!! i'm blushing
➥ user mama piastri???? im crying
user the koala photo with the bow 😩
➥user what r u talking about?? i only see a picture of oscar with a bow?
➥ user fr i only see oscar 😵‍💫
user "lando helped ig" what did he do? look pretty the entire time you baked LMAO
➥ landonorris actually i was allowed to put the ingredients in the bowls AND preheat the oven too 😤
➥ landonorris and i always look pretty wtf
➥ user omg...yn gave him the toddler tasks 💀💀💀
oscarpiastri the cookies were so good! they nearly tasted better than my first points felt
➥ yninstagram omg high praise from the man himself 🤯
➥ oscarpiastri had to fight my sisters to make sure they didn't only leave me with crumbs
➥ user oh i understand that eldest sibling battle
➥ user my little sisters bite i think they have rabies
➥ user oh what a shame. euthanasia is an option 🤗
miami • 2023
The energy after Miami was rightfully terrible. The car is shit; Lando lost a position from where he qualified to make him P17 and Oscar maintained his P19. It’s hot, and humid, and everyone in the garage is miserable. McLaren is a family. When the boys don’t do good, everybody understands and feels their pain. Nobody likes seeing the boys with frowns on their lips and sadness in their eyes, but it’s becoming a usual appearance during this season. So to turn those frowns upside down, you went on a hunt for some cold treats. You got Lando a frozen lemonade and Oscar an ice cream sandwich—it’s a safe choice, you hadn’t necessarily thought about asking him what kind of ice cream he prefers. 
You found Oscar staring at the wall, eyes focused forward but his mind somewhere else. You tapped him gently on the shoulder, offering him a small smile when he looked at you. He tried to offer you a smile of his own but couldn’t manage to hold it for more than a couple seconds. You presented the ice cream sandwich to him and he looked at you in surprise, as if he couldn’t believe you would give it to him.
“F-for,” his voice cracks awkwardly, “For me?”
You hummed, ruffling his hair and taking a seat on the couch next to him, “No, for the King of England. Yes–for you Oscar.”
He thanked you shyly and quickly began to unwrap the packaging, munching away happily. You took a second to text Lando your location and inform him of the frozen lemonade waiting for him, and when you turned to look back at Oscar—the kid was a mess. He wasn’t even a quarter of the way through the dessert sandwich and you’re convinced he managed to spill more of it than he ingested. The ice cream was painted across the lower half of his face and dripping down his hands–you caught a drop of it with a napkin before it fell and stained his shirt.
“Jesus, Oscar!” you scolded him, “I look away for two seconds and you make a mess!”
Oscar shrugged at you, feigning innocence, but you saw the staple redness of embarrassment begin to tint his chubby cheeks. You snapped your fingers in remembrance before you moved to rifle through your purse, Oscar staring at you with wide eyes as he continued to snack away. You exclaimed in delight, showing off a pair of wet wipes you remembered to bring with you. Oscar accepted the offered wipes and you watched carefully to make sure he removed all the smudges of ice cream from his hands and face.
“Hi, lovely girl,” Lando approached you, throwing himself onto the sofa next to you. He gave you a soft kiss on the lips and temple before grabbing his now lemonade slushy and taking a look at Oscar.
“Woah, mate,” Lando teased, “Did you lose in a fight against the ice cream sandwich?”
Oscar rolled his eyes and ignored Lando as he finished cleaning up. Once he was done, you gathered all of the dirty wipes on the table to be thrown away. You and Lando both watched Oscar as he ate the rest of his snack in fear of another mess occurring—and, then you had a bright idea. Leaning forward, you took a dry napkin and tucked it into the collar of his McLaren polo, creating a makeshift bib. 
“Lando, remind me to get our son ice cream in a cup from now on!”
twitter • may 14th
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instagram • landonorris • may 23rd • monte carlo ⚑
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liked by, bakewithyn, charlesleclerc, fernandoalonso, and 502,113 others
landonorris: does it still count as a date night if your boy and his best friend are building legos in the next room🤨
tagged bakewithyn, oscarpiastri, logansargeant
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user "your boy" WTF DOES THAT MEAN ‼️‼️‼️
user they're building legos before the race weekend starts 🤧
user has oscar been staying with lando since last week?
➥ user i thought he was just sleeping over for one night 🧐
adamnorris does this make me a grandfather?
➥ user what the hell is happening
➥ landonorris um? surprise haha 😀
bakewithyn it's a great date night! it's comforting knowing ozzy's in the next room over
➥ bakewithyn i have separation anxiety :)
➥ landonorris me too omg this was my best idea ever
➥ user this is like a reverse 13th reason- it's like my 1st reason i'm glad to be alive
➥ user ozzy 🫠
landonorris logan and osc just went silent. chat, should i be worried?
➥ user i'll bet my life savings that one of them has a lego shoved up their nose 😬
➥ user when kids go quiet it's never good !!!!
qatar • 2023
You cried an embarrassing amount of times this weekend. Your son won his first sprint race in his Formula One career, and his father��your boyfriend—was up there on the podium with him to celebrate. It seems like you have to make another special dessert for your bakery to celebrate both of your boys, but you can worry about brainstorming ideas when you stop crying into Andrea Stella’s shoulder in the middle of the pit lane. You’re sure that your face will be posted all over Twitter in a couple of hours.
A part of you wished that Lando had won the sprint race, just as he probably wanted the same thing. But, as both of you made eye contact with each other over Oscar’s head, the Australian rambling endlessly as he hugged his trophy on your hotel room floor, both of you knew that there was no better outcome this weekend than Oscar getting a taste of victory. Lando’s win will come in due time. A P2, P3 finish on Sunday was just the proof everyone needed of McLaren’s improvement and the threat they may pose to Red Bull next year. 
são paulo • 2023
You had the Grand Prix playing on your phone as you did some prep work for the bakery. The race ended and you couldn’t help but feel happy, yet relieved for the race to be over for different reasons. Lando had a wonderful drive today, and Oscar had the opposite; you were just glad it wasn’t a DNF for him.
You had only just begun wiping down the counters when the sound of the post-race show is interrupted by the ringtone you have set for Oscar. You paused quickly, scooping your phone up to answer.
“Hi, Ozzy,” you cooed gently, “How are you feeling? Sorry about your race buddy, that was unfortunate.”
“It happens, I guess. I feel like shit, mostly. Like I let the team down.”
“No way, Oscar! You’re not letting anybody down. Your race result today wasn’t the result of your skills, it was the result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a racing incident. If anybody tells you differently, let me know. I’ll rip their vocal cords out.”
Oscar’s laugh crackled through the receiver. “Yes, mum. I’ll let you know. I really want some of your chocolate chip cookies, they’re the perfect bad race remedy.”
“Well, I’m flying out in a few hours to meet you guys in Brazil so I can celebrate Lando’s—sorry, excuse me—your father’s birthday with him. I think there may be some time for me in my schedule to make some cookies with you.”
“Really? We should make some for Lando too! Wait, before you leave, I left his birthday gift—”
“—In our apartment, I remember! I already packed it in my luggage, I wouldn’t forget.”
“You’re the best, seriously.”
“Mhm, I know. Also, we should share some of these cookies with Charles too, his radio message made me cry.”
“Okay, he can have one cookie.”
“Oscar Jack,” you said dryly.
“Yes, sharing is caring or whatever. He can have like...two.”
instagram • bakewithyn • november 13th • las vegas ⚑
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liked by, mclaren, landonorris, f1, oscarpiastri and 353,764 others
bakewithyn: happy birthday to lando norris. he's a pretty cool guy, a great dad, and the perfect boyfriend. love you lots, baby, and i'll love you forever xxx
tagged landonorris
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user wait is this a pregnancy announcement 😨
user this is giving engagement reveal
charlesleclerc bro. if i didn't know you guys i would think your caption was serious 😣
➥ bakewithyn get pranked LOL XD
➥ user oh i feel like i just got catfished
➥ user wait so lando didn't propose nor did he put a baby in her 😒
➥ user I WANTED A BABY NORRIS
➥ user oscar exists? he's literally their child
oscarpiastri no fr i thought i was about to learn i had a sibling otw from this post
➥ bakewithyn ozzy we would've told you???
➥ landonorris you literally bought the card for me
➥ oscarpiastri a boy can hope for a younger sibling can he not :(
➥ bakewithyn so close 😚 no you can't! hope that helps xo
➥ landonorris sorry osc, it's your mum's decision 🤷‍♂️
➥ user does this mean lando wants an actual kid
mclaren admin was terrified ngl 😅
➥ mclaren i thought you really posted an engagement and pregnancy reveal without letting me know 😭
➥ landonorris sorry admin, i'll keep you in the loop in the future
➥ user landoyn engagement soon??????
twitter • november 18th • las vegas ⚑
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twitter • preseason 2024
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miami • 2024
Lando had you pinned to the wall in his driver's room, with his hands tangled in your curls and his mouth devouring yours. Your moans are muffled into his lips as you grind against his thigh. You tried to multitask, struggling to pull his driver’s suit down. Lando lifted you slightly, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist and neither of you cared to pull away at the sound of your foot hitting his P1 trophy and knocking it over. One of his hands fell from your hair to grasp at the smooth brown skin of your neck, his palm acting as a warm weighted choker on your throat and you broke away from the kiss to moan. 
“Fuck, Lando—get naked,” you whined desperately, “we don’t have much time for you to tease me right now!”
Lando laughed as he moved to press kisses along your jawline and behind your ear. You felt his lips part on your skin, his breath ghosting over you causing goosebumps to rise, but it’s not his voice you hear.
“Lando, they need us for pictures—OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK,” yelped Oscar, the sound of his hand smacking over his eyes reverberating around the room.
You shrieked in surprise, pushing your boyfriend away from you as you speedily readjusted your clothes. Lando positioned himself in front of you, his back facing you allowing you a little more privacy as he speedily fixed his suit around his waist.
“Learn how to knock, kid,” Lando huffed, no shame found in his words, “You interrupted my winning celebration.”
You screamed in dismay, slapping the back of Lando’s head and Oscar began to stumble out of the room, bumping into the doorframe as he still covered his eyes.
“Yeah, knock in the future, I understand,” Oscar sounds like he’s about to cry, “I feel like I just saw my mum and dad having sex!”
instagram • bakewithyn • may 12th • mama's house ⚑
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liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, and 551,012 others
bakewithyn: LOOK AT MY SON 🥺🥺 PRIDE IS NOT THE WORD IM LOOKING FOR 🗣️🗣️🔊🔊 (happy mother's day to all the beautiful mamas x)
tagged oscarpiastri
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oscarpiastri did dad get you anything 🙃
➥ user 👀👀👀
➥ landonorris well i would've if SOMEBODY told me we were celebrating this year 🤬🤬🤬🤬
➥ oscarpiastri i didn't know i *had* to tell you
➥ user wowwwww lando
➥ user shameful honestly 😕
markwebber happy milf day
➥ markwebber *mother's day sorry typo
➥ bakewithyn what the fuck ☠️☠️☠️
➥ user that was not a typo mark
➥ user sir u are not slick LMAO
➥ bakewithyn i mean...oscar wouldn't mind a step dad, his fatther didn't get me anything today :(
➥ landonorris AYO BABY PLEASE 🧎‍♂️
oscarpiastri you know what would be an even better mother's day gift? getting a puppy 🤭
➥ bakewithyn we are not getting a puppy ozzy.
➥ landonorris should've clued me in osc i might've convinced her for you
➥ oscarpiastri :[
monaco • 2024
You’re about to crash THE FUCK out. At first, it was a little half-joke. Oscar’s home race in Australia, his 1/16th home race in China, and his 3/16th home race in Italy. You originally thought his tweet about “searching for his Monegasque roots” was cute, but you didn’t expect Charles Marc Herve Perceval (Demon Spawn) Leclerc to step into your playing field.
Who the hell does he think he is? Offering to adopt your son? And, Oscar is going along with it? And, the Miami Grand Prix account making a “Certificate of Adoption?” You started to like Miami after Lando won there; and now they’ve betrayed you. Every fan jumped on the bandwagon, thinking that this was the most adorable thing to happen. Like Oscar hasn’t been your child the minute he stepped foot into the MTC in Silverstone. Like he didn’t give you a Mother’s Day present? The Monegasques have some nerve; you were close with Charles and Alex but, now they’ve encroached on your and Lando’s territory. You’re committing several murders today. 
You laughed hysterically when Oscar joined Lando and you for lunch, mentioning that Charles and Alex invited him to eat with the rest of the Leclercs at family dinner after qualifying. You agreed to let him but not without making sure Charles and Alex are qualified for the job. Lando also cornered you in the kitchen and persuaded you to allow Oscar to go; swaying you with the idea of a real date night. You never realized just how much time you guys spend with your son. When’s the last time you guys had a break from being “mum and dad?" It was an appealing offer, but you were serious about clarifying expectations to the thieving couple.
twitter • may 25th • monaco
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instagram • bakewithyn • may 25th • date night ⚑
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liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, nicolepiastri and 236,978 others
bakewithyn: a little night off from parenting was needed x
tagged landonorris
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user okay mamiiiii
user all parents deserve to relax !!!
oscarpiastri do you even miss me ☹️
➥ user damn he goin through it
➥ charlesleclerc i literally just got him to smile and now he's crying again 😒
➥ landonorris your mum and i love you lots osc
➥ oscarpiastri :]
alexandrasaintmleux take full advantage of having no children in the house 😈😈😈
➥ charlesleclerc leo will keep him distracted for as longggg as possible 😏
➥ user lando only needs about three minutes 🥱
➥ user wow that's a really long time fr
oscarpiastri mama y papa
➥ user mama y papa
➥ user mama y papa
➥ user mama y papa
instagram • landonorris • june 16th • daddy's home ⚑
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liked by oscarpiastri, angryginge, bakewithyn and 436,812 others
landonorris: father's day done right. my child and his mother made a cake for me, family photo slide two, and my son slide three. what more can a man want.
tagged bakewithyn and oscarpiastri
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user this man never misses a chance to call himself daddy
user too fucking funny 🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️
bakewithyn happy father's day, daddy xxx
➥ user OHMYGOD 😖🤢🤮
➥ user on my internet⁉️⁉️⁉️
➥ landonorris even happier now x
user this new wave of parents concerns me...
oscarpiastri the cake was good wasn't it???
➥ landonorris it was perfect, seriously
➥ oscarpiastri i know you both said there's no way we'd get a puppy but hear me out i've thought of something better
➥ oscarpiastri working on giving me a younger sibling :]
➥ user YES BABY NORRIS ‼️‼️‼️
➥ landonorris @/bakewithyn ?
➥ bakewithyn ask me again in a couple of years
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© httpsserene2024
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aliceramblez · 9 months ago
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Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈
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Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.
A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!
Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~
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Charlie 🌈
When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.
As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.
You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.
As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.
You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.
It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?
But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.
She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”
And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.
She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.
You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.
You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.
Vaggie 🎀
Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.
The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.
“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”
And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.
Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.
“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”
You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.
For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.
During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.
You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!
It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.
Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.
Angel Dust 🕸
Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.
You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.
When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.
This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.
“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”
Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.
As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.
Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.
And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.
Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.
With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.
One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.
You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.
You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.
Husker 🍺
As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.
It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.
Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.
Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.
You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.
Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.
“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”
Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?
After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.
So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?
But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.
To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”
And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.
Sir Pentious 🐍
You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.
As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.
You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.
He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!
You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.
One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.
“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”
You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”
Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.
So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.
Alastor 📻
After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.
As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.
Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.
Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.
“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”
“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”
After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.
You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.
But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.
“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”
The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.
“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”
And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.
Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.
The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).
Like you said—he's not a monster.
Lucifer 🍎
You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.
His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.
Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?
To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.
Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.
“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”
You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.
After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?
Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.
He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.
It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?
Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.
Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”
You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.
4K notes · View notes
suhkusa · 4 months ago
Text
OPEN ARMS.
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PAIRING. Bakugou Katsuki x f!Reader
CW. ALL CHARACTERS 18+, angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, childhood friends to fwb to lovers 0-0, he’s dumb, you’re dumb, feelings, smut but it’s not detailed, dubious consent, please let me know if i missed anything!
WC. ~2.8k
A/N. If you’ve seen this before no you haven’t!!! first time writing for mha :p
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I.
The first time you fucked Bakugou, it was a mistake.
It was during your 19th birthday party, which he had thrown for you “out of the kindness of his heart”, he’d say.
You two clearly had too much to drink, but so did your friends around you. Too much where none of them seemed to notice as the two of you slipped out of the living room to his own room.
The first time with him was your first time at all.
And even then, even in his drunken stupor, he still handled you with care.
Despite his rough and unruly nature he usually displayed, he was gentle. It was a funny thought though, Katsuki Bakugou fucks gently.
“Are- you sure?”, he mutters, toying with the waistband of your panties.
You managed to slur out a weak, “mhm”, before he began to slowly slip off your clothes. One by one.
And even though it was gentle, it was messy. Each kiss is filled with saliva and teeth. Every thrust is hesitant but thorough. Everything was him.
When the time came and you two were lying in bed, chests heaving as your minds tried to catch up with your bodies. You had just fucked your childhood best friend.
The rest of the night was awkward as the two of you sobered up, yes. But when morning came, it was like nothing happened.
It was a silent agreement, never again.
——
II.
The second time you fucked Bakugou, it was by choice.
Though, not for the reason you thought it’d be.
“The hell are you at my door for? It’s 2 in the—”
“He cheated, Katsuki,”
His eyes met with your tear-stained face, his face dropping in realization.
“Shit,” he looked around before eyes locking back onto you, “c’mere you big baby,”
Bakugou’s arms opened before you fell into them.
His scent and touch are familiar. Somewhat nostalgic of the time you two were kids and he’d comfort you after beating up the boys who’d tease you.
“S’alright,” he muttered, “you know he was ugly as shit anyways,”
You cry more after he says that, knowing he was right, but still hurting more nonetheless.
“Sheesh,” he lets you go to lead you into his house.
Without his help, you make your way into his room, welcoming yourself to the warm blankets. You hog them to yourself, whining when he tugs them off.
“Don’t cry over him, he was a piece of shit, and I told you so,” he snickers, still with a comforting tone.
You sniffle, “I know- I know, it still hurts though,”
It hurts because it was your first relationship. It hurts because outside Katsuki, you’ve never put so much effort and trust into a person. And for it to be thrown away made you feel nothing but worthless. 7 months may not have been long, but to you it felt like eternity.
Bakugou rolls his eyes dismissively, knowing that little to nothing he could do would help, “you need anything?”
To this day, you don’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way he looked at you with care instead of his usual roughness, or the way your heart yearned for touch and comfort. Perhaps it was the way that even though, yes, Bakugou warned you about your cheating ex and you didn’t listen, he let his pride down and came to the rescue.
“You,”
“Don’t say that, freak,” he shrugs your words off as a joke, moving to get up, “I’ll be in the livi—“
Your hands move before your brain can stop it, latching onto his wrist.
“Please,”
Your teary eyes watch the cogs turn in his brain. Before you realize, he’s lifting your chin with a rough hand, bringing your lips to his. And before you can catch a breath, he’s onto you, taking you once again.
——
III.
The the third time you fucked Bakugou, you realize this would become a regular thing.
There was no heartache or liquor. There were two friends, lonely but still content, bored with nothing to do.
You don’t really remember what initiated it, or who, one moment you guys were watching the latest episode of that sitcom he showed you, and the next you were on top of him.
He lifted your hips and slammed into you, over and over until you couldn’t even think about how you got into this position. Until all of your senses were just filled with him, him, and him.
“You’re mine,” he grabbed at your chin, forcing you to look at him, “you hear me?”
In the heat of the moment, you gasp a loose, “yes,” before locking your lips with his.
Your body was hot and wet, and his words only ignited the flames in your stomach even higher before you couldn’t take it anymore, falling against him as your pussy convulsed around his length.
As your chest heaved against his, your mind cleared a bit, thinking back on his words.
His.
The concept of being his was a nice thought. Though you know you could never commit anymore. Especially to him. Bakugou’s your best friend, and your love for him would always be just that.
This is casual. It doesn’t have to mean anything. People have casual flings or friends with benefits all the time. It just so happens yours is with your best friend. You two were grown adults now, you both know well what you’re getting yourselves into. Best friends can fuck without feelings being involved.
Right?
——
VI.
The next couple of times you fucked Bakugou, you noticed a shift.
It was a subtle slow shift, it came in waves that only grew every time he touched you.
In the moment, it was great. Everything about it. The way he fucked, the way he cared for you. It was just a little bonus of your guys’ hangouts. You guys still do the things you would do before this whole arrangement started. Talk, gossip, eat food, sleep. And before you knew it, sex became a part of the routine.
And if you were being honest, you enjoyed it. It filled the hole that had been left by your ex. But now that you had gotten over him, it felt like you were about to burst at the seams by the whiplash Bakugou gave you.
You never gave a second thought to this arrangement you two had. It felt normal. You guys had always been this close. Through school, college, and even having your first jobs together. Of course, there were times you guys were apart, but even still you two managed to remain as close as ever.
After the first several times, you began to experience this weird feeling in your chest. You didn’t want to put a name to the emotion out of the fear it’d create more problems than you needed.
But you could only silence your heart for so long until it begins to boil over.
It was after the second round of the day. You’re dazed as you stare at the ceiling, legs sore, cunt aching.
You feel your throat get caught on itself as you try to make up the words to come out. It feels thick as you say it. Scared to know his answer, scared that this all could fall apart— that you’d fall apart.
“Why are we doing this?” you start, hesitant.
“Not sure,” he mutters, scrolling through his phone, “it’s fun?”
It’s fun. Yeah, maybe that was it. That phrase would simmer in the depths of your mind, constantly trying to convince yourself yes, this was fun. So much to block out the painful tinge you’d feel in your chest after every time you lie in bed together after having sex.
This was your childhood best friend. Bakugou Katsuki. Anyone could have him but he’s lying here with you. You realize the possibility of going back to how things were was slim. He’s not going to be that hard-headed, obnoxious friend you’d known since you were kids anymore. It’s gone past that boundary, and you’re scared to keep exploring the uncharted territory.
It’s then you realize that maybe this was a mistake after all.
——
VIII.
It’s the 7th— no, 8th? You’ve lost count. Nonetheless, it was this time that you realized you loved Bakugou Katsuki.
Perhaps you’ve always known this, just pushing all the emotions to the back of your heart and mind for the sake of the friendship.
But you knew all too well that those boundaries had been pushed too far. Time and time you told yourself that this was all okay, but it wasn’t. And it felt like you were slowly tearing yourself apart.
He was tearing you apart, but it was no one’s fault but your own.
The words he’s been using have been getting riskier and riskier. Toying with the romantic edge of things.
Bakugou was being rougher than usual, a bad day at work being the source. Though you didn’t mind, it felt good nonetheless. It’s rare for him to shock you with his words.
“Fuck,” he groans in your ear, “you’re beautiful,”
His words make you clench around him harder, egging you on to whimper in his ear.
“You’re too fuckin’ good— way- too good,”
His cock pummeled your insides and he thrusted into you relentlessly, praise raining from his mouth like an everflowing river.
“I want you— bad,” his grip on your hips tightens, and the telltale look on his face tells you he’s about to finish.
“I fuckin’ love you,” he murmurs lowly as he cums, so low you barely miss it under your own soft gasps. So low you weren’t even sure you heard it right.
Tears begin to prick at your eyes, what an asshole.
Your insecurity gets the best of you so you just pull him tighter to your body in response to whatever he said.
His words poke and prod at your heart. It feels good to hear it. But it hurts worse knowing it’s the sex talking. It’s the frustrations from work talking. It’s all fake. It’s all talk. No meaning or emotion to back it up.
Bakugou doesn’t even realize it, but he’s encouraging you and your feelings for him. And you don’t know how much more you can take.
——
I.
It was the first time that Katsuki fucked you, he realized he loved you.
You were a constant in his life, and while you were annoying at times, you were always there, even the times where he was shitty towards you.
Katsuki knew you were pretty, always have been— even when the two of you were kids and you’d have mud and dirt all over your face after tussling with him.
But especially now you were gorgeous. Glossy-eyed and so vulnerable underneath him. It was as if he forced himself to sober up, just so that he could remember this moment.
He knew it was selfish to act upon his own desires, and so he asked,
“Are- you sure?”
Everything about you was pretty, his eyes fixated on your lips as you muttered a sweet “mhm”.
Katsuki wishes he had photographic memory so he could remember and cherish every second of it.
He knew this couldn’t happen again. The relationship you two already had was too good for him to let his personal feelings interfere. And he was okay with that. He had his own things to worry about.
There were too many things going on in his life. And even if you wanted him (the chances are slim), he doesn’t know if he’d be able to give you what you needed or wanted. He liked being friends with you for so long because you made everything so easy. He didn’t want to ruin what you had because of his stupid, selfish feelings.
But for now, he’ll indulge in himself. Just this once.
It was the first time that Bakugou Katsuki fucked you that he realized, for him, this wasn’t a mistake.
——
X.
This time would be the last, you told yourself.
You’d let yourself fall into him once more. Let him hold you once more. Be with him once more. And then you’d call it quits. You’d force yourself and him to go back to how things were. No matter what.
You want him, but that’s all it could ever be. And you couldn’t want him. He’s your best friend. The only love you should’ve ever had for him was platonic, but circumstances you forced upon yourself changed that.
You’re able to tell when he’s in the mood. He looks at you daringly with his ruby eyes, and gets touchier. It’s barely ever sudden with him, he eases you into it.
“Katsuki…” you whisper, weak to his touch as he slips his hand under your shirt and straight to your breasts.
“Mm,” he responds, lips already meeting with the soft skin of your neck.
It takes all of you, and you mean all of you, to force the words out of your mouth. You knew you didn’t want to mean it, you’d let him take you as many times as he pleases. But you had to mean it. Because it hurts. Too much.
“I can’t— We can’t do this anymore,” the words fumble a bit, you’re a bit embarrassed and wish you could take it all back.
He freezes altogether, and it scares you.
Bakugou sits back, removing his hand and lips from you before looking in your eyes.
His eyes search your face, lips looking like he’s searching for something to say. You don’t even know what to say.
“I— alright,” he says in a somewhat defeated tone. “Are you okay?”
No.
“Y-yeah, it’s just, weird, you know,” he looks confused at your words but agrees nonetheless. “You’re my best friend and I love you, we just… can’t,”
“No yeah,” is all he says before he sits back in his place on the couch, “I love you, too, I understand,”
You’re scared. His calmness is anxiety driving. Did you really not matter that much? Was the intimacy so easy to let go of? Your heart is breaking, you can feel it. It hurts.
You want to leave, you need to. It’s overwhelming and the silence is drowning. The TV plays in the back but all you hear is silence and all you see is him. It’s too much, you need to-
“Y/N,” you snap your head up at his voice, he’s closer, his hand is reaching out to you, “what’s wrong? You’re crying,”
A rough thumb pad swipes at the tears that had escaped without your knowledge. And the dam breaks.
Bakugou’s eyes widen and he pulls you in to embrace you, “you on your period or what?” He's joking, but you can tell he’s genuinely questioning you as to what the hell happened.
“You, it’s you,” you sob into his chest, and it’s so embarrassing. Shame spreads across your cheeks and body, and you babble nonsense.
“I love you, and it hurts,” you cry, “Fuck, I ruined everything,”
You can’t stop.
“I’m sorry, Katsuki, I ruined it, I ruined us. I was selfish,”
Your mouth is moving on its own.
“I can’t just fuck you and— and be just friends with you, it’s too much,”
You choke on your words, they’re heavy as they come out, fighting against the saliva that builds in your mouth.
“I want you,”
His words startle you. They’re sudden, and cut off whatever else you were about to say. He’s genuine. You can tell by the underlying softness of his voice.
“Are you an idiot? I wouldn’t— fuck,” his grasp around you gets tighter.
“I don’t fuck just anybody,” Bakugou says, “I feel like I’ve told you that,”
“But— that one time-”
“That was my girlfriend at the time, dipshit,”
You sniffle at that, and he realizes you’re still vulnerable.
“Sorry, I just,” he releases you a bit, eyes locked on you, “I love you, have for a while,”
Your jaw drops a bit at that.
“Feelings are just too complicated, you’re too complicated. I didn’t want to break whatever we had, y’know?,” you can tell he’s struggling, “but it became routine, and I was selfish and didn’t want to stop,”
“You’re sappy,”
“Shut it,” he snaps, pinching your side and earning a yelp from you. “Don’t cry, got it? I want you just as much as you want me,”
His thumbs wipe away the stray tears, “you’re such an idiot,”
“No, you are— you’re so mean, saying things you don’t mean to me,” you mutter, eyes meeting his own.
“I’ve never said anything I didn’t mean to you,” he states matter-of-factly. And you realize he’s serious.
You open your mouth to retort, to argue, but he catches you in a kiss before you’re able to. He’s warm and gentle, he’s everything you’ve ever wanted.
You feel yourself begin to tear up again, it doesn’t hurt anymore. But your heart is relieved and feels as though a heavy weight had been lifted off of it. It feels free.
It’s this time where you’re about to fuck Bakugou Katsuki that you realize it was always going to be him, and perhaps those times were never mistakes after all.
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© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.
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httpdwaekki · 7 months ago
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sleepy cramps | b.c.
summary: your cramps wake you up but channie is there to help.
wc: 1.1k
warnings: i tried to keep it gender neutral, however!! periods and cramps are mentions so read at your own risk.
a/n: omg ash knows how to post at a normal time when she's not sleep deprived *gasp* crazy right? you guys know the drill not proof read too many pet names blah blah. i have realized that i apparently need alot of comfort in my life because that is all i write LMAO. anyway! i hope you guys enjoy and as always, drink water, eat something, and take ur meds. <3
p.s. pls send me some requests i really wanna try and branch out but i have no ideas, okay love u bye. <3
my library
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(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)
“baby?” you hear a familiar aussie voice call out. “i’m home!” you hear him take off his shoes and set his bag down. “baby?” he yells once more, keys jingling as he places them on a hook by the door.
you let out a grunt, hoping to signal to him where you were. you were currently bundled up half asleep in your shared bed, facing the door. you were exhausted from the day and your period, and barely keeping your eyes open. 
the hall light flicks on before a figure appears in the doorway. you lift up your head a bit, giving him a sleepy smile before settling back into your warm cocoon of soft blankets and plushies.
he smiles before making his way to the side of bed, squatting down to eye level with you. he lifts his hand, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “hi pretty.” your cheeks warm.
“hi bub.” you mumble. “you sleepy bug?” he asks softly. you nod, a yawn escaping you as if emphasizing your drowsiness.
he smiles, leaning forward to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “alright bub, give me 10 minutes to get ready for bed then i’ll come lay down okay?” you nod once more, sleepy smile still present on your face.
he moves,  placing a kiss on your lips before standing to his full height. “i’ll be right back!” he yelled, running into your en-suite. you giggle before relaxing into your cocoon, sleep welcoming you quickly.
once chan finished in the bathroom, he came out to find you curled up, now facing his side of the bed, soft even breathes escaping you.
he coos before making his way to his side of the bed. he lifted the sheets, sliding under them before gently pulling you to him, body melting into his.
he wraps his arms around you, “good night my sleepy baby, i love you.” he whispers, placing a kiss on your temple, before relaxing, letting sleep take over.
this didn’t last long however, chan lightly awoke maybe an hour later, to you stirring in your sleep, light whimpers escaping you. after hearing the first whimpers leave your mouth, he was very alert. he quickly looks over your body trying to determine what’s bringing you distress.
he catches a glimpse of your face, which is contorted in discomfort. he places a hand on your cheek once more, trying to gently wake you. “baby wake up.” he whispers, lightly tapping and stroking your cheek.
after a few seconds you finally wake, only to let out a yelp in pain, curling into the body beside you. “hey hey, baby, what’s going on?” he said kissing your head, rubbing your back.
“period.” you managed to get out, trying to curl further into yourself. one arm wrapped around your lower abdomen, the other one clenched into a fist against your forehead.
you start holding your breath unconsciously, praying the pain will subside. chan notices and gently taking your fist in his.
“breathe baby, breathe,” he says calmly, opening your fist to slot your fingers through his. you let out a jagged breath leaning your forehead against your joined hands, “squeeze my hand if you need to jagi but, you gotta breathe baby.” his thumb stroking the back of your hand.
you take a deep breath, trying to focus on anything over than the stabbing pain in your abdomen. “doing so good bug, just breathe.”  his other hand coming up to smooth the crease between your eyebrows. 
your breathing evens out slightly as the pain lessen a bit. a moment of silence passes before you sit up, hands still entwined. chan follows you, rubbing small circles on your back. “did you take medicine earlier?” you nod your head. “right before you got home.”  he hummed, understanding.
 “i’ll be right back, okay?” he whispers, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. you nod slightly, focusing on your breathing. he leans over, placing a kiss to the side of your head before getting up and making his way into the bathroom.
you grab a pillow behind you hugging it as you wait for him to return. a few moments passed before he reemerges with your heating pad in hand. he rounds the bed, plugging in the pad before sitting next to you.
“i’m gonna move this quick, okay?” you nod, moving your arms. he grabs the pillow, placing the heating pad in it’s place. “thank you.” you mumble, leaning on him, placing your head on his shoulder. “you’re welcome bug.” he kisses the top of your head before placing his there.
you sit there for a moment before you feel the guilt slowly creep up, the lump forming in the back of your throat. you turn your head into his shoulder as tears start to stream down your face.
“hey, hey, do you want more medicine? what can i do?” he asks, placing a hand on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles. you shake your head, before moving to put your hand in your hands.
“i’m sorry channie,” you cried. “i know you’re probably exhausted, and shouldn’t have to deal with this.” you feel him move in front of you before placing his hands on your face, lifting it. “i am your boyfriend, it is my job to take care of you when you need me. and right now you’re in pain because of something you can’t control.” he pauses, looking into your eyes, gently wiping the tears running down your cheeks.
“i will always take care of you, doesn’t matter, time, place, if i’m tired or not, i will always help you. understand?” you nod, moving into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, shoving your face into his neck.
he wraps his arms around your torso pulling you impossibly closer. “i love so much, jagiya. okay?” you nod your head quickly. “i love you too, more than you know.” you say into his neck, placing a kiss on his skin. 
you both stay like that for a moment before chan pulls away slightly. he wipes your tears once more before placing a kiss on your lips. “let’s get you to sleep, hm?” you agree, moving back into the mattress.
you watch him make his way to his side, getting comfortable under the duvet. once settled, he opens his arms for you to lay down. you giggle before quickly laying on him, making sure your heating pad was still in the correct position.
you place a kiss to his jaw before settling into his chest, duvet pulled to cover both of you. “thank you, i love you so much.” he places one last kiss to your head. “ you don’t have to thank me, i love you so much, good night my sleepy baby.” you smile, feeling at peace. “goodnight, channie.” you place a kiss over his heart before both of drift off once more.
do not repost
*feedback is always appreciated as are likes/reblogs!*
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of-many-fandomss · 6 months ago
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if you could, maybe a fic where reader is the youngest on the grid, and has lost her father. anyway, she wins a grand prix (whatever you’re feeling, it doesn’t matter which one!), and just immediately runs to charles because she knows her dad’s not there to see her big win. he’s immediately taken back but then understands why she came to him and is there to comfort her
and maybe she invites him up on the podium with her!!
thanks :))
Proud
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summary: your father was no longer there, but your next biggest supporter was
paring: charles leclerc x reader platonic
warnings: mentions of parental death
word count: 0.6k
a/n: in honor of my baby lando getting his first win 🥹🧡
・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚.
The blur of your vision no doubt made it borderline dangerous to be driving- but you couldn’t care. Not one single bit.
Not as you pulled into the spot reserved just for you, a p1 resting against the poster right in front of your car that you could barely make out.
A sob raked through your body suddenly and you dropped your hemelt clad head into your hands, breathing shaky and heart rate still accelerated.
You took a moment for yourself, your eyes squeezed shut and your senses buzzing. There were screams of the crowd around you, each one of them celebrating your victory in a deafening roar of pure thrill and excitement.
Finally, you jumped out of your car, ripping the hemelt from off of your head just in time to see an all too familiar Red Bull vehicle pull up to your right and a Ferrari to your left, taking up their respective places by your side.
Whipping around, you paid no mind to the cheers of congratulations from your team, nor the reporters that tried to invade your space as you raced as quickly as you could to the bright red Ferrari.
Charles hopped out of his car just in time for you to crash into his arms, eyes once again squeezed shut as you hugged the man tightly.
The man stumbled back a bit- having already shed his helmet- eyes slightly wide as he looked down at you, but softened as he watched you finally let the tears flow free from your eyes ducts.
He recovered quickly and hurtfully swept you into his embrace, holding you just as tightly as you were holding him, neither of you tuned into any of the hundreds of cameras that were snapping all around you.
After so much hard work- after so much dedication- you had finally done it. You had finally won your Grand Prix- and one on your home track nonetheless.
The tears were partially for the dedication that was finally paying off, but it was mostly for the man that you wish was by your side at the moment.
Your father.
The man that had always been your biggest supporter, through and through.
From your karting days to when you finally signed on with Red Bull just over five months ago when you turned eighteen.
Only two months later, he had passed away from a sudden and quick disease that had left you and the rest of your family utterly heartbroken.
Even before he had been gone, Charles had been quick to take you under his wing. You weren’t his teammate, and yet, he couldn’t help the sense of responsibility that took over him when he had first gazed upon you. He had wanted nothing more than to make you feel welcomed and safe in formula 1.
And that’s what he did.
When you had lost the man that had been your biggest supporter- Leclerc became just as large of one.
“I’m so proud of you,” He murmured in your ear for only you to hear, listening to the way you were hiccuping against the material of his tracksuit, “Your father would be so proud.”
You squeezed him tighter for a moment before pulling away, laughing slightly through teary eyes at him.
Charles smiled, moving a piece of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear, “I’m so proud of you.” He repeated.
“Thank you,” You whispered.
Thank you for saying it. Thank you for looking out for me- for always being there.
Though you didn’t say the words, your eyes shone brightly with them and the man understood.
He nodded before taking his gloved hand in yours, “Come on, let’s get you to your first top spot on the podium.”
When you turned around, you were greeted with the sight of screaming, ecstatic fans, and beaming drivers.
Each and every person in that place was so proud of you, but none smiled as brightly as Charles when you mounted the top of the podium and held your trophy up high.
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chrisevansonly · 8 months ago
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Playing With Fire
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Max Verstappen x Female Reader
summary: you and stella are max’s world, and he’d be damned if he let his father speak ill of either of you.
warnings: angst, jos (ew), angry max, slight mentions of crying, fluff at end
a/n: this is a re-upload to see if it shows up in the tags 🥲
When Stella was born, it was one of the best days ever for Max, seeing his baby girl come into the world, and the way she practically latched onto him from the minute she was welcomed into the family. He knew right then and there he would be the absolute best father to his daughter, just as he was the best husband to you, and always had been.
If there was one thing Max nor you completely enjoyed it was family events when everyone got together, including Jos. Max’s father.Max and his father have a complicated relationship, in a way they seem close but there’s always that edge to his dad that keeps all of you on the edge of your seat. You in particular seemed to still be an issue to him, and every once in a while, you’d become the punching bag at the dinner table.
Stella was sleeping in your arms as you sat next to Max at the dinner table, Jos across from you both and his mother on the other end with the rest of his family and some friends that had joined for the monthly get together.
“So when is the next Verstappen coming?” His father asked looking at you. Stella was only 6 months old so you and Max were happy to just enjoy the time you have with her now, not even thinking about another baby.
“Oh, well i’m sure someday we’ll have another…”
“We’re in no rush” Max butted in, assuming it would stop his father’s line of questioning.
“Yes well, it’s just you had a baby girl…there has to be a boy in the equation…”
You furrowed your brows, fixing Stella’s blanket as she continued to sleep, oblivious to the rising tensions in the room.
“I don’t think so? There’s nothing wrong with having girls..”
“Who’s supposed to carry on the name?”
Max sat up straighter, his hand squeezing your knee gently
“Stella will just as our next baby will eventually, regardless of their gender.”
Jos shook his head taking a sip of his water as he sighed, before looking back at you.
“All i’m saying is you should be trying for a boy.”
“Well it doesn’t work that way.”
The table was getting quieter as the father and son squared off, Jos not backing down and Max not about to let his father attack you in anyway. Not on his watch.
“I knew the second you had a daughter it would make you weak, let alone marrying her and having that baby! She’s useless if she can’t have a boy! You’re wasting your time Max, I knew from the second I met her it would ruin our family.”
Used to his harassment you didn’t cry, but it didn’t stop tears from welling up in your eyes as you almost deflated in a way, hugging Stella closer to your chest. The minute your eyes looked to Max, long gone was his soft stare and gentle smile, replaced was a look almost predatory as he looked to his father.
“Watch your fucking mouth when you’re talking about the mother of my child.”
“Max-”
“No, get out.”
“Excuse me?” Jos’s eyes widened and he shook his head
“GET THE HELL OUT!”
Max yelled, slamming his hands down on the table, seconds later Stella stirring before whimpering in your arms. The dutchman froze and looked apologetically at you as you excused yourself to go up to the nursery, only then turning back to look at his father.
“If you ever so much as think about speaking about my wife and daughter again, it’ll be me coming after you. Now get the fuck out.”
Jos didn’t even offer to say anything else, pushing back his chair and storming out, effectively cutting the dinner to an end as everyone left, Max’s mother sticking around to help clean up and of course comfort you afterwards. She had always been close to you and Max and in a way she was like a mother to you too.
“Baby?”
Turning at the sound of your husbands voice you smiled, still holding Stella in your arms, only this time she was much calmer, her eyes lighting up as she spots her dad.
“Hi, everything okay?”
“I should be asking you that…”
Shrugging you let him take Stella from you, his demeanour much more relaxed with his baby girl in his arms as he placed a few kisses to her cheeks.
“I know what your father is like, yes it hurts but I love you and you love me and that’s all that matters…we have a beautiful baby girl, and that man will never be able to change what we have.”
Max nods, bringing you into his side and leaning down to kiss you softly
“You’re right, he can’t. I’ll never let him ever disrespect you like that ever again. No matter what I have to do.”
“I know you won’t Maxie…and I love you very much for it, Stella too, huh baby?”
Stroking her cheek gently she babbled happily, leaning on Max’s shoulder, her hand patting his chest gently
“My girls…I love you both so much, i’ll always protect you both, with my everything.”
Nothing else needed to be said in the moment, all Max needed was his girls and he felt whole. Nothing else mattered because to him he had everything he’d ever wanted in his life. Despite what he went through growing up, Jos had never made his heart turn cold, he made it big enough to hold the love he had for you two, and would always hold, no matter what happened.
Besides, everyone knew messing with the Verstappen girls, was playing with fire.
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earthtooz · 9 months ago
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x : CALL ME BACK : *+゚
in which: ratio has been waiting for your call since you left.
warnings: FLUFF i promise, 1.6k wc, gn!reader, ratio being horribly in love and pining so badly, reader works as a space researcher, reader is a sunshine so this is basically sunshine x grump/asshole, written during his first release/ v1.6.
a/n: the way i wrote the synopsis made it sound like it was sad. maybe i'll write an angst version of the same prompt. anyways i listened to 'she calls me back' by noah kahan on loop when writing this, enjoy!
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Dr. Ratio is not happy with you.
It has been three weeks and three days since he last received any sort of notification from you, any sort of indication that you were healthy and alive whilst traversing the universe. Typically, you would send daily updates of how your exploration was progressing, or new intergalactic discoveries of yours, regardless of whether or not he cared. 
(He cares. He cares more than his indifferent texts lead on. There’s a reason he always responds, after all, and it’s not just because you’ve been friends for almost two decades now.
To him, your constant messages and calls told him that you were thinking of him, and the more space he occupies in your mind, the happier he is; that is a theory he discovered years ago.
He happily listens to all of your rambles. He'll listen whilst in the middle of grading various papers or writing one of his own, he'll listen whilst eating, he'll listen to you as long as you reach out.
So where are the messages he was waiting for?)
Today is the arranged day for you to return from your new mission. Ratio has been counting down the days since he first marked it on his large desk calender, your return being the first event on his list. 
He is undeniably excited to see you, yet he feels petty enough to not make the trip down and welcome you by the docks, even if your ship’s landing zone is just outside the University.
It’s irrational of him to hold your inactivity against you. Perhaps you just encountered an inconvenience and lost your phone, or wherever you are does not have good reception to send a text halfway across the galaxy. He understands that your safety comes first on these missions, but he can’t help but feel neglected, and he curses the fragility of his ego for making him this way. 
The clock strikes another hour. From his office, Ratio cannot see the ships and come and go, but his ‘scholarly instincts’ are telling him that you are on your way. 
Not even ten minutes later, a figure comes barrelling into his office.
“There he is!” You exclaim exuberantly. It seems that the length of the mission did not erode your enthusiasm, and he’s grateful that it is as contagious as he remembers. “And here I was wondering where you were, did you dig your nose too deep in those encyclopaedias you love to memorise?”
You’re still in your research gear, hips and legs buckled to the brim with various equipment that are necessary to your work, and his heart beats guiltily at the sight. 
You came to see him as soon as you landed. He was your first destination after a tiring three and a half weeks away from home, not the comfort of your home or bed or shower; him. 
“Ha. Ha.” The purple-haired laughs dryly, getting up from his chair and rounding his desk. “Good to see you still alive.”
“What’s with the lack of energy? Didn’t you miss me, Veritas?” 
He did. More than you could ever imagine. “Of course I did.” 
Opening his arms for a hug, you all but run into his embrace, throwing your arms and anchoring yourself to the sturdiness of his torso. After not seeing you for so long, your familiar frame and warmth provides nothing but comfort. 
“Welcome home,” Ratio murmurs into your hairline. 
Your arms squeeze him tighter. “Good to be back.” 
After a few beats of silence, you step away from him and he reluctantly detaches himself from you. 
“I got you something,” you say whilst setting down your bag. Pulling out a suitcase, the purple-haired looks at you inquisitively. “It’s a chess board! I got you a new one to add to your collection!”
Ratio doesn’t bother correcting you that his ‘collection’ only has seven boards at most, but that does not negate his gratitude. 
Even whilst away, you thought of him, and that is a great victory.
“Thank you. We can play together, sometime,” he proposes.
“Oh, please. I could never beat you.”
“Giving up before you even start? That does not sound like the Y/n I know.”
“It’s not ‘giving up’, it’s picking my battles wisely. I could never best you in a game of chess, or any competition of intellect,” you laugh as if the idea itself was ridiculous.
“You shouldn’t discredit yourself based on your own assumptions. I think you make a very capable opponent.”
“I know your tricks, Veritas. Buttering me up just so you can chip at my armour and knock me down when I’m weak, have you no shame?” Your voice is light, with an air of joviality to it, and the purple-haired is enchanted. 
It seems that you don’t know him as well as you think. He finds no shame in hogging as much of your time as possible, even if it is through a game of chess that he will beat you at. He also hopes that you don’t know him well enough to hear the subtle desperation in his voice when he enquires if you’ll be leaving for another mission soon.
“I don’t believe so,” you tell him nonchalantly. “I’ll be stationed here for about two months. They’re expecting a detailed, twenty-page length report from me, so I guess I’ll be locked in my study until that’s complete.”
Ratio clicks his tongue. “Pity.”
(It’s not a pity. He gets to spend two months with you in compensation for the month that he was robbed of.)
“Not to sound self-absorbed, but why weren’t you there are the dock to pick me up?” You ask. 
“Were you disappointed?”
“A little. You’re always the first face I see whenever I come home. It was jarring to not see you amongst the crowd.”
Jealousy slashes at his chest, and he turns away from you to hide his sour expression. “I apologise, I must have lost track of the days.”
“You’re Doctor Veritas Ratio. According to your crazy schedules, there are 72 hours instead of 24 in a standard day, you never lose track.” 
Truth is a fascinating thing. By nature, it is black and white, but it’s perception is what traps fools. Humans have strived to discover an uncontested truth for as long as they have existed, but as long as opinions exist, it will constantly be revised and put together again, ambiguity heavy in the air that surrounds it. 
You, however, are even more fascinating with the way you can deconstruct him so easily.
“If you must know, I was… upset with you because you were not messaging me.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
Your laughter is even more so.
Hubris can really kill a man. Ratio does not need to consult the texts of ancient philosophers to confirm that. 
“Really?” You choke out in between cackles. “I didn’t think such menial things mattered to you!”
“Normally, they don’t.”
“So, I’m a special case then?”
“I shouldn’t need to spell it out for you.”
“Veritas!” You coo, placing your hands on either sides of his face. “I am so flattered!” 
Dr. Ratio is a renowned scholar with eight doctorate degrees. The mere mention of his name will inspire hundreds, if not, thousands, of people who have the faintest lust for academia, spreading marvel and fear amongst students and professors alike. His achievements will be engraved and celebrated by the university for centuries to come, and his classes are so notoriously hard that the passing rate is 3%. 
And yet, here he is, reduced to putty in your hands.
Perhaps that is who he is at his core. Rid from him the alabaster head, the codex, and pride, you’ll be left with a man who is ardently in love with his best friend.
“Stop it, this is ridiculous!” He mutters, hoping to salvage his image at least a little.
You listen to his demands, separating from him with a hearty laugh. “So you really do like me, that’s nice to know.”
(It is far beyond ‘like’ now. Can you come back and hold his face again?)
“I like you when you’re quiet.”
“Clearly not if you loathed my virtual silence! Which, by the way, was caused because the planet I was on had horrible reception. I really need to switch cell providers, mine doesn’t even reach to half way across the galaxy, apparently.”
“Well. I am glad you survived the three weeks without reception, it must have been a formidable challenge for you.”
“Were you worried for me?”
Of course he was. Whilst you freely roam the expansiveness of the universe, the only thing that anchors him to you across the span of light years is a message. “You should stop asking questions you know the answer to.”
“Boo, you’re no fun.” You lean down to grab the bags that lay at your feet, swinging them over one shoulder. Do you have to leave so soon? “Well, I better get going. I’m aching for a shower and a nap. Now that I have proper data and Wifi, rest assured that I will be texting you soon.”
“Cannot wait.” 
“Goodbye, Veritas! I shall see you soon!” 
‘Soon’ is a relative time frame. He can only hope that you won’t keep him waiting again.
The door clicks shut behind you, and not even five seconds later, his phone buzzes with a call.
“Sorry!” Your voice greets from the other end of the line. “Was just testing if my reception actually worked.”
“There is a reason your day job is a Space Researcher and not a comedian.”
“Can’t you at least laugh? Let’s grab dinner tomorrow at half past six, make yourself free, Veritas!” 
You hang up before he can even get a word in, and he’s left to stare at the blank screen of his phone with an idiotic smile.
Everything’s alright when you call him back.
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© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
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new-fandom-scene · 2 months ago
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Coconut Vanilla - Jake Seresin
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Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader
Summary: Staying at your place means Jake can use your "fancy" soaps.
Length: 1,578
Warnings: Fluff, Swearing, Playful Teasing, Cursing (once)
Staying at his own place was always more convenient for Jake, but it definitely does not give him the same feeling as when he stays over at yours. To Jake, there was nothing better than heading over to your place after work and opening the door to the smell of sweet bliss; and it quite literally always smelled sweet.
Jake calls you 'Sweetness' for a reason. Your apartment always held the lingering smell of fresh vanilla in the spring and summer, or warm cinnamon apple in the fall and winter. While you have been known to bake deliciously sweet treats from time to time, you were more known, at least to Jake, to always have incense out and about in each room of your apartment. Whether burning it or not, it filled your space with a layer of comfort Jake could not find anywhere else (not that he would want to anyway). You, yourself, also always smelled of such sweetness, a quality that will never stop Jake from wanting to be as close to you as possible all the time. From the coconut cream of your shampoo and conditioner, to your french vanilla body wash and lotion, there was no way Jake could ever get enough of you.
Upon reaching your front door, Jake knows you aren't home yet. You still have some loose ends to tie up before leaving work, but would make up for it by bringing home dinner for the two of you. In the meantime, Jake is welcome to hang out until you get home, something he has done a few times before. Nonetheless, there is still a smile on Jake's face when he enters the apartment and hangs his keys on the hook above the bench in your front hallway and begins to untie his shoes as the sweet vanilla scent fills his nose.
Jake makes his way down to the connecting bathroom through your bedroom and turns the shower to his "perfect level of warmth", that he always tries to convince you of. You, however, like to stick with your "hot as Satan temperature", as Jake describes it. Chuckling to himself, he undresses and tosses his clothes in the bathroom hamper before stepping into the shower. Jake stands under the water as it erases the tension of the work day and turns to his grab shampoo. You were so kind to buy Jake's usual shower essentials but, as he grasps his own shampoo, he decides to reach for yours instead. It's not like your body care items were off limits, he's just never thought about venturing out of his usuals (unless he's alone at his own place and finds himself missing you too much). He gives the shampoo a squeeze before lathering it into his sandy brown hair and enjoying the scent, your scent, filling his nose. Smelling it alone relaxes his body more than Jake thought was possible without you physically being in the shower with him.
"Shampoo twice, condition the ends," Jake reminds himself of your teaching. He's definitely come a long way from his shower routine before you came into his life. He chuckles to himself as he recalls the look of horror on your face upon finding two-in-one shampoo when you first came over to his place. After rinsing out his second shampooing, Jake conditions his tips and browses over your body care to grab your vanilla body wash and his blue loofah your bought for when he comes over. Jake decided a long time ago that he can't go too long without smelling your scent, and he especially can't go more than a day or two (two's pushing it) without having you in his reach. The second an opportune time comes to ask you to move in together, he's gonna take it. It isn't like Jake doesn't basically live at your place anyway, half of his clothes are here and he's pretty sure his dress whites are still here from when you took them to get dry cleaned last. Little old Hangman would love nothing more than to come home to your sweet, sweet self every day for the rest of his life.
When he finishes rinsing everything out and off, Jake steps out and grabs the fluffy, extra large ocean blue towels that you keep hung by the shower door. Jake drys off and wraps the towel around his hips just as he hears you enter the apartment. "Baby?" he hears your voice call out. "Are you in the shower?" Jake steps out of the bathroom, meeting you in your bedroom. Your smile grows with each step you take towards him.
"Just stepped out, Sweetness", The cocky smirk plastered on his face once he stands toe to toe with your figure. You rest your hands against his slightly damp chest.
"I can see that," you tease, fingers tracing over his toned torso. Leaning into him, you take a whiff, expecting his sandalwood scent, but instead meeting... your own? "You- you smell like me, Baby! What happened in that shower?" you tease, sniffing him all over. Jake backs up instinctively to prevent any more tickling than your sniffs have already done. Any efforts to tickle Jake are ceased when he wraps his strong arms around you and gently smushes your face into his chest, engulfing you in your own scent. "My coconut vanilla boy", you giggle against him.
"I'm a coconut vanilla man, Sweetness. Your coconut vanilla man" Your boyfriend squeezes you closer and suppresses your giggles into muffled vibrations against his chest. "We all know your stuff is nicer than mine, feel like I can treat myself to it from time to time. Plus it's Friday. S'not like anyone besides you will be commenting on it anyway. Why?" He asks in a sassy tone. "You don't like me smelling like you?" Rolling your eyes, you push yourself against him and Jake loosens his grip on you so you can turn and take some of your jewelry off and place onto your dresser. "Not the only one that can smell delicious, Sweetness. And speaking of," Jake pulls you back into him, flush chest to chest. "Am I too sweet to get a kiss?" A cocky smirk paints his face and he studies the phoney look of contemplation on yours.
"Never too sweet for a kiss, Baby," you envelope your lips between his, wrapping your arms around the nape of Jake's neck. Jake has a firm grasp on your waist, as if he thinks you would fly away from him. This is all he needs: your lips on his, you just being around him with the sureness that there is nowhere else to be other than right here with him. You pull away for air, lips slightly swollen and cheeks flushed. "All better honey?" you smirk up at him, encouraging him to steal a quick kiss.
Jake smiles down at you, licking his lips. "That'll definitely hold me over for a couple minutes, at least until we both get into some comfy clothes". He saunters over to his drawer in your dresser and pulls out a pair of boxers, pair of shorts, and two of his t-shirts. "Get changed Sweetness," Jake tosses the second shirt for you to catch. He shamelessly watches you take your work shirt off and replace it with his own.
"Did you have enough shampoo for both washes?" You ask him, tossing your discarded shirt into your bedroom hamper. "I've been meaning to restock on my shower stuff".
Jake looks down and smiles to himself, pulling his shorts on over his boxers. "No worries, Sweetness, I can just bring over your shower stuff from my place. Those bottles are still pretty full".
"That's kind of you baby", you hang your belt up. "But, if you bring them from your place, I wouldn't have anything when I'm over there. And I love you, but sandalwood isn't my vibe". Jake shakes his head and tugs his shirt down over his abdomen before slowly walking over to you.
"What if your place became our place then?" Your head shoots up, hands still holding your pants halfway down your legs. "Then it'd be alright for me to bring your shower stuff over, right?" Cheeks on fire, you shimmy out of your pants, tossing them haphazardly and meeting him in the middle of your room. Jake takes your hands in his, rubbing circles on your smooth skin.
"You wanna move in?" you ask him slowly. "With me?" Jake smirks, his hands travelling from yours, to the lower part of your back to pull you in.
"Thought you'd never ask, Sweetness", Jake smirks, but then meets your eyes with sincerity. "I've been wantin' to ask you for a while, Sweetness. I've never been so sure of someone in my entire life. I don't want to spend another day coming home after work without you on the other side of that door. I wanna come home and smell that apple cinnamon-vanilla shit and know that my coconut vanilla girl is in one of these rooms missing me as much as I'm always missing her". Your heart swells and you caress Jake's cheek before leaning it down for you to plant a kiss right on his plump lips.
"Move in with me, Jake Seresin," you declare wholeheartedly and take his face in both of your hands to meet his lips against yours in a searing kiss. "My coconut vanilla boy".
"Man, Sweetness. Your coconut vanilla man".
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fastandcarlos · 3 days ago
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Mi Casa Su Casa : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz
summary: wherever he goes, carlos wants for you to go too, and that includes a new spot that is particularly important for carlos
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Your smile turned upwards as the door to Carlos’ apartment opened, his hand reaching out and immediately inviting you in. Your eyes lit up, as they always did, taking in the grand structure of his home, the building much grander than the place you called home. 
“Come, sit down,” Carlos grinned, leading you over to the sofa that was by the window, overlooking the city. You knew your way around Carlos’ home like the back of your hand, walking straight through and dropping down beside him, feeling his arm drape over your shoulders. 
Carlos loved watching you and seeing how comfortable you were too, taking things in your stride. It felt normal for him to have you there, if anything, not having you there was what felt strange to him now, hating the feeling of walking around the quiet apartment.  
The hold that Carlos had around your frame was strong as he welcomed you into his side, resting his head against the top of yours. He’d decided to invite you round after speaking to you on the phone that afternoon, the frustration from your day evident in your voice. 
“I’m sorry your day wasn’t great,” Carlos whispered into your ear once you settled, “you know you can forget about all of that for a while whilst you’re here with me.” 
If there was one place you wanted to be after the day that you’d had, it was Carlos’. You knew if there was one person who could put the smile back on your face it was definitely going to be him, he somehow seemed to have all the answers to your problems. 
“I just want to pretend that today never happened,” you informed him with a sigh, “aside from being here with you of course, I’m happy to be here and spend some time with you.” 
“Good answer,” Carlos joked, squeezing your frame tighter. “I’ve got something for you that I think I might cheer you up a little bit anyway.” 
You tilted your body to look up at Carlos, noticing the grin that was on his face. Immediately your eyebrows raised as you tried to figure something out from the look on his face, but Carlos gave anyway nothing. On the inside, his heart was racing with excitement, knowing that what he wanted to do was going to be big, something he knew was the right thing to do though. 
Your eyes didn’t look away from Carlos as you sat in anticipation, wondering what his plans were, watching as his hand reached out to the table that was just beside where the two of you were sat. 
“What are you up to?” You grinned as Carlos picked up what he wanted to show you, telling you to hold your hand out before placing the item into your hand. 
Your eyes slowly looked down, the sunlight streaming through the window reflecting beautifully on the key that rested in the palm of your hand, slightly unsure as to where the key would give you entry to. 
Carlos’ smile was wide as your eyes glanced across at him again. “It’s a key for here, so that you can come by whenever you want to, or if you feel ready, it’s a key so you can just move in with me.” 
There was no doubt in Carlos’ mind that having you there was what he wanted, loving the feeling of sharing his home with you. Slowly you were finding yourself moving in away, leaving toiletries in his bathroom or clothes lying around in his wardrobe, all Carlos needed to do was make things official. 
“Are you serious?” You asked Carlos, your voice full of surprise, twirling the key around in your fingertips. “This is a big deal Carlos, are you sure this is what you want?” 
“It’s absolutely what I want,” Carlos quickly assured you. “I mean you spend a lot of time here anyway and we love spending time together, so why not make it a bit more of a permanent arrangement?” 
“I don’t even know what to say, no one has ever asked me to move in with them before.” 
Carlos’ smile was wide as you spoke, “you’ve not actually answered my question yet if you want to move in with me.” 
“Of course, I do,” you laughed, “I just can’t believe this is for real right now.” 
Carlos pulled you tighter into his side, pressing a kiss against your cheek. Your arm draped around his chest, head tucking in underneath his own, making sure that you kept a strong grip on the key that was in your hand. 
“This is basically your home anyway,” Carlos spoke, “Charles came round the other day and thought you already lived here with how many of your things were in the bathroom.” 
Your eyes rolled as Carlos filled you in on the conversation, it was typical Charles, pushing Carlos for answers, nagging him as to why he hadn’t already got round to asking you to move in with him yet. 
“I can’t believe this is going to be the place that I call home,” you whispered to yourself, unaware that Carlos could hear you. “I never imagined I’d live in a place like this.” 
“You only deserve the best mi amor,” Carlos replied. 
“Oh,” you gasped, not realising that Carlos had overheard. “I mean, I didn’t have much to do with this place anyway, this is a reward for all of your hard work.” 
“Then let’s make it ours, we can make whatever changes you think.” 
Admittedly, Carlos had turned his home into a bit of a lad’s pad, he wasn’t the tidiest, there were consoles and gym equipment lying around everywhere. With your help Carlos knew that he could make the place a lot more homely, a place that the two of you would both love. 
“This is your home, Carlos; I can’t just move in and start calling the shots.” 
“See, that’s where you’re wrong, it’s our home now.” 
Your smile grew as Carlos spoke, struggling to believe that it was real. You had no doubts that your future was one that had Carlos in it, but moving in felt like the first proper step to making that a reality, something you were struggling to get your head around.  
“I’ve got so many ideas for things that we can do, I’ve been doing plenty of research.” 
You glanced across at Carlos in surprise, “why do I feel like I’ve suddenly got an interior designer on my hands? What sort of things have you got in mind?” 
“Just a bit of paining, building,” Carlos shrugged, noticing the excited smile on your face. “You’re imagining how I’d look doing all of that, aren’t you?” 
“Can you blame me?” You challenged, unable to clear the image from your mind, the picture clear of Carlos with paintbrush in hand, reaching up to reach the high parts of the wall with his shirt riding up to show his body. 
Carlos’ eyes rolled as you continued to daydream, “I’m not asking you to move in just so I can give you more opportunities to stare at me you know.” 
“That’s all I plan on doing when I’m living here.” 
Carlos pressed a kiss against your lips, “I can’t wait to have you here forever, to wake up with you every morning, cuddle up to you every evening too.” 
“It’s going to be amazing; I can’t wait to call this home.” 
˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗
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requiemforthepoets · 3 months ago
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they never took me quite where you do 𖦹 LN4
PAIRINGS: lando norris x heiress!reader
SUMMARY: all your life, you’ve been used to peace and quiet, not until you had to substitute for your father and brother in a business meeting and throwing you in the most busiest and crowded event.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: this has been stuck in my drafts, i decided to post this one since i’m clearing my docs. this one’s bit lengthy, but i hope you’ll vibe with it. uni had already started for me, so i won’t be able to post much :’( anyways, i hope you’ll enjoy reading this one!
REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.
WORD COUNT: 6.4k
WARNINGS: zak brown and mclaren
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MIAMI
You never liked crowded events. It is not in your nature to seek out noise and chaos, you prefer the calm serenity of your family’s estate or the quiet corners of your favorite library. But alas, here you were, you found yourself being in attendance at the 2024 Miami Grand Prix. Your father and older brother were supposed to attend the business meeting, a formality given your family’s substantial sponsorship of McLaren, but with both of them indisposed, the duty had fell upon you.
As you stepped into the bustling paddock, you couldn’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed by the energy and excitement that filled the air, you also saw a few celebrities but you couldn’t care less. To be honest, you never really liked Miami. You had a few share of travelling around the world, but you just don’t get other people when they say that Miami is a great place, you just couldn’t see it. However, people are entitled to their own opinion, and that is your own personal opinion. Looking around and comparing yourself from the race goers, you can clearly tell that you’re the odd one out, all dressed in neutral colors when you are being surrounded by lively colors.
“Miss Auerbach, welcome!” Zak Brown the CEO of McLaren had greeted you warmly. “I’m glad that you could make it.” You smiled and shook his hand.
Prior to arriving in the venue, you had managed to study the whole team behind McLaren as a preparation for the business meeting, and not make a fool of yourself. Last thing you would want to do is embarrass your father and brother.
“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mr. Brown. It’s a pleasure to be here,” you replied politely, “I apologize that my father and Theo couldn’t make it. They had prior commitments that can’t be rescheduled.” You added.
“Please, just call me Zak, and it’s alright. It’s wonderful to see you getting involved into the family business.” Both of you laughed, but you held back a little bit. Zak had noticed your hesitation and smiled kindly, “I know this might not be your usual environment, but why don’t you stay and watch the race? I think you’ll find it quite exhilarating.” You just nodded.
Maybe this isn’t exactly your comfort zone, but sooner or later you’ll grow more accustomed to it. You need a bit of excitement in your life, and maybe this is finally it.
After the meeting with Zak, you decided to walk around the area, get some air and explore a little bit. The exclusive paddock area offered a slight reprieve from the crowd, and you navigated through the space, trying to maintain a semblance of composure, a familiar voice called out for you.
“What on earth are you doing here?” Turning around, you saw Charles and Carlos approaching, their face lit up with a surprise. They were unmistakable with their bright red Ferrari gears and ever-present charisma. “Hello to you too.” You greeted while giving each of them a hug and attempting to mask your discomfort from the buzzing crowd. “You wouldn’t normally find me in this place, but I’m officially on business duties.”
Charles is one of your brother’s best friend, how did they met? You never know, all you know is that your brother is a big fan of motorsport and one day, the two of them just became best friends. As for Carlos, the Sainz and Auerbach are a close family friend for almost a decade, your father and Carlos Sainz Sr. go way back. So you’re glad that you know at least two people in the event.
Carlos chuckled. “Never really thought that I’d see the day you’d attend a grand prix willingly.” You laughed, “well, let’s just say that it wasn’t voluntary.” You admitted, a hint of smile breaking through. Charles nodded understandingly, “come on, let’s find a quieter spot. You look like you could use a break.”
Grateful, you followed them to a more secluded area within the paddock. As you talked, the initial awkwardness melted away and had been replaced by the comfort of familiar company. You discussed various things about family, recent travels, and, inevitably, racing.
“You know, your father always speak so highly of you,” Charles said, with Carlos agreeing with him. “It’s finally nice to see you at one of these events.”
“I have to admit,” you said, glancing around, “this place has a certain charm. Maybe it’s not all bad.” Carlos just laughed. “That’s the spirit. But hey, the race is starting soon. You should stay and watch, you might actually enjoy it.”
“Are you flying back to Germany right after the race?” Charles had asked, as you pondered. Mentally checking your schedule and agendas while you’re here in Miami. “I think so? I’m not sure, it depends with McLaren.”
“Why don’t we all go to dinner later tonight? I’m sure Rebecca and Alex would love to see you again as well.” Carlos offered. “Sure, I would really love that! Just text me the time and place, I’ll be there.” You smiled.
After the meeting with Charles and Carlos, you head to the VIP area for McLaren and found a seat that offered a perfect vantage point to watch the race. The anticipation was palpable as the cars began to line up, engines revving, and you can see the fans in the grandstands all decked out in colorful team merchandise, waving flags and cheering passionately for the teams that they are rooting for. In no time, you found yourself leaning forward, eyes with excitement.
The moment that the lights went out, cars shot forward on the track, a blur of color and motion passed in front of you. You could feel the ground vibrate beneath your feet as they sped past, leaving you breathless. Amidst all of this, one car in particular had managed to caught your attention, the sleek orange McLaren with the number 4 on it.
You turned your attention on the screen, Lando Norris. Reading it softly, familiarizing the name as it rolled smoothly off your tongue. You had also heard his name countless of time, often through Theo who admired his driving style. But seeing Lando in action was different. His precision, determination—it was really mesmerizing.
Each lap brought new excitement, the cars jostling for position, and as the race progressed, you couldn’t help but be drawn into the excitement. Lando’s skill was undeniable, and you found yourself silently rooting for him. When he executed a particularly daring move, you involuntarily gasped, earning a few amused glances from nearby spectators.
When the checkered flag waved, Lando had crossed fhe finish line in first place, followed by Max Verstappen from Red Bull in second place, and then in third place was Charles. You suddenly felt a strange thrill as you watched the McLaren team celebrated Lando’s win. After the event was finished, you had decided to walk around the paddock once more, and drop by at the Ferrari garage to congratulate Charles and Carlos, not forgetting to drop by at McLaren as well to also extend your congratulations to Zak, as it was another win for the team.
As luck would have it, you crossed paths with Lando himself. He was talking to a group of mechanics, still buzzing with the adrenaline. Seeing your opportunity, you decide approached him.
“Congratulations on winning the Miami GP.” You said, trying to sound casual. Lando turned, his eyes brightening with a friendly smile. “Thanks! Glad you enjoyed the race.”
“I did. It’s my first time at a Grand Prix, actually. Quite an experience.” Lando smiled, “first time, huh? Well, I’m honored you got to see me in action. What brings you here?”
“Family business,” you replied. “Ah, that explains why I had seen you with Zak earlier. Well, I hope this won’t be your first and last race. It’s always nice to see new faces around here.”
You smiled, feeling unexpectedly at ease. “Maybe it won’t be. You might have just made a new fan today.” Lando laughed. “I’ll take that as another win. See you around?”
“Definitely,” you said, feeling a spark of excitement at the idea of seeing him again.
As you left the paddock, you realized that maybe, just maybe, crowded events weren’t so bad after all. Especially when they came with such unexpected, pleasant surprises. It’s too soon to say that you were charmed by Lando, but you can’t help but admit it that you are indeed had been charmed by him.
Later that evening, you found yourself at a cozy restaurant with Charles, Carlos, Alex, and Rebecca. Being close with Charles and Carlos, you had became close as well with their girlfriends. It was rare for you to have new friends due to your status, but meeting Alex and Rebecca was such a breath of fresh air.
“So, how does it feel to be a grand prix veteran now?” Rebecca teased as you sipped your wine. “Hardly a veteran,” you laughed, “but I have to admit, it was more enjoyable than I expected.”
“It’s about time we got you out of your shell,” Alex had said with a wink. “We’ve been waiting for an excuse to hangout more.” This has caused the whole table to laugh.
“And a little birdie told me as well,” Carlos chimed in, a bit of teasing in his voice, “you’ve been seen talking to Lando right after the race.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you, and the girls began teasing you.
“Come on now, it was a harmless conversation. I just congratulated him. My family sponsors the team, what am I to do? Ignore him?” You laughed, “not when you’re all smiley and looking all heart eyes at him.” Charles said and laughed.
“But hey, Lando’s a great guy. If ever you two end up dating, he’ll treat you right and not to mention you two looked really good together.” Carlos said as he smiled.
The conversation flowed easily, filled with a bit of teasing, stories, laughter, and plans for future gatherings. Charles and Carlos shared a few anecdotes from racing, while Alex and Rebecca had catched you up with their recent travel adventures. You found yourself thoroughly enjoying the night, feeling more connected with them after not seeing them for how many months.
As the night wound down, you gently grabbed your bag and pull out four elegant invitations. “Before I forget, I would like to give this to you.” You handed the invitations to each of them, with their names beautifully written on the envelope. “Mamá will be having the annual Auerbach charity event, and she tasked me to give the invitations out to you.”
The event will be held five months from now, but as always, your mother wanted to be very prepared and for the event to run smoothly with no distractions. They had thanked you for the invite, and once the dinner had concluded, each of them gave you a hug.
“Thank you so much for a wonderful evening, guys. I really appreciate it.” You said. “Of course! We should do this every once in a while.” Alex said as both her and Rebecca hugged you again.
“Don’t be a stranger, okay? If you need anything, just call us.” Carlos smiled. “We’ll see you at the next race, okay? We’ll be expecting you there!” Charles added and you nod at him.
“Alright, alright. You’ll see me in the next race, maybe or maybe not!” You teased. “I’ll see you all in Germany for the event, okay?” They nodded.
The following day, you attended the post-race festivities, it was another obligation that you couldn’t avoid. But this time, the atmosphere was different, Lando’s words from yesterday had you in excitement, and maybe, you were excited to see Lando as well.
You had found yourself mingling with other sponsors and team members. Glancing across the venue, you caught sight of Lando, engaged in a conversation with Oscar, which you had met as well yesterday during the event. He looked up, meeting your gaze unexpectedly, and offered a smile, a genuine smile. This has caused your face to flush, hoping that he didn’t see the way how your face turned all red. After that little incident, you turned your attention back to the people you’re talking with.
As the event wore on, the sun was already setting, casting a golden glow over the venue, you were hoping that at least you would get to talk to Lando, and soon enough, you found yourself once again face to face with Lando.
“Hey, you’re back,” he greeted, his grin being infectious. “I am. I thought I’d see what all the fuss is about after the race.”
“Smart choice. This is where the real fun happens,” Lando said, nodding towards the lively crowd. You found yourself laughing, the sound even surprising yourself. “You were incredible out there. I can see why Theo admires you.”
“Theodore Auerbach?” Lando asked, his eyebrows raising. “Theo as in your brother?“
You nodded, “yes, that Theo. He’s a fan, always talks about your races, despite being best friends with Charles and Carlos.” This had cause Lando to laugh, “wow, that’s really great to hear. Tell him I said thanks.”
“I will.” You smiled.
You and Lando found yourselves in deep conversation. He shared a few stories about his racing career and telling you things about racing—he was slowly getting you accustomed. You then found yourself opening up about your family, your hesitations about joining the family business, and unexpected enjoyment of the grand prix.
“You know,” Lando said thoughtfully, “it’s refreshing talking to someone outside the usual racing circle. You have a unique perspective.”
“I’ve enjoyed it too,” you admitted. “This whole experience has been…enlightening.”
“Good. Then it’s a win-win,” Lando said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe we can convince you to come to more races. We could use another Auerbach fan.”
“I think you just might.” You smiled, feeling a warm spread through you, and your stomach feeling butterflies.
The celebration had ended after an hour, you and Lando had exchanged contacts, promising to keep in touch. He had also walked you back to your hotel, which was surprisingly just near the venue. You reflected on how much had changed in just a couple of days—stepping out of your comfortzone and embracing a new experience.
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MONACO
It has been two months since the Miami Grand Prix, and exactly two months since you and Lando met. It was a whirlwind of change in what felt like the blink of an eye, what started as a chance meeting with Lando had evolved into something deeper, something neither of you had anticipated. Despite the distance and the demands of your respective worlds, you and Lando had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, finding solace and comfort in each other’s company.
It has been mutually agreed to keep your relationship under the wraps. For Lando, it was about preserving his focus and privacy in the high-pressure world of F1. While for you, it was about easing into this new reality without scrutiny that came with dating a well-known public figure. It’s not that you aren’t well known, it’s just that even if everyone basically knew your family and prestige, you still value that little ounce of privacy left in you. The clandestine nature of your relationship added an element of excitement, turning every stolen moment into something precious.
Today, you were in Monaco, it was your monthly overseas trip. It’s just a plan that you had made back then, where you would travel once a month and explore new places. This month, you had chosen Monaco, which is a unusual for your parents, but they just let you be, since they know that you travel outside of Germany once a month. You were staying with Lando at his apartment in Monaco, wanting to spend some time with him before the next race. His apartment has the stunning view of the Mediterranean, and was comfortably private, away from prying eyes.
Lando arrived in the late afternoon, after spending the whole morning attending different meetings. When he entered the apartment, his face lit up with a smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.
“Hey you,” he said, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Hey yourself,” you replied, resting your head against his chest. “How was your meetings?” You added.
“Tiring, but good. I’m glad to be here now,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “I missed you. You are all I’m thinking about during the meeting.”
You laughed as you booped his nose gently, “I missed you too,” you said, tilting your face up to kiss him softly.
You spent the evening with just lounging on the couch, savoring the rare moments of normalcy. Since you were both lazy to cook dinner, you just decided to order food, watch a movie, and talked about everything and nothing. It was in these quiet moments that you felt most at ease, the outside world and its demands melting away.
As the night grew late, you found yourselves on the balcony, looking out at the glittering lights of Monaco. Lando was stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, as his chin is resting on your shoulder.
“It’s beautiful here,” you said softly. “It is, but not as beautiful as you.” You laughed, nudging him playfully.
“You’re such a charmer, aren’t you.”
“Only for you,” he said, turning you around to face him. “I mean it. These moments…they mean everything to me.”
“I know,” you said, cupping his face in your hands. “And I feel the same. But…are you sure we’re doing the right thing by keeping this a secret?”
Lando sighed, his eyes searching yours. “I think so. At least for now. The media, the fans…it can be overwhelming. I want us to have this time, just for us, without all the noise. I want to savor this privacy that we still have.”
“I understand,” you said, leaning into him. “I just hope it doesn’t always have to be this way.”
“It won’t,” he promised. “When the time is right, we’ll tell the world. But for now, let’s just enjoy what we have.”
The following morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing. It was a text from Charles.
charles [7:30 AM] : Heard you’re in Monaco. breakfast at the café near the harbor? Alex and I are back in town, would love to catch up.
You smiled, texting back a quick confirmation. Turning to Lando, who was still asleep beside, you gently nudge him awake.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” you whispered, kissing him softly on the lips, “Charles and Alex are back in town and want to meet for breakfast. You up for it?”
Lando groaned softly, rubbing his eyes. “Do we have to?” He whined, pulling you and now you’re resting on top of him, “come on, it’ll be fun. I haven’t seen them in months, please.” You said, kissing his cheek.
He chuckled, “alright, but only because you asked nicely.” It took you both a couple of minutes before you got up and start preparing.
The café was bustling with activity, a favorite spot for locals and tourists alike. Lando had told you to go in first to avoid suspicions from other people that were in the café who knew the two of you. When you entered the café, you spotted Charles and Alex at the table, in a private area, away from people that would recognize the the four of you. She wave over with an enthusiastic smile.
“Good morning!” Alex greeted, hugging you warmly. “It’s so good to see you!”
“You too,” you said, taking a seat. “I must say, this place is very lovely.”
Charles nodded, grinning. “It’s one of our favorites. So, how’s everything going?”
“Good,” you replied, glancing at Lando, who was making his way to the table. “Really good, actually.”
As you all caught up, Charles and Alex shared their latest rendezvous in Italy, and you shared your time in Monaco in exchange. The conversation flowed easily, filled with nothing but laughter. It was comforting to have friends who understood the situation and could offer support and normalcy in your otherwise secretive life.
Alex leaned in, a knowing smile on her face. “So, any new developments?” You exchanged a glance with Lando, who smiled back at you. “We’re doing well. Just taking it one day at a time.”
“Glad to hear it,” Charles said. “You two deserve to be happy, and don’t worry—your secret is safe with us.”
“Thank you,” you said, feeling a wave of relief. “It’s really means a lot.”
“We always got your back, don’t worry okay?” Alex assured you.
As the breakfast came to an end, you said your goodbyes to Charles and Alex, promising to catch up again soon. With a final hug, they left, leaving you and Lando alone once more.
As you both returned to his apartment, you turned to him with a smiled. “I’ve been thinking…” you plopped down on the couch, as he follows, pulling you towards him with your head resting on his chest, “oh, do tell.”
“How would you like to be my date in my family’s charity event next month?” Lando looked at you, his heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’ve been doing this for a while now, and it feels like the right time to introduce you to my family, you know.” You said, eyes filled with determination. Lando smiled back at you, feeling a sense of excitement and hope. “Okay. I’m ready for that, as long as you’re by my side.”
“I love you.” You whispered as you looked up at him. “I love you more.” He leaned in and kissed you softly on the lips.
You spent the rest of the day cuddling and just talking about anything, as you look over the balcony, the sun was already setting over Monaco, casting a golden glow over the harbor, feeling a deep sense of contentment. You were really looking forward to next month, where you would finally introduce him to your family.
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GERMANY
Your family was a portrait of old-world elegance and influence, steeped in the traditions and wealth of your Spanish-German heritage. The Auerbach were known for their vast estates, historical manors, and lineage that could be traced back to European nobility. Your family owned vineyards in Spain’s Rioja region and estates in the Black Forest of Germany, and wealth built on generations of careful investments and preservation of the family legacy.
Conrad Auerbach, your father, was a formidable presence, and he still is. A man who commanded respect with his mere presence. A former diplomat and now a prominent businessman, your father had instilled in you a sense of discipline and the importance of maintaining the family’s dignity. Despite his stern exterior, he has always harbored a deep pride in your achievements, even if he rarely showed it openly.
Isabella Alcaraz Auerbach, your mother, was the epitome of grace and sophistication. A former equestrian and painter of Spanish descent, she brought a touch of artistic flair to the otherwise rigid Auerbach household. She was known for her charitable work and passion for the arts, often hosting grand soirees that drew the elite from all over Europe. Your mother is your confidante, your best friend, and the one who understand your fierce independence and quietly supported you in your dreams.
While your oldest brother, Theodore, was destined to take over the family business. He thrived in the structured world of finance and estate management, embodying the family’s traditional values. He’s a carbon copy of your father, and sometimes act like your father, but you two grew up being really close to each other.
The Auerbach family was not without its quirk. Despite the formal exterior that your family possesses, dinner conversations are actually more lively, filled with fun debates over art, politics, sports, and the latest global affairs. Your sharp wit is always a match for your father’s intellect, and your mother’s charm made the Auerbach gatherings a blend of intellectual rigor and cultured sophistication.
The Auerbach charity event was a cornerstone of your family’s social calendar—a grand affair that combined philanthropy with high society’s glittering presence. This year, the event was particularly special; not only was it a chance to support a cause that is close to your heart, but it was also an opportunity to formally introduce Lando officially to your family and close friends. You had been planning everything for weeks, ensuring that everything goes smoothly.
This year’s charity event is being held in your family’s ancestral home in Bavaria. In a sprawling castle that had been in the family for centuries. It was a place of both grandeur and solitude, wherein during your childhood, you would always find peace despite the hectic flow of your life. The castle’s halls were adorned in portraits of ancestors, a reminder of the legacy you carry and expectations that is placed upon your shoulders, will full understanding of the pressures that comes with your family.
As the event approaches, you were a bundle of nerves and excitement. The polo match where you will be partaking in was set to be the highlight of the evening, a thrilling competition that showcased both skill and elegance. It has been a year since you last played polo, so you had been practicing really hard, determined to make good impression, but you know very well that tonight’s real challenge was introducing Lando to your whole family.
It was finally the evening of the event, you wore a stunning customized gown that was both elegant and understated, which has been tailored solely for you. It was paired with classic accessories that complimented the whole look. While Lando was dressed in a tailored suit that fit him perfectly and colors matching you. He looked every bit the part of a gentleman, his nerves evident despite his calm demeanor.
As you arrived, the sight of the lavish decorations and the elegantly dressed guests filled you with sense of pride and anticipation. The estate, with its sprawling lawns and opulent ballroom, was the perfect setting for the festivities. You and Lando were greeted by your family, who were all abuzz with excitement. Your father, a towering figure of influence and authority, extended a warm handshake to Lando.
“It’s pleasure to finally meet you, Lando. I’ve heard a lot about you.” You can see that your father is completely sizing him up. You know very well that your father knows him, but everything had to be done in formalities.
“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Auerbach,” Lando said, offering a respectful nod. “Thank you for having me.”
Your mother, ever elegant as always, gave you a knwoing smile before turning her attention to Lando.
“We’re delighted to have you here. I’m sure you’re going to enjoy the event.”
The guests mingled and enjoyed cocktails over by the terrace. Charles, Alex, Carlos, and Rebecca had finally arrived, looking impeccable and ready to enjoy the festivities. They greeted both you and Lando warmly, clearly excited about the event.
“Hey you two!” Rebecca said, giving you a hug. “You both are looking fantastic!”
“Thank you so much, Rebecca,” you said smiling, “I’m glad that you could all make it.”
Carlos gave Lando a friendly pat on the back. “Looking sharp, cabron! Ready for the polo match? It’s always the highlight of the infamous Auerbach charity events.” Lando grinned, “definitely. I’ve been looking forward to it.”
Charles and Alex joined in on the conversation, and soon the group was chatting easily, making Lando feel more at ease. Everyone has been assuring him, helping Lando settle his nerves, reminding himself that the genuine warmth from your family was reassuring.
You had been called by your mother’s assistant and excused yourself from the group, as the time for the polo match drew near, still need a couple of minutes to change to your polo gear. All of them had wished you good luck, with Lando softly pecking your lips as an added good luck.
Everyone was gathered near the field, seated on their assigned table with the best view of the polo game. Lando watched from the sidelines with the rest of your friends, his support evident as he cheered on you whenever you score a point. The match was thrilling to say the least, which every swing of your mallet and every goals that you had managed to score elicited cheers from the spectators. The crowd’s energy was infectious, and you felt a rush of adrenaline as you played.
Throughout the polo match, you caught glimpses of Lando, who was clearly enjoying himself and cheering loudly with the rest of your friends. His sole presence had given you an extra boost, and able to let you play with a newfound confidence. The game was a close one, but you had managed to clutch it and lead your team to victory the last minute before the final whistle blowing to cheers and applause.
After the match, you quickly cleaned up and changed back into your gown and joined Lando with the rest at the post-game reception, where the celebrations were in full swing. The evening continued with dinner, speeches, and silent auction, all aimed at raising funds for charity. During the dinner, you were tasked to make a speech as it was expected of you and thank all of the guests for coming to the event, you also took this opportunity to make a heartfelt announcement.
You stood up from the table where you were seated and made your way to the stage, happily accompanied by Lando. As your mother, father, and older brother are already waiting for you by the side of the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of my family, I would like to extend our heartfelt gratitude to each and everyone of you for being here tonight. Your presence means the world to us and to the countless individuals who will benefit from your generosity.” Everyone was clapping, causing you to pause midway and continuing. “I also want to introduce someone very someone very special to me—Lando Norris. We’ve been together for a while now, and I’m proud to have him here with us tonight.”
The room buzzed with surprise and curiosity, but the warmth and acceptance from your family and friends were immediate. It was also a full declaration to let everyone know, specially those who were vying for your attention or hand in marriage as you mother would put it and wanted to be with you for the sake of the connections you have in business that you, the youngest Auerbach, is very much in love and happily taken.
Lando was standing with your family, smiling proudly and touched by the gesture. Despite coming from a very traditional family, your father and mother does not pressure you into marrying a person that you don’t like, like some other families would push their children to do. They are very supportive in finding a suitable partner of your own choice.
“Thank you,” Lando said the moment you went back to him right after you ended the speech. “It means a lot to me to be here tonight and to be welcomed so warmly.”
The reaction from your family was genuine acceptance and warmth. Your father offered a heartfelt smile and a congratulatory handshake to Lando.
“I can see why you’ve been so happy. You’ve got a good one here.” He said to you and pulling Lando into a brief hug, “don’t even think of breaking my daughter’s heart.” Your father joked, causing all of you to laugh but you know that there’s a little sense of threat in his voice.
Your mother’s eyes was glistening with pride, and reached out to Lando. “Welcome to the family, Lando. We’re so pleased to have you with us.” Engulfing him in a hug, “now I’ll be expecting you to be attending every family gatherings from now on!” You smiled.
“Who would’ve thought that our youngest Auerbach will be able to bag one of the famous and talented racing driver in formula 1!” Theo exclaimed happily, “it’s great to finally meet you outside of the racing circle, Lando.” Clapping Lando on the back. “You’re officially part of the family now, hope you can keep up with all of us!” He added.
Going back to the table, Charles, Carlos, Alex, and Rebecca were clearly delighted by the announcement, offering their congratulations, even if they had already known about your relationship with Lando, but it still felt good being congratulated by them. Also there had been a few friendly threats that had been made by Charles and Carlos, a threat which both of them would be capable of doing so without any care for the FIA.
As the evening continued, Lando fit seamlessly into the crowd, engaging in different conversations and sharing laughs with everyone. The event was a big success, funds that had been raised exceeded expectations, and your family’s acceptance to your newfound relationship with Lando had made the evening even more special for you.
You found yourself hanging out by the terrace by yourself, watching the party from afar and enjoying the quiet end to a memorable evening. Turning your attention towards the vast fields, where the moon was shining beautifully together with the stars, when you suddenly felt a presence behind you, engulfing you in a hug, immediately knowing who those arms belonged to.
“That went better than I could have hoped for,” you said, leaning into Lando. “Thank you for being so incredible tonight, and being here with me.”
Lando kissed your forehead gently. “It was an amazing night, to be honest. I’m really glad that your family welcomed me with open arms.” You turned to face him, hands on his nape and caressing his lovely curls. “It mean everything to me. Tonight was more than just a charity event—it was the beginning of something new for us, and it was perfect.”
He gently leaned towards you, connecting your foreheads together, soon enough you both found yourselves softly kissing each other. You broke the kiss and looked at him softly, he leaned down again stealing a few kisses, and peppering you with kisses all over your face, causing both of you to giggle.
“Do you want to go walk around the estate? I have yet to give you a tour, but we can do that tomorrow.” You said as he nodded.
When you left the ballroom, the event was already winding down. You decided to take off your heels as Lando grabbed it, clutching it on his other hand and the other was intertwined with your hand, walking comfortably barefoot on the grass. Soon enough, you were walking hand in hand through the estate, savoring the peaceful end to a significant evening.
The introduction to your family and friends had been a milestone, making a new chapter in your relationship where your love was celebrated and cherished. The future was bright, and together, you were ready to embrace whatever comes next.
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MALLORCA
The Mediterranean sun cast a warm glow over the stunning island of Mallorca, where you and Lando decided to take a much needed break after the stressful Belgian Grand Prix, and you had made a few rules during the vacation, where it is strictly no talking about the race or any race in prticular, since you are here to unwind and have fun. You’ve got three weeks with him as you are hell bent on spending every second of it with Lando.
The trip was more than just a getaway, it was an another big step for both of you. It had been decided that you both are ready to take the next step—you were ready to make your relationship public, a decision that you both had mulled over carefully. With the support of your families, who were joining you on the island for a joint vacation, you felt that it was the right moment to share your happiness with the world.
Mallorca’s breathtaking landscapes provided the perfect backdrop and the crystal-clear water are looking so majestic across the horizon. The charming villas that your family owns has set the stage for a trip that was both picturesque and intimate. This joint family vacations had been considered as a tradition for both of your families, so all of you were pretty much excited about the vacation and the idea of relaxation and joy.
The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the island, so you and Lando decided to stroll along the beach. Hand in hand, you walked slowly, savoring the moment and the beauty of the surroundings. The beach was relatively quiet, with only a few other tourists scattered around, which gave you both the privacy you needed before breaking the internet with your posts.
With the backdrop of the sun dipping below the horizon, you and Lando decided to pose for a series of photos. In each shot, you were close, sharing smiles and laughter that spoke volumes, the affection that you both have for each other is genuine. You both decided to post it together, and once the post was already up, you immediately closed the instagram app and turned off your phone. The post was already enough, and now it’s time to enjoy the remaining days of the Mallorca trip, and maybe hop onto another trip with, just the two of you.
The trip continued with a sense of lightness and freedom. With the world now aware of your relationship, you and lando were able to enjoy each other’s company without the weight of secrecy, not to mention the excitement that you felt when you realize that you’ll be able to freely spend time with each other in public without any restraints. The vacatiom continued on, filled with never ending laughter, shared experiences, and deep connections with both your families.
On the final day of your trip, you and Lando were sat down on a yacht. You were leaning on him and watching the sun set in the Mallorcan sky, feeling both a sense of contentment and excitement for the future.
“It feels so good to finally share this with everyone,” Lando said, his hand resting gently on your waist and caressing it gently.
“I couldn’t agree more,” you replied, looking up to him, to find out that he was already looking at you. “It’s a new beginning for us, and I’m beyond happy to have you by my side.” He smiled at you, gently leaning and kissing you softly.
You stood up from the seat and removed your see through robe that was covering your bikini, “tag, you’re it. Catch me when you can!” Tagging him right on the chest and jumping off the yacht.
“Oh it’s on, sweetheart!” He laughed, following quickly right after you and jumping off the water.
It was a perfect ending to a perfect week, with your families around you, sharing in the joy of your relationship and the beauty of the island, it was clear that this trip had been more than just a vacation—it was a celebration of love, new beginnings, and the support of those who mattered most.
landonorris
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tagged: ynauerbach
landonorris i once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden ❤️
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ynauerbach i love you so much 🥺❤️ now pls come back and cuddle me, i miss you ♡ liked by landonorris
landonorris i love you more and i’m on my way as we speak!! 🏃🏻💨 ♡ liked by ynauerbach
carlossainz55 finally. congratulations to you two! you know very well what will happen if you break her heart, cabron. so don’t even think about it 😁 ♡ liked by landonorris
landonorris HEY…i know 😞
charles_leclerc FIA be damned, but congrats you two love birds 😍😍😍😍😍 ♡ liked by landonorris
username1 hoLD AWN 🤚🏻
username2 god, i’ve seen what you’ve done to others. when will it me my turn 💔
mclaren our papaya queen! 🧡 ♡ liked by landonorris
oscarpiastri how little lando norris bagged THE youngest auerbach, we will never know. but hey, congrats! ♡ liked by landonorris
landonorris what can i say, i have god tier charms. a definite rizz god if i say so myself 😎
oscarpiastri highly debatable, but ok. you do you mate
oscarpiastri also lily wants to do a double date, she told me to tell you
username3 wait…auerbach??? THE auerbachs??? THE Y/N AUERBACH????
username4 lando is dating the youngest and only daughter of the auerbachs 🥹
username5 OUH THE POWER THAT THIS COUPLE HOLDS IS INSANE
username6 HES ON HIS LOVER ERA AND IM HERE FOR IT
alex_albon congrats mate! ♡ liked by landonorris
landonorris thanks mate!
maxfewtrell finally. you can’t stop yapping about her 24/7 ever since you two talked for the first time back in miami ♡ liked by landonorris
landonorris stop exposing me here SHHH
ynauerbach oh???? don’t worry, it’s kinda cute hehe
landonorris 🥰🥰🥰🥰
maxfewtrell simp
username7 MIAMI?! THAT WAS LIKE MONTHS AGO OMG SO UR TELLING ME THAT THEY HAD ALREADY BEEN DATING SINCE MIAMI GP?! 🥹
username8 i’m impressed they were able to keep everything private
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ynauerbach
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ynauerbach and all at once, you are the one i have been waiting for. king of my heart, body and soul 💘
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landonorris and all at once, you’re all i want, i’ll never let you go, queen of my heart ❤️ ♡ liked by ynauerbach
ynauerbach hnwshsh I LOVE YOU 😩🥺❤️ ♡ liked by landonorris
charles_leclerc 😍😍😍😍 ♡ liked by ynauerbach
alexandrasaintmleux FINALLY! the ship has sailed (it’s been sailing for a long time but whatever!) ♡ liked by ynauerbach
username9 BABE WAKE UP!! NEW LANDO SUMMER PIC JUST DROPPED
username10 EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU Y/N FOR THE NEW LANDO SUMMER PIC
iamrebeccad triple date soon!! ♡ liked by ynauerbach
theo.auerbach Don’t forget about the family dinner tomorrow. Be there or be square. ♡ liked by ynauerbach
ynauerbach I KNOOW. ‘Be there of be square’…what are you? A ten year old? 😭😭😭
username11 the lyrics change in lando’s comment to match y/n’s caption 🥹❤️
username12 and they say chivalry is dead…
username13 hold on tight girlies, we’re gonna be FED with lando and y/n content this summer break 🤩
isabellaalcarazauerbach My babies! You two are very very cute, mi vida. I cannot wait to see you both again soon! ♡ liked by ynauerbach
ynauerbach thanks, mom!! i love you and i’ll see you very soon 💘 ♡ liked by isabellaalcarazauercbach
ynauerbach ouh, we’ll see you tomorrow for the family dinner 🤩 ♡ liked by isabellaalcarazauerbach
username14 MY PARENTS
username15 YNLANDO STANS AND SHOOTERS ALL RISE!!
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jjenthusee · 2 months ago
Text
Steady Breaths and String Lights
Jason Todd x Reader
A/N: another drabble 😫 i’m really into domestic jason rn so don’t mind me giving yall soft jason content <3 ENJOY and tell me your domestic jason headcanons in the comments if u have any :D
A brand new couch.
It was a deal from a discount furniture store and once you had laid your eyes on it, how could you pass up the deal?
No tears, a good color, the store wanted to get rid of it, so they slapped a large discount tag on it and it came with the decorative pillows. How could you not have it?
One card swipe later, you were the proud owner of this new couch.
The process getting it in your apartment was different. You had no vehicle to haul it, but you managed to convince the company to do one delivery for you.
After your great declaration of strength and independence (and with the help of your neighbors) you moved the couch.
The living room was complete with the new furniture.
You were practically an interior designer.
If Jason wasn’t gone for the week, he would’ve told you that was a stretch, but he had boring taste anyway.
After a good wash and spray, you moved the cushions into place, angling the decorative pillows perfectly and shifting a pristinely folded blanket for a unique touch. It was just like how you saw it in the store.
Then curiosity got the better of you and all the cushions were taken out again, placed at different angles, leaning against one another.
Placing, stabilizing, placing another one.
You grabbed a blanket from your bed, some battery powered string lights, and Jason’s pillow, leaving yours untouched on your side of the bed.
You had made a structurally sound fort, with an organized stack of books, lights hung from edge to edge to give the perfect ambience, comfy blankets and Jason’s pillow that smelled like him.
After admiring your creativity and one final inspection, you crawled into the fort, curling yourself in the safe cocoon.
It was warm and you leaned into his pillow, the scent of his shampoo comforting you until your breaths evened, falling asleep to the excitement of telling Jason about your brand new purchase when he got home.
An hour later, a slight rattle came from the window, cautious steps crawling in, but loudly enough to make a sound to alert whoever was inside.
Jason had got home early and he waited for your head to pop out of some corner.
His armor was heavier on his body that night and he had been away way too long. He just wanted to hear your voice happily welcome him back, passionately hug you, and then crash on the bed holding you near him.
Like routine, he was going to unclip his utility belt and peel off his jacket, but he never heard your voice.
Standing frozen, he kept the protective shiny red helmet on his head until he could physically see you.
There was no movement, no noise.
Jason stood still, pressing his boots into the floorboards as he readied himself. While preventing any sound from his movements, he switched on his infrared scanners, sweeping the entire home before he saw a curled up ball.
In the living room, you were protected by a small cushion fort in front of a couch that magically appeared.
You were sound asleep as his hushed footsteps walked closer to you. He had removed his helmet after he ensured you had a steady heartbeat and even breaths.
He placed his helmet outside the blanket door and removed his boots, placing them neatly next to one another.
He wanted to be a respectful guest in your newly built home.
With bare hands, Jason lifted the flimsy door and there you laid, peacefully drifted off.
Jason exhaled, releasing his previous tension with one glance at you.
He always loved coming home to you.
Carefully, he maneuvered himself through the door. With a surprise, he easily fit. He smiled at the thought that you must have built it with him in mind because the door perfectly fit his shoulders. What an attention to detail.
He crawled in, moving his body by his arms until he was parallel with your face.
Unconsciously, you moved to the new warmth, Rolling your body closer to the new presence.
Jason smiled into your scalp, closing his eyes to the weight of you.
“Sweetheart, I’m home.” Jason whispered, vibrations felt against your cheek.
You incoherently mumbled into his body, barely able to open your mouth.
As you felt the comforting arms rubs and strong arms encircling you, your mind started to slowly wake up. The fog clearing.
You freed one of your hands buried underneath the blanket to match the hands enveloping you.
Then your hand felt a familiar bicep, firm in your palm.
Your eyes shot open as you moved your head out of the crevice of Jason’s neck to see your sleepy vigilante laying next to you.
“Feeling me up in your sleep?” Jason tiredly smirked, teasing you as soon as you woke up.
You slowly blinked before fully registering this wasn’t just another pleasant dream.
It was the real deal in front of you.
“Welcome home.” You softly greeted, kissing his knuckles.
Jason’s body physically relaxed at your words, his smirk morphing into content.
His hands were rough and calloused, but the feeling on your lips have never felt better.
“I got a couch.” You smiled into his hand.
“I see that.” Jason glanced around the inside of the fort. “I got ya something while I was out for the week, but I don’t think I could top a couch.”
“It was nicely decorated before, but I got carried away.” You closed your eyes to nuzzle into Jason’s pillow, holding onto Jason’s hand.
He watched you get comfortable, your silent contentment with his touch and warmth. Loving the skin he hated so damn much.
You yawned, the comfortability of your shared lives relaxing you.
Your hair was a mess from the nap, your lashes laid on your skin, and his hands rubbing at any inch of your face, memorizing every detail he could so even his dreams could also have you.
“No, it’s perfect.” Jason watched you, leaning in to kiss your temple, lips lingering a second longer.
You smiled, feeling complete that your other half was home.
“I’m glad.” You slurred, letting sleep inch closer and closer to you.
The two of you lost to the night, your sleeping forms intertwined and Jason’s legs sticking out of the fort.
And a brand new couch that joined your shared life.
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moonstruckme · 1 month ago
Text
Thawing Out
collab with @ellecdc
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11
cw: modern au, chronic pain, mention of Sirus' family but no talk of abuse, some talk of traumatic injury
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words
Sirius hates the cold. It makes him look ill, his nose always runs, and he does not have a head made for hats. 
The walk to the rink yesterday was bad, with the chill and the early hour and the dark mood that seemed to permeate him like it infused his very blood, but you made it better by being yourself. He suspects you might have even been going out of your way to be sweeter than usual, given that you knew it was the anniversary of the day Sirius ran away from his family’s home. You’d tried to cheer him up. Still, yesterday was bad.
Today is worse. 
You’re silent as you stalk down the sidewalk, one boy on either side of you. You said hello to both him and Remus as you stepped out the door of your apartment, and then that was it. If it were Sirius it might make sense, but you always have an unnatural amount of energy in the mornings. Obviously you’re not speaking to him. And Sirius is still upset about the addition of the death spiral to your routine, so he’s not speaking to Remus. And Remus is hardly one to spark up conversation during an uncomfortable silence, so that just makes the three of you a very sullen, very silent procession to your early fucking morning practice. 
Except when you arrive, the rink is already bustling. You take one step inside before going back out the door, forcing both boys back outside with you.
“What the fuck?” Remus tries to peer inside. For once, Sirius agrees with him. “Who’s taken our slot?”
“I don’t know,” you say, but you’re still standing in front of the door like you’re barring their entry. “I’m going to go find out. You guys stay here.” 
“Why?” Sirius asks.
Even when you look at him you’re not really looking at him, your eyes distant. If you’re trying to make him feel like shit, it’s working. “Because I don’t need either of you going in there to bite someone’s head off. I’ve got it.” 
With that, you slip inside, not giving either of them a chance to argue. Sirius supposes he could go after you anyway, but you seem like you’d bite his head off, and he’s hurting enough from the cold without that extra ailment to contend with. He pulls out a cigarette instead. 
“You really shouldn’t do that,” Remus hums, but when Sirius looks over the other boy is lighting up too, a cig dangling from the corner of his mouth. When he sees Sirius struggling with his lighter, his fingers frozen and clumsy, he rolls his eyes and steps closer. 
Sirius goes still as Remus cups a hand around his cigarette, lithe fingers an inch from his mouth. The lighter rasps once, and the warmth next to Sirius’ face is a welcome sensation. When Remus steps away Sirius straightens his shoulders, expression carefully impassive as he inhales. He doesn’t thank him. 
“She’ll have your ass for doing it, too,” he says. 
Remus lifts a brow, blowing smoke out one corner of his mouth. “Why? I don’t need my lungs for anything.” 
Sirius shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. She thinks she should be in charge of the whole world.” 
A soft chuckle. Remus looks out to where the sun will rise in a few hours, the sky still a sweet blue. “Maybe she should be.” 
Sirius can’t help a little smile at that. He takes comfort only in knowing Remus doesn’t see. “Don’t let her hear you say that.” 
They lapse into a brief silence, easier and more contented than Sirius would have thought possible between the two of them. It breaks only when you come bustling back out the doors. 
“Okay, so apparently—” You stop, looking between them both. “Guys. Seriously?” 
“What?” Remus asks, but Sirius knows better, dropping his cigarette and stamping it out. 
Your gaze flicks over him, almost approving but still a far cry from friendly. He swears your mouth wants to smile at him, only you’re not letting it. 
“Those are so bad for you,” you tell Remus. 
He levels you with a dry look, the brave bastard. “What does it matter? I’m not an athlete.” 
You wince but don’t back down. “Athletes aren’t the only ones with reason to live past fifty.” You give him a hard look. It takes a while, but eventually Remus relents, dropping his cigarette as Sirius had. You nod, crouching to pick up both dog-ends and taking them to a bin. “Each one shortens your life by eleven minutes, you know.” 
Remus meets Sirius’ eyes, incredulous. “She comes prepared with statistics?” he asks in a hushed voice. 
Sirius nods. “Told you so.” 
You brush your hands off on your pants. “Okay. Anyway, hockey practice got moved up.” 
“You’re joking,” says Remus. 
“Nope. And, someone else got wind of it before us, because the slot they had at nine has already been filled. We can’t practice today.” 
Sirius shakes his head. “Bullshit. Why did hockey get moved?” 
You shrug, hugging your middle so your hands can burrow under your arms for warmth. “Management said they didn’t know, only that someone on the team asked for a different slot just for today. Seems like they were sweet-talked into it.” 
Your eyes meet Sirius’ for half a second, and he takes out his phone, frigid thumbs anger-typing away. 
“So that’s it then?” Remus asks. He looks like he’d really like his cigarette back. “We’ve just woken up before dawn and we’re not going to practice?” 
You sigh. “Seems that way. We can come back during open skate, but you know how that is.” 
Sirius scowls, and Remus’ expression twinges with distaste. “Yeah,” says Remus, “let’s wait until tomorrow.” 
You all break where you usually do, though hours ahead of schedule, Remus going off towards his place and Sirius walking you in the direction of yours. 
“Fancy a coffee?” he asks you, voice intentionally light. 
It has the expected effect. You bristle at his easy tone, keeping your eyes ahead. “No, thanks.” 
“Fair enough.” Sirius would really like something to warm his hands, but he suspects he needs to pick his battles with you today. “Fancy telling me when we’re going to be friends again?” 
You blow out a harsh breath. It crystalizes in front of you, and you walk right through. “Don’t be daft. We’re always friends. It’s because I’m your friend that I’m so pissed off with you.” 
He nods slowly. “I don’t follow.” 
You shake your head, anger quickening your pace so that Sirius is nearly jogging to keep up with you. “Why can’t you ever stay out of your own way?” you ask him. “I know yesterday was hard for you, but you can’t be an asshole to everyone just because you’re having a bad day.” 
“Hey now, that’s not fair.” Sirius knows joking probably isn’t the best tactic with you right now, but he can’t help himself. “I wasn’t an asshole to you, was I?” 
“That’s what I mean!” You stop so hard he nearly plows into you, but you don’t so much as flinch at the possibility. Your stare is fierce. “You can’t keep trying to scare him off. It’s not going to work, and we need him. Can’t you see how much better he’s made us already? I know you didn’t want a coach, but Remus is good for us. So you can stop being so difficult.” 
“I am not being difficult,” says Sirius, though he often is. You stick your tongue in your cheek, annoyed, and he fights the urge to take your face in his hands. He hates having you cross with him, but at least you’re talking. “And you don’t know what we would be like if he weren’t here. We might’ve been fine.” 
You sigh, looking suddenly tired. And so, so disappointed. “That’s not the point anyways. You know what you said to him yesterday was wrong.” 
Sirius feels a dull stab in his gut. He knows. He does. He knew it the second it came flying out of his mouth, and he has no idea why Remus doesn’t seem as livid with him as you are. Remus, with his even voice and his exasperated, knowing looks and that stern little wrinkle between his brows, who seems able to wind Sirius up better than anyone else. A match to his short fuse. 
“How would you feel?” you ask. Some of the anger has fallen away from your voice, leaving it soft and sad. “What if we went to competition in a few weeks, and you injured yourself so that you knew you could never skate again. And then someone used it to mock you.” 
“He’s risking us doing that,” Sirius says, stubbornly, though he can hear the plea in his own voice, “by asking us to change the routine.” 
“He’s trying to help us,” you reply firmly. But your shoulders droop, and you sigh. “I know you feel bad about it. I’m done being mad at you now. It’s exhausting.” 
Sirius feels too hollowed out to revel much in the victory, but your arm linking through his does help some. “Some could say that was my plan all along,” he jokes weakly. 
You make a halfhearted attempt at a chuckle. “Good thing I know better. If your hands are in danger of falling off, you could stop at mine, make yourself a coffee.” 
“When I asked you for coffee five minutes ago you said no.” 
“Yeah, I wasn’t done punishing you yet.” 
488 notes · View notes
honey-tongued-devil · 26 days ago
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▶[Arcane preference] reacting to you wearing their clothes [Jayce, Viktor, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Sevika, ]
If you know me, hello little deers, I'm back! If you don’t know me, welcome! Just a heads-up that I don’t use "Y/N," but rather the impersonal "you," and even though I talk about clothes, no sizes or weight are involved. Enjoy the read!
Jayce:
  - It’s not that rare when you’re together; he’s a real gentleman through and through. If it’s cold, he’ll give you his jacket, his scarf, anything to keep you warm  
  - But when you’re the one taking his clothes, it’s different  
  - When he sees you walking around the room in his shirt, just after waking up, something in his brain malfunctions  
  - It’s how it fits you, no matter how big or long it is, it seems like it was made just for you, to give you that look  
  - And to him, it feels like some kind of subliminal ad, as if the universe is making you so attractive in the simplicity of that gesture just to tell him he needs to hurry up and put a ring on your finger so he can enjoy that sight every day  
  - It’s hard for you to get anything done in the morning when he wakes up with those thoughts  
  - Those are the days when you stay in bed, cuddling under the covers, with him looking at you, hand on his cheek, getting more lost in you by the second  
Viktor:
  - For Viktor, the idea of a “little thief stealing his clothes” is an interesting one  
  - He’s never been a fan of tight-fitting clothes, plus, with his physique, it’s rare for anything to fit snugly anyway  
  - That’s why, except for his Academy uniform, the rest of his clothes are comfortable and at least two sizes too big for him, without mentioning Jayce's oversize ones in his closet  
  - What Viktor didn’t expect was that, once you started liking them, you’d just take them straight out of his drawer  
  - The first time he knocked on your door to ask if you’d seen his shirt —the very one you were wearing— he first stopped, confused, wondering how it had ended up on you  
  - And then, though he didn’t show it, he paused to notice with satisfaction how well it wrapped around your body  
  - Sometimes he pretends to forget his clothes at your place, just to see them on you, and to get them back with your scent on them  
  - For the nights when he feels lonelier  
Ekko: 
  - Communism  
  - There’s not really a strong sense of what belongs to whom at the Tree, although some clothes (jackets in particular) eventually get so personalized that no one dares to take them anymore  
  - The first time you grabbed Ekko’s jacket, it was simply because you were freezing, it was really cold, and he was resting, so he didn’t need it  
  - But when he saw you wearing it, his pupils dilated so much you could notice it despite his very dark eyes  
  - Ever since then, it’s him who gives it to you and insists that you wear it, because he likes it: there’s something extremely intimate and deeply personal about walking around with you in his jacket  
  - It’s like marking you as his, but really, also reminding himself of it  
  - And Ekko may be proud, but one thing you quickly and painfully learn in the alleys is to say ‘I love you’ before it’s too late, and that small possessive gesture makes him feel fulfilled because it’s like he’s telling everyone that he couldn’t live without you 
 
Vander:
  - Vander’s clothes have this super-secret ability to change depending on who’s wearing them. For example, what are shirts on him turn into dresses on you  
  - When you put them on, even just for the sake of convenience, you find yourself laughing in front of every mirror you pass by  
  - And if he notices, he can’t help but hug you from behind, leaning down to rub his nose against your neck, smiling against your skin  
  - “You know,” he says every single time, “it looks better on you than it does on me,” and no matter how false it might be, in his eyes, it’s truer than almost anything else  
  - After seeing you a few times in his grown-up man's clothes, he decided to dig through an old box to find the clothes from when he was younger and mend them before leaving them folded on your side of the bed, like a little gift  
Silco:
  - Silco’s strangest habit was the connection he had with his clothes: they looked like Piltover garments, except for the boots and the shirt under the velvet vest, yet they were torn, poorly mended, and worn out in several places  
  - Despite being the richest man in the undercity, he never changed them  
  - The only newer piece in his wardrobe that he used to wear was his coat, which was in perfect condition, scented with cologne, and lined with soft velvet that followed the direction of your fingers when you touched it  
  - Sure, there were ceremonial outfits, pajamas, and something comfortable yet always elegant, but he had worn them so little that they almost didn’t seem like his  
  - That’s why one day you simply decided you were bored, and while he was in a meeting, you could take the opportunity to try on the ones that fit you  
  - But that little fashion show from his wardrobe to the mirror probably took longer than expected, and definitely you were too focused, because you didn’t notice the tall figure watching you, leaning against the doorframe  
  - “Don’t take that off, I’ve got an idea or two,” his voice broke the silence, making you jump  
Jinx:
  - Her clothes are more like a flea market than a wardrobe: there are men’s clothes, women’s clothes, from Piltover and Zaun, intact, held together by metal staples, clean, splattered with paint, torn from explosions, some so small you wonder who they could even fit, and some so large that you and at least four of her father’s henchmen could comfortably fit in them with room to spare  
  - She’s the one who tells you to grab something from the pile the first time you ask to help her with her calculations and experiments, and in the end, you choose something comfortable rather than something intact or clean  
  - It took her a good half hour to notice, and then another hour to stop talking about it  
  - It was something she hadn’t done since she had a family, sharing clothes with someone else, and suddenly she realized just how much she missed it  
  - Every now and then, she’d give you oversized shirts on purpose, just to disappear under the fabric and snuggle up to you, where she felt sheltered enough to feel less vulnerable  
Vi:
  - Vi’s mentality was interesting because, by accident, if she noticed you were eyeing someone’s clothes with interest, somehow the next day those clothes would end up on your bed  
  - Vi would do anything for you; if it were up to her, you’d be dressed in pearls and gold, but neither the place nor her situation allowed it  
  - That’s why she never offered you her clothes: the older ones were tattered, barely definable as rags, which she stubbornly patched up every month  
  - The new ones were stolen, spoils from street fights, but they always came in looking battered and worn, or worse, stained with blood or strange substances, so they weren’t good for you  
  - When she saw you wearing a sweater from her wardrobe, stained and burned in spots, the first thing she felt was guilt  
  - She hated not being able to treat you the way she wanted to  
  - But from that day on, she made sure to at least wash her clothes before putting them away, and slowly she learned to love the clothes you stole a little more than the others  
  - That sweater, for example, she would defend it with her life  
Caitlyn:
  - Whenever you stayed over at her place, she always made sure to provide everything for you: slippers, socks, pajamas, anything you might need  
  - And it was always the highest quality you had ever seen  
  - So seeing you in her clothes wasn’t new, although she sometimes liked to have you try on things she didn’t wear anymore, partly because she couldn’t due to her important name, and partly because she spent half her time in uniform  
  - Those little fashion shows almost always ended with her on top of you, while you are very busy figuring out how to stay quiet so none of the servants, or worse, her parents, would catch you  
  - It didn’t matter if the clothes didn’t suit you, being able to see you in so many different lights made her fall even more in love with everything about you  
  - The final blow? One day she decided to look through the enforcers’ uniforms to find one that would fit you, and for the first time, she saw you in clothes that matched hers  
  - There was something about it that made her hope that uniform would change the chemistry of your brain too and make you join the force, just so she could spend more time with you, just so she could see you like that more often  
Mel:
  - For Mel, it wasn’t an event: she was used to everything, mastering her emotions, and seeing you wearing something of hers had only left her confused for a second, from which she quickly recovered, smiling at you  
  - “It looks really good on you, you know?” she had asked  
  - It didn’t bother her. Objectively, you seemed stupid borrowing those elegant clothes tailored exactly to her body  
  - It almost felt like heresy to wear the clothes of a goddess-like figure. But the goddess had sensed something, and she began buying and commissioning outfits for both you and her, matching, so you wouldn’t feel like you were missing something  
  - But there was one moment, a specific one, where seeing you in one of her dresses had left her speechless  
  - When you told her that the sweater was so beautiful it was almost a shame knowing she couldn’t wear it on the day you’d marry her  
  - And Mel Medarda came from a land of war, where it was hard to get attached to people, let alone objects  
  - Yet from that day, that piece of clothing became a constant for her, even if it meant layering or pulling it down to keep her shoulders bare  
  - Because it no longer just warmed her skin; it began to warm something deeper, something she hadn’t even realized she had  
Sevika:
  - Her clothes reflected her line of work: dirty, unpleasant, dangerous  
  - But despite that, she would drape them over you herself, no matter how worn they were: if she thought you might be cold, without a word, you’d find a sweater or hoodie on your shoulders  
  - And even though she’d glance at you from the corner of her eye, she wouldn’t stop watching you for a single moment when you wore something of hers  
  - It was a matter of homeland—there was no ownership in Zaun, not even last names, as even the family you belonged to was irrelevant compared to what you could do  
  - And the gangs, thugs, and troublemakers wouldn’t hesitate to steal what was yours  
  - But you were hers, and you couldn’t be stolen. And that shirt was hers, but she didn’t feel mutilated, like she normally would, when you wore it  
  - In fact, she loved it, opening her arms to invite you to snuggle up, holding you carefully so the prosthetic wouldn’t bother you, adjusting the clothing on you ten, a hundred times, almost unconsciously  
  - And when you wore her clothes, it felt like for a little while, you could wear her skin too, to understand her better, and she suddenly seemed more vulnerable  
751 notes · View notes
fairyysoup · 1 year ago
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i can see you
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♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎
pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader
summary: The secret history of your long and arduous relationship with Steve Harrington.
aka: the 5 times you pined over each other, and the time you actually did something about it
words: 17.6k (we're NOT gonna talk about it lol)
cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, flirting, making out, heavy petting, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fingering, marking, biting, steve harrington has a big dick, themes of infidelity/cheating (sort of), skipping out on dates, bad dates, steve steal-your-girl harrington, almost-kisses, jealous!steve, jealous!reader, possessive behavior, smoking, alcohol consumption, allusions to marriage but it's never actually mentioned, canon compliant, reader and steve are the same age, 5+1 things, songfic, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, pining, mutual crush, slow burn one shot, mild twist ending, begins in season two (1984) and ends in the 90s, high school, scoops ahoy era, family video era, waiter!steve, steve harrington (the eras tour), vignette, one instance of billy hargrove slander, original characters created for plot, inspired by i can see you by taylor swift, other taylor song inspo throughout bc i'm insane like miss swift
a/n: hi and welcome to ✨rose's mental breakdown✨ yes this song will be my number one on spotify wrapped bc i listened to it on a loop for five days straight while writing this. idk. anyways this is So Much and i'm tired of looking at it so if there are any mistakes i apologize. anyways whoever can point out the most taylor song references aside from the obvious titular one gets a doubloon
ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI
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You brush past me in the hallway, and you don’t think I can see you, do you? I’ve been watchin’ you for ages, and I spend my time trying not to feel it…
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Hawkins High, September 1984
He’s so pretty sometimes that it’s disgusting.
That’s really the only thing you think when you watch Steve Harrington sneak up on his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and swoop her off the ground in front of her locker. From across the hall, your locker hangs open, your body turned halfway toward them so that you can pretend that you’re not staring.
You stare a lot.
It’s not exactly the hair, you think- everyone shits a brick about his hair, for some reason that you don’t understand. Yeah, it’s nice… but you like everything else about him, too. You like how sweet he looks when he laughs. You like the way that he holds himself and the way that he looks when he puts his hands on his hips and stands around like he’s directing the traffic around him. You like how much of a prince charming he is, really. It would surprise you if he doesn’t win prom king at the end of the year. They already call him King Steve, it’s not too far of a stretch.
You close your locker just as Steve kisses Nancy, in front of god and everybody in the C Corridor hallway. Steve’s arms wrap around Nancy’s petite frame and he dips her, like they’re in some sort of George Peck and Audrey Hepburn movie. Not that the place is much of a cinematic setting, though. Down the hall, the science rooms are doing their dissection units, so the whole place smells like formaldehyde and disinfectant, and you sort of feel like curling up into one of those dissection pans and dying, yourself. 
That should be me, your brain screams. Me!!
It’s always been like this. You’ve had a crush on Steve since freshman year- the fact that he’s dating Nancy, who’s a year younger than him, doesn’t escape your jealous mind. You’ve been in classes with him for four years, you’ve admired him quietly, you’ve hoped and prayed that he somehow noticed you noticing him.
You don’t think he knows you exist. Four years- and now you’re both seniors, about to graduate, and he still doesn’t notice you. You should really stop caring, or stop trying, or stop… pining. Or something. 
You hike your bag up onto your shoulder and juggle your books in your arms. The bell rings, and quite suddenly the entire hallway erupts into pandemonium (predictable, sure, considering everyone loiters around instead of actually getting to class on time). Kids fly around you in all directions to get to their next classroom. Nancy Wheeler ducks away from Steve Harrington, avoiding yet another kiss.
God, you wish you could kiss him.
Someone slams into your shoulder from behind, muscling past you to get to science lab 5, rat central. Your binder slips out of the stack of books in your arms and clatters loudly to the ground, just as someone walks past and kicks it across the floor.
“Fuck,” you spit, chasing after it. The back of your neck feels hot. For the first time in four years, you hope to god that Steve Harrington doesn’t notice you. 
You duck around people’s legs, trying to grab at your binder, while not trying to drop any more of the books in your arms. Loose papers are starting to fall out of the binder as it skitters across the floor, and this is becoming more and more of a comedy of errors by the minute.
Your fingers just brush the corner of it before someone kicks it again. 
“Do you mind?” you snap as they walk away, not even looking in your direction. Crouched close to the floor, you don’t matter. Maybe you could count that as a blessing, considering you don’t want to be perceived right now.
You finally just throw away all dignity and crawl across the tile floor- disgusting and dirty and covered in sandy grit, as though it hasn’t been cleaned all year- to get to your binder. 
And you come face to face with a pair of white Nike’s. Ones that you know way too well, because you’ve stared at them every time they’ve passed you in the hallway. 
Nonononono- You clench your jaw and then look up, way up, to find Steve Harrington towering over you. 
He looks like he was about to just step around you, but then he notices you gazing up at him from all fours, and his hazel eyes lock on yours. You blink at each other for a second before he flushes, a pink blush breaking out on his cheeks and crawling up his neck, and he looks away quickly, but crouches down to grab your binder before your hand can land on it. 
“Sorry,” Steve says quietly, gathering up the couple papers that had started to slide out of the folders inside. You sit back on your heels, your blood rushing in your ears, mortified. His big hands gently poke the papers back into the folder as they should be before he hands it to you. “Looks like you’re gonna be late to class.”
You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”
Steve’s eyes find yours again, and he’s finally so close to you that you can admire the little bit of green in them. You’ve never been close enough to notice before.
He cracks a lopsided smile, one that he uses to charm people, you know- you’ve seen him use it on teachers and cute girls alike. “I’m always late to the party. But I get there, eventually.”
“I hope so.” He cocks his head at you. He doesn’t know the real meaning to your words- or, at least, you don’t think he does. 
I hope you don’t stay oblivious forever, Steve Harrington. I hope you get there, eventually.
You take your binder from him, but you pull your eyes away from his a bit later than you properly should. “Thanks, Steve.”
You get up and take off toward your next class, walking quickly so that you don’t come off like you’re lingering too long. But, halfway down the hall, you look over your shoulder at him.
Steve hasn’t moved, still crouched down close to the floor, with his head bent like he’s deep in thought. With his back to you, you can still see the pink flush on the back of his neck, peeking out above his collared shirt.
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‘Cause I can see you, waiting down the hall from me, and I can see you up against the wall with me. What would you do? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you…
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Hawkins High, April 1985
Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will. 
Maybe it was your fault for hoping that Logan Sawyer, popular prick extraordinaire, was serious about wanting to take you to prom. He seemed serious enough, stopping by your locker during passing period and leaning over you as he asked you, his mega-watt smile making you blush. You’d counted yourself lucky- you didn’t think anyone was going to ask you, and people aren’t allowed to go to prom stag.
It took Logan two weeks to find a prettier girl to go with, though. You don’t know why it hurts so much. Maybe it’s because you wanted to believe that you were someone’s first choice, but it never quite seems to turn out that way.
You wipe your tears in the mirror, scowling at your puffy, bloodshot eyes. The bathroom next to the girls’ locker room in the sports wing is completely deserted at this time- the boys’ gym class is in session now, and you’re cutting into your lunch time, but you really don’t want to have to go and cry at a lunch table, in front of a bunch of your bitchy peers, who will inevitably make fun of you for it.
Sniffling, but slightly more composed, you head out of the bathroom. The sports wing is ridiculously bigger than any other wing of the school (typical of American public schools, to prioritize sports over every other department). The wing boasts weight training rooms, dance rooms, three separate gymnasiums, and a door directly to the football field, with the locker rooms on the farthest end to allow for easy access to the field. Connecting all of these rooms is the longest corridor in the building, which seems to run for half a fucking mile.
You’ll have to walk that half mile, because in order to get to the cafeteria, you’re gonna have to traverse the entire building. You might not get to eat much today, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. Maybe Mrs. Marshall will be kind enough to let you snack on a granola bar in your next class period.
Halfway down the long hallway, you feel the angry sting of tears behind your eyes again, and your face screws up in frustration. You stop, turning halfway back toward the girls’ bathroom, wondering if you should just go back in and allow yourself to cry some more.
Suck it up, you think to yourself, smacking at your tear stained cheeks. He’s not the guy you really want to ask you to prom, anyways.
You press your fingertips into your eyes to relieve the sting of tears, taking a deep breath. Being in high school is driving you crazy. At this point in the year, the teachers have given up teaching, the students have given up learning, and you’re basically just biding your time in a glorified babysitting service until you can inevitably grab your diploma and get out of here. You can’t wait for that time to arrive. 
A door opens further down the hallway, in the direction of the cafeteria. You wipe your nose once and keep moving in the direction you were going, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, standing in the middle of the hallway having a breakdown.
Moving forwards, you keep your eyes on the ground. Once you hear the door that had been opened slam shut again, you figure that whoever it was has moved on down the hallway, and you lift your eyes again. 
They have not, in fact, moved on. And you suddenly have the urge to turn and fucking run back into the girls’ bathroom, because Steve Harrington is bent over at the drinking fountain, directly outside the boys’ weight room.
What the fuck, what the fuck. You suck on your teeth, trying not to falter in your stride. Maybe he hasn’t seen you, and you can just pass him up. It’s fine, he hasn’t seen you crying. 
Your mind backtracks to the beginning of the year, you fumbling your binder all the way across the hallway and ending up right in front of him, crawling toward him. Looking up at him and probably, most definitely, making him really uncomfortable.
You have English class together, where you sit at the desk closest to the door. He comes in late almost every day, so he passes by you every time. Some days he looks at your desk. On good days, he meets your eye. But he hasn’t spoken to you since that day in September, and you really shouldn’t hold out hope that he will. 
You definitely don’t want him to notice you when you’ve been crying, your face is a mess, your hair is limp and you look bedraggled. You just want to fade into the background of your next class with whatever snack you can get from the cafeteria snuck into your bag, so you can stress eat it without any guff from a teacher (like you aren’t 18 and capable of deciding when you are and aren’t allowed to eat).
You keep your eyes down. If you don’t look at him, he doesn’t exist.
Except, Steve Harrington always exists, in the back of your mind, and in your periphery. He is impossible not to notice, as per usual. He really just draws the eye like a magnet. Try as you might, your eyes keep flicking up to take stock of him. 
He’s wearing a uniform gray P.E. shirt and gym shorts that don’t leave a lot to the imagination, and you fixate on his thighs more than you should. He has sweat dripping down his neck, wetting his hair on the sides of his face and the seam of his shirt. It shouldn’t be attractive. He shouldn’t be attractive. With his face a mess. And his hair limp, and looking bedraggled. Truly, you make a priceless pair, being the only two people in the hallway.
We’re perfect for each other, a voice says in your head. And you manage, for the first time in an hour, to crack a smile down at your shoes.
He finishes getting his drink at the fountain, and you figure that he’ll just go back into the weight room and not see you. But, of course, luck is not on your side.
Steve Harrington looks at you. And you look away, quickly, acting like you hadn’t been staring at him. And in your periphery, again, you see him stretch his arms over his head, and then turn and lean against the cinderblock wall beside the door to the weight room, with his hands on his knees as though he’s catching his breath.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
He does it so casually, and with the way he’s sweating and his face is flushed, you’re sure that he probably does just want to take a break before going in and lifting more weights. But something in the back of your mind says that the maneuver was too purposeful, immediately after he laid eyes on you. 
It could just be wishful thinking on your part. You heard through the grapevine that Steve and Nancy Wheeler broke up in a nasty way just before winter break, and it doesn’t seem like he’s been interested in anyone since. He hasn’t dated anyone, hasn’t flirted with any girls or showed up at any parties. Nancy must have really broken his heart.
You know too well what that feels like, right now.
Nearing where he leans against the wall, you keep your head down and you plan on just passing by without any acknowledgement from him, same as it ever was. If he’s still carrying a torch for Nancy, you’re sure that he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’ve nearly convinced yourself of it.
But then you hear your name called quietly, and it nearly makes you jump. You look over at him, thinking you’re just hearing things, but you look directly into a pair of hazel eyes again, and you feel yourself rocketing back in time to September.
You didn’t even think he knew your name.
You slow to a stop. It would be rude not to stop, right? “Uh… hi, Steve. You good?”
Steve Harrington looks you up and down, while he leans against the wall and breathes a bit heavily, like he’s out of breath. He peers at you through long eyelashes, looking impossibly inviting despite everything; the setting, your appearances, the way that you feel like dissolving into a puddle right in front of him. “Yeah, great. You?”
He’s scrutinizing your face now. You shrug, since he’s already seen you, and there’s no way to pretend you weren’t crying thirty seconds ago. “I’m fine. Just being dramatic, don’t worry about me.” 
“When people say not to worry about them, it usually means that you should,” Steve muses. He looks coy, like he’s speaking from experience. 
You sigh, stepping forward to get your own drink from the drinking fountain. “Logan Sawyer called off our date for prom.”
“Oh.” Steve pauses for a few seconds, watching as you bend down and take your drink, more silent than he usually is. “I mean… that really sucks. I’m sorry. But… Logan Sawyer?”  
“Yeah.” You wipe your mouth, and then wet the ends of your fingers and use the cool water to rub at your stinging eyes again. When you’re done, you lean up against the wall beside him, letting your back settle into the cinderblock.
“The guy’s a fucking douche.”
“Tell me about it.”
“No, I mean it, I think it’s a good thing you’re not going to prom with him. He’s really shitty to girls.” You look up at Steve, who’s watching you with his arms crossed, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “I mean, the only guy worse than Logan is probably… I dunno…”
“Billy Hargrove?” 
Steve laughs. Actually laughs. You’ve wanted to make him laugh like that for four years. His cheeks turn crimson and he grins down at his shoes, snickering like there’s way more to the joke he’s laughing at than you even know about. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s gotta be the worst.”
You chuckle, albeit with a sadder tone than he has. “Well, I’m not going to prom with either of them. So, I can count my blessings. I guess.”
Steve frowns, and he looks like he’s going to say something else, but you’re already turning away, not wanting to continue the depressing conversation about your lack of dates. Especially not from the one guy who you desperately want to go on a date with.
You get a few steps away before he takes a step after you, saying, “Wait. You, uh-”
You stop, and look back at him. He looks dumbfounded, his arm outstretched like he was going to try to grab you if you didn’t listen to him. When you frown, he steps back against the wall, bringing his hand up to run through his hair. 
Oh . That’s a nervous tick. You know it, because you’ve watched him do it more than once in English, in front of the class during a presentation.
Steve looks down at his shoes, his brow scrunched in thought. He looks like he’s really trying to find the right words to say. In your head, a hopeful part of you imagines what those words could be. ‘Will you go to prom with me?’
Finally, he looks up at you resolutely. “You’ll find someone to take you to prom. I’m sure of it.” He nods a little, like he’s reassuring himself that he said the right thing. 
You can’t help the smile that springs onto your face. It’s incredulous, of course, but he can’t know that. Keep trying, baby. You’ll get there, eventually.
“Thanks, Steve.” It’s the second time you thank him in the course of the year.
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But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?
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Prom Night, May 1985
The dress you’re wearing is sleek and a lot simpler than some of the more popular styles on the dance floor, but you like it more than you care to admit. You’d just grabbed it off the rack at Macy’s, and beyond that you didn’t want to go all-out for prom. It turns out that your lab partner, Gavin Connelly, needed a date, too. So, you’re here with him, because you knew that if you missed prom, you would probably regret it.
Except, well.
Gavin, stoned out of his fucking mind, is sitting at one of the tables, nursing a cup of punch, looking like he’s two seconds from falling asleep. You’ve taken to making the rounds and saying hi to anyone you can call a ‘friend,’ because you’re tired of just loitering next to him. Something tells you he didn’t want to even be here.
The speakers are playing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ and couples are swaying on the dance floor in a Bonnie Tyler-induced haze. At a loss for people to bother, you wander back over to your date to find his head plastered to the white table cloth. 
You glance to the guy sitting next to him, a kid with glasses who you don’t recognize but who seems to know your date, because he’s just patting Gavin’s back. “Is he okay?”
“Oh, no, he’s dying.” The kid shoots you a sarcastic smile. 
You nod, pressing your tongue hard to the roof of your mouth. “Well, if he wakes up, tell him I’m getting some air.”
Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.
Your heels, which are killing your feet already, click loudly on the tile hallway floor as you exit the gym. The table where you can check your bag and coat are located at the other end of the hall, where everyone is supposed to enter through the door to the football field.
You can hear voices from the far end of the hall, and Bonnie Tyler’s voice fading out the further you get from the gym. You might never be able to hear that song again without thinking of your ruined slow dance opportunity.
As you pass by, someone coughs off to the left and you turn your head to see Steve Harrington, black tie and all, loitering in the shadows. You stop a few feet from him and squint into the dark.
You can’t believe it. He always seems to show up at the worst times. “What are you doing, skulking around?” 
“I’m not sulking.”
You snort, stepping into the shadows with him. “No, skulk- like, sneaking around?” 
“Well, I didn’t mean to sneak-” he looks over his shoulder at the gym entrance. “I’m just getting some air.”
“Funny,” you murmur. “I was just about to do the same thing.”
He eyes you, a lot like he did a few weeks ago in this same hallway, further up toward the other end of it. He takes in your hair, styled painstakingly to ‘perfection,’ or as close as you could approximate it, and your off-the-rack department store dress. You suddenly feel like you aren’t as pretty as you thought you were at the beginning of the night. 
But then he meets your eye, and all those insecurities fade into the back of your mind. He’s smiling at you, and that can only be a good thing.
“So, uh…” Steve leans back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, “You found someone to take you?”
You press your lips into a tight line. You don’t really want to think about your date right now, but- “Gavin Connelly.”
“Who?”
You laugh, kicking the heel of your shoe against the ground with a soft clack. “Yeah. God, I wish I didn’t know him right now.”
“Why, what’d he do?” Steve sounds perturbed. You look up to find him scowling already.
“Oh, he just ate a pot brownie before he picked me up and passed out at one of the tables.” You finish with a tired giggle, shrugging at Steve as he peers at you with an annoyed expression. “Who did you bring?”
“Kelly Palmer.” 
You know Kelly. She doesn’t say much, but she’s gotten a scholarship to a big art school. “Do you like her?”
“Yeah, she’s nice,” he says mildly. Unconvincingly.
You can understand the subtext. She’s not Nancy. When you look at his face, he seems tortured in the low light coming from down the hall.
“Guess I’m oh-for-two,” Steve adds after a pause. “Last year’s prom, Nance and I didn’t have such a good time, either.”
You nod. It seems like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry,” you offer. You don’t know the ins-and-outs of Steve and Nancy’s relationship, aside from watching them suck face in the hallway five paces from you for a year and a half. “Prom sucks. High school sucks. These can’t be the best years of our lives, trust me.”
“Yeah, I hope not.” 
“I just can’t wait to get out of here, you know,” you grumble, allowing your sour mood to come out a little more than normal. It seems like Steve is just really good at getting you to let your guard down. “I’m planning to go to Chicago for college. This is all just… you know, it’s just the starting point. What about you, any big plans?”
“Dunno. I didn’t get accepted to any schools, so I’ll just be getting a job here in town until something better comes along.” Steve shifts, his heel hitting the wall behind him. He looks disappointed when he says, “I think I made too many mistakes.” 
You frown, chewing on your lip. “What do you mean?”
He gives you a heavy look, like he’s gearing up to say something important, something game changing- and then his gaze softens. 
“You’ve got an eyelash.” He gestures to his own eye, like it’ll make you understand exactly where the loose one is on your face.
“Oh.” You falter, lifting your manicured hands and wiping at your undereyes. “Did I get it?”
“No, uh- here, I can-” Steve tentatively reaches forward, and you step toward him to let him touch your face. 
Steve Harrington is touching your face.  
His fingertip brushes your cheekbone, so featherlight you would barely feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of everything that he said or did. His touch glides across your cheek and toward your temple, and then he seems to keep it there, his hand hovering just over your skin.
Reflexively, your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder. You’re inches from Steve’s face, your eyes falling to his lips.
You could kiss him. You could live your fantasy, right now.
Steve’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, and then he says, “You’re so beautiful.”
Your heart lurches in your chest. He doesn’t say that you look beautiful. He doesn’t say it conditionally, like it’s just for tonight. You are beautiful. Even when you’re crawling on all fours after your binder. Even when you’re crying, and your hair is limp, and you look bedraggled.
“Steve…” you whisper, inching closer to him. 
“STEVE??!”
You jump away from him like he’s burned you, and peek around the hall corner to see Kelly Palmer standing outside the gym looking up and down the hall, searching for him. She looks lost, and sad, like he must have ditched.
She looks an awful lot like you just did, coming out of that gym.
You feel Steve’s hand where it had fallen to your wrist, dragging your attention gently back to him. You take his hand and squeeze it once, giving him a tight smile. 
“You brought her here for a good time,” you say with your bravest smile. “Just don’t pass out at one of the tables on her, okay?”
Don’t be a douche. Don’t be like Logan Sawyer. 
Steve swallows, and gives you a short nod. You think he finally got there.
You give a soft pat to the lapel of his suit jacket. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” 
He touches your arm one final time before he slips around the corner, just as Kelly turns to go back into the gym. You watch him walk away, and you think to yourself, That’s the last time I chase after Steve Harrington.
Wherever there is, it’s not with you.
Steve loops his arms around Kelly’s waist and lifts her, earning a thrilled squeal as the silver taffeta of her dress glints blue in the light from the gym. You wait until they’ve disappeared back into it before you turn and high-tail it toward the coat check table.
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And we kept everything professional, but something’s changed, it’s something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it’s best if we move fast and keep quiet…
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Starcourt Mall, June 1985
“Come on, it’s ridiculously hot outside,” your best friend, Shelly, groans as she pulls you along by the wrist. “I can’t believe they only have one ice cream place here.”
“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”
“Ice. Cream.” You know better than to argue with her.
Scoops Ahoy has a novelty nautical theme that makes you want to both laugh and break down in tears when you see it. The PA is playing a cutesy rendition of Drunken Sailor on accordion, and you think that if you keep looking at the striped wallpaper behind the counter, you might get literally seasick. In the mall. In landlocked Indiana. 
Or… is it landlocked if it fronts Lake Michigan? It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in Chicago in two days, anyways.
You let Shelly drag you along until you look towards the front counter, and you see something that nearly makes you trip and face plant into Shelly’s fresh perm.
Even Shelly pauses. “Is that who I think it is?”
It’s something about the stupid little sailor’s cap and shorts, and that he’s so, so pretty in it, you think. It’s also something about how you have the perfect vantage point to watch him try and fail to flirt with the girl that approaches the counter to order. You’re enamored with him. There’s no other way to describe it. 
You have half a mind to run away, after what you promised yourself on prom night over a month ago. You’d done good, you didn’t search for him in the halls, you ignored him in your last couple of class periods with him. You’d even been in the bathroom when his name was called at graduation. 
But, here he is. Steve Harrington, absolutely obliterating his chances of getting a date with the girl ordering a sundae ahead of you. 
Honestly, you don’t know what you’re waiting for. Maybe an invitation? A sign from god that today’s the day that you’ll make a move? Or maybe this is just a test of will.
You stop resisting Shelly’s attempts to drag you along, and straighten your spine. You can do this. Four years’ worth of pining won’t make a difference in whether or not you order a strawberry ice cream cone.
He’s even prettier up close, his rosy cheeks framed by sunkissed, wavy hair. When he sees you he stalls, going a bit wide-eyed and then seeming to realize he’s supposed to do his job. He leans heavily against the counter. “Ahoy, ladies! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain, Steve Harrington.”
“Uh-huh.” You stare at each other for a long moment. “How much do they pay you to recite that script?”
“Absolutely nothing, I do this for pure enjoyment.” You’re almost sure that he doesn’t. He pauses, a hand poised on his hip. “Too much?”
“I’d dial it back just a smidge. Maybe keep the ahoy and the captain thing and toss the rest.” 
“Noted.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on you. “I thought you were going to Chicago?”
“I leave the day after tomorrow,” you shrug. “Still time for me to burn the place down, you know.”
“Well, I’m glad you stopped by,” Steve chuckles. “I could show you where the gas line is, then we’d all be in trouble.”
“Oookay.” Shelly gives you a curious side-eye, and then turns back to Steve. “Well, I’ll have a U.S.S. Butterscotch with a chocolate dipped waffle bowl, if you don’t mind.”
Steve tears his eyes away from you long enough to grin at Shelly. “Coming right up. And for you?”
You freeze, glancing up at the menu. It’s written in an infuriatingly cutesy code-language that you have to decipher. “Um. I’m still deciding.”
“All right, then. Just let me know, when you’re ready.” 
Steve slips away to make Shelly her sundae, a heaping pile of ice cream and butterscotch syrup that looks like the fast track to a heart attack. You alternate between trying to comprehend the menu and being distracted by Steve in that stupid sailor’s uniform.
The script on the menu may as well be written in a foreign language. Blackbeard’s Delight. Treasure Island Turtle. U.S.S. Sherbet. The sizes are even harder to understand. Fathom. League. Nautical Mile. You don’t have the capacity to decipher it- your eyes are seeing the words, but your mind is traveling back to prom night, and feeling Steve’s finger on your cheek as you gear up to kiss him.
“Are you ready?”
“Mhm…” It takes you a second to zone back into the present moment, where Steve is standing in front of you, on the other side of the counter, waiting to take your order. He waits, with a patient smile on his face, while you blink dumbly at him.
What did you say? What did he say?
“I… um.” You’re sure you look completely out of it. Your eyes flick nervously up at the menu, that you still can’t fucking read. Shelly’s already gone to sit down with her sundae, the traitor.
“It’s kind of hard to understand, isn’t it?” Steve says quietly after a moment, dropping the phony customer service charade. “I hate it. I think we should just be able to say what our favorite ice cream flavor is and be done with it.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, still squinting up at the menu. Blackbeard’s Delight: blackberry swirl with blueberry syrup and a gold doubloon. “The fuck is a doubloon?”
Steve snorts, and reaches under the counter before bringing back a handful of gold foil-covered chocolate coins, which he dumps into your outstretched hand. “You want more? We get them wholesale.”
“I’m good,” you giggle, juggling the chocolate coins before they go cascading to the floor. “I think… I don’t… I don’t understand a thing on that menu.”
“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” He leans forward to ask you, like it's a secret. Just between the two of you. His head bent a little to peer at you closely, so close that you can count the freckles on his skin.
You glance over your shoulder. Shelly is seated by the far wall, under a painting of a kraken, giving you an indignant look. When she notices you looking, she mouths an emphatic, ‘LET’S GO!’
“Don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, and Steve affects his gravest expression as he nods. “Strawberry.” 
“A classic,” he grins. “Fan of sprinkles?” 
“I can dig a few sprinkles.”
“Perfect. I think we have something up your alley.” He grabs a scooper out of the bin and twirls it once, just to show off. “Sex on the Beach.” 
“What?” You don’t remember seeing anything about that on the menu.
He glances up to smirk at you before shrugging. “It’s strawberry ice cream with peach syrup. You’ll see.”
You keep an eye on his hands behind the glass partition, watching them put two scoops of strawberry into a medium sized carton. Completely unable to rein in your thoughts before they get away from you, you’re thinking about how good they would feel under your shirt. You follow a treasure map of freckles trailing up his arms, disappearing under the blue sailor’s shirt he wears. You want to kiss every single one of them.
You finally reply, “I guess I have to put my faith in your professional ice cream slinging abilities.” 
“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Steve mutters sardonically as he squirts peach syrup across the two scoops of ice cream, giving it a golden sheen. “I’m the king of cream.”
You purse your lips as it takes Steve a second to realize what he just said. When he does, he snaps his head up to meet your eye in horror. 
He opens his mouth to take it back, but you shake your head, holding back laughter. “Don’t ruin it.”
“I think it’s pretty much ruined already.” He turns crimson, blushing down at the half-made sundae as he rapidly shakes yellow sprinkles onto it. “I was doing so good, too.”
“Who says you aren’t still?” You give him a cute smile when he looks up through his lashes at you, still arranging toppings on the sundae. You’re not sure what happened between prom and now to change him so much, but it’s almost as if he’s… goofy. He’s less concerned with appearances, he’s more laid back and willing to make fun of himself. 
You like it a lot. 
You watch him plop two maraschinos onto one ice cream mound, and wedge a candied orange slice into the other, inverted, to look like a setting sun. As he passes it over the counter to you, he says, “Here you go, one Sex on the Beach. On the house.”
“What? No, I couldn’t-”
“I mean it. For overlooking my stupidity,” Steve insists. He gives you a meaningful look when he adds, “A million times over.”
“I’m not overlooking anything when it comes to you, Steve,” you tell him fondly, and drop one of the doubloons into the tip jar. It’s gaudy, gleaming artificially gold in the middle of the crumpled up dollar bills. “Hang onto that. You might be able to cash it in for a kiss someday.”
Steve blinks rapidly, leaning across the counter as you walk away. “After you come back from Chicago, right?”
You look over your shoulder, and you wink at him.
When you finally stop in front of Shelly, and you use your plastic spoon to dig into the adorable sundae that Steve crafted for you, you remember that you’d gone up to the counter with every intention of ignoring Steve and acting like you didn’t even know him.
You winked at Steve Harrington. You said you’d kiss him. You think back to the girl who was so afraid of Steve even noticing her, almost a year ago, and wonder where she went.
You look down at Shelly. She’d graduated a year before you, so she wasn’t there to witness every blunderous interaction you’d had with Steve in school. You never told her how in love you were with him.
Now, she looks up at you coyly. “So. Steve Harrington, huh?”
“Shut up,” you grunt, looking up and out at the food court outside of the Scoops Ahoy storefront. “As if you know everything.”
“Are you gonna try to make something out of that…” she gestures vaguely with her spoon toward the counter, “before school starts?” 
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say honestly, still poking at your sundae. “Anyways, I leave too soon for anything to really happen. What- I screw him tomorrow and then fuck off forever? It’s just wishful thinking, probably.” You finally take a bite of the ice cream, just to punctuate your sentence.
“Hm. Probably. How is that?” Shelly nods at the ice cream in your hand. “Looks pretty.”
“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You’re being honest. Something about the peach syrup with the strawberry base literally evokes the flavor of a sunset. “They should give him a raise.”
Humming, Shelly stands and takes her half-eaten sundae. She nudges you in the direction of the door. “C’mon. We’ve gotta eat these before the next showing of The Breakfast Club.”
Steve watches you and your friend leave, with the wistful gaze of someone who just watched their greatest opportunity walk away from them. He never knew that it was possible to hate an entire geographic location, but he really wishes Chicago would get blown off the map in the next 24 hours. 
The wooden partition doors slam open, and Robin’s head appears in the window to the kitchen. “The cream king? Do you want me to actually hurl?”
“I said, ‘the king of cream,’” he groans, digging his knuckles into his eye sockets. “Kill me, Robin. Load me into the freezer. Bury me at the fairground.”
“You think you’re valuable enough to displace that much ice cream?” Robin rolls her eyes, and with another loud thwack, her white board appears in the space behind her. “We don’t make anything called Sex on the Beach. This is a family establishment.”
“I made it up.” 
Robin coos, “Aww. Be still my heart. You love her to the point of invention.” 
Steve whirls around. “Love? Who said anything about love?” 
“I did.” Robin uncaps her dry-erase marker and draws a tally mark under the side that reads, you rule.
“Uh, Robin,” Steve snaps, pointing at the board condescendingly. “I think you put that on the wrong side. I fucked it up.”
“Dingus. Please. As much as it makes me gag- and you know I gain immense pleasure from counting how often you screw up- I could practically hear her heart eyes.” She sets the white board down, begrudgingly. “I think you found the only girl alive who’ll find all this-” she waves her hand at him, “endearing. Who was she? Some ex of yours?” 
“If only,” Steve sighs, shaking his head. When he turns back to the counter, his eyes land on the single chocolate coin glinting in the tip jar.
He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.
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You won’t believe half the things I see inside my head. Wait ‘til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet…
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Family Video, March 1986
The air conditioning nearly blasts you backwards into the parking lot. You don’t know why they need it blasting so hard at 7pm, in the middle of March. It’s not like it’s the height of summer- your spring break takes place earlier than the local school’s, but it just means that you get to beat the crowds when you come home to visit your family.
Of course, they love to send you to run errands. You end up picking up the groceries, and the housewares, and, on this occasion, the choices for family movie night. 
This Family Video’s selection isn’t necessarily as extensive as the ones in Chicago, but it’s good enough. You enter the store, and it dumps you directly in front of a cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates about to flash you. Family friendly entertainment, and all.
The TV in the corner is running the final scene of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly- Ennio Morricone’s score plays dramatically into the empty store. There’s no one behind the counter currently, so you pull the list of videos your extended family members had all requested. The Breakfast Club. Camelot. The Birds. Pretty general selections for your family, but it seems like you’ll have to hunt them up on your own. 
You’re wandering down the romance aisle, since The Breakfast Club was nowhere on the new releases or comedy shelves, when someone finally emerges from the back room. You see a flash of a head moving toward the front counter from over the top of a rack, and you take it as your chance to ask for help.
“Excuse me? Do you guys have any copies of The Breakfast Club, or-”
You stop short, choking on your words. Steve Harrington turns around to look at you, carrying a stack of VHS tapes perched under his chin, and holding a folded up piece of paper between his teeth.
You stare each other down for a second, before Steve gracefully spits the paper over his shoulder and onto the counter. “Hey, um… long time, no see?”
“I’d say.” You tilt your head. Funny how quickly your eyes will hone in on his lips, like searching for a target every time. “We always seem to run into each other like this. What happened to the ice cream gig?”
“Starcourt burned down,” Steve says, plopping the stack of VHS tapes down on the counter beside the paper he spit out. “Right around the Fourth of July, last summer.”
“So, right after I last saw you?”
Steve smirks to himself before he turns back to you. “Yeah. Like, a week or so after. Did you manage to burn the place down, after all?” 
“I wish.” 
You pause, taking the time to size him up. It’s amazing what the better part of a year will do to someone, inside and out. With a striped shirt and green vest, he looks much more relaxed and casual than he had at Scoops Ahoy. His hair’s a little longer, his eyes a little darker as they rake over you, in return. 
You’re a little bit desperate to see what’s going on in his head, if it’s anything like what’s happening in yours.
You wish you could say that you tried to seek him out when you got back to town- a year ago, maybe you would have. But you’d pretty much given up on the idea of him, moving up to dating college boys who don’t string you along, who don’t wait until the last minute to finally try their hand at flirting with you. If he ever passed through your mind, it was with the attached hope that he’d found greener pastures than Hawkins, Indiana. Foolishly, you hoped that as long as you told yourself that he’d moved on, it would be true. And then maybe what could have been wouldn’t matter anymore.
You’d stepped back into Hawkins after half a year of college, the graveyard of all hope in your happily ever after, and you hadn’t even thought of Steve Harrington. Except, seeing him now, everything comes flooding back. All the days spent pining over him. All the close brushes you’d had with finally getting the ending you wanted. 
You have to be honest. “You look good, Steve. You always do.”
Steve chuckles, tilting his chin down as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his light wash jeans. “Better without the sailor costume, right?”
“Aww, I liked the sailor costume.” You step closer so you can whisper, “I thought it was sexy.”
Steve peers down his nose at you, drawing himself up to tower above you at his full height. He tries to look unaffected, but you can see his ears glowing pink beneath wisps of golden highlights. “Watch it. You’re gonna give me an ego.”
“We don’t want that, do we?” You unfold the list of movies you’re here to collect, holding it up to him between two fingers. “Got any of these movies?” 
Steve reads the short list, and nods to himself. “I know we have Camelot, but I’m not sure about The Breakfast Club. Let me check in the back?” 
“I’ll be here.”
“All right- don’t get up to any trouble, though. I’ve got my eye on you.” He points at you coolly, feigning an authoritative expression. He tries to hide his smile, but the creases around his eyes give him away. 
“I hope you do.” You try to appear casual as you breeze past him, but you have to fiddle with your jacket collar to hide their shaking. Still, you feel the sweep of his gaze on you like rays of sun on your skin. It frightens you how easily you can fall back into the old back-and-forth routine you established in high school- how he gets you to say things you never meant to voice, but that live in your head effortlessly. 
Steve watches you disappear down the drama aisle before he takes in a huge breath of air and bolts toward the back room. Any and all coolness he was performing disappears like so much smoke. Slamming open the door, he nearly shouts, “Do you have a doubloon?!” 
Robin startles, swinging around in her seat, looking away from her computer screen. “A what? Why are you yelling?”
“A doubloon, a f-fucking-” Steve looks quickly over his shoulder, out the door, and starts hunching over as he whispers, “a chocolate coin. Like one of those ones we had at Scoops, remember?”
“Why do you want a chocolate coin?” Robin squints at him. “Stop crouching like that, you look like Nosferatu.”
Steve hisses through his teeth, and he’s got a frantic edge to his expression that Robin doesn’t like. “Okay- remember that girl, the one who showed up at Scoops that time, and you gave me my one and only ‘You Rule’ tally?” 
“No.”
“Great. Well, she’s here, and she told me if I gave her one of those chocolate coins she’d kiss me.” Steve shoves his hands through his hair, mussing up the already disheveled style. “Please, Rob, I can’t let her get away again. I’ve done it, like, a thousand times already.” 
“Okay, Romeo,” Robin humors him, turning around in her seat. “So you’re saying this babe, who I very much don’t remember because you always struck out while we worked at Scoops, told you that if you bribed her with chocolate she’d kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t think she was maybe joking?” 
Steve opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Truthfully, he hadn’t. He’d overlooked the idea that, after everything that had happened between you, you might just be joking about kissing him. 
“You know you could use your actual charm to get a girl to kiss you?” Robin dips her chin, shaking her head like it’s obvious.
Steve frowns. As if he hasn’t already tried that. “Do you have any chocolate coins or not?”
Robin sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those things since we worked at Scoops. Sorry, bud. You’re out of luck.” 
“FUCK!” Steve’s hand smacks the door as he heads out of the back room, making Robin scowl after him. She shakes her head as she turns back to her work.
Back out on the sales floor, the credits to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly have finished, and white noise fills the empty space. Steve turns in a circle by the checkout counter, searching for you among the aisles.
Where did you disappear to, this time? A part of him dreads the answer. He was the one who fucked everything up- he shouldn’t have chickened out when he had the chance. He should have asked you to that fucking prom, but he was too scared to commit after what happened with Nancy. 
If this is his last chance, he needs to make it count. 
He coughs into the dead air, and says, “Looks like we’re all out of The Breakfast Club.” There’s a disconcerting amount of silence that leaves him cold, almost certain that you’ve left already, for the last time.
Then, you appear from behind the red curtain to the adult videos section.
Oh.  
“Everything okay?” you ask sweetly as you approach, holding a couple tapes that you must have picked up while you shopped around. “I heard some yelling back there.” 
“Oh, yeah. Just, uh… shelving issues.” Steve backs his way behind the counter. He repeats, “Sorry, I couldn’t find the movie for you.”
“I heard. I’m not worried about it.” You plop the tapes that you did find on the counter. “It was nice of you to look for me. Thanks, Steve.”
“Always.” Steve starts scanning your tapes; it looks like you managed to find the other films on your list, along with one for yourself. From the adult section. 
You watch in amusement as you can see the cogs visibly turning in Steve’s head, while he stares at the front of the porn video you picked. Spring Break Sex Party II. Not that you’d ever seen the first one, but the cover of this one was suggestive enough- a bunch of drunk people naked on a beach, lying in a great big pile. Looks like fun, in your opinion.
You always love seeing Steve blush. The prettiest shade of pink colors his cheeks before he glances up at you. “Should I ask…?”
“It’s the closest thing to getting a Sex on the Beach, here.” 
Steve chokes, and he scrambles for a response to that. “I- I was gonna ask for an I.D.”
“You know we’re the same age,” you deadpan.
“Y-yeah. I, uh- I know… I know that.” He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly shut.
You wonder if this is what you looked like to him, that time in the hallway when he loitered by the fountain to talk to you. “Breathe, Steve.”
A blast of laughter leaves his mouth before he can swallow it. If only you knew how hard it actually is, to act like he’s not just fucking melting right in front of you. When he hangs on every word you say, and every other thought he has is about how badly he wants to tell Robin to get lost and take you in the back room. You don’t know how much he’s fixating on your curves and how they’d feel against him, how much he wants to taste every inch of your body. He’s practically vibrating in place with all his pent up frustration, and you’re here buying porn, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
Steve clears his throat, shakes his head. Christ. “Okay, well. You know that this is a sale item, it’s not for rent. You can return it within 10 days as long as the packaging hasn’t been opened.”
“I know.”
“Okay.” He’s still nodding as he puts it into the bag with the rest of your rentals. 
“Are you always this affected by people buying from the adult section?” you ask mildly. 
“Nah, usually I don’t care,” he replies without thinking. 
“Good to know that you care about my taste in pornography,” you tell him with the most shit eating grin on your face, taking the bag from him. “I’m flattered.”
He makes a clumsy noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. He’s right back to working at Scoops Ahoy, fumbling every attempt at flirting, losing his cool at the sight of a pretty girl. It’s… humbling.
He’s sure Robin would say that he can always use more humility.
“It was good to see you again, Steve.” And just like that, you’re sand slipping through the cracks in his fingers. 
Desperately, he tries to block the flow, closing his fingers around you in an attempt to keep you in his grasp. “Do you- uh-” He lurches forward, white-knuckling the counter like his life depends on it. You turn back towards him, an eyebrow raised at his sudden outburst. 
You’re back in the school hallway, senior year. Crying over Logan Sawyer. Harrington is up against the wall by the drinking fountain. You want him to just say the words and ask you to prom.
“I mean… if you have the time, while you’re in town… do you want to go for a cup of coffee? With me?”
“Oh, Steve.” You sigh, and it’s the most heartbreaking noise he’s ever heard in his life. Soft sand, falling through his fingers, disappearing back the way you came. He already dreads your answer before it comes. “I wish… you know, if I had come in here and met you about a week ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I have to catch the train back to Chicago tomorrow. My break’s almost up.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I’m just glad that you didn’t completely miss me, at least.”
“Right, of course.” Steve smiles back at you, feeling more like an idiot the longer this drags on. He’s like Sisyphus rolling that rock up the fucking hill. “I… I’m glad I got to see you, too. Maybe next time.” 
Oh, it hurts. It hurts way more than you thought it would, to have to turn Steve down- after all the years pining for him through high school, after the time you turned him away when he would have kissed you. You think about kissing him, now. He would let you do it- he’s asking you out, and he looks so sad that you’re saying no.
You could. But wouldn’t it make saying goodbye this time even harder than it already is?
“Yeah. Maybe next time,” you tell him. You don’t want this to hurt more than it does. You truly hope there’s a next time, another year down the line when you run into him over winter break. Maybe you’ll find him at the Radio Shack. 
Steve watches you leave, once again. Fumbling his chance, again. When the door swings shut behind you, Steve bends at the waist and drops his head against the countertop. 
Typical Harrington. Late to the party, miss the girl.
“Well. That was… really painful to listen to.” Robin emerges from behind one of the shelves, crossing her arms. Gently, she adds, “On the bright side, I don’t think the chocolate coin would have mattered.”
Steve picks his head up, and he thwacks his forehead back down onto the counter.
And again.
And again.
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And I can see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission. Hide away, and I will start behaving myself…
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Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991
You shake your umbrella out as you step into the warm foyer of, quite possibly, the most upscale restaurant you’ve ever set foot in. The carpet is deep, blood red, the walls a dark chestnut wood. The white covered tables are each spotlit within the otherwise dark dining room, and the atmosphere is flavored by soft piano and the quiet din of hushed voices. 
You had been hesitant to accept Theo’s invitation to dinner- he seemed too stuck up for your taste, but when Shelly introduced you to him, you had to admit that the name of the restaurant piqued your interest. Sur La Table. Chicago’s premiere Michelin Star restaurant. 
As you hand your umbrella over to the coat check clerk, you’re greeted by a smiling hostess. “What’s the name for the reservation?”
“Um… Theo Bowman. I believe he’s already here?”
“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.” 
Theo stands as you’re shown to the table. Tall, with dark hair and a wide smile, he reminds you of someone you knew once, but you just can’t seem to place it. Then, when he towers over you to shake your hand, standing far closer than necessary, you’re able to pick it out from the recesses of your mind.
Logan Sawyer.  
“You look nice,” Theo says pleasantly, and you chalk up your initial comparison to nerves, on your part. You don’t often let friends set you up on dates, so you’re a little bit out of your element as it is.
As you go to sit down, you admit, “I was so glad when you picked this place, I’ve always wanted to eat here, since I moved to Chicago.” 
“It’s not the nicest place I’ve been,” Theo shrugs, taking the seat across from you.
Your smile falters, for a second. “Oh, no?” The water has already been brought to the table, you guess while he was waiting for you. You take a long drink.
“Nah, I’ve been to Le Bernardin, in New York. That’s fine dining.” Theo waves his hand at the upscale dining room. “This is… okay.”
“I see.” You lift your menu, hoping that he’ll do the same.
“Yeah, New York is so much nicer than Chicago, in my opinion,” Theo continues, fiddling with his napkin as he talks. “There’s a lot more to do. Have you ever been?”
You hope this is just his nerves talking. “No.” 
Theo keeps talking as you stare at the menu in front of you, at a loss. It’s an a la carte menu, clearly, but extensive and all in french. Salade de poires pochées. Coquilles Saint-Jacques Gratineés. Filet au poivre vert. You’re scrutinizing the fine print of what all the dishes include when your waiter steps up to the table. You know when it happens, because Theo finally stops blathering about New York. 
You break your eyes away from the menu to glance at the server’s waistline, at eye level with you. He wears a crisply pressed suit and tie, his hands clasped in front of his belt. 
“Good evening sir, ma’am,” the server says in a hushed tone, to keep the volume of the dining room down. “Welcome to Sur La Table. I’m Steven, I’ll be serving you this evening. Before we begin, are there any questions about the menu?”
You peer up into the darkness to try to see Steven’s face. He’s standing just outside of the spotlight over the table, only able to be dimly lit from the indirect light reflecting from the tablecloth. Once your eyes adjust, they lock onto a pair of familiar hazel ones.
Oh my fucking god.
It’s got to be fate, or kismet, or some force of nature that keeps bringing you together like this. Steve Harrington’s face hasn’t changed in five years. Maybe he looks just slightly older, a little more filled out in his suit and tie. His hair is a bit shorter at the back but still that same shade of golden brown, neatly groomed and tidy for the formal atmosphere- but you can see it being tousled on his off days, still flopping across his eyes in waves. And those are the same lips you dreamt about kissing, the same eyes you admired in the school hallway, the same nose that you always wanted to grind o-
“No, I think we’re ready to order,” Theo announces, louder than necessary. You throw your gaze at him, your eyebrows raising despite your best efforts to remain calm. 
Is he really going to order for you? Just like that?
“Well, I was going to ask-” you begin, wanting to get a little more specification on how the filet is made, when Theo cuts you off.
“It’s okay, I speak French,” he insists. Not that it makes a difference to what your question was.
You press your lips together in irritation and glance at Steve, who looks back at you stoically. You wonder if he recognizes you like you do him- it’s been long enough, and you’re sure that you look a bit different than you did the last time you saw him. And then you notice the creases around his eyes.
He’s playing it off well enough, sure. But Steve is doing that same look that he did there in the Family Video five years ago, trying to pretend that he’s not affected by you, swallowing back his smile. He sends you a knowing look that says, What a fucking douchebag, am I right?
Suddenly, this date just got way more entertaining. You give Steve a minute roll of your eyes, only enough for him to notice. Tell me about it.
“We’ll start with the Bordeaux,” Theo is already reciting to Steve as you settle back in your seat. Steve pulls a little notepad out of his jacket pocket and begins writing. “For an appetizer, the coquilles. Then for the main, I’ll have the canard montmorency, and she’ll have the mignons de veau.” 
You watch Steve’s hand pause as he’s writing, and he looks to you. He raises his eyebrow, saying everything he needs to with the one gesture. Is that what you really want? “The veal?”
“No,” you say, digging your thumbnail into your palm, where it rests on your lap. “Actually, I wanted to ask about the filet. What brandy is the sauce made with?” 
Steve smiles, leaning a little bit closer to you. “We use Courvoisier.”
“Great. I’ll have that, please.” 
Steve nods encouragingly at you. As he jots down the order, he says, “Wonderful. I’ll get this to the kitchen for you, but before I can bring you the wine, I’ll just need to see the lady’s I.D.”
“Are you serious?” Theo snaps. 
“It’s all right,” you murmur, hiding your face as you dip your head to fish your I.D. out of your clutch. “He’s just doing his job. Right, Steven?”
Steve meets your eye as he takes the card from your hand. “You can never be too careful.” You watch him smirk as he looks over your I.D., his eyes lingering on your name for a second before he hands it back to you. If there was any doubt in his mind that you are who he thought, it’s gone now. “Interesting. We’re the same age.”
You laugh. Probably a little louder than is respectable, but you can’t help it. Leave it to Steve Harrington to remind you of the time you bought porn from him, while you’re on a date. 
You watch Steve write something else on his notepad, and rip the page out before folding it up. He tucks his notepad into his pocket as he says, “I’ll get this started for you. I hope you enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you, Steven,” you offer just as he starts to walk away. 
Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”
Your heartbeat pounds in your chest as you turn back to your date. Theo looks disgruntled, but he just lifts his water to his lips.
“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”
“Marketing manager,” Theo says, with a click of his tongue. “For Bowman Wine & Spirits.”
“Oh,” you nod. “No relation, I suppose?”
“My father owns the company.”
“Right.” God, help me. 
Across the dining room, Steve watches you over his shoulder. His jaw sets as he sees you, the girl of his literal dreams, sitting across from some idiot who doesn’t even know that you don’t order for your date without asking her what she wants first, you fucking weasel. 
That’s all right. You seem to have the situation under control, for now. Steve watches you calmly sip your water, staring at your date but not listening to a thing he’s saying. 
Steve sighs. He’s never been much of a schemer, but he’ll just make sure that you won’t leave with this guy if you don’t want to.
His fingers brush the note in his pocket, and he pinches it just as he passes the front of house manager, Taryn. Without breaking stride, he slips the note into her hand, heading toward the back hallway and down to the wine cellar.
As Steve passes by, Taryn unfolds the note he slips her, and raises one eyebrow at the request he’s written.
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I can see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note saying, “Meet me tonight.” Then we kissed and you know I won’t ever tell…
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Overall, you enjoy Sur La Table immensely. The restaurant itself, anyways. The wine is wonderful. The atmosphere is great. The food is exquisite. 
You’re about to jump the waiter’s bones. 
Theo got his second wind sometime after the scallops arrived, and you think he hasn’t paused for breath since. You’ve been calmly eating your food, while Theo tells you literally everything about himself. It’s the best case scenario you can see happening on this date. You enjoy the food, mumble a non-committal acknowledgement now and then, and Theo entertains himself with his own voice the rest of the time. 
You’re gonna kill Shelly for setting you up with him, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. 
Right now, you’re focused on finishing your glass of wine while he talks about camping, of all things. 
“So we got up into the Rockies,” he’s telling you, gesturing with his hands like it’ll make you more engaged. “We ended up freezing our keisters off. No joke, I have frostbite scars.”
“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”
“No, are you listening? I mean, it was terrible. We couldn’t move for, like, two days. And when the snow stopped we were so tired and cold, we almost died.”  
You knock back the rest of your wine with one gulp, and say with a sticky voice, “Wow. A near death experience must have been really scary, I’m sorry.”
Theo frowns. “No- I mean… It wasn’t… it wasn’t near death-”
“You just said-”
“It was more like a serious inconvenience, you know. But we pulled through. I wasn’t scared. A little snow isn’t gonna kill me,” he laughs incredulously. “It was just-”
Theo stops as Steve approaches the table. You catch him giving the back of Theo’s head the most murderous look imaginable before slowing to a stop and plastering an easy customer service smile in its place. “How did you find everything this evening?”
“It was fine.”
“The food was wonderful,” you tell Steve reassuringly. Your date, on the other hand…
“Yeeeah, could we get the check, please?” Theo asks, finally looking up at Steve. 
You watch Steve’s brow twitch, such a small movement you could have imagined it. “Certainly. But first-” from behind his back, he reveals two white gift boxes and places them on the table in front of you and your date, respectively. “We like to give each of our customers a signature chocolate truffle, as a token of our appreciation.”
Everything in you aches. “Oh, that’s nice. Thank you so much.” You look down at the box in adoration, thinking for a second that it might be the only time in your life that Steve Harrington gives you something similar to a ring box. 
“I’ll be sure to have our hostess come through with the check,” Steve adds delicately, making a gracious exit. His finger just slightly brushes your arm as he passes by- a dangerous move, but one that nearly electrifies your entire body at the single touch. You shiver as he says, “Have a lovely night.”
You watch Steve walk away from you, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You want to chase after him. The 18 year old you, who almost kissed him on prom night, is trying to claw its way out of your skin and bolt after him. 
When Steve disappears from view, you have nowhere to look but at your date. Theo opens the white box in front of him and pops a neapolitan colored truffle into his mouth. “Well, that was underwhelming.”
You don’t want to watch him chewing anymore, like a cow gnawing on grass. You sigh, running a frustrated hand across your forehead, and flip open the box in front of you. The top of it rears up like a clam shell, and you freeze, your fingertips suddenly sticking to the sweat beading on your brow.
You don’t have a neapolitan truffle- you have a single golden chocolate coin. You stare at it in shock for a second before you even notice the note pasted to the lid of the box. 
Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms. 
“Aren’t you gonna eat yours?” Theo asks suddenly, as the hostess approaches holding the check. 
Your eyes snap up just as your heart shoots back up into your chest. “I think I’m gonna save it for later.” You flash him a smile as you close the box swiftly and shove it into your clutch. “Do you mind if I hit the bathroom real quick?”
“No, go ahead. I’ve got it.” Honestly, it’s the kindest thing he’s done for you all night. You might have to thank him some day. 
Once you’re out of your seat, you chase after Steve like a shot. Around a block of tables and into a tiled corridor, you walk past the kitchen doorway just as another server comes backing out, carrying a tray of dishes. 
There’s a door at the end of the hall, labeled exit. You never actually thought you’d be escaping a bad date through the back door; the notion was too clichéed, you thought that sort of thing only happened in movies. But you find yourself nearly running past the men’s and women’s bathrooms, until your hands slam down on the bar of the back door and thrust it open into the wind. 
The rain has picked up, more of a downpour than a light drizzle now. In your haste, you’d left your umbrella and coat with the coat check. Not that it would have been at all discrete if you’d gone to collect it before running towards the bathrooms. 
The door clicks shut behind you, and you gaze around in the dark. The alley behind the restaurant is only partially lit by a yellow street lamp, making it even more difficult to find him than it was in the dining room. “Steve?”  
You catch movement in the corner of your eye, and turn in the direction of the street lamp. Steve stands up from where he’d been sitting on an overturned crate- apparently the only accommodations the restaurant staff gets during a smoke break. The rain has already soaked into his hair, messing up the tidy style and turning it stringy, falling across his forehead, shining gold in the yellow light. He takes one last puff of the cigarette in his mouth before tossing it into the gutter, and he looks at you. 
He sees you. And it’s all you’ve wanted since the day he first walked into your geography class, freshman year of high school. There’s been some kind of a magnetic pull between you two for years. Something keeps bringing you together, it’s just never been the right time. Until now. 
Finally, you’re running towards him, and Steve’s arms finally come around you, pulling you against his body. Your hands find the back of his neck just in time for his lips to crash against yours. 
You had lost count of the amount of times you watched him kiss other girls in the hallway in high school- not just Nancy, but any and every girl he attached himself to (for a while, it seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind who he was dating at any given moment). All you knew was that it was never you, and you wanted it to be so desperately that it consumed your mind half the time. He looked like a good kisser, and you fantasized about going up to him and testing that theory for yourself.
But you never expected that his lips would slide over yours with an urgency that you could feel through to your very core, probably even more desperate for your kiss than you are for his. Steve’s fingertips press into your body through the thin fabric of your dress, holding you firmly to him like he’s afraid you might disappear on him again if he doesn’t absorb you completely. Your mouth opens with a soft gasp, and Steve’s tongue against yours tastes like tobacco. 
It happens so fast that you can’t even think- and you don’t really want to. You’re tired of thinking everything through, finding reasons upon reasons why it’s not a good time, why it’s a bad idea, why it won’t work. He moans into you, grabbing the side of your face as he stumbles with you to the wall, pressing you up against the side of the brick building. 
You meet his moan with a whimper of your own as his hand slides down over the curve of your ass, and he hikes up the skirt of your dress to grab at your skin with abandon. There’s a ferocity in Steve’s kiss that you don’t know what to do with, like he’s trying to stake a claim to you right there in the rain, with no one around to see it happen but the moths in the street light overhead. Not that he needs to- he’s already got you. You already chose him. 
Steve gives you room to breathe with a soft sigh, his forehead resting against yours. “Been wanting to do that since high school,” he admits, just loud enough for you to hear, before pressing a featherlight kiss just beside your mouth, and again to your cheek.
“Y-you fffucking-?” you gasp when he latches his lips around a sweet spot on your neck and sucks. “I had such a huge crush on you, Steve.”
“I know. I- I should have- I should…” Steve drops his head against your shoulder and groans when your nails rake against his scalp. “Fuck.”  
He grinds his hips up against yours, biting your lip as the hard length of his cock presses up against your core. “Gonna fuck me in this alleyway, Harrington?” 
“I’m seriously considering it,” he growls into your ear. His lips find yours again with a passion, his hand holding your jaw still. A hot breath escapes him, pouring over your skin and making you shiver. You’re lightheaded, so close to just letting him do it, too, when the back door of the restaurant swings open. 
Steve still takes a second to pull away, a little too absorbed in kissing you to really care who sees him do it. If he had his way, he’d have everyone see that you’re his- that you belong with him, and have for a long time. He finally glances over his shoulder to see one of the cooks, Liam, walking off in the direction of the employee parking lot.
“Where did you get the fucking doubloon?” you whisper into his ear, sounding so fucking adorable that Steve can’t help the lovesick look he gives you. 
He brushes his nose against yours. “I sent my manager on a treasure hunt.” You giggle, pressing your forehead up against his, and he can’t help but chuckle along with you. “I wanted to give you one at Family Video, that time.”
“I know,” you say, and he pulls back to look at your face. “I heard you yelling at your coworker in the back room.” 
Steve snickers and turns red with embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his rain-soaked hair, a content smile on your face as you feel him grin against your skin and shake with laughter. “Take me home, Steve.”
You don’t have to ask him twice.
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What would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you make me want you even more…
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The drive to Steve’s apartment downtown is made with light conversation and the heavy, heavy weight of his hand on your thigh, creeping up further with each mile. But aside from the implication of sex hanging in the air, it’s as easy as breathing, chatting about the night with him. Shitting on Theo.
“Did you notice the way he said coquilles,” Steve murmurs to you at a red light. “I thought he was gagging on something. He was just trying to impress you, you know.”
You grunt. Could’ve tried a little harder. “He didn’t even like them. He said he didn’t like shellfish,” you laugh in return as you lace your fingers through Steve’s. “Why the fuck would you order scallops, then?”
“The price.”
“The price.”  
It’s sweet, talking to him all the way to his apartment building, just catching up like old friends. He tells you that he’s going to culinary school now, and he’s been working at the restaurant for a little over a year, just to pay the bills.
“Culinary school? Really?” you say, with a note of awe in your voice. 
“Turns out I’m really fucking good at cooking,” Steve chuckles. “Who’d have thought? Maybe someday I’ll stop waiting tables and work back there in the kitchen.”
“I can see it,” you tell him softly. “I can see you being the world’s best chef. Three stars and everything.”
He scoffs, but a pink blush creeps up the back of his neck. “You have too much faith in me.” 
“Those are fighting words, Harrington.” You wag your finger at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”
“You just want me to cook you something,” Steve tuts.
“Absolutely, I do.” You consider him for a moment, in the passing light of a streetlamp. “Am I that transparent?”
Steve tilts his head to eye you meaningfully, and he smirks. “Always have been, honey.” His thumb rubs a little circle on your thigh that has you squirming in your seat.
The first thing you see of Steve’s apartment is the kitchen, and beyond that the dormant living room, but you don’t get that far before you’re sidetracked. Steve throws his keys onto a drop station by the door, and pins you up against the refrigerator before you can even think to ask where to put your shoes.
Your clothes are still damp, your hair still pasted to your clammy skin. Steve’s lips are attacking yours and his hands are grabbing at everything he can touch, but it’s still not enough. He’s not able to feel all of you at once, and it’s driving him insane with every passing moment.
Steve roughly yanks his suit jacket off, throwing it onto the tile floor beside the kitchen island. “Lay down.” 
“What?” you whisper to him as he kisses your neck, guiding you away from the side of the fridge. “Here?” 
“Right here,” Steve states, not joking in the slightest. You wobble on your feet as you kick off your heels, but his hands on your hips keep you steady. “Been waiting too long for this- can’t wait anymore.”
“I- wwhuh-?” you gasp as Steve kneels in front of you, and your knees buckle involuntarily as he lays you down across his discarded jacket. Your hands grab his shoulders as you tumble backward, taking him with you. 
He face-plants into your stomach with a noisy, “Oof.” Cackling, you run your fingers through his damp hair, as he laughs and shoves his blushing face further against your torso. Steve litters your stomach with kisses, giggling against you with a note of nervous energy. He’s adorable.
You pet your fingers down the side of his face and he leans into the touch. “Can’t even wait long enough to take me to the bedroom?”
“Well, I would have fucked you in the alley,” Steve points out as his fingers breach the hem of your skirt and find your panties. He tugs as he says, “Be thankful I even got you home.” 
Your cheeks burn hot. You fidget, trying to press your thighs together to abate the throbbing ache between them. “Careful, baby. You’re starting to sound desperate.”
Steve pauses, his hazel eyes lighting up when they lock on yours. “Call me that again,” he requests, pressing a kiss to your ankle as he pulls your panties off your feet. He tosses them over his shoulder, but you don’t see where they land as he continues peppering kisses down your calf.
You hold his gaze. “Baby?” His eyes flutter, his lips parting as they drag up toward your knee. “You like when I call you that?”
“I like when you call me anything,” Steve admits. “But as long as you call me that, it means I’m yours.”
Your breath stutters in your chest. Steve Harrington is yours. It doesn’t matter if it’s just for tonight- what matters is that you have him now, and he wants you just as badly.
“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he murmurs quietly against your skin, his voice crackling with brimming need. He’s flushed, his cheeks pink and his hair drying in tousled waves over his forehead the longer he drags this out. 
Nodding your head, you reach down to lace your fingers through his, where they’re bunching your skirt up around your hips. “Yes, Steve.” Always have been.  
He turns his head and sucks a spot on your calf, just below your knee, resting your ankle over his shoulder. Still, despite your desperation, you nervously keep your thighs pinched together.
Steve tuts, “C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta spread your legs for me. You wanna let me see that pretty pussy, right?” 
Still clammy and cold with rain, the air on your exposed skin makes you shiver almost as much as his sweeping hands do when they gently part your thighs. You let go, let him take control as you still and keep your eyes focused on his face, because looking anywhere else would remind you that this is real, and not a dream.
Steve sighs, “There she is. Y’gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” He bats his pretty eyes at you in a way that makes your heart stop dead in your chest. He can’t keep his mouth off of you, even for a moment, his lips and slight stubble dragging across your skin as he says, “Been wanting to forever, you won’t even believe-”
“Please, Steve,” you start to beg before he even finishes his sentence. “Please, my god, I- I just- I just want you so much-”
“Sh-sh-sh-shh.” His tongue licks wet and hot against your inner thigh before he whispers, “I’ve got you, baby. M’not going anywhere, I’m staying right here ‘til you cum.”
You’re instantly hot all over, your blood fucking boiling beneath your skin and your wet dinner dress. Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he yanks you toward his face, the fabric of his jacket beneath you audibly zipping along the kitchen floor. 
Steve dips his head, and his mouth closes over your cunt right at the same moment that yours falls open with a moan that won’t come out, because you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. The noise stalls right at the beginning- your lungs stop working and you can’t seem to get them to start again, because Steve’s tongue is everywhere, dripping wet and gentle on skin that’s way too sensitive to handle it right now. Your hips try to jerk away from him in resistance, but he slams his hand down on them, holding you hard and still against the tile floor, his shoulders pushed up against the backs of your thighs to keep them open. 
Steve takes a break just long enough to grin evilly up at you, because he’s been waiting for five years to tell you to, “Breathe, sweetheart.”
“Fffffuck,” you manage to spit out finally, your voice cracking on the word like it didn’t even really want to put in the work to make it happen. Your breath comes back into your lungs all at once, rapid firing with a dozen moans for punctuation. Steve’s lips quirk against you, and he rumbles a noise of satisfaction against your pussy that makes you jolt in his hold again. “Steve…”
He pulls off of you with a slow, slow stroke of his tongue over your clit, making you whimper high and tight in your throat. “That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers, his breath fanning across your slick cunt, his left hand leaving your hip so that he can drag his knuckles teasingly through your swollen folds. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so right.”
Two long fingers sink into you with ease, stirring the need in you to have him just simply destroy you. You moan loud, your hand shooting out and wrapping around the leg of a bar stool for the kitchen island beside you. 
“Poor thing’s just so sensitive, huh?” Your head arches backwards against the floor, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as he curves them with practiced accuracy. Steve’s voice is a deep murmur, distant thunder rolling over your nerves, “Relax for me, honey. You’ve waited long enough, just let it happen. Let me give you what you want.”
His lips shine when you look down at him, your hand reaching to run through his hair. Stifling a whine that threatens to come out when he kisses your clit and bends his fingers within you, you stutter out, “J-just want… I- ha-ah! Just want you.”  
Steve purrs. “I know.” The crisp white fabric of his shirt scrapes against your thighs, almost rough in comparison to his tongue flat on your pussy. You can hear the wet, salacious sound of his fingers pumping into you, pulling you toward the edge of oblivion. He hisses through his teeth, shaking his head slightly. “God, I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”
“Y-you-?” you manage a laugh, scraping your nails along his scalp lightly. “You’re lucky? You have n-no… fffucking idea-” You cut off with a sob when Steve wraps his lips around your clit, sucking long and hard enough that your leg twitches, your heel dragging up the back of his pristine white blouse. Your breathing picks up just as all your muscles lock down tight. “Jesus Christ-”  
“There you go,” Steve praises as your orgasm shakes your body, your hand gripping his hair so hard that he groans softly into your damp skin. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, lewd wet noises picking up and echoing through the quiet kitchen. “That’s a good girl. Mmm , felt so nice to let go, didn’t it?”
You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that- you’re still twitching, coming down from your high as he pulls his fingers from your spasming cunt and sucks them into his mouth. The pause gives you a gentle reprieve, sinking back onto his suit jacket beneath you. Then, his mouth finds your pussy again, his tongue delving deep into your entrance and laving up to your sensitive clit. 
You gasp, throwing your hands down into his hair. “Steve-?!”
He moans in response. “Just needed to taste you some more, honey. Taste so fuckin’ sweet, I can’t get enough.” Steve relents, crawling up your body to hover his face over yours. “Still wanna see the bedroom?”
You nod excitedly, your hands finding his smiling face and stroking the hair away from his eyes. With a gentle kiss of his wet lips to yours, Steve gathers your still-wrecked body into his arms and carries you into his bedroom. 
He’s struck by how blissful you are as he sets you down on his bed, so soft and inviting. He encourages your arms up, his hands finding the zipper of your wet dress and finally, finally, pulling it over your head so that he can see you. All your curves and edges on display for him, after all this time imagining what he couldn’t see with the naked eye. 
“You’re so beautiful.” Steve repeats what he told you all those years ago at prom- he meant it then, and he means it now. Maybe even more this time, now that he’s not a stupid teenager, now that he finally has his head on his shoulders. 
You shiver against him when he unclips your bra- black lace that matches the underwear sitting in his entryway. A possessive part of him rears up, knowing that you’d worn them to a date with some asshole who couldn’t treat you right, even for one hour of the guy’s miserable life. Steve dips his head and kisses your breast, so much softer now than he was before, feeling your heartbeat against his lips.
“Hey.” You gently tug him by his tie, loosening it and his collar. You look into his eyes, and his heart melts. “Where’d you go just now, sailor?”
Steve blushes, his eyes flicking down as you remove his tie and start unbuttoning his blouse. “Just thinking...” he trails off, eyeing you thoughtfully. “Just thinking I could have missed you again if I wasn’t careful.”
“Mmm,” you hum, your hands smoothing up his chest and over his shoulders to get his shirt off of him. It drops to the floor with a whisper. “I don’t think so. I think this was meant to happen, eventually.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You scrunch your nose cutely, in a way that makes Steve’s pants tighten even more uncomfortably across his hips. “We’ve run into each other too many fuckin’ times, baby. Karma’s on our side.”
He laughs. “Karma.” He shakes his head as he undoes his belt.
You quirk your brow at him as your hands fiddle with the fly of his suit pants. “Don’t believe me?” 
Steve grunts, shifting to lean over you. “I’ll believe anything you say when you’re taking my pants off, honey. I’m easy that way.”
Your nails rake through the hair on his chest- you can’t keep your hands off of him now that they’ve got him. You trace over two blotchy scars, one on either side of his torso that mirror each other. “What happened here?”
He blows a puff of air out of his mouth, rounding his cheeks as he shrugs. “Some… animals decided I looked really tasty, at one point. I know, they aren’t very pretty.”
Steve’s brushing over it like it’s nothing. You search his face, and you decide to do the same. “Actually, I think it’s kind of hot.” You drag your hand up to lay flat over his chest. You whisper conspiratorially, “Plus, I think you look really tasty, too.”
Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Y’gonna bite me about it?”
“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”
Your gaze falls indiscreetly to his cock, hard and flushed, glistening with precum and curving up toward his stomach. Girls talk, especially when they’re all trying to one-up each other; you knew that he was big. You’d heard the rumors. You’d seen him wearing those tight fucking jeans all the time, and you didn’t have to have much of an imagination to figure it out.
Still. It’s… a little overwhelming. You reach out a tentative hand, lightly wrapping your fingers around his base. They barely meet. Jesus Christ.
He groans, and kisses you until you can’t speak, resting his weight on top of you until you sink gleefully into the mattress. There’s a smile on your lips that transfers onto his, happiness and ease still flowing between you even as he grinds his hips up against yours. 
“Ready?” Steve murmurs softly into your mouth, stealing your breath when you feel his cock slide through your folds, hot and fat.  
“Dunno,” you tell him teasingly, but there’s an edge of reason to your words. Your hips squirm and you feel him even worse, slippery with your arousal. You whine. “I think you might kill me with that thing, Harrington.”
“I’ll go slow,” he whispers, hoarse in the back of his throat, his voice already shaking. “I’ll make sure you feel every bit of it, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you agree as you reach to line him up properly. “I’m all yours.”
Steve gives a relieved sigh as he slides into you, his head falling heavily to your shoulder. His cock aches, his torso shaking as he tries to steady himself. “Oh my god.”
“Baby,” you coo, choking on a moan when he bottoms out. He’s so thick- your nails dig into his shoulder blades as you try to remember how to breathe. It’s certainly a big stretch to try to fit him, but you can’t help wanting more just as soon as he comes to a stop. You can feel him trying to hold steady, holding himself back as though it’s the hardest thing in the world for him to do. 
Because it is. You can’t see it, the way that his brow is furrowed in concentration, his eyes screwed shut. He didn’t know it would be like this- that he’d be in danger of blowing it just as soon as he started. 
Your heel digs into his ass, and he doesn’t know if you do it purposefully, but he almost whimpers.  
You take a shuddering breath. “Please- please move, Steve, I can’t take it.”
Oh, you can’t take it? “You know what,” Steve says with a hint of strain in his voice, picking his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours, “I think you like me.”
You snort, and kiss him lightly. “What gave you that impression?”
“Y’so fucking cute.” Steve hums and sloooowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock through your walls so deliciously that your toes curl. “Could be all those times you stared at me in class-” He watches your face as he pushes forward, until his hips are flush with yours and your head arches backwards against his sheets. “Could be when you nearly let me kiss you at prom-” Out. In. Steve runs his tongue up the length of your throat, and bites at your earlobe. He whispers, “Could be that you came on my tongue ten minutes ago.”
He picks up his pace, just a bit. Just enough to have the bed creaking under you with the rhythm, to have you moaning in tandem with him- needy and high pitched, leaping from your throat into the hot, sex-charged air.  
Steve’s lips latch onto your neck, and he sucks hard. He eases up after just a couple seconds, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot, but you know what he’s just done- he’s marked you, right where you won’t be able to hide it in the morning. 
You want him to do it all over your body.
Your jaw goes slack and you’re losing all integrity. He’s even better than you imagined- sleepless nights wanting, hoping endlessly that you’d find yourself here, under him, couldn’t have prepared you for how perfect it feels. His hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning it to the mattress beside your head, squeezing with every slow and purposeful thrust of his hips. 
Steve’s cock finds your g-spot like it’s nothing, like he’s known your body for ages. He barely even has to try before you’re whimpering, raking your nails up his back and leaving long red trails behind. 
Your teeth latch onto his shoulder and you bite, probably harder than you should, but you just can’t refuse the urge to mark him the way that he’s left his mark on you. He moans, a deep and boyish sound in your ear, as you drag your tongue along his shoulder, soothing the bite, tasting his sweat. The salt and the sweetness of his skin, mixed with the heady smell of sex in the room, have you losing yourself in him.
“Biter.” You hear him chuckle dangerously, rumbling along your skin while his nose skirts your jawline. 
“You’re so good, Stevie-” you whine, hot pleasure rearing up in you like a tidal wave. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, I love- love how you feel inside me.”
Steve groans loudly into your shoulder, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You think he has a mind to bite you back- maybe he’d do it harder. You can see Steve drawing blood, when the mood suits him. 
But his hand squeezes yours, his other sweeping broadly up your thigh and hitching your leg up further over his hip. “Yeah?” His voice is rough, bordering on a growl, “What’d’ya say we stay like this forever, huh? Just like this?” 
His pelvis grinds up against yours, his pubes crushing against your clit making you gasp. Everything’s wet- your skin, his skin, the sheets. Sweaty bodies sticking and sliding against each other, your hips meeting his in the middle.
“Like this?” you gasp, your head reeling. His forehead presses against yours, and it’s just about the only thing bringing you back into focus. Steve doesn’t falter, keeping the same pace and rhythm while he watches you try to form a coherent reply. “Mm- I- I, hhuh-”
“C’mon, babygirl,” he breathes against your damp skin, “you can do better than that. You love my cock so much, you wanna keep it warm all the time? Wanna stay in bed with me forever, is that it?”
You nod fervently, your hands grabbing at his neck, his hair, his shoulder- anywhere you can touch. “Yes, yes. God, Steve, I- you’re gonna make me cum, shit-”  
“I know it,” Steve murmurs, tugging your lip between his teeth and making you whine again. Your cunt pulses around him, and he hisses, his hand slipping on your thigh. “Love seein’ you all drunk on my cock- shit, you’re so gorgeous like this.” He pauses to kiss you, making you lightheaded, making you tug at his hair. “Y’look so pretty under me, baby. Pussy feels so good, I wanna stay here, too. I can see us doin’ this for the rest of our lives, huh? How’s that sound?” 
How does it sound? You and Steve Harrington, together forever? Intertwined, knotted up with no way to lose each other, no disappearing and then reappearing years down the line?
“S’that a challenge?” you whimper shakily at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?” 
“I don’t think I could let you go, now,” Steve tells you firmly, his hand leaving your thigh so that he can grab your jaw possessively, his tongue darting out to trace gently across your bottom lip. “I’m never gonna let you go, baby.”
You wrap your legs around his waist. “I don’t want you to.”
“I hope so,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours.
Steve kisses you long and slow when you cum. You swallow his moans when he does.
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What would you? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you, oh, I can see you…
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You almost think it’s a dream. When you rouse in the morning, you feel like you imagined it. But you’re surrounded by the scent of Steve, of musky cologne and sweat and sex, and maybe just a little bit of hair gel stuck to his pillows. 
You flop over and stare at the ceiling. You’re alone in a king size bed, fitted with gray sheets and a few too many pillows. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your paramour is nowhere to be found. His bedroom is fairly stark, with a few little things arranged on the dresser top and clothes thrown around the floor. It doesn’t feel like a room he spends much time in, aside from sleeping and dressing in the morning.
You immediately think about what this all means for you. Whether he really meant what he said in the heat of the moment, if he really wants this to be a long-term thing or if it was just pillow talk. It doesn’t take you long to determine which one you want it to be.
There’s commotion on the other side of the closed door. You lean over the side of the bed, searching for something to put on before you just waltz out there naked. Ultimately, you pull on his blouse from last night.
You emerge from the bedroom squinting against the light in the room. The blinds in the living room are open, casting bright sunlight across the room and into the kitchen. You find Steve in front of the stove.
“Hey, there she is!” he announces happily. “Just in time for breakfast.”
Steve looks so comfortable in the kitchen, moving around quickly and efficiently, whereas you tend to blunder about. When you wander over to the island, you notice he’s already picked up his suit jacket, and laid it across the bar stool next to the one you choose. 
Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.
You grin at his back, plopping down onto the bar stool. The metal is cold against your bare ass, nearly making you squeal and jump back up. “Is it a Sex on the Beach?”
He laughs gleefully. “Nah, if only. How was that, by the way?” 
“The ice cream, or the porn?”
He turns to grin at you over his shoulder. “Both.”
He’s wearing glasses. Round wire frames that complement his face perfectly, making him look distinguished in his gray sweats and black t-shirt. Just like that, you’re spiraling. Suddenly, you’re picturing yourself being here, with him cooking breakfast in his glasses and PJ’s every morning, on and on into the future. Doing domestic shit, grocery shopping, dancing around in the kitchen at 3 am, kissing in the rain- well, you’ve already done that one.  
But you can see it. That future, with him by your side, it’s right there. You just don’t know if it’s the one that he wants. You don’t really know how deep this runs for him.
Funny what just an accessory can do to your train of thought.
“Um.” You swallow. What was the question? “The ice cream was great. Still the best sundae I’ve ever had, by the way. The porn was bullshit, I didn’t get through twenty minutes. I just wanted to make you blush.”
“Brat.” He spins around, and plates an omelet right in front of you. You watch his face, tracing the easy smile he wears. “I hope you like it- but if you don’t, you better not say anything. I don’t think I could handle the pain of your rejection.” He looks up at you, hazel eyes shining gold in the sunlight. “You’re staring.”
“I-” you blink at him. You don’t fucking say. You open your mouth to ask- you want to ask what this is, what he feels, did he mean it. Do you want to do this again? Is this serious for you? Because it is for me, if you want it. You just don’t get that far.
“You’ve been staring since we were fourteen,” he chuckles, sliding you a fork. 
That startles you. “Well,” you click your tongue. “I didn’t realize you were looking so closely.”
“Oh,” Steve shrugs, turning to place the pan in the sink. “Just since freshman year. When you read Juliet’s monologue in English class. Remember?”
You tilt your head. Vaguely. It was just a class project, where each person had to choose a Shakespearean monologue to recite in front of the class. You thought he only even became aware of you senior year.
Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee, Take all myself. 
“Are you telling me,” you say, palms flat on the counter as you peer at him incredulously, “you’ve liked me just as long as I’ve liked you?”
“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”
Your brain refuses to compute. You stare at his back, his tousled hair, and want to yank him toward you and squeeze him like one of those fucking squeaky toys that you get at the pet store. The ones the eyes pop out of.
Steve turns to you with a smirk, leaning across the counter to mirror you. He reaches forward to trace the mark he made on your neck, still tender, while mocking your pout back at you. His eyes crease at the corners, like they always do when he’s trying to be coy.
“Eat your breakfast, baby. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
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(I see you, I see you, baby.)
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celestialtarot11 · 2 months ago
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Their naughty thoughts of you 🐚🙊
I most definitely am not apologizing for making this post 😤we all get a lil freaky sometimes. Anyway hope ya’ll enjoy! Feel free to like comment and reblog. 18+
divider creds: @fairytopea
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Pile 1: Welcome my little friend 😈 anyway ya’ll this is cute. My fluffy and sweet pile. They wanna see you self pleasure and you probably smell really good, so they really like that. They wanna see you dripped out in lingerie, or anything that makes you feel confident and just touch yourself in front of them. There’s something about that fantasy that gets them going. And they also fantasize about cuddling you, definitely have a praise kink 🙊 I am calling this person out—they’re like a teddy bear in bed and they do wanna be close to you as physically as they can. This person would romance you first 😮‍💨 and then get dirty. They care about feelings soo, booty call with feelings kinda vibe 🥺 and they also won’t hesitate to give you water whilst they’re doing you, like “hey you need some of this?” 😭 helpp. They’re funny too. I feel like even in bed they fantasize about awkward cute moments between ya’ll. This is making me gush they are cute lol. Yall could never dating or haven’t done sexual stuff yet, but they definitely think about owning your heart first and worshipping you as you are! They’d take their time and kiss everywhere and make sure you’re all comfortable in bed or where else ya’ll prefer doing the dirty 😭 I also feel like they fantasize about making you cry their name and have you be an emotional mess (in a good way) from all the pleasure. Whoo. Pile 1. There you have it 👀 a lil something spicy. Hope yall enjoyed and feel free to like comment and reblog 🤍
Pile 2: My god pile 2 is it me or is the tension hot on both sides 😭 the person you’re asking about and you. I feel like both of yall have such strong vivid imaginations and wild ideas. I heard it goes both ways, so its not one person if you need confirmation. I feel like your person idolizes you, I heard maneater so they definitely see you as someone to worship. And not just anyone but a divine being. I feel like they wanna do everything right by you—even if it means being submissive to you. They’d fall to their knees for you 😤 this is the kinda energy they’re bringing!! And we’re not complaining 🥺 love to see it. I feel they fantasize about kissing messily, grabbing each other up and pressing everywhere. And fingering, lots of exploring. They wanna feel all the juices everywhere. And I think they fantasize about blowjobs, or at least having their fluids in your mouth. They just want to see the visual of it and replay it over and over. They fantasize about sitting in a chair whilst your between their legs, and they succumb to your touch. Like you’re just their devouring them and they have no choice but to take it 😭 maneater vibes fr. And I also feel like they’re kinda shy about their fantasies which makes it cuter but they want it. They want it to happen. I think they hide it a lot from you and put on a stoic face but deep down they cant ignore their freak!! Their freak is calling them 😩 “is somebody gonna match my freak” help. Its playing in my head 😭 anyway pile 2 yall get a room and get it on or something, hope yall liked this. Feel free to like and comment and reblog 🥰
Pile 3: hey guys, what is this? Damsel in distress fantasy? 😭 guys I feel like your person has a fantasy where you come running to them and you just want in on their world. Like consumed by all their pleasure and wanting only them. Its giving they want you to be hooked and obsessed on their energy, and the way they do you. They want you coming back for more. I have no idea if anyone here is into threesomes—someone here likes that. Also getting high or drinking alcohol might be something they fantasize about. It’s also giving daddy kink like ddlg, I picked up on. I heard pet play too. Im not judging just writing whatever spirit is telling me ☕️ I feel like they dream about you joining their sex filled world. Like this person could be experienced and they fantasize about showing you all the things they know and teaching you—and its like this thing where they help you reach your release because they know your body. They know where to touch and please you. I don’t know if some of yall never had sex before, but I’m picking that vibe too. I feel like this person is possessive of you in bed and only wants your attention on them. They want you completely focused on them. Geez this is intense! 😮‍💨 it’s giving Scorpio and strong mars energy. Maybe they have a lot of mars aspects or placement in their chart. But either way—they have lots of stamina. Strong bdsm vibes. And they want to spend lots of time doing foreplay to draw it out before finally giving in. Only when you’re comfortable. Like I see a feather being trailed down your spine and teasing you—this person KNOWS. Anyway yall, be safe always & at your discretion, have fun 😈 hope yall liked! Feel free to like comment and reblog to help this blog grow.
Thank yall sm for reading! Definitely bringing in that nsfw vibe 😈 hope yall enjoyed the freakiness. 18+ only 👀
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Extra 🤍
Paid readings 🤍
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