#It's been 84 years but it's finally coming over.

[satoshi-mochida]

Fate/stay night REMASTERED announced for Switch, PC

Gematsu Source

Publisher Aniplex and developer TYPE-MOON have announced Fate/stay night REMASTERED, a remastered version of the PS Vita Title Fate/stay night Realta Nua for Switch and PC (Steam). It will launch in 2024 worldwide with English, Japanese, and Simplified Chinese language support.

Watch the announcement teaser trailer below. Visit the official website here. Follow the game on Twitter @Fate_SN_Game.

Announce Teaser Trailer

English

Japanese

[woulddieforloki]

ITS BEEN EIGHT MONTHS AND 200K WORDS BUT IVE FINALLY PROGRESSED FROM SEPTEMBER 2012 TO NOVEMBER 2013 IN MY FIC AND NOW IT'S THE DARK WORLD TIME

[reiding-writing]

Hey Red! I really enjoyed all of your writings especially because I am also a sucker for angst and hurt/comfort fic. Anyway, can I request fic about post-prison Spencer x reader (romantic) where the reader is the one who distanced herself from Spencer because after the first time Spencer released from prison, he doesn't want to touch anyone? Bet he'll be so heartbroken and thinking that she's over their relationship. Thank you! Sorry if it's too specific ❤️

distance [ s.r ]

Spencer makes a show of physically distancing himself from his teammates after he returns from prison, and in trying to abide by that boundary you accidentally misread his intentions

WARNINGS: miscommunication, established relationship

pairing: post-prison!spencer x gn!reader

genre: ANGST, hurt/comfort, happy ending

wc: 1.6k

masterlist!!

a/n: gave this one a happy ending as an apology for transgression-

You waited for 84 days to see him again; And yet now he’s stood here in front of you you can’t even bring yourself to speak to him.

He’s thinner than you remember. His cheekbones show more prominently. He has stubble lining his chin. His hair is more unruly. His eyes don’t shine anymore.

Spencer changed in those 84 days, and the second you caught his eyes a hairline fracture formed in your heart.

Gone was the Spencer who would light up at the most insignificant thing. Gone was the Spencer who would look at you with those sweet innocent eyes that would make you weak at the knees. Gone was the Spencer who would link his pinky finger in yours so that he could anchor himself to you no matter where you were.

Gone was the Spencer you knew.

Your Spencer didn’t exist anymore.

You watched as he swerved a hug from Morgan as he entered the office, clasping both of his hands behind his back with an awkward smile as he walked through the bullpen towards you were standing in front of his desk, eerily resembling the 23 year old Spencer who avoided everyone like they had the plague.

“Hey Spence…” Your voice is a lot more breathless than you thought it’d be, only amplified as you look into those gorgeous hazel eyes that you’d dreamed about being able to look into again for the past three months. “..How are you?”

It’s a completely unnecessary question Spencer thinks, it makes it sound like you’re just his co-worker and not the love of his life.

“I’m alright…” His eyebrows twitch when you take a few steps away from his desk as he nears you, like you can’t bear to be too close.

Then again, he probably looks like hell, so he can’t entirely blame you.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

“That’s good,” You press your lips into a line, nodding softly with your eyes flickering everywhere except his face. He’d been gone for 84 days, but you were treating him like you’d never met.

“I’m gonna go make some coffee-” You point lamely towards the kitchenette with your thumb, sliding past him to walk towards it as he watched you leave, eyes burning into the back of your head.

It was a weird feeling to say the least. You were ecstatic that he was home, that you could finally see his beautiful face again and know that he wasn’t suffering in a prison cell. But you weren’t sure how to express that. Whether you should express that.

You fumble with the coffee machine as you lose yourself in your thoughts. Everything about Spencer’s body language when he entered the office told you he wanted space, and you wanted to respect that.

You understood that he’d definitely been through a lot over the past few months and that he wanted time to collect himself before he let anybody else back in; But the way he looked at you when you moved away from him made you unsure. Did he want to be left alone? Did he actually want you to suffocate him with a hug like you were originally planning on doing?

You weren’t sure. And that was the worst part, because depending on which option you chose you could unintentionally swerve things into being worse than they already were.

You chose the safe option. Let him come to you. Leave him be and allow him to choose what he wanted.

He didn’t approach you for a few days, and you figured that meant your decision was correct, that he truly did just want some space to gain his bearings again and allow himself the downtime to focus on himself before anyone else.

You were wrong.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Spencer caught you right as you left the office, stood in the middle of the hallway leading to the elevator with an exhausted expression on your face after working for almost 10 straight hours.

You do nothing more than blink in his direction at his question, exhaustion morphing into confusion once your eyes catch him expression.

You could see his own tiredness echoed through the bags forming under his eyes and the way his shoulders slumped at his sides, but you could also see a flicker of hurt floating around in his gaze, seemingly amplified under the white florescents as if to torture you.

“I’m- not avoiding you Spencer,”

“Yes you are.” His tone is rigid, a stark difference from the soft and whispered tone you’d grown used to with him. It felt like having a bucket of ice water poured over your head, and as if to physically acknowledge that feeling, a shudder ran its way up your spine and into the base of your skull. “Every time I’m within ten feet of you, you make an excuse to leave.”

You can’t really argue with him there. You had been keeping your distance. But only because you thought that’s what Spencer wanted.

“Do you not love me anymore? Is that it? Am I too broken for you now?”

“What- No-” Your confusion turns into shock at his accusations, and you immediately shake your head in denial.

“Then why are you treating me like a stranger you’ve never met?” His tone borders between angry and upset, and you can see the start of tears forming in his eyes as he stares at you like you’d just ripped up a first-edition copy of his favourite book.

“I waited for the day i’d finally be able to see you again and now you’re acting like I never existed in your mind at all.” You can hear the strain in his voice as he tries to stop it from cracking under his emotions.

“Spence-”

“Have you moved on? You found someone better for you right?”

“Spencer-”

“I hope he makes you happy-”

He barely has time to get out the last sentence as you give a sharp tug on his tie and pull his face down to yours, effectively silencing all of his insecurities with a kiss. It’s soft but firm, and slightly salty. He must’ve started crying.

“I love you Spencer.” Your words hold no room for debate as your lips part from his, connection maintained through the way your foreheads press together.

“But you- Why did you- I thought…” His mind seems to run a thousand miles a minute as he stares at you, finally close enough to see the details of your face that nobody else had the privilege to know. “I thought you didn’t love me anymore…”

“Spence…” You shake your head as it rests against his, a firm denial of his doubt in your complete and utter adoration of him.

“But you kept moving away from me whenever i’d try to come over to you,” He speaks through stuttered breaths, his eyes squeezed shut to hopefully stop the tears that assault his cheeks, running hot down his skin and pooling underneath the curve of his chin.

“I just thought you wanted space baby,” Your thumbs move deftly over his cheeks, wiping away the streaks of tears and taking Spencer’s insecurity with them. “I saw you dodging everyone’s advances and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,”

“I don’t want space from you,” When he opens his eyes again, they’re big, round, and still glistening with the moisture of his tears. But most of all they’re filled with nothing but pure affection for you. “I never want space from you…”

You sure that if you keep eye contact with him for much longer that you’ll start crying yourself, so you redirect his head to lie against your shoulder as you wrap your arms tight around his torso.

“I missed you…” His voice is so quiet that if you weren’t holding him in your arms you wouldn’t have heard it.

“I missed you too Spence,” Your head rests against his, you hand rubbing soft lines up and down his spine over his shirt as he soaks in all the affection he’s missed over the last three months.

“Can I stay at yours tonight? Please?” His gaze is enough of a ‘please’ in itself, but the way his voice drops to almost a whisper when he adds the plea onto the end of his question makes it impossible for you to deny him. Although it’s not like you were going to in the first place.

“Of course you can Spence,” You place a kiss to his left temple as you carefully break the hug, taking his hand in yours to lead him to the elevator. “Lets go home,”

[catharusustulatus]

Steve has never actually kissed anyone on New Year’s Eve before. After he and Nancy reconciled post-Demogorgon showdown in 83 they’d gotten close, but Mike had interrupted them on the Wheeler’s front porch, the little shit. And after Nancy, well, he’d been alone in 84. In 85, he and Robin built a blanket fort in his living room and drank themselves sick on root beer until the ball dropped, and he’d held her hand while they drifted asleep, kissing out of the question; he loved her in a different, deeper way.

And now…now it’s 86, about to be 87, and Eddie is alive, miraculously, and all of them are gathered in the new Hopper-Byers house, and Eddie has been flirting with him ever since Steve manhandled his mangled body to the hospital, Steve’s an idiot but he’s not stupid, and here’s Eddie looking at him like Steve is alive, too. Eddie looks at him and something awakens. There’s an electricity in the air, the kind he told Dustin about once upon a time in the woods.

So when he knows no one is watching, he looks Eddie deep in the eye and says “share a smoke?” And they leave the room together for the quiet cold of the backyard, still mostly weeds and the dark of winter and Steve can see Eddie’s breath. Can see how alive he is. He’s been worried about him all year, intrigued by him, pulled toward. And now here they are. The dim patio bulb flickers and before Steve can get out a cig, can say another word, before he can say “happy new year Eddie I can’t stop thinking about you and I know you’ve been flirting with me for months and I want you I want you just as bad will you kiss me?” Eddie is already kissing him.

And it’s soft. It’s so soft, because Eddie is smiling against his mouth in a kiss, his left hand coming up to hold Steve’s chin. And then it’s hotter, their breath mixing as they both open their mouths wider, kissing deeper, feeling their lips move together and Steve can’t believe it can’t think can’t hear the screen door open can’t stop kissing Eddie until he feels Eddie pull away, removing his hands from his hair, hears Robin say “uh, earth to dingus one and two, hello!?”

Steve just stares at Eddie, blushing and smiling. He doesn’t turn to her, can’t look away when he says “hi Rob.” Eddie won’t look away either. Eddie won’t look away from him, does the opposite, grabs Steve’s hand. Steve feels like he’s floating.

“Oh my god, lover boys. It’s only” Steve sees her lift her wrist in his peripheral vision, “ten thirty. It’s only ten thirty and you’re already kissing!” He can hear her exasperation, but beneath he knows, he can feel her approval. He can’t help it, he’s relieved. He’s happy. He starts to giggle.

Eddie starts to laugh too, pulling Steve closer. Steve finally looks over to see Robin rolling her eyes, but she’s also beaming, her face lit by the single bulb, and they pull her down to them, hug her, kiss her on the cheeks. “Ah, my freckled friend. You won’t spill the beans, will you?” Eddie asks.

Robin pinches Eddie’s cheek. “Your secret’s safe with me, hotshot.” Steve knows down to his bones it’s true. Knows she’ll cover for them. This makes him feel even giddier. “I’ll, uh. Let you two get back to it” she says, and then she’s gone, and it’s just Eddie looking at him again, staring at Steve like he’s a second moon, a pretty thing.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, until they slide out of the grass and out the back gate and kiss their way back to Steve’s car, into his house and bed and heart and it’s already a good year.

[leclercss]

Tainted Love, Part 6 (Charles Leclerc ft Lewis Hamilton)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: it's been 84 years since i posted part 5. life has been shit, but i'm back. please forgive me for my absence.

word count: 6.9k

taglist: @ironmaiden1313, @ru-kru, @buendiabebeta, @flwr-quicksilver, @ravioli19, @julesandro, @hornedravenclaws, @thatobsessedreader @pinkangelavenue, @queenofshinigamis, @notleclerc, @paullinne, @bisexualbith, @tempo-rary-fix, @bbygrlllllll, @teenagedreams-cl, @lunamelona, @leclerc16s, @palomaxaxaxa

A few months had passed by since the night of Joris’ party and things were … different. But they were a good different.

The dynamic had changed between you and Lewis and there was finally a positive change in your relationship. Even though you had lied about coming home, specifically for him, he had believed you (or so you thought, or hoped). And he thanked you for your perceived loyalty by basically mounting you and devouring your body with wet and hungry kisses. Leaving his touch on every single inch of your body that he could find with his mouth.

Poor Roscoe was kicked out of the bedroom at some point so Lewis could give you his full attention, with no distractions. And you let him.

You let him lick, kiss, nibble and suck on your nipples before he made his way down your body so he could lick, kiss, nibble and suck on your clit. Doing everything in his power to hear you moan for him. And God, did you moan.

And the moaning only grew louder when he threw your legs over his shoulders and fucked you into an oblivion. His braids hanging loose and dangling over your face. His chain moving back and forward against his chest. His tattoos flexing as he moved in and out of you.

You moaned and moaned, gripping onto his biceps for dear life as he brought you both to your climax, coating you in his cum.

You see, the issue in your relationship was never the sex that you had. Lewis was very skilled and experienced in that department. The issue was that the two of you weren’t having sex. Or, before you met Charles, Lewis was having sex and not just with you.

But it was different that night. For once, he had come crawling to you. And it had now become very clear that you no longer needed to shape shift into who Lewis wanted you to be. And the very attention that you once fought for was no longer needed. No, you could very easily get what you needed from another man. Something that Lewis was now very aware of.

And you longer needed the intimacy from him which was something that you had begged and pleaded with him for, for so long.

Not now that Charles was giving you all of that - the love, the intimacy, the validation.

It was plainly obvious but you didn't quite know that Lewis was scared. Scared that the girl he had married four years ago had grown and changed, and not in the way that comforted him (and his ego). He couldn't control you in the same way that he could before. And now that you had started to change, he could no longer treat your relationship as a one-sided game.

A game that was going to be much trickier than either of you had anticipated.

As for your relationship with Charles, well it was only getting better. You were growing closer to each other by the day - physically, mentally, emotionally. The two of you would find any opportunity to spend your time with one another that you could, within reason.

Going over to his to watch movies or f1, dates around London or the occasional nights out. Even his friends had overcome their original scepticism around your relationship with Charles and now welcomed you with open arms, that was when Whitney wasn't around of course.

That was because she was still seeing Joris - even though it was a very casual, transactional relationship, they still spent time together. Which meant that you had to be careful when co-ordinating your visits to Charles' place.

But your newfound happiness hadn't gone unnoticed by your best friend. After the night you had spent with Charles at Joris' party and after your reconciliation with Lewis, you were a happier person. The previous weight of your marriage was no longer holding you back and Whitney couldn't help but question what had changed. She was happy for you but as a best friend, she wanted to know who or what to be thankful for for the positive changes you had made.

When she asked, you had told her that you and Lewis had patched things up. You had felt your relationship grow stale but following the girl's night out that you had joined her on, you and Lewis came to the wonderful realisation that you were better together than apart.

"So I should thank Charles, Joris' friend, for fixing your marriage?" she had asked you, teasing you.

"Oh, that? Guess we could call it a test in our relationship. Lewis and I needed one to see how strong our relationship was," you had replied. Your performance felt Oscar-worthy.

"You stole that line from Love Island," she scoffed. Despite her underlying scepticism, she finally let the subject go for the sake of your friendship.

You were both well aware that she had never fully agreed with your marriage to Lewis. She had known you before you had met him, through the start of your relationship and through your marriage. And she’d seen you morph your personality and beliefs around Lewis to satisfy him - whether it be big or small. She’d witnessed you go from idolising him to not wanting to be near him to suddenly having a solid relationship again.

There was a few rumours around at one point that Lewis had a wandering eye but eventually those seemed to die down and you had never mentioned anything. So as a best friend, she had kept quiet and accepted your relationship even if Whitney thought that his treatment of you was subpar. It was your marriage after all.

But deep down, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something that you weren’t telling her about your relationship with Lewis.

-

“How does it feel to be practically 30 this weekend?”

Charles being Charles practically snorted at his own question. He didn't even need an answer from you to burst into laughter.

At least he found his question funny, he'd been teasing you all evening that you were turning 28 next weekend.

Becoming another year older didn’t scare you, if anything you were excited for the year ahead. But for Charles, he took every opportunity possible to remind you there you were now closer to 30 than 25.

You rolled your eyes as you pushed the button for the elevator, some slight aggression in your movement which only had Charles giggling even more.

"Is it this year or next year that you start receiving your state pension?"

“Charles Leclerc, one more age comment and I swear to God,” you growled.

He's trying his best to hold back his laughter as you throw daggers in his direction but he's failing miserably. He'd been insufferable all evening. He didn't even hesitate earlier this evening to tell the waiter in the restaurant that he was dating “an older woman”. His comment was met with a kick under the table.

He clearly hadn't learnt his lesson from earlier in the day when you fired the birthday card that he had gotten you directly at his head. Something about ageing like fine wine was enough for you to launch it at him.

He let out one last giggle before wrapping his arms around you. Your body tightly held against his.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered in your ear which was followed by a wet kiss against your ear lobe.

Your eyes shut from the feeling instantly.

"Mmm... you better be," you sighed. "Or else you can find some other poor woman who's willing enough to lick your-"

Ding!

You were cut off by the sound of the elevator arriving. Charles untangled himself from your body before taking your hand in his, joining an elderly couple in the lift.

The rest of your sentence was definitely not safe for their ears.

As you made your way up to your hotel floor in the elevator, you stood in silence, enjoying the feeling of being able to be out in public with Charles in peace.

He had kept his promise and had taken you to Oxford for a birthday treat since he couldn't spend your actual birthday with you. And it was one of the most romantic weekend's you had since ... well ... maybe in forever.

Maybe it was that Mediterranean charm but Charles definitely knew what he was doing when it came to treating you. Old woman jokes aside, he had been perfect all weekend. It had all felt so intimate and special. From the hotel, to the sex, to the gifts - he had made the entire weekend all about you.

And you didn't know where to begin to thank him for this. It was all so new to you.

Usually, you spent your birthday with Lewis and while he was always willing to splash the cash on you, it was always flashy and never intimate.

Lewis being the extravagant man that he was always took the opportunity to get you both dressed up as if you were attending the Oscar’s After Party before you were wined and dined at one of London’s many fancy and expensive restaurants. Last year it was Sushi Samba. God knows where this years birthday would be.

Wherever it would take place, it was always so loud and extra. A great opportunity to celebrate for Instagram but never actually to celebrate you as a person. You had paid no attention before, that was just Lewis' personality after all. But the more time you spent with Charles, the more you felt that maybe yourself and Lewis just weren't that compatible.

You were pulled back to reality by Charles tugging on your hand as you arrived at your floor. You wished the elderly couple good night before making your way towards your hotel room.

As Charles began to open the door with the room key, you noticed a smirk tugging at his lips.

"You weren't serious before were you?" he asked.

You couldn't help but let out a light chuckle as Charles opened the door, letting you enter first.

"Oh, I was definitely serious about never licking you- Oh my God! Charles ... this is so beautiful".

You gasped as you turned to face him as he shut the door behind him before slowly making his way towards you. A beaming smile plastered across his face.

"Did you do this?" you whispered as you took in the scene around you.

Your romantic weekend only became more romantic as the room was dimly lit by dozens of candles accompanied with rose petals scattered across the entire bed. You couldn't help but notice the bottle of champagne and the chocolate cake with the message "Bonne anniversaire, mon amour" sitting on the vanity.

You turned to Charles once more, this time with a few tears in your eyes, and threw your arms around his neck. Your lips met his in a sweet, delicate kiss.

"I had some help, but yeah, I wanted to do something special".

His voice was so soft that you could almost feel yourself melt against him.

"Charles, I," you began but you couldn't seem to find the words. "I don't know what to say".

He smiled at you softly, your eyes beginning to get lost in his through the candlelight.

"You don't need to say anything, amour, being here with you is enough".

You hadn't realised that one of your tears had spilled over until Charles used his thumb to wipe it from your cheek.

His lips soon replaced his thumb on your skin. They lingered there for a few moments before slowly making their way towards your jaw and down your neck. Your fingers found their usual place in his hair. Your head slowly falling backwards as he left wet kisses across your skin.

"Mmm... Charles," you gasped as his lips made their way towards your breasts. His movements were gentle yet swift as he moved the straps of your silk dress off your shoulders. The soft material soon finding a new home by your ankles.

Charles was an expert these days in removing your clothes.

You found yourself hissing as his lips mouth found themselves around your hardened nipples. His movements alternating between nibbling the sensitive area to soothing your skin with soft licks and gentle kisses.

God, he was so good at this. And you made it known he was good at this through the gentle moans that fell from your tongue so effortlessly.

He slowly moved you backwards towards the bed, laying you down gently as his body now hovered over yours, his lips never leaving you once.

Through the pleasure, you reached out to him and began slowly unbuttoning his shirt, so desperately wanting to feel his bare skin against yours. Despite the slow pace, you were beginning to get desperate for him to touch you in as many places as possible.

The two of your found yourselves entirely naked in the minutes that followed. Your lips never leaving each other until you felt Charles pulling away. Your eyes immediately opened at feeling his absence.

"Ch-"

You were beginning to whine at no longer feeling him but you were quickly silenced when you noticed Charles playing with a pair of handcuffs.

"Thought we could give these a go," the words that left his mouth were paired with a deep lust in his eyes.

You answered with a nod as your eyes moved downwards to take in the sight of his hard cock. A feeling of excitement and thrill began coursing around your body. Fuck, you were so wet already.

"Where do you want my lips, amour?" Charles whispered into your ear as he leaned over you to cuff both of your hands to the headboard.

You didn't answer at first, you were too busy squeezing your legs together to stop the pool of wetness growing between them.

"Do you want my lips here?" he asked seductively as he placed a kiss on your sternum.

When you didn't answer, he found his way to your nipple, giving it a lick. "Mmm..." you moaned but it wasn't enough. You wanted his head between your legs, but the thrill of him cuffing you to the bed had made you lose your ability to speak.

"Not there either? What about here?"

You felt a kiss against your stomach.

You shook your head.

"Use your words, amour," he teased as he stared up at you through his eyelashes.

"Lower".

He obliged, but he was beginning to tease you now. He placed a gentle kiss on your bikini line.

"No! Lower," you growled.

But your tone of voice didn't sync up with the movements of your body as your legs opened themselves up for him.

"Ohhh, you meant here?" he teased.

You were tempted to kick him but the feeling of him placing a long, slow lick against your slit stopped you. Instead, you let out a long moan and your hips bucked upwards towards his face.

"Is that what you meant?"

You grunted. "Yes, please. I want you there," you gasped.

Charles smirked up at you once last time before giving you the best birthday gift a girl could ask for as his mouth found itself wrapped around your clit.

"Oh my god!"

His tongue began working overtime down below as he searched for every crevice and millimetre of your pussy. His nose pressed right against your clit was only adding to the sensation.

"Oh Charles, like that".

God, it was almost embarrassing how desperate you sounded for him but how could you not be when he was eating you out like this? His tongue was working wonders on you. His fingers very quickly joined the party as he began to open you up, preparing you, as he pushed two of his fingers inside of you.

All you wanted to do was grab onto his hair or claw at his skin but you were prevented from doing so by the handcuffs around your wrists. You had to settle for digging you heels into his back as he continued his assault on you.

Charles was trying his best to control himself and pleasure you further but from the taste of your juices on his tongue, to the pornographic moans that left your mouth, he was pretty sure that his dick was ready to explode at any moment.

"Please, Charles, please".

"Please, what, baby?"

He wasn't sure how he was acting so composed right now when all he wanted to do was dick you down.

"Please, I wanna cum".

Your pleas caused Charles to instinctively quicken his pace and only a few moments later he felt you release on his tongue.

He allowed you a few moments to recover from your high as he placed gentle kisses along your inner thighs. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you. His cock twitching at the sight of your juices coating them.

He looked up at you to see you eyes halfway closed as your tried to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling while doing so. Missing the feeling of you, he pushed his coated fingers past your lips and you found the energy to slowly lick and suck on his skin.

"How do you taste?"

"Mmm..." you nod. Your energy spent from the pleasure he's just given you. But despite your tired state, you want more from him. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him back against your body.

"Fuck me, please," you whisper between heavy breaths. Your tired eyes met his in a lustful gaze.

Your wish was Charles' command as he secured your legs around his waist even further. He didn't even need to warm you up again down below, his cock slid into you so easily from the dessert he had treated himself to a few moments ago.

"Merde".

He already felt his cock twitch inside you at the slick feeling and he hadn't even thrusted inside of you yet.

"Mmmm... Charles, come on," you groaned.

You were clearly ready for more.

He obliged, his rhythm was slow at first, conscious of your recent orgasm but he soon began to pick up a steady pace.

You felt more restricted than ever as you wriggled your wrists in the cuffs, wanting to cling onto him for dear life as he began thrusting into you with some momentum.

You felt sorry for the guests in the next hotel room, praying that it was empty as the headboard began to bang against the wall repeatedly.

"Oh, shit," you cried out as you thighs began to squeeze around him.

Ready to fuck you into an oblivion, Charles threw your legs over his shoulders and thrusted even harder into you.

A chain of Jesus Christs and oh fucks left your lips and your thighs continued to tremble around him.

You definitely felt sorry for the guests in the next room now.

Charles felt his high quickly approaching. Fuck, he'd only been inside you for a few minutes but you already had him close to his climax.

His lips found the side of your legs and he began to gently kiss and lick your skin but the movements of his hips contradicted his intentions. Despite the candles and rose petals, this was anything but romantic. He was fucking the shit out of you.

And he was preparing himself for a noise complaint from reception as the noises you were both making were animalistic.

"I'm so close," you cried out.

Your cries were quickly followed by your second orgasm of the evening as you came once more. Charles soon followed, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he began to fill you up.

Once he had finished, the movement of his hips slowly came to a halt. Your tired legs falling from his shoulders and back onto the mattress with a light thud.

With the little energy he had left, Charles slowly uncuffed you from the headboard and pulled your limp body onto his as he crashed onto the mattress.

Your lips found each others once more in the candlelight. The kiss, sloppy and wet as exhaustion hit you both.

"That was incredible," you whispered. Charles hummed in response.

You felt your head fall onto his chest. His heart still thumping beneath you but he made sure to comfort you as you felt his fingers run softly through your now messy hair.

Charles lay quiet for a few moments as he began to catch his breath. When he found his ability to speak, he couldn't control the words that fell from his tongue.

"I think I'm falling in love with you".

[starchaserwrites]

@jegulus-microfic / february 8: headphones / word count: 363

James usually climbs the steps to the entrance of the old library as fast as his 84 years allow, he used to be able to run up them two at a time with ease, but things change with age. However, considering that today is a special day, he takes his time to climb the stairs slowly and caress the handrail that has seen him come and go countless times. 

Once inside, he heads straight for the place he has claimed as his own approximately 62 years ago: the poetry section. Oh, but it would be a lie to say that he has had exclusive ownership of it all this time, as only six months ago he was rarely there alone.

James takes a minute to contemplate the large number of poetry books of which he has read practically all while sitting at the table closest to the large window, where "the light bounces and seems to come from you, mon soleil" as a certain person used to tell him. Then he walks the next thirty steps to what has become the most important corner of probably the whole world for James over the last few months. The spines of the books on that shelf are unique and unmistakable. Next to it, there is a table with green headphones that sits just below the hanging portrait of a man with the most beautiful grey eyes James has ever seen in his long life. 

Smiling, he warmly looks at the picture for a long moment before finally sitting down and putting on the green headphones that have become so familiar. When he turns on the player and the voice he loves so much begins to recite the poems he’s heard whispered in his ears so passionately countless times, he can't stop the tears from welling up his eyes. Covering his face with his forearms, he leans over the table and sobs. 

Today would have been their 58th anniversary. 

The poems continue to be read by a soothing voice.

And it is there, beneath the frame engraved "Regulus Potter, 1941 - 2023" and surrounded by the things his star loved most, that James Potter closes his eyes.

[loveinhawkins]

The day before Spring Break ‘84, Eddie has a panic attack so bad he stays locked in a bathroom stall long after the final bell has rung.

And it’s so stupid. It’s not like the whole thing came as a surprise to him: he saw the writing on the wall even back in December, his grades on a continual downward spiral he couldn’t shift.

But he kept on trucking cause he’s still got the mind of a five year old, apparently, hoping against hope that things would just miraculously work out.

Idiot.

He doesn’t have anything worth getting riled up over, no mistreatment to distract him—sure, if it was O’Donnell doing the honours, she might’ve been a little mean about it, but instead he’d been directed to the school receptionist who confirmed the ‘unfortunate news’ with an uninterested if pleasant smile.

She asked if he’d talked to his homeroom teacher about his predicament, and he’d promptly lied through his teeth and said yes, even though he’d rather die than do anything of the sort. Then she went on about his ‘many options’, a prospective timetable for next semester, some forms to fill in, blah, blah, blah.

“Would you want a call home?” she’d said, already reaching for the phone. “We can go through the process with—”

“No, thanks,” Eddie told her quickly. He stuffed the forms into his bag. “I’ve got—I’ll let my uncle know.”

The thought of Wayne having his day off interrupted by such news made him feel nauseous.

Fuck, Wayne. He’ll be waiting for him.

At that realisation, Eddie goes cold then hot then cold again. He stumbles, gets the stall door open eventually, shakes the jittery feeling out of his fingers.

The parking lot’s still busy—students lazily chatting, perched half in, half-out of their cars; all they’ve got to worry about is whether they’re invited to Tina’s or Josh’s or whoever-the-fuck’s—depends on whose parents have unwisely left their house empty for the week.

Eddie’s stayed so long that he’s missed the bus, so he starts the trudge home, grits his teeth at every stab of his boots cutting into his heels—the van isn’t even on his periphery yet, still many months of scraping and saving to go until it’s his.

He’s almost out the school grounds. He crosses the road entirely on autopilot, startles when he realises that he’s had to make a car do an emergency stop.

Steve Harrington waves him on with a tiny little flick of the finger, all breezy, and great, that’s all he fucking needs—Mister Cool being polite to him.

He gives a small nod of thanks before continuing his walk. Keeps his head down, eyes on the sidewalk. Doesn’t bother about whether he steps on any cracks or not; he figures his luck isn’t changing any time soon.

His palms itch. He knows it’s stupid and embarrassingly self-centred of him, but he can’t get rid the thought that everyone’s looking at him, that everyone knows somehow.

Wayne sees him coming from the porch. By the time Eddie reaches him, he’s gone inside and out, re-emerging with a can of cream soda that he cracks open and holds out with one hand.

Eddie can’t take it. He reaches for the contents of his bag, cringing inside at how the papers are already creased, he can’t even manage…

He passes the forms to Wayne. Can’t look him in the eye.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Uncle Wayne,” he says—and mortifyingly, his throat closes up, and that’s all he can get out.

There’s barely a pause before Wayne says, “Eddie. Can you look at me?” When Eddie does, he clicks his tongue quietly at whatever he must find. “Kid, you’re all right. S’not the end of the world.”

Eddie scoffs. “Damn well feels like it.”

Yup, petulant as fuck too. Why not? Might as well crash and burn.

He at least makes sure to shut the front door as apologetically as he can. There’s one singular plate in the sink that he sets about scrubbing even though it hardly needs it.

He hears Wayne come in; he’s reading still, turning the pages over thoughtfully.

Eddie keeps scrubbing.

Wayne’s probably reading the test results. Eddie doesn’t need to see to know the ones that’ll be lingered on.

He couldn’t even pass English. The one thing that was meant to be in the bag, where he could scrape a C-, and he…

What the fuck’s wrong with him? Where’s the sense in being able to write a good campaign on a whim when he can’t even…

“Eddie.” Wayne passes the cream soda can across the counter. “You keep workin’ at the sink any longer, and m’gonna start thinkin’ you’re ‘bout to give me your last will and testament.”

Eddie chuckles. Scrubs at his eyes and obligingly steps away. He picks up the can—the cold metal soothes the itch trapped in his palm.

Wayne folds the papers neatly, corner to corner.

“I’ll help you fill everything in,” he says, matter-of-fact.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll get a pen.”

But Wayne shakes his head. “Not tonight. We’ve got plans, remember?”

Eddie laughs again. ‘Got plans’, according to Wayne, means watching T.V in comfortable silence, Eddie lounging on the couch; Wayne might occasionally read out a crossword clue he���s stuck on before typically solving it on his own, and Eddie would drop off to sleep early, his last impression that of Wayne treading lightly from his armchair, turning the volume down.

It’s a comforting thought.

But he… he should be…

Wayne gives him a knowing look, waves him over to the couch.

The creak of the refrigerator door opening. Wayne’ll be starting dinner soon. Some sorta pasta, probably: it’s tradition, whenever school ends.

“Hey, Ed.”

Eddie curls up on the couch, knees to his chest. “Mm-hmm?”

“It’s fixable, all right? It ain’t a chore. You know that, right?”

Eddie smiles—he sniffles and doesn’t bother scrubbing at his eyes again when they fill up.

“Yeah, I—I know.”

The words are old, a truth he’s had to be reminded of many times; it started back when the world had ended once before, when Eddie, newly moved into Wayne’s trailer, had stammered, “I-I won’t bother you, Uncle Wayne, I swear, you won’t need to—”

And then he learnt the very first rule of the universe—save for the fact that Wayne would always, always be there to help him.

It ain’t a chore, loving you.

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 25: Christmas Day Traditions & Activities

Tags: Pre-Relationship Steddie, Christmas Morning, Christmas Fluff, Supportive Wayne Munson, Eddie Munson Is A Sweetheart,

wc: 1488 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

It’s not that Steve likes to be alone on Christmas.

He doesn’t think anyone likes to be alone on Christmas — let alone someone who aspires to be a father to six little nuggets one day.

But he has a hard time taking his friends up on their offers to host him for Christmas. Doesn’t want to feel like a burden or impose on anyone’s traditions.

He’s tried in the past — joining the Hendersons in ’84 and Robin basically held him hostage in ’85, refusing to let him wallow alone in his house like some Grinch (her words not his).

No matter how accommodating the Hendersons and Buckleys were or how many times Dustin and Robin assured him that he wasn’t imposing, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong. The cold weight in his gut and the nagging voice in his head telling him if his parents didn’t want him why would anyone else?

(He should probably go to therapy to get that checked out.)

It’s fine though, because Steve’s curated his own Christmas traditions now.

He wakes up whenever he wants to — usually still early because his body has never adjusted to the fact that it no longer needs to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to train — and makes himself an omelet or two. Then he moves into the living room and opens the gift Robin always leaves behind for him because she refuses to let him open something on Christmas.

After making his “Merry Christmas” calls and assuring Robin and Dustin that he’s fine and no, he doesn’t want to come over, he heats up the homemade casserole Ms. Henderson makes Dustin deliver by bike on the 23rd and settles down on the couch to watch this year’s Christmas Day basketball games.

It’s not much, but it works for Steve.

At least, it did until this year when Eddie threw a literal wrench in his plans by coaxing him into coming over because his car wouldn’t start and he had to pick Wayne up from a last-minute shift at the factory.

Honestly, Steve should have known it was a trap the minute he mentioned Wayne working a Christmas morning shift. Wayne and him aren’t close by any means, but he knows there’s no way Eddie’s Uncle would work on Christmas day and leave him home alone. He actually has good parenting habits, unlike some people in his life.

Still, the phone call came at six in the morning and Steve was too dizzy with sleep to question his motives until he pulled up at the Munsons to find both cars parked in their usual spots.

He doesn’t even have time to make a quick escape because Eddie’s perched on the worn sofa outside watching him.

“Took you long enough,” Eddie teases, sauntering over to Steve.

“From the looks of it you didn’t even need my help,” Steve sasses back as he gets out of the car. “Isn’t that Wayne’s car?”

Eddie glances in the direction Steve points as if he isn’t aware of the pickup truck. “Huh, guess it is. Must have been a dream I was having or something.”

“Or, something. Right,” Steve snorts, shaking his head.

“Well,” Eddie claps his hands together startling Steve. “Since we don’t actually need your help and you’re already here, you should stay for breakfast.”

“That’s okay, Eddie. I don’t—“

“Ah, ah, ah,” Eddie tuts. “You’re not bailing on me now, Stevie. Wayne’s in there whipping up his famous Christmas morning breakfast. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried his French toast casserole.”

Arguing with Eddie is worse than arguing with Dustin, so Steve saves his energy and agrees to stay for breakfast. He apologizes profusely to Wayne for the intrusion, earning a gruff “nonsense boy, you’re always welcome here,” several times before Wayne finally swats him with the spatula and insists he shut up or else.

The casserole is as delicious as Eddie made it out to be. Not that Steve was skeptical of Wayne’s ability to cook. He’s been over for chili nights and eaten Wayne’s perfectly cooked and fresh fish after the fishing trip Eddie also tricked Steve into attending.

With a full belly and Eddie’s demand met, he’s planning on heading out when he spots the mountain of dishes in the small sink. His parents may not have raised him to be kind and thoughtful, but it's the man he’s become so he hikes up the sleeves on his maroon sweater and gets to work cleaning the dishes even though both Wayne and Eddie shout at him that there’s “no chores on Christmas.” When they both offer to help, Steve throws “no chores on Christmas” back in their faces and shoos them out of the kitchen with a smile and lots of gruff laughter. 

He’s almost finished with the washing when the snow starts to fall. Not cute little snowflakes like in the movies. Oh no. Big ass sheets of snow dropping faster and faster as the seconds tick by.

Christ.

“Snowin’ mighty bad out there,” Wayne whistles, coming inside from the smoke break he insisted on taking outside. Kicking off his boots, he walks over to Steve and claps a hand on his shoulder. “‘Fraid you ain’t going anywhere.”

“I mean, it’s not that bad,” Steve says, throwing the dish towel over his other shoulder as he peers out the window. Who is he kidding? There’s no way the beemer is going to make it three feet in this weather let alone the two and a half miles to his house.

“You’ve got to be kidding, Steve!” Eddie shouts, from his spot on the couch. “If I let you leave in this weather and something happens, Henderson and Buckley will literally have my head on a stake. You’re staying and that’s final.”

He turns, expecting to find Wayne ready to object to Eddie’s theatrics but what he finds instead is the gruff man nodding his head in agreement.

“Guess m’staying then.”

Steve’s no stranger to surprises, but he’s downright perplexed when Wayne announces that it’s time to watch the Knicks game and Eddie doesn’t balk or go on some long-winded rant about how sports and Christmas don’t go together. Instead, he watches as Eddie nods and curls up on the sofa while Wayne settles in on the recliner.

“Hold on,” Steve says, waving his hands in the air to get their attention. “You, Eddie Munson, are going to watch basketball without complaining?”

“S’our Christmas tradition,” Wayne says.

“Unfortunately,” Eddie mumbles which earns him a pillow to the face curtesy of Wayne. “Hey!”

Wayne chuckles, shaking his head before shifting his attention back to Steve. “First Christmas I had Eddie, the boy was so upset after openin’ his gifts ‘cause he didn’t have nothin’ for me. Told him not to worry, just wanted him to watch the game with me. S’been a tradition ever since.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something when Eddie chimes in cutting him off.

“If you’re going to call me a hypocrite, save it.” “I wasn’t going to,” Steve says, holding his hands up in surrender. Crossing the room, he takes a seat on the sofa with Eddie, leaving the middle cushion open. “Actually, I was going to say watching the game is my Christmas tradition too.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. “Maybe it could be our tradition now. Wayne, me, you. I mean, I might not know what the hell is going on, but Wayne knows lots of fun stats he loves to share.” “Watch yourself, boy,” Wayne scolds with no bite. “S’you who never shuts up during the game. Always narrating made-up things while they play.”

“You know you love it!” Eddie defends, flipping Wayne off. After he turns his attention back to Steve, “M’sure watching with us will be better than watching alone, right?”

It’s presumptuous is what it is.

The thought of Steve coming over to the Munsons year after year to watch the basketball game. Cheer on teams and criticize plays with Wayne, listen to Eddie’s improv commentary. As if they want him crashing their traditions forever.

But something about the offer warms the usual Christmas day ache in his gut.

The truth is Steve doesn’t feel like a burden when he’s here with Wayne and Steve. He doesn’t feel like an awkward third wheel or like he’s a fly on the wall, listening to inside jokes and not understanding them.

He feels like an equal.

Like he belongs.

And what a wonderful feeling that is.

Maybe he won’t always spend Christmas with Wayne and Eddie and whatever NBA teams are playing, but today he will.

And he’s not going to deny himself this tradition next year or the year after that or any year Eddie and Wayne are eager to host him.

“Yeah, Eds,” Steve says pulling himself from his reprieve. “This is much better than watching the game alone.”

[iheartchv]

Sunny Day Jack x Reader:

I Never Forgot

What if you were one of the few people who remembered vividly about Sunny Day Jack... even after the whole show seemed to have been forgotten?

☀️Rating: Fluffy

🌈 Part 2 | 🌈 Part 3

❤💛💙❤💛💙❤💛💙❤💛💙❤💛💙❤

As a child growing up, you watched The SunnyTime Crew Show. You were 3 or 4 years old then, and you would watch every episode whenever they came out. Sure, there were plenty of interesting characters, but one that stood out to you was Sunny Day Jack. The blue haired clown was your favorite, the best friend you always wanted, and you wanted to meet him in person. At the time, money was tight, so that was one crushed childhood dream. The other was when there were no more episodes of The SunnyTime Crew Show being released. You had asked but no answers were given. You cried that one night (a few days after the incident); you felt like you had lost a best friend, and all the drawings and paintings you did hurt your little heart that you put them away in a box of memories. Jack was gone, but not forgotten...

❤💛💙❤💛💙❤💛💙❤💛💙❤💛💙

❤💛💙PRESENT DAY ❤💛💙

You're now at a threft shop, looking for clothes that wouldn't remind you of your ex, Ian. As you picked up some random stuff that fell over, you didn't notice a VCR tape that fell in your basket. As you were checking out, you were about to object to buying it, but decided that it wasn't worth 25 cents over. What could've been on the tape?On it was written '84- Incident'. Bells went off in your head seeing the year... A memory or something was trying to resurface... Borrowing a VCR player, you popped in the tape.

The static on the TV continued for a moment until you heard... a voice... saying,"Hello?" Bells went off in your head again as you stared at the static screen. That voice... it sounded familiar. Just then a shape formed through the jagged lines of the TV screen. It looked... human... And it was coming closer.

"Who... are you?" The voice said. Your heart started to beat faster. You felt like you were in a horror movie. You wanted to back up and run away, but you were frozen with fear. Your chest tightened as your flight or fight response kicked in. "You seem nice... Do you want to be my friend?"

The figure then... came through the screen as if it was climbing through a window. You wanted to scream but it was stuck in your throat. You choked on it. The figure then stood... they were tall. The scream then finally made its way out of your lungs as you bumped into the coffee table.

"Oh, gosh. Are you okay? I didn't mean to scare you, Sunspot." the figure said in a concerned tone.

Sunspot? You remembered... him always calling you Sunspot... As your eyes adjusted to the dimness of your living room, you could see that he (you assumed) had... blue hair? You also caught glimpses of his primary colored clothes... A memory was triggered. Everything was put together like a puzzle. No... this couldn't be?

"Jack... Sunny Day Jack?"

"You... know me?" He looked surprised.

"Yeah... I used to watch your show all the time as a kid. But... how... why...?" You had so many questions that you wanted answered. You were a ball of wound up emotions right now. You didn't know what to feel right now.

Jack cleared his throat, trying to change the subject to something simpler. "I'm sorry for bring rude, but I didn't get your name..." he said with a small chuckle and a smile.

"It's... y/n."

"Y/n. That's a nice name. Do you want to be my new best friend, Sunspot?"

He reached his hand out toward you for a handshake. At this moment, you strangely felt like a kid again. You were meeting Sunny Day Jack... in person (or the closest thing, at least). His cheery voice drew you in, like it did those many years ago. You took his hand in a firm handshake. "Sure." That was the last thing you remember before blacking out.

Been working on this idea for a couple of days, and I plan on writing a few more parts to this c: I also don't know if anything like this has already been written, but here it is nonetheless. I really hope you all in the SDJ fandom enjoys~☁️🌈☀️

[rues-daya]

yourinstagram

liked by baileemadison, madelyncline and 1,334,321 others

yourinstagram: paradise 🏝

view all 3,889 comments

y/nfan001 spare hand in marriage? 💍

yourinstagram do you have a ring? if so is it a ring pop? and if it’s a ring pop is it blue raspberry?

madisonbaileybabe sheesh look at that view.. and I’m not talking about the water

y/nfan12 who took this photo is the real question and how can we thank them?

baileemadison an angel. miss you 😘

yourinstagram miss you more 🤍

y/nfan18 that’s our mother y’all

obxfan09 she gives me obx vibes… how do we get her on the show?

rudeth obx 👀

*liked by yourinstagram

y/nfan27 y’all see Rudy’s comment… he been commenting a lot on our girls page

rudeth sorry, I can’t help it! I’ve fallen for her just like you all have ;)

y/nfan233 RUDY PANKOW IS ONE OF US

*liked by yourinstagram & rudeth

yourinstagram ps this photo was taken by a certain someone, i won’t tag them but they know who they are 👀🤍

*pinned comment by yourinstagram

rudeth

liked by yourinstagram, jonathandavissoffical and 5,778,231 others

rudeth: OBX3. TOMORROW 🏝🚢

tagged: obx

view all 10,009 comments

hichasestokes there he is

y/nfan87 I’m so reaching but the island emoji is giving me a certain someone’s recent post 👀

rudyfan098 babe, you are in fact reaching lmao

obx see you tomorrow JJ

madelyncline long time no see, how you been?

y/nfan82 if the rumors are true that y/n and him are dating than i will pass out cause those two are so fine

jonathandavissoffical oh hey man

rudyfan45 he finally posted after 84 years lmao

yourinstagram insert that titanic photo of Rose saying ‘It’s been 84 years…”

rudyfan45 already one step ahead of you girl 😭

yourinstagram oh hey, my favorite character comes back!! can’t wait to fall in love all over again 😍

y/nfan123 she’s a JJ girl

yourinstagram I will ALWAYS be a JJ girl

rudeth as you should ;)

yourinstagram also I think you are kinda of cute.. actually scratch that really handsome and I will like to hang out some day :)

obxfan83 oh she’s shooting her shot… wish I had her confidence ^^^

y/nfan73 y/n I want your man

yourinstagram

liked by madelyncline, rudeth & 2,398,670 others

yourinstagram: thanks for having me Nylon Magazine, you all have been a dream ✨

tagged: nylonmag

view all 9,887 comments

madisonbaileybabe 😍😍😍

baileemadison yes, yes, yes & yes

prettylittleliars our Tabby 🖤

y/nfan744 please reject me so I can move on

obxfan10 I will do anything to have her on obx, like a n y t h i n g

yourinstagram anything you say? because like same

obxfan10 yes anything and glad that you agree with us cause trust us we will find someway lmao

madelyncline date me! date me! date me!

yourinstagram yes! yes! yes!

y/nfan176 if y’all read her interview than you all should know that SHES DATING RUDY PANKOW AND THEY HAVE BEEN DATING FOR ALMOST A YEAR NOW

* pinned comment by yourinstagram

rudeth oh my

rudeth words cannot even put to words how freaking beautiful you are, like… wow

y/nfan13 rudy you have officially passed the test

rudyfan86 when will this be me? reject me already Rudy Pankow

y/nfan267 this comment wasn’t even directed towards me yet I felt butterflies in my stomach

yourinstagram 🦋🤍🦋🤍

rudeth instagram stories

yourinstagram stories

[kvrokasaa]

karasu comforting overachiever!reader with a lot of anxiety?

my exams are around, ive cried 6x and had a mental breakdown in 3 days. and im a good student at heart but not on paper. im trying😭

take care! love❤️

I can relate to this sm, I promise myself that I’ll study but then it gets late n all I wanna do is sleep lmfao. But I hope you’re doing alright, love. Remember to drink lots of water and eat lots of food! And take breaks when studying so you don’t get headaches!

Sorry I posted this so late, but here it is.

Cw: crying, fluff, comfort, friends to lovers, cursing, not proofread. lmk if i missed any!

Wc: 1.1k

Overachiever!

Karasu is like your best friend, he’s always been there for you and promises he always will. Even when he left for a program called Blue Lock, he still managed to talk to you. Especially when you were going through a nasty breakup with your ex. He has always been there for you.

Something Karasu noticed over the years of being your friend; you’re an overachiever and a perfectionist. You have to get good grades, it’s like it was hard-wired in your brain since you were a child. If you didn’t get a good grade, even on a test that was optional or didn’t have any impact on your overall grade, you would feel so ashamed and full of anxiety. You were afraid of your teachers hating you, honestly, you’re just afraid of authority figures. You would always try to hide your feelings behind a fake smile, and sometimes it worked. But this time it didn’t.

You were in your room studying, all day long. No matter how many times people tried to pester you, or ask you to take a break, you would decline and go back to studying. You needed to get a good grade. You had stayed up all night long studying and going over the crucial information that would be on the final.

So why? Why do you have an 84% on your final? Why isn’t it at 100? Other people congratulated you, saying that the test was really hard. But you know that Mia, the top student, got the perfect score without even trying.

You tried this year, you really did. You made a resolution that you would try your hardest this year; that you wouldn’t give up so easily like last year. And you know that bad habits die hard, but you were doing so well. Even though this isn’t your last year, you feel like you failed at school.

‘Take a deep breath. Failure is the one pathway to success.’ Karasu’s words came floating into your mind. But you could still feel the onslaught of the tears and the tightness of the pain in your chest. You tried to take a deep breath but it wasn’t enough, it felt like all the oxygen in the world just vanished.

You don’t know how you got home, all the memories of the people saying ‘Good job’ and ‘Don’t beat yourself up, you did better than me’ are the only ones you can remember. All you want to do is crawl into your bed and cuddle your stuffed bear while you cry. But you have to study more; you have to study for your next classes. You can’t just give up because of one class. Oh but how badly you want to.

A sudden knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts. “Come in.” You cringed at the crack in your voice, quickly you straightened your posture and pretended to be okay.

But all of that faux hope and happiness faded away when you saw the unmistakable blue eyes. The tears came rushing back, along with the shaky breaths.

Karasu walked over to your desk and smiled down at you. “Hey, just wanted to stop by,” his hand raised, revealing a bag with your favorite restaurant name. “I brought your favorite.” His voice died down, almost to a whisper when he saw your tears.

You quickly wiped them, but the red streaks were still there. He sighed and sat down on your bed. “It’s okay, Y/n. Stuff like this happens, don’t worry about it too much.” You shook your head. “No, I should worry about it,” he raised a brow. “Why?”

You felt a little agitated because he couldn’t understand. Of course he couldn’t, he’s always been the type of person to get good grades without even trying. Knowing him, he probably slept through most of his classes and still got a 95 or higher on his final. Typical Karasu.

“Because who would I be if I don’t have good grades? I know that grades don’t matter much in the world, but I’m the one who feels the shame. I’m the one who has to remember what it feels like to try your hardest and still fail.” You felt like pulling your hair out, breaking things, just something to ease your mind. To ease the pain.

He brings his hands up to your cheeks, squishing them a little which brings a smile to his face. “Remember what I always tell you. ‘Failure is a pathway to-’ ” “To success. I know that, but still,” You move your head, making him release his grip. “I don’t want to fail, I don’t want people to remember me as the person who always failed.” Your voice was almost higher than a whisper, but he still heard you loud and clear. Karasu could hear and feel the pain from your voice.

“You-” you release a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

‘Ironic’ he thinks, you’re the one who’s not understanding. A simple grade doesn’t define who you are as a person.

“Y/n look at me.” He grabs your face, “You are doing your best, you’re trying your fucking hardest and I’m so proud of you for that. You’re way smarter than what people give you credit for.” You try to shake your head, but his grip on your jaw tightens. “No. I don’t want to hear you deny anything. You need to understand that it’s okay to fail, it’s okay to feel helpless after a bad grade. But it’s not okay to beat yourself up. Don’t worry too much about how this grade, which is a passing grade, will affect your future.”

Karasu pulls you in for a hug. You close your eyes and bury your face in his chest. “You’re in the present right now, not the future. And I’m sure the future you are a CEO; trust me I can see it.”

You both laugh at his words. You sniffle and look up at him, “thank you, I really needed that.” He nods his head; his eyes looking from your eyes to your lips. “Anytime, I mean it.”

This is what you expected, a lecture and comfort from Karasu. It’s what you wanted. But what you didn’t expect was his lips on yours. Before you could enjoy the moment, he pulled back and smiled down at you. “Safe to say that I think you return my feelings,” your eyes darting everywhere but his and your little nod was a good enough answer for him. “And as much as I want to kiss you again. Our food is getting cold.” He pulled you down onto the bed along with the bag of food. “Let’s eat.”

[munson-blurbs]

Hawkins Boys (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader angst/fluff)

Summary: You work up the courage to ask Eddie to the prom, but he seemingly turns you down in favor of Chrissy Cunningham. How will he feel when you show up with Steve Harrington?

Warnings: language, sadness, Eddie is an idiot, brief violence, Chrissy is lovely as always

WC: 2.7k

--

You:

Today is the day you do it. The day you face you fears, swallow your anxiety, and ask you best friend to the prom.

Eddie Munson is not a prom guy. He doesn't wear suits, he doesn't slow dance, and he probably wouldn't know romance if it smacked him in the head. But you've had a crush on him for ages, and you had to make your move. If he was going to fall for you, it would be on a night when you were dressed up and gorgeous.

He's sitting at the lunch table alone, waiting for the rest of Hellfire Club to come back with their trays of hot food. He nibbles at a pretzel, smiling when he notices you plunk down next to him. You fish two peanut butter sandwiches out of your bag and hand him one. You've been telling him that your mom insists on packing you two, but the truth is, you always make an extra one for him.

"We're almost done with this godforsaken place," you remind him. "You're gonna walk that stage and finally get your diploma."

"Can't come soon enough," he replies, taking a bite of the sandwich. "Told you all that '86 is my year!"

You giggle. "Would've been more believable if you didn't say the same about '84 and '85." He gives you a playful shove, making you laugh harder.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, but he's still smiling. "I'm gonna miss these sandwiches when you go off to college." He raises it for emphasis.

"I'll send you peanut butter so you can make your own," you tease, though the idea doesn't sound half-bad. You just imagine him opening up a package filled with jars of Jif.

He cocks an eyebrow. "I thought I was supposed to send you care packages," he says.

There's a brief silence before you begin to speak again. "Eddie?" you start, "would you wanna go to prom with me?"

Eddie:

"Would you wanna go to prom with me?"

Eddie feels himself freeze. He was going to ask you later today after Hellfire, but now he's caught off-guard. He wracks his brain for what to say.

Steve had given him advice, the same that he had given to Dustin: don't seem too eager, too desperate; keep it casual.

"Oh, uh..." he stammers, running his fingers through his coarse hair. "I dunno...I was thinking of asking Chrissy." There. That would throw you off until he could ask you properly.

He notices as your face falls, and while it makes his heart pang, he doesn't read too much into it. He's already planned how he's going to ask you to prom, and he'll make up for it then.

You:

Tears sting at your eyes when you hear that Eddie's asking Chrissy Cunningham to prom. It makes sense: she's beautiful, sweet, kind, and recently broke up with Jason Carver. You blink until your watery eyes clear, but you know it's only temporary. As soon as the Hellfire boys crowd the table, you quietly slip away. The tears start to fall when you burst into the girls' restroom; sobs make your chest heave.

How could you be so stupid to think that Eddie Munson liked you. You'd been friends for ages; if he wanted to take things farther, he already would have. You lock yourself in a stall until you begin to calm down, at least enough so that you can wash your face and look halfway presentable for your next class.

You're blotting your cheeks with a paper towel that resembles sandpaper when she walks in. Chrissy fucking Cunningham.

"Y/N!" she exclaims, worry evident on her pretty face. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," you lie plainly, buying time to think of an excuse. "Just overwhelmed with the idea of everything being...over." Mostly your fantasies of you and Eddie, but you omit that crucial detail.

Chrissy nods knowingly. "I get it. It's like, we're big fish in a little pond, and soon we'll be little fish in a gigantic pond." She manages a small smile. "At least we still have prom!"

Your voice catches in your throat, and you cough before speaking. "About that..." You're not exactly sure why you're doing this; maybe because you really care about Eddie's happiness, even if it kills you. "I think Eddie Munson wants to go with you. But he's shy about it--you should ask him."

Chrissy wrinkles her nose in confusion. "Me?" she asks. "I've, well, bought from him a few times, but I never knew he was into me."

You laugh. "Chrissy, you're the Queen of Hawkins High," you say gently. "It doesn't take much for the guys here to fall in love with you."

She blushes, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "Well, it's not like Jason's gonna take me anymore," she laments, "and Eddie's always been nice to me. Sure, why not?" She pulls you in for a quick hug before flouncing off.

Eddie:

Eddie's relieved when you leave the table; it gives him a chance to go over the plan with the rest of Hellfire.

"So remember," he states, "the goal of today's campaign isn't to win; it's to ask Y/N to prom. Got it?" He looks around sharply at his flock of sheep.

"Got it," they chorus, and he grins.

"Excellent," Eddie says, clasping his hands together. "Now, Sinclair, you're going to--"

"Eddie?" a polite voice breaks his train of thought. He glances over to see Chrissy Cunningham, ponytail swinging in its green scrunchie. "Hi!"

"Um, hi," he answers with a cautious smile. He's not totally opposed to dealing in the middle of the cafeteria, but he prefers the privacy of the woods. "What's up?"

"I was just talking with Y/N," she starts, and Eddie's heart leaps at the mention of your name, "and she said you wanted to take me to prom but were a little nervous to ask."

The other Hellfire members gawp, puzzled at what's unfolding in front of them.

"Anyway," Chrissy continues, "I'd love to go with you! Meet at my place for pictures around 5?"

Eddie sits, slack-jawed, which Chrissy mistakes for introversion. "Here's my address," she slips him a piece of paper and beams. "I really thought I'd have no one to go with after Jason, you know..." she trails off, thinking about her ex's infidelity. "So I really appreciate this." She presses a chaste kiss to his cheek and heads back to her table.

"Dude," Mike Wheeler says finally, "What. The. Fuck?"

Eddie buries his head in his hands. "Y/N asked me to prom, and I told her that I wanted to take Chrissy so she wouldn't be suspicious of my plan, but I guess she...FUCK!" He slams his fists on the table. "What do I do now?"

Dustin slaps a hand to Eddie's back. "Looks like you're taking Chrissy Cunningham to prom, hot shot."

You:

You drive directly to Family Video after school to visit your friend Steve, ditching Hellfire without a second thought. Keith doesn't work Friday afternoons, and you know Steve will let you hunker down in the break room while you throw yourself a pity party.

The tears start up again as soon as you walk through the door. Steve notices immediately, hoisting himself over the counter.

"What happened?" he murmurs, pulling you in for a hug. His eyes widen when you relay the story to him.

"That doesn't make any sense," Steve mutters under his breath, rubbing your back with his strong hand. Eddie had just come to him for advice about you, like, last week. He'd made it abundantly clear that he wanted to take you to prom. Steve hadn't a clue about what changed since then.

"It makes perfect sense," you choke out. "Chrissy is perfect. Everyone loves her; it's not like Eddie is immune to her charm."

Steve takes a deep breath. "I can take you to the prom, if you want," he offers. "I know I'm not your first choice, but at least you won't have to go alone."

You nod gratefully. "Thank you, Stevie," you hug him, smushing your cheek to his chest. "You're the best." The thought of watching Eddie and Chrissy slow dancing still makes you feel sick, but you feel safer knowing that Steve will be by your side.

~

Your stomach is in knots as you, Robin, Nancy, and Vickie crowd around your vanity, teasing hair and applying makeup. The four of you look incredible: Robin in a red pantsuit, Vickie in a matching knee-length dress, Nancy in a baby pink tulle gown, and you in an emerald dress that ends mid-thigh. You've never felt more beautiful.

Your hand shakes as you bring the mascara wand to your eyelashes, and Nancy notices.

"Nervous about seeing Eddie?" she asks knowingly, and you just nod. She sighs and takes your manicured hands in hers, squeezing them tight. "He doesn't know what he's missing. Chrissy's great, sure, but you two could be soulmates. If he's too dumb to see that, he doesn't deserve you."

You give her the best smile you can muster and go back to readying yourself.

Steve arrives right on time. He takes a sharp breath inward when he sees you make your way down the stairs. You'd been friends since you were kids, seeing each other go through all the awkward stages of life, and he always considered you to be a little sister to him. Tonight, with you in that dress, he's thinking different kinds of thoughts.

"Y/N, you look amazing," he tells you, sliding a corsage onto your wrist. You pin the boutonniere to the lapel of his suit jacket, giggling as you accidentally prick your finger.

"You look so handsome, Steve," you say truthfully. "Thank you so much for taking me."

"My pleasure," he says, losing himself in your eyes for a moment. He clears his throat suddenly. "All right, let's ship out!"

~

The gym is decorated beautifully; it's hard to tell that it's usually filled with the sound of squeaking sneakers and basketballs bouncing on the wood floor. You make your way to the dance floor with Steve, Robin, Vickie, Nancy, and Jonathan. You're swaying your body and having such a great time that you don't even notice Eddie walk in with Chrissy.

Eddie:

But he notices you.

You're the first thing he sees when he enters the gym, looking absolutely breathtaking in your green dress. Eddie watches as you take Steve Harrington's hand in your own, twirling around and laughing. It's then that he realizes that Steve's tie matches your dress--he's your prom date.

That son of a bitch gave me shit advice so he could steal her, he thinks angrily, clenching his fists. I knew he was still a douchebag. I shouldn't have ever trusted him.

Chrissy wraps her hand around Eddie's bicep, pulling him closer. "You good?" she asks.

"Yeah," he answers too quickly. "Actually, no. Chrissy, I-I think you're an amazing girl. But I wanted to bring Y/N; I got scared when she asked me and made up something about wanting to take you, and not that I don't, but--"

"Eddie, relax," she puts out her hands to stop his rambling. "I thought it was kinda weird when she said you wanted to take me. I mean, everyone can see that you're in love with the girl."

Eddie blushes, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Is it that obvious?"

Chrissy laughs. "Do me a favor?" She waits for him to nod before continuing. "Go after her." The band starts playing a slow song, and Chrissy grins harder. "Perfect timing--ask her for a dance."

Eddie pushes aside his anxiety and turns to go find you. And he does--just as Steve leans over and pulls you in for a kiss.

You:

The band starts playing "Take My Breath Away" when it happens: Steve kisses you.

His soft, pillowy lips crash into yours haphazardly, like he hasn't thought his actions through. He gently places his hand on your forearm. You're too stunned to moved, and even more so when the kiss ends abruptly.

Or rather, it's ended by Eddie grabbing Steve by the collar, slamming him into the nearest wall.

Eddie:

"Harrington, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Eddie snarls, shoving Steve so that his head nearly hits the wall.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Steve retorts. "Get your hands off of me and go back to your date!"

"The only reason I had to take Chrissy was because of your shitty advice," Eddie hisses, never letting go of Steve. "Telling me to play it cool, not to show too much interest. See how well that worked out for me."

"I said be aloof, not be an asshole!" Steve spits back. "Y/N asked you to prom--you should've said yes. Is she supposed to sit around and wait for you? After you straight up rejected her for the head cheerleader?"

And then Eddie finally sees it from your perspective. You worked up the courage to ask him out. You stood there while he seemingly chose Chrissy over you. You set him up with her, still wanting to ensure his happiness. And now you had moved on, moved on with Steve Harrington, and Eddie just had to accept that.

Unless he didn't. Unless he fought for you, like she should've been fighting for you this whole time.

"Where'd she go?" he asks, wide-eyed.

"Put me down, and I'll help you find her."

You:

You run out of the gym, desperate to escape the escalating drama. Footsteps echo behind you, and a male voice says, "There she is."

A large hand grabs your small one. You're pulled back, finding yourself face-to-face with Eddie.

"We need to talk," he says, his voice serious but gentle.

You shake your head. "Go dance with Chrissy and stop worrying about me," you tell him. "Please just leave me alone."

"I don't wanna dance with Chrissy," he says. "I wanna dance with you. I had this whole campaign planned out where I was gonna ask you to prom at the end, and all the Hellfire guys were in on it, but then you asked me and I panicked."

"I don't need your pity, Eddie."

"It's not pity," Steve interrupts, hands in his pockets. "It's the truth. He's an idiot, but he's an idiot who loves you."

"And you?" you ask quizzically, still confused about the kiss.

Steve chuckles softly. "I'm just an idiot who got caught up in the moment. I shouldn't have...I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you tell him, and he nods before starting to leave.

"Hear him out," he says before going back to the gym, jerking his thumb at Eddie.

You cross your arms over your chest as you turn to the metalhead. "It's really hard to be mad at you when you look so good in that suit," you admit shyly.

Eddie takes a step closer to you. "Remind me to wear suits more often," he jokes lightly,

"Or just stop doing dumb things."

He nods. "Noted." He turns slightly towards the gym doors. "Can I...will you dance with me?"

You grin. "Only if you tell me about that special campaign you had planned. Piqued my curiosity, I can't lie."

Eddie leads you back to the dance floor. You wrap your arms around his neck; he places his on the small of your back.

"So," you start, "that campaign?"

"Oh, right," he says, and you sense some anxiety in his tone. "Yeah, I'll tell you about that. But first..."

And then he kisses you, parting your lips with his own. You kiss him back, never wanting to break it.

It ends naturally, with Eddie smiling too wide to continue.

"What are you so happy about?" you tease, rubbing your thumb against his smooth cheek.

He presses his lips to yours again, more briefly this time. "You're finally my girl. Finally mine."

--

[jamminvroomvroom]

both of you. part 7.

gr x fem!reader

find parts 1-6 on my masterlist!

it’s been 84 years. BUT the final part is here! a few people asked me to take it in this kind of direction so i hope you like it! i haven’t written some of these themes before so maybe don’t look into the realism of the situation too much lmao. ALSO huge thank you for 2k, so thankful that you read my silly little stories xoxoxo

in which you look back on how your lives changed.

warnings: 18+!! mature themes, mentions of sex/sexual acts, language, mentions of pregnancy, children? sickening fluff

5.5k words

three years later…

bahrain, march 2025. saturday.

the production lights went on in the media pen, snapping you back to reality. you glanced down at your notebook, eyes flicking quickly through your qualifying notes and questions. you took notice of the way the diamond on your left hand glimmered under the bright light, shimmering elegantly from its rightful place on your finger. you smiled. the sight dulled your nerves ever so slightly, a reminder that soon george would walk in and you’d be able to breath.

you were undeniably anxious, feeling out of practice. it had almost been a year since your last time on the broadcast, and as much as you’d missed your work, being back from your leave had left you scattered. the bahrain grand prix was always hectic, the first race of the season making everyone antsy, and your circumstances only intensified that.

you could see drivers starting to appear, taking a shaky breath. you tried to settle; you knew these people, you knew this sport, and most importantly, you knew how to do your job. keeping one eye on the drivers approaching and one eye out for george was a lot easier than it used to be; you’d had to learn how to have eyes in the back of your head over the last several months.

your relationship with george had only gone from strength to strength. he had just won his first championship, starting the 2025 season off on a high, a winning streak, ready for the year ahead and hopefully a second title. you were coming up on three years together, the ring on your finger sealing the deal. you were happy, happier than you ever thought you could be, than you ever thought you deserved to be, and you had him to thank for that. you had him to thank for something else too.

you could spot george from a mile away, strutting into the media pen like he owned it. you grinned like a fool, shaking your head in disbelief when you saw who he’d brought with him.

balanced on his hip was your daughter, who was supposed to be down for a nap.

“george william russell, what on earth do you think you’re doing?” you scalded, teasingly.

“wanted to show my girl where mummy works. can’t exactly take her for a spin around the track yet.” he replied. you rolled your eyes. “so, go on, show her how to be a… what do you call it? girlboss?”

you laughed, cheeks flushed. he was such a dad, the role truly suited him perfectly. you wanted nothing more than to reach out for your little girl but george was your last driver of the session and as soon as this was done, you’d be able to have her in your arms. plus, the view you had, the two people you loved most in the world, wasn’t so bad.

“right, well, that was a very interesting session, george. congratulations on the pole.” you winked slyly. “do you think you’re going to be able to carry this momentum through the season and go for that second title?“ and just like that, you put your reporter voice back on, getting straight to the point.

you managed to get through the interview with ease, watching the way your daughters blue eyes lit up as she watched george speak, and then at the sight of uncle lando and uncle charles. at one point, george passed her wordlessly to charles, who’d stopped looking so scared of babies sometime in the last few years, and carried on answering your questions, just so they’d stop pestering him. you tried to stifle your laughter as you watched lando steal her away, the brit and the monegasque squabbling over who got cuddles.

you wrapped up the interview eventually, turning to talk to your producer, while george went to speak to the drivers, who were now crowding around your baby. after exchanging a few notes, you were free to go, sliding an arm around george’s waist when you reached him. he looked down at you, dipping down to press a quick kiss to your lips. it never used to be like this, you were never this open before, but the championship had changed him, loosened him up. he wasn’t so pressed about how people perceived him anymore, and you found his self liberation incredibly sexy.

“if you lot are going to keep fighting for my daughters attention, you can keep an eye on her tonight so i can have some time with my beautiful fiancé.” george joked, earning himself some laughs and the odd wolf whistle. you slapped him on the chest playfully.

“behave yourself, russell, or you won’t be getting any attention from me.” you warned, making the drivers laugh again.

“i think it’s you that deserves a bit of attention, darling.” george said, only to you this time, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered the taunting words. you couldn’t help the way your body reacted, he hadn’t been able to touch you properly in months.

the combination of a baby, a championship that needed winning and then the pre-season had really killed your sex life. that’s why the suggestion of attention, of his hands on your body working his magic, had your thighs clenching under your dress, your fingers digging into his side.

just as your mind started to get carried away, your daughter let out a whine, signifying that someone should have let her have her damn nap. she was grumpy. lando, who’d managed to finally pry her out of charles arms, looked slightly afraid, looking at you with wide eyes as the unimpressed little girl wriggled angrily in his arms.

“it’s okay, lando, give her to me.” you pulled away from george and his dirty mouth, shooting him a sympathetic look as you scooped your daughter out of lando’s arms and walked away from the drivers, throwing a goodbye over your shoulder.

if there was one thing you knew about your daughter, she was stubborn just like her father. she knew just what she wanted, and exactly when she wanted it, just like her father. and she needed as much sleep as possible, just like you did.

at the tender age of eight months old, sylvie russell was already a force to be reckoned with.

-

brazil, november 2023.

you were in brazil when you found out. it almost seemed poetic. it was where george had won his first race, and now it held sentimentality for your first child.

he was sat on the hotel bed, watching calmly as you paced like a mad woman. you couldn’t believe this was happening, always so careful. it wasn’t like you and george had never had the conversation about The Future, you’d just never anticipated that it would come up so quickly. the timing was all wrong, george coming to the end of an intense season and you were trying harder than ever to prove that fucking drivers wasn’t the reason for your pay check after last seasons indiscretions.

you’d left the pregnancy test in the bathroom sink, a timer set on george’s phone. he let you pace, understanding your process perfectly. the irritating apple alarm went off, grating on your last nerve, and you whipped around to face george. he silenced his phone, standing from the bed.

“it’s time, darling.”

“i can’t- i can’t do it. please, just, god,” you took a deep breath. “can you check it?”

george nodded softly, disappearing into the en-suite. you pulled at your sleeves, wrapping your arms around yourself. you didn’t get it, how he could be so calm in the face of what was potentially the biggest moment of your lives, but that was classic george. he always coped under pressure. the sound of his footsteps warned you of his return, and you braved it, turning to face him.

“is it-? are we-?” you couldn’t say the words, not yet.

“sweetheart…” the tone of his voice said it all.

“george, i can’t.” tears pooled in your eyes, sliding down your face in tidal waves.

“listen to me, come here,” he walked towards you, running his hands up your arms. he bowed his head slightly, eyes fixed on yours. he looked… you didn’t know how to describe it but he looked right. “darling, you’re pregnant.” and then he was crying too, choked up at his own admission.

you may have been genuinely terrified, horrified even, at the news, but something about the way he fell apart made it all make sense. before you stood a man that wanted you, wanted a life with you, that you wanted for the rest of your life. he was smiling at you, despite your state of shock, blue eyes framed red. he looked dazed, genuinely happy.

his reaction made the ground shift beneath your feet. you were having a baby.

“oh my god. oh my god.” you were still in shock, and still arguably mortified, but it no longer felt like the worst thing in the world. it was crazy, the way he made you feel so okay. you looked up at him, catching the way he was staring, still trying to process it himself.

“george… are we doing this?”

“do you want this?” he asked, sincerely. did you? did you want this?*

“yes.” the word was instinctual, coming out of nowhere. a strange sense of calm washed over you, a newfound feeling taking the reigns in your emotionally heightened state. he didn’t waste another second, hands on your cheeks as he kissed you.

“we’re having a baby.” he murmured as he pulled away, lips brushing over yours. a smile blossomed on your face, slowly spreading. you were still terrified, but it just felt right.

“i love you, george.”

“i love you. both of you.” he whispered the last part, and you were sobbing all over again.

-

silverstone, july 2024. sunday.

it was your first time back at a race track in months, and it was glorious. you’d missed it immensely, bored at home since you’d been banished to maternity leave. george was away a lot, chasing after what you were certain would be his first title, and you weren’t allowed to fly anymore, so you mostly saw him through a screen. it wasn’t all bad; every spare second was spent at home with you, weeks off being used to pick out baby clothes and build furniture for the nursery.

his desire to be involved was endearing, especially when he could have easily paid someone to build the crib that kept him up half the night in a frustrated heap on the floor. all you could do was laugh and admire the way he was already tackling the fatherly duties.

despite how much you’d grown to enjoy preparing for your baby, now that the first few gruelling months were out of the way, being back at silverstone was like a cold beer on a hot day. should you have been there, nine months pregnant, with your due date rapidly approaching? probably not, but your boyfriend was having a killer season and this would probably be the only race you’d see for the rest of the year. george was hesitant, wondering if a racetrack was the right environment for you to be in, but there was no way you were missing it, a point you’d stubbornly argued until he finally gave in.

silverstone was too special to miss. it was where george had asked you on your first date, where you realised that you saw something with him. you also knew you’d be fuming if you missed him winning the british grand prix, and he looked set to do it, the odds very much in his favour.

you were enjoying the weekend, as much as you could in the hot british summer. you waddled into the paddock with george, hand in hand, just as you usually did, gaining far more attention than usual in your predicament. your pregnancy had made george more protective, far more aware of all the people around you, and that’s why he made sure that you were comfortable with anyone approaching him to talk, or to sign something.

you managed to get through the sea of people, the crowd always that much bigger at his home race, and you escaped into the mercedes suite. you sighed in contentment at the blissful air conditioning hitting your flushed skin, while george pulled out a chair for you to collapse into, and by collapse, you meant he lowered you slowly and carefully into the seat. he leaned down to kiss you on the lips, and then on the forehead, caressing your belly and bidding you goodbye so that he could go and change. he would be busy now, leaving you to your own devices.

after all, race day at silverstone was always chaos.

you spent the afternoon with george’s parents, no energy to go and venture out into the paddock. you were starting to get tired and the race hadn’t even started, but you were determined to watch george win. it was rare that you got to just sit back and watch a race solely for your own enjoyment, especially at the track, so you wanted to make the most of it. you watched him whizzing around the hospitality, talking to his team, your hand rubbing your stomach absentmindedly. watching the way he moved, ever so focused, made you wonder what your child would be like.

would they be a driver like george? stubborn like you? have his mousey hair and his blue eyes? your quick wit? his strength? the passion that you both shared? your baby was well on their way, that day getting closer and closer, and you were so overwhelmed with excitement, a joy that cast a shadow on all of the fear and doubt you’d felt in the beginning.

george came back over to you before he was due to get in the car, just like he always did. since the first time he told you he loved you, he couldn’t get in the car without saying it. it was the last thing he always did, without fail. even on the rare occasions that you fought, even if you weren’t on the same continent, he always, always found a way to tell you.

“we’re rooting for you, honey. we love you.” you told george, placing your interlocked fingers on your bump. “go and get this menace a trophy.” you teased. he laughed, kissing you and then he was gone, making his way to the grid.

you watched the screen, eyes fixed on his mercedes and the time sheets. he was practically untouchable, on course for yet another win. the anticipation, the pride you felt made you teary, desperate to see him win before you had to completely sign off for the rest of the season. it felt like your last weekend of freedom.

the team were controlling his strategy well, you thought, as you watched him pit. the race was halfway done already and you were already planning all the different ways you could celebrate the win.

that’s when you felt it.

it appeared that a trophy wouldn’t be the only brand new thing that george was taking home this weekend.

“oh, fuck.” you whispered.

babies sure knew how to pick their moments.

-

“i need to tell him.”

“no, toto, you most certainly do not. i came here to watch him win this fucking race.” you snarled, breathing laboured, getting faster by the second.

you were in george’s drivers room hunched over his massage table waiting for a car to come and take you to the track medical centre, and toto wolff was pissing you off.

“if he misses the birth of his child-“

“he will not miss the birth of his child!” you rolled your eyes, teeth clenched. you’d have to send toto a muffin basket or something, because never had you dared speak to him like this. you wondered if anyone had.

“but you’re in labour and it’s not going to be long before-“

“if you tell him, so help me god.” you glared, exhaling hard though clenched teeth. “he has time.”

toto sighed, nodding in defeat. don’t fuck with pregnant people.

george’s mum, alison, was rubbing your back comfortingly, trying to soothe you in any way possible. they were all trying to get george out of the car, but that was the last thing you wanted. what would be a better way for him to wrap up the weekend, than with a baby and a win at home?

once the car arrived, you were escorted out and carted away to the medical centre. the last place you’d envisioned going into labour was a race track, but you supposed it was quite fitting. apparently they were ready for you, the on-site medics welcoming you in for an examination.

“how long do i have before i need to go to the hospital?” you asked, eyes squeezed shut as another contraction washed over you.

“hospital? oh honey, i’m afraid we’re past that.” one of the doctors told you. she was an older woman, decked out in the classic green kit they wore, eyes kind.

“i’m sorry, what?” your mouth hung open in horror.

“don’t worry, you’re in safe hands. but this baby isn’t waiting for a hospital.”

-

winning your home grand prix was rare.

winning your home grand prix, getting out the car and being greeted by a frantic team of mechanics and toto wolff telling you that your girlfriend was in labour was even rarer.

george was sweating, grinning from ear to ear when he got out of the car, desperate to see you, to tell you that he’d done it for you. he just didn’t realise that when he saw you, you’d be trying to push out a human.

toto had dragged him away from the team celebrating in parc ferme, grabbed him by the shoulders, and that’s when he knew something was up. george practically went numb as toto explained what had happened.

“she threatened to do unspeakable things to me if we told you.” toto told him.

“of course she did.” george manage to choke out a laugh in his state of shock, which toto quickly pulled him out of.

“go, now. i don’t think you’ve got long left. congratulations.” toto shook his hand, pulling him into a hug. george hadn’t realised until then that he was shaking. he didn’t realise until he was sprinting across parc ferme that he was crying, either.

martin brundle was stood under the podium, interviewing the top three when george went bounding by.

“no word from the winner?” martin called, despite being midway through a conversation with lando. george stopped, bending down to reach lando’s microphone.

“can’t stop to chat, i’m having a baby.” he barely registered the cheer of the crowd, lando’s slap on the back, or how wrecked with emotion he sounded. all he could do was continue on his course, legging it to the medical centre.

of course his kid was going to be born at silverstone. of course.

-

what it was to love took on a whole new meaning for you that afternoon at silverstone.

you were propped up on the bed, gazing lazily at your boyfriend and the little girl in his arms. his race suit hung around his waist, fireproofs discarded, as he held her close to his chest. your heart felt so heavy, incredibly full in a way it never had been before. she was here, held delicately in the arms of the man you loved; your little family.

george caught you staring, smiling at you. you didn’t think he’d stopped tearing up since he’d come flying through the door after the race, just in time for the birth of his daughter.

“thank you.” he said, eyes lowering back down to the sleeping baby. he couldn’t help it, unable to take his eyes off of her. he could hardly believe she was real.

“it was my pleasure.” you laughed softly, voice tired. you relaxed further into the bed, wincing at the full body ache that you’d managed to ignore since they placed your girl on your chest for the first time.

“i mean it. you’re incredible.” he murmured, reddened eyes still trained on her. your eyes were drooping, the sight before you the only thing keeping you awake. you wanted to look at them forever and your chest flooded with warmth every time you realised that you’d get to.

“almost forgot to congratulate you on your win.” you spoke, making george laugh. “what’s funny?”

“you just gave me the world and you’re still thinking about my career.” he placed the baby into the bassinet by your bed, walking around the bed, perching himself carefully on the edge as to not disturb you. “i love you and i’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” you couldn’t contain your smile, leaning into his palm as he caressed your cheek.

“proud of you too. i was really enjoying the race until, well, you know.” you gestured to the baby, making him laugh again.

he kissed you, pressing his lips against yours softly. it was slow, an exchanging of love, comfort, pride. you pulled away, pushing his messy hair back, just letting yourself look at him for a second. you knew she’d have his eyes.

“what are we gonna call her? i know we had a few idea but nothing feels right.” george broke the silence. he was right. you hummed in agreement.

“she needs a cool name, something to mark the occasion. it’s not everyday that your kid is born at the silverstone.” you spoke excitedly. george squeezed your hand.

“okay, i think i have an idea.” george said slowly.

“tell me!” you beamed.

“don’t laugh. or cringe or whatever.”

“oh come on, i don’t even have the energy to cringe. plus, i’ve gone immune to your cringy-ness by now, anyway.” you teased. all you received in return was a playful glare.

“okay, so, how about… how about sylvie?” he said softly. a smile spread slowly across you face. you gazed at the bassinet, at your baby’s angelic face as she slept.

“sylvie… like silverstone.” you tried out the name, assessing how it felt rolling off your tongue. it fit, it was perfect.

“yes, sylvie like silverstone.” george rolled his eyes and you both laughed.

“will you pass her to me, please?” you asked, and he did as you pleased, placing her gently in your arms.

your skin prickled with joy all over again, your heart rate speeding up.

“sylvie russell. yeah.” you nodded, tears filling your tired eyes once more.

“sylvie russell.” george repeated, his hand squeezing your shoulder.

you somehow managed to take your eyes off of her, just for a second, to glance up at him. he was looking at her, then at you, then her, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes, and you fell in love with him all over again.

-

home, august 2024.

george had finished the first half of the season, leaving belgium the second he’d stepped off of the podium to come home to you. usually, you enjoyed a much needed vacation over the summer break, but this year, all george wanted was to be at home with his little family.

sylvie was over a month old, and already the apple of george’s eye. you knew he felt guilty for being away during her first weeks but you reassured him that you understood. this was the life the came with being with him, and you wouldn’t have traded it for the world. he also felt guilty that you were dealing with a newborn almost by yourself, but to you, it was worth it. being a mother was never really on your radar, something that you’d only considered for the first time when things got serious with george, and even then, it seemed a million years into the future.

enter: sylvie.

she’d completely changed your life, all for the better. sure, you were sleep deprived, but every time she grabbed your finger, all was forgiven. you’d bonded with her better than you’d expected and so had george, not that you’d had any doubts. he was perfect with her, and she always fell asleep the quickest in his arms.

you and george had moved out of london when you found out you were pregnant, into a gorgeous country house. you were thankful for the move every day, especially now that it was summer and you got to put your garden to use.

laid out in the freshly cut grass was a blanket, topped with fresh fruits, snacks and juice. you laid on one side, book in hand, while george occupied the opposite side, sylvie on his chest. they were covered by an umbrella, while you chose to sunbathe, the august heat treating you well.

george was humming the tune to some generic nursery rhyme that seemed to always be playing in the background these days, popping strawberries in his mouth. you looked up every now and then, the sight of george and sylvie, so peaceful amongst the backdrop of radiant wildflowers that you were growing, leaving you with a content smile.

“like the view?” george asked, catching you out.

“absolutely love it.” you mused.

“did you ever think we’d make it to this?” george asked, one arm going behind his head to support himself, the other delicately clutching your daughter.

“what do you mean?” you asked, confused as to where this was coming from.

“did you think, after those first few years of knowing each other, all of that animosity, that we’d be sat here in our garden with a baby?” he repeated.

“honestly? no. but that’s what’s so perfect about it. you changed my life in the best way and i never for a second saw it coming.” you spoke sincerely.

he sat up, carefully placing a sleeping sylvie in her bassinet and making sure she was shielded from the sun, before turning back to you, making his way over the blanket to your side.

“you’ve changed my life too, darling. i don’t know what i’d be without you.”

you opened your mouth to reply, to tell him that he’s still be just as wonderful, but he cut you off, laying beside you, propped up on his elbow. he took one of your hands, in his, squeezing gently.

“you’ve given me everything that i could ever want: a partner, a family, a home. you keep me grounded, you have done ever since the first time i laid eyes on you and you knocked me straight back down to earth. you don’t know how thankful i am for that first night in monaco, because watching you walk away made it crystal clear just how important you were to me. silverstone, when you found me after the dnf, and the compassion you showed me, you managed to light up one of the darkest moments.”

your eyes were shiny. he paused for a second to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“you’ve given me everything i could ever need, the entire world, darling. i am so grateful that my daughter has you for a mother, and i would be honoured if i got to call you my wife.”

he whispered your name, reaching into the picnic basket that, now that you thought about it, he’d conveniently packed himself, and shifted himself upwards, onto one knee. a velvet box rested in the palm of his hand, before he was presenting you with the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. square, vintage, exactly what you’d dreamed of.

“will you marry me?”

there was only one possible answer.

you threw yourself at him, eyes bleary, your entire face soaked with tears. he fell backwards into the grass, holding you against his chest while you kissed him. he really knew how to make a speech. you broke away, peppering kisses against his cheek and his jaw.

you held yourself up, staring down at him, one of his hands caressing your cheek, the biggest of grins on both of your faces as he wiped the few stray tears that continued to fall. he looked stunning, sun kissed and chiselled in the vibrant grass, the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.

“it’s a yes, by the way, just in case you didn’t get that.” you giggled, falling beside him, tucked under his arm. you looked up at him, running a hand through his hair, leaning in for another kiss.

“you’re everything to me.” he mumbled against your lips, before he pressed his against yours once more, slow and needy, all the love in the world.

sylvie was obviously feeling left out, stirring in her bassinet. george pulled away, pecking your lips one last time, reaching over for her. he gently placed her on the soft blanket between your bodies, resting on his elbow to watch over you both.

you looked at sylvie, then george, and finally the huge fucking rock on your finger and wondered how on earth you’d ever gotten so lucky.

the realisation that orgasm denial on a yacht in monaco had given you a beautiful family was enough to have you and george laughing.

your poor daughter.

-

bahrain, 2025. sunday.

george was leading the race. typical.

“daddy’s such a show off.” you whispered to sylvie, whose crystal blue eyes were fixed on the screen ahead of you. she looked adorable, her mousey hair tousled by the huge noise protectors that seemed to engulf her entire head.

it was her first time being present at a race, a truly special occasion for you and george. your lives were so intertwined with racing, and a race track was where you fell in love; it meant a lot to the both of you to have her here, for her to grow up around the sport that had changed your lives.

you were shocked at her attention to the race, she’d spent the remainder of last season, when george had gone back to work, pulling your hair every time a race was on the tv. you had a sneaky feeling she’d end up just like george, which left your motherly nerves shot to pieces.

george won, just as you told him he would, and you bounced sylvie on your hip, a mini celebration. you took her out of the garage and into parc ferme to greet him with the rest of the team behind the barriers. you got there in time to see him stood at the helm of his car, hands thrown in the air in pure elation.

“look, baby. look at daddy.” you pointed at george, cooing in sylvie’s ear. she seemed to follow your finger, finding her father, up high above the rest.

the laugh she let out, pure, unfiltered joy, made your heart grow, your whole body warm at the gleeful noise. you loved her laugh, just like you loved george’s, her developing personality demonstrating that she was already a mini george. you weren’t mad about it.

the race winner was bounding towards you, the adrenaline coursing through his veins clear as day. when he reached the barrier, he scooped sylvie out of your arms, leaning over the metal to kiss you hard. you blushed, your face hot at the pda but you weren’t going to stop him. when you pulled apart, he kissed sylvie on the forehead, her chubby hands gripping hard at his race suit. she had been infatuated with it all weekend, grabbing at all the different sponsors with thoughtless intrigue that made you smile.

“so proud of you, honey.” you spoke, voice loud amongst the rowdy team, excited at their first victory of the season. “i think our kid is already an f1 fan.” you laughed.

“she’ll be up there one day.” george replied, point up at the top step of the podium behind him. you shook your head in playful annoyance. as if you’d let your little girl loose on a racetrack.

“i love you george.” he’d have to move on soon, and you’d have to make a quick getaway to the media pen, while sylvie would be going back to her grandparents.

“i love you, sweetheart.” and with that, he stole your daughter, a sense of deja vu hitting you as he walked over to his winners interview with her in his arms.

he didn’t care at all about what was allowed and what was proper, he just wanted his little girl with him. the way he wanted to show her off constantly made you weak. he was such a girl dad.

george’s voice rang through parc ferme, and then that precious laugh did as well, when sylvie hijacked the mic. you smiled incredulously.

you knew it, the first night you shared, your first date, that nightmare weekend in spa. you knew it when he whisked you away to paris, when he told you that he loved you too. you knew it then and you knew it now, as you watched him let your daughter make incoherent baby noises into a microphone on live tv.

george russell would always be the one for you.

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @turningxstrange @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @micks-afterglow @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @h0e-xoxo @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3

i’ve removed any tags that weren’t working. let me know if you wanna be added or removed <3

[lemotmo]

So, I woke up and dove into the spoilers. I haven't see the episode yet, but if I'm reading this right, this is what happened on the Buck, Tommy and Eddie front:

+ Buck told Tommy that he is an ally during a date.

+ Eddie and Marisol crashed the date and Buck pretended to be very very straight.

+ Tommy walked away from the date over that statement.

+ No Eddie spying on them in the restaurant. 😪 I really wanted to see that. It would have been hilarious.

+ Buck casually tells Maddie that he checks out men's asses, which... I mean... have you seen Eddie's ass? It's canon now that Buck checked it out. Yay!

+ Buck (once again) only rambles about Eddie while coming out to Maddie. I mean 🤦‍♀️...

+ Maddie tearfully tells him that he isn't sure what he's feeling yet and that he'll tell Eddie when he has it figured out. Uhmmmm... Maddie knows???

+ Eddie's girlfriend used to be a nun and now the catholic guilt is keeping him from having sex and he's pent up with it?

+ Buck actually says that he can't help him with that.

+ Marisol (who still doesn't have a last name) is moving in waaaaay too soon.

+ Eddie talks to Bobby about the whole Marisol situation and Bobby gives him some cryptic advice. Bobby knows???

+ Buck finally tells Eddie about him dating Tommy and a beautiful friendship scene unfolds where they hug, Buck tells him that he can't stop thinking about Tommy and Eddie tells him to call up Tommy.

(Listen, if nothing else, the thing I love most about these two is their solid friendship.)

+ Eddie talks to Marisol and she doesn't move in after all.

+ Buck and Tommy meet for coffee and hold hands. He asks Tommy to Maddie's wedding as his date, which... 'No honey, this is a bad idea.' Talk about a highly pressurised second date.🤦‍♀️

+ So, at the end of the episode, Eddie doubles down on Marisol and Buck doubles down on Tomy. *sigh* I swear six seasons of this and I have a feeling that season 7 won't be different. Where is that 'It has been 84 years' when you need it.

+ Wedding shenanigans where Eddie and Buck drink copious amonts of alcohol, sing karaoke together and wake up together looking more dead then alive and they seemed to have misplaced Chimney. I mean... what?!?

+ Then both Ryan and Lou decide to destroy the fandom with their interviews: Ryan an Oliver read fanfic 👀, Ryan heavily insinuates that it isn't time for Buddie yet, Lou flat put reveals that it was suppose to be Eddie and Tommy... which what?!? Then they decided on Oliver??? Not sure why, but something fell through. Then Lou is all 'Tommy is an older experienced guy who can teach Buch the ropes, so that he will be primed for when he gets with Eddie and the fandom should be happy with that. It'll give Buddie a better fighting chance... if they happen, because they could not happen. I mean... sure Jan. Whoever released these two from PR jail, I am kissing you on the mouth right now. Thank you.

Aftermath of the episode:

+ Marisol is bones in episode 7.

+ Lots of people say that Bucktommy is cute, which is a fair and valid take. I'm still neutral about him, but I'll be sure to look out for that when I watch the episode, since it seems that Tommy is here to stay a little while longer.

+ Lots of people seem to be sure of Buddie being in the works because of this episode. I hope I'll share their confidence when I've watched the episode. I'm still rooting for Buddie endgame. I'll never give up on that.

So, that's it. That's what I've picked up from all your posts. Does it fit the actual episode? Let me know. I need aaaaall the spoilers before I watch.

[hollywoodsargeant]

boyish - chapter 12 16.5k words | 151.8k words total | loscar

“You’re just the expert of amicable break ups, or something.” Logan doesn’t think about Oscar saying that when one of Mia’s friends comes into his work the summer after graduation and asks if he’s “finally dating that Australian boy.” He says no, because he’s not, and she leaves appearing unconvinced. Logan can barely remember her name, but for some reason, he’s upset she doesn’t know Oscar’s. It makes him feel weirdly sick. He daydreams about crawling into a bucket of live bait and waiting to be thrown out to the water, seeing who will latch onto him first.

IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS (three months)... i hope this waters ur crops. 16k words of boyish loscar back on the table. my semester is almost over and i might explode if i don't finish this fic soon i have been dying to share the ending with you all <3 if anyone remembers me saying i was afraid of chapter 12 please know it kicked my ass way harder than i ever dreamed it could. PLEASE ENJOY!

+ here is a link to chapter one if you would prefer :)

[mrsharrington83]

Reminiscing

Steve x F!Reader

Summary; Y/N is on deaths door after being attacked by Demobats. During what she thinks are her final moments, she’s stuck, thinking about happier times. 

(Steve was never with Nancy) 

Warnings; use of Y/N, angst, lack of parental figure, alcohol intake, drug use, swearing.  (not proof read)

This was not what you had planned. Your head slumped on Steve’s shoulder for your final minutes, bleeding out of a wound that would just not stop. 

Time was weird, but oh god was it a valuable thing. The Upside Down was worse than you ever imagined, breathing in toxic fumes and fighting off Demobats which seemed to be your final calling.

 With lack of medical supplies, because this wasn’t exactly planned, there was no way to stop the bleeding from your abdomen. Those pesky fucks had done a number on you,

“No. We can get her there and get proper help.” Steve was panicking, he was always panicking when it came to you, but this time he had every right. His hand clasped over the deep wound on your stomach, trying to ignore the hot liquid, your blood, coating his fingers. You closed your eyes, slumping against him as he kept you up. Thinking of better times,

“Hey. Do I look daft?” Steve stood, leaning against his bedroom doorframe, black shades in his hands as you fixed the black bow around your neck, 

“You look great Steve. You always look great,” you patted down your dress and stood up. It wasn’t every day you were agreeing to going to a Halloween house party dressed as Joe and Lana from Risky Business. 

“Hey! You’re not even looking at me.” You grinned and turned round to look at your boyfriend of eleven months, how you’d managed to get with Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was beyond you. He was one of the most sought for boys in all of Hawkins high. You were a nerdy girl that spent most of her time with her nose in books studying like no tomorrow, but you knew he loved you. The way he looked at you like you were the only person on earth, how protective he was over you. You were pretty much inseparable. Everyone wanted a relationship like yours. You’d pretty much become popular overnight with him as your boyfriend, but you never swayed that way. You kept to your own and didn’t let it change who you were.  

“I change my mind. You look hot, Harrington.” He grinned and almost ran across the bedroom, pulling you into his arms and kissing all over your face before putting his glasses on and extending his hand for you to take. 

The party was loud, as you’d expected. Drinks flowing, too many drinks really. You’d lost count how many you’d thrown back, giggling with Steve on the back door step to save your ears from bursting from the loud music as he took a drag of his joint and passed it to you. 

Anyone else’s parents would have a breakdown if they found out their teenage children were at some rowdy party drinking underage, let alone getting high. It was something you and Steve didn’t have to worry about. You didn’t really have parental figures in your life, they were always away, always had something better to do. You didn’t get on with your parents, you did wonder why they bothered having a child, but you had Steve. You had each other. 

Taking your own drag of his joint, you sighed and leaned into him as your head went numb. A tingling sensation through your body. A mix of alcohol and weed would make anyone slump. 

“I love you, Steve.” 

“I love you too, Y/N. More than you know.”

You smiled at the memory. You’d come a long way from that house party back in ‘84. You’d been with Steve for almost three years now. You’d both changed a lot, lack of parental figures had made you both makeshift parents to a group of outcasted young teenagers, much like yourselves back in the day. You were great babysitters and they all looked up to the both of you, 

“Can you two stop making out now, it’s putting me off.” Dustin had been the one to speak up, Max giggling as she shoved her mouth full of popcorn. Movie night with everyone was always such a nice touch. Everyone in a small confined space, Mike’s basement to be exact. You and Steve were on the couch with Dustin screaming internally on the end with your feet almost in his face as they were draped over Steve’s lap. Max, Lucas, Will, Mike and El on the floor throwing popcorn at each other. It was nice to have a bit of normality, people on the outside would never know you were fighting alternate dimension monsters. No one would know you were absolutely kick ass with a studded bat, you and Steve had one. Badass babysitters, but good ones at that. You’d never let anything happen to those kids. 

You could hear voices around you, it was daft. You could hear everyone conversing, it was strained, but you couldn’t quite make out what was being said. You were surrounded by friends. Nancy, Robin, Eddie and of course Steve. He was right next to you. His radiating heat keeping you warm as your eyes tugged closed. You wanted to sleep, it was peaceful. The pain in your abdomen gone, you felt numb. 

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” Max stuck her head over the book you were reading,

“One day I suppose. I’m a bit young at the minute.” You giggled, closing your book as there was no way you’d be able to carry on reading with Max asking you twenty one questions. After everything that had happened with Billy, she had adopted you as her cooler older sis. She was ‘too old for a babysitter’ they all were now, but it had just stuck. This was your fucked up, stupid, beyond amazing life. 

“To Steve?” She pressed some more wiggling her eyebrows, waiting for gossip you knew would get back to him, she’d tell El, who’d tell Mike, it’d somehow get to Dustin and he couldn’t keep a secret if his best friend, Steve was involved. 

“I don’t see myself marrying anyone else. Put it that way.” Max scrunched up her nose all giddy,

“Can I be bridesmaid? And El?” She asked excitedly,

“I wouldn’t want anyone else being my bridesmaids, Robin and Nancy too of course,” you grinned as her eyes lit up. She was fast onto her feet as she ran off. Probably to tell El. You shook your head and laughed under your breath. How your life had turned into this was beyond you, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

The nagging pain in your abdomen brought you back to reality as your eyes fluttered. Steve and Eddie had your arms draped around their necks as Robin secured more clothing around your stomach. They weren’t going to give up easily. They wouldn’t let you die in the Upside Down. You weren’t sure if you were walking or your feet were dragging behind as your eyes closed again, 

“Fuck sakes, Steve!” He ran into the living room skidding on the living room floor,

“What?! What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He rushed to your side as if it were a matter of life and death before seeing the mess of one of your books, “oh… yeah… um. About that.” You held your book up to him, an obvious coffee cup stain lacing the pages,

“I have to give this back to the library you know,” you pouted, dabbing it with a cloth just making it worse, he took the blame of course. 

What he didn’t tell you was Robin had stopped by whilst you were at work. He was giving her ‘King Steve’ advice to pull Vicki, which left Robin laughing so much she put her coffee cup on your open book without a second glance. 

“Hey! It worked on, Y/N!”

“No doubt about that, Dingus”

He had tried to get the stain out himself with no avail. 

“I’ll take it back for you and get the scalding. Deal?” He looked at you with his big eyes,

“Fine, ugh. I guess. Fine.” You smiled at him as he pulled you into his arms, you couldn’t stay mad at him for shit. Flinging your arms around his neck and rubbing his hair with your hand. Payback. Though he secretly loved it, he wouldn’t let anyone else touch his hair. Only you. Only ever you. 

“Stay with me, Y/N. You’re going to be okay.” He didn’t sound positive, it was as though he was telling himself you were going to be okay, time was slow yet fast. One minute you were slumped against him near some rock, now you were opening your eyes to see Dustin, Max, Lucas and Erica through an opening of Eddie’s Trailer. 

“That’s trippy. Steve, are we smoking?” You couldn’t make out what was being said once again, something about being delusional and spacey which apparently wasn’t good. The kids you’d grown to love looking on in horror, 

“Oh I see, Dustin. You’ve replaced me and Steve huh?” You joked as you sat in the back of Family Video with Steve on his break,

“No! No one could replace you guys, but you know. We do all get fed up with you two eating face all the time!” Dustin laughed and hit his own knee, “plus, I think you’d both like Eddie. He’s cool.” He smiled 

Steve shook his head, “yeah. We will take your word for it bud, but just from experience. People that play D&D tend to be a bit weird,” he grinned as you all laughed, 

“Hey! No fair guys!” Dustin took off his cap as he put it on your head, all in good light. You loved those D&D kids. You wouldn’t change them for the world. 

“What the fuck happened?!” Even in your state, Dustin’s voice brought you to,

“Jesus Dustin, tone it down. I’m not dead.” You groaned, the ache in your stomach apparent, 

“Okay. She’s definitely not dead.” Steve shoved Dustin lightly as everyone brought medical supplies, Eddie wasn’t exactly a reliable source for things, but he did have a pretty good medical pack that Nancy wasted no time in getting stuck into, giving you a few painkillers as she pressed down on your abdomen making you scream out in agony, Steve wanted to pull Nancy off. Bellow at her for hurting you so much, but he knew she was doing her best to stop you bleeding out anymore. 

“Okay. You need to get her to a hospital, like now.” Eddie looked on as he fiddled about with his own medicine,

“Really?” Dustin butted in, “in the middle of saving one of our favourite babysitters, whilst you’re a suspected fugitive that’s been supposedly killing teenagers and you’re smoking weed?” 

“Nerves man.” Eddie spoke with a spliff hanging out of his mouth, a shake in his hands evident. It wasn’t every day you witnessed a friend bleeding out on your already stained mattress. (sorry guys xD) 

“Steve. This is daft. What are we doing here?” You stood, leaning against his maroon car, “we have much pressing matters at hand with Vecna around. What if our kids need us?” Steve was in the back of his car pulling something out the back,

“We won’t be here long. I just- I just wanted to do something.” It was a beautiful night. Just outside of Lovers Lake. Stars in the sky, a beautiful, warm evening. Though there were more important things to be doing, it was nice being alone with your boyfriend which was a luxury with the current circumstances. Steve stood next to you, taking your hand in his as he rubbed it with his thumb, looking up to the stars, “you know I love you right?” He was nervous,

“Steve? What’s wrong?” You jumped to the worst possible scenario, “have you been having nightmares? Oh god.” You stood in front of him worried, “visions? Fuck. Where’s your Walkman?!” He shushed you, pulling you into his arms,

“No! No, Y/N. Nothing like that.” You let out a shaky sigh, calming down, 

“I know we’re young. 20 is young, and we don’t have to do it tomorrow, but-“ he sighed as he fiddled about with his coat jacket, “with how things are at the minute, I don’t want to wait any longer to do this.” You looked at him confused as he pressed a kiss against your forehead before getting down on one knee, “you make me so happy and I know we don’t have much. We have each other, we have our friends and we have what,” he thought for a second, “six kids already?” He sniggered, you stood in shock with a hand over your mouth, “I’ve been saving up forever for this, I wanted you to have something I bought with my own money, something you deserved. Y/N.” He faltered, you could hear the shake in his voice, “will you marry me?” He opened up a small ring box to show a ring that shone like the stars in the night sky,

“Steve!” You tumbled into him, knocking him onto the floor as you held your hand against the back of his head to make sure it didn’t meet the pavement, “yes! Yes I will marry you!”  

The next time you woke up, you were surrounded by beeping machines and a sleeping Steve who had your hand tightly in his own. The ring on your finger twinkling against the light, the ache in your abdomen a lot better than it was. 

You were alive, hardly, but still kicking. Rubbing your thumb against Steve’s hand he shot up, his messy hair covering parts of his face, his blood shot eyes from the toxic fumes in the Upside Down and crying no doubt. Tired and dishevelled, but still your Steve. 

“Hey.” You smiled weakly at him as he kissed your hand. 

“Hey, you.” He stood up and moved the hair from your face as he kissed your forehead gently, as though you were going to disintegrate at the slightest touch. 

“The kids?” You questioned.

“Safe. We’re all safe for the time being.” You nodded and closed your eyes, sleep getting the better of you, but not before scooting over for your Steve to lay next to you. His warmth enveloping you. 

Sure, you had a hell of a fight on your hands coming up, but for now you could rest up and deal with his protests another day as you knew damned well he would be even more protective now. You’d nearly lost your life today, but you’d do it all over again for your people, for your Steve.