#my parents on the other hand were upset when they found out i was dating a white person

[pesteringchum]

seeing ppl hate on gil and say that they hope they completely change gils personality/storyline makes me feel like ppl did not understand him, both as a “person” and as a character. like gen 1 had VERY obvious racial commentary in it and though its debatable how well they handled it, its one of the biggest themes in the show so i think gil and lagoona’s relationship was pretty important.

most of the complaints ive seen about gil are about him being racist. personally, i cant really remember any instances of him actually holding racist views [i have only seen the web series and a couple of the movies, so maybe im missing out on a huge thing that happened]. i can only remember him being worried about what his parents, who were racist, would think about his relationship with lagoona. gil is, what, 16? his parents are a HUGE part of his life still, so i dont blame him for being scared of them and what they think. i mean, if his parents get pissed off at him enough, he could not only lose his parents—who, at that point in his life, are likely huge pillars of both his financial and emotional support systems—but also get kicked out, which are both terrifying prospects for a teenager. no matter how wrong you know that your parents are, telling them that can feel like a life or death decision [and sometimes CAN BE a life or death decision depending on how shitty your parents are]. but you know what else gil does? he becomes confident enough to actually tell his parents off! as a person, i appreciate that gil is a teenager who is in a tough situation and may not yet feel safe to stand up to his parents. this doesnt mean that i think lagoona was wrong for feeling upset or that gil wasn’t being shitty. imo, the situation was VERY unfair to lagoona and i think that breaking up until gil was ready to be open about their relationship would’ve been the best course of action. i just think the situation and the characters involved are more complex than “gil is MEAN and BAD for NO REASON AT ALL” like how some people seem to see it.

as a character, i appreciate gil and his storyline. i think that this kinda thing is believable and adds some depth to the conflicts, characters, and the world of mh. it would’ve been easy to lump all water monsters together, but its interesting and realistic that there is fighting within species/between similar species*. i also appreciate when topics like bigotry are addressed in ways that dont deal with people as Good or Bad. i think its important for kids to see characters who are discriminatory in some way or who are hesitant to speak up against discrimination since that is a very relatable flaw to have. like i said, gil DOES build the self confidence to speak up against his parents. he grows as a person, and its important to have that kind of growth in media. i think that the current view that a lot of ppl on the left seem to have that being A Racist inherently makes you an irredeemably bad person makes it harder for people to recognize and challenge their own racist biases bc no one likes thinking of themselves as A Bad Person. if bigots are solely represented as cartoonishly evil people, then people will think “but IM not a bad person! therefore i cant be racist!” and not challenge their own bigoted ideas.

i actually hope a similar storyline is carried over to gen 3, if with a little more grace, because i think its an interesting and important story to tell. i think the main problem with the storyline in canon is that gil’s arc took so long to resolve. i know if the show was being realistic, this kinda thing probably would take a while to resolve. but also, this is a kids’ show so it would be more effective to deliver that message in a shorter time frame and with a little more focus on it

#*are salt water and freshwater monsters different species? i have no clue lol. hashtag fake fan #gil webber #lagoona blue #monster high #long post #chum pesters #q #also as someone who was in a mixed race relationship i actually really relate to gil #im korean and my high school ex is white but my ex’s family ADORED me #like when we broke up they were worried that i would stop coming around they like me sm #my parents on the other hand were upset when they found out i was dating a white person #i ended up panicking and pretending to break up w my ex and hid our relationship from them #like a lot of ppl seem to liken their relationship to white [gil] + poc [lagoona] but ppl of any race can be prejudiced #ik poc being prejudiced against white ppl is completely different from the inverse in terms of social dynamic but still: shitty situation #imo i see their relationship in universe as more akin to smth like korean + japanese #like theres a lot of bad blood there but to someone who isnt asian [or a water monster in this case] they seem pretty much the same #but yeah. parents suck sometimes and thats a hard thing to navigate! #especially when you are as dependant on them as a teen would be!

[belovedcloud]

Boxes | Older! Neighbour! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

✎ Notes: Older Leon has been rotting my brain recently, especially DI Leon ugh. I'm making another fic with him but I honestly might do Vendetta Leon. I just know this man would help you out with moving in.

➤ WC: 3K

➤ CW: Strangers to lovers? Pet names: Sweetheart, Love, Baby, Darling, Good girl. Reader is seen to be in their low 20s whilst Leon being 38. Leon feeling ashamed of himself for liking you, mentions of Ada, Helena, Claire. Leon has a fleshlight. Touch starved Leon. Both you and Leon are a bit tipsy. Tit play, Leon eating you out, P in V (unprotected sex), aftercare.

MINORS DNI!

Carrying boxes was strenuous. You moved in a few weeks ago from your parents house, it was time for a new start. Although, your arms seem to regret the decision as you lift up the remainder of your boxes to the 12th floor. But it wasn't as bad when you had a certain man by your side. Leon was lucky enough to see you struggle your way up the apartment complex. Your first meeting with him had a slight tinge of embarrassment but soon died down as you got to know each other soon enough. With Leon carrying all of your heavy belongings such as your disheveled chairs and whatnot - you could see the strain on his muscles, it was attractive without a doubt. Despite the fact that he was older than you, the way he carried himself with looks and personality made him extremely enchanting. He was a man of charisma.

Today was like no other, however, it was the last lot of boxes you had stored in your parents house. Therefore, it shouldn't be that hard right? Leon was coming to help you out anyways, he insisted.

A few minutes passed, your back towards your car as you wait for Leon to come out of the complex. A similar silhouette appeared, Leon closed the door behind him - approaching you with a small smile. "Last set today then?" He spoke out to you as he opened the trunk of the car. "Yeah, good for you right? Your old back won't be cracking every 5 minutes" You teased leading to Leon giving a low chuckle as he looked at you. "Old? You wound me." He laughed out as he took an airy box. "I don't look that old do I?" He passed the package to you, taking a hefty one for himself. "No... no, you look good." You mumbled out, hoping he didn't take the compliment in a different way. "Good? I'll take it." Leon gave you a smirk as he shifted the box, walking towards the door. You hurried up behind him, ensuring you didn't make yourself look weird. Entering into the complex with a nervous look on your face. Even though moving in was arduous, the thoughts of not speaking to Leon daily made you feel quite upset. How would you even make up an excuse to see him? Knowing him for a few weeks was short but the way you linked with each other was different. It was like you were friends for years, comfort was found within you when you spoke to Leon. If only you knew how he felt about you.

Leon felt bad. He felt ashamed that he found you so attractive. The way your shirt hugged your body and your jeans show the curvature of your ass and your thighs strained. You were so much younger than him - he couldn't help his mind wandering to images of you whilst he laid in his own bed. Wishing it was yours. He built your bedframe, he helped you place the soft clean mattress on top. Yet he felt pure filth in his self as he thought of your body on his. His hands intertwined with yours as ideas of fucking you flooded his brain. Night after night it would be the same for him, his cock thrusting into his hand or fleshlight. He tried to think of anyone else but you. Ada, Claire, Helena could only stay in his mind for a mere 20 seconds before his brain cogged back to you. You. It wouldn't help hearing you over the thins walls as you touched yourself. The softest but most pornographic moans leaving your lips. Leon only wished that it was him making you sound that way, but it was wrong. What would his friends think if he dated you? He believed he was out of your league - if only he knew about the sinful thoughts you had about him too when you indulged in your own pleasure. Two fingers thrusting into your cunt wishing it was his, gushing all over your thighs as images of him engulfed your brain.

"Stay here, I'll get the last few boxes for you." Leon maintained a steady voice shaking out the immoral ideas in his head. Keeping a level-headed smile he gave you a small wave before you could argue back. Seeing his back turned towards you, your eyes subconsciously wandered on it. Soon landing onto his biceps, subtle veins leading to his hands as he went stood in front of the elevator. Snapping yourself out of your trance, you unpacked the two boxes you and Leon took up. Placing the glasses into the kitchen cabinet and hanging up clothes was therapeutic in some way. Helping you calm yourself from your thoughts on Leon as you felt a wet patch on your panties. Pouring out a glass of wine for two as you waited for Leon to come back.

"I think that's it.. unless you have some hidden ones in your car?" He joked as he placed down the final box to the side, looking up to see you with two glasses of wine in your hand. "Oh?" He smiled, stretching his back before walking to you. "Seems like you need this then." You giggled passing him the glass, Leon rolling his eyes as he took it. "Thank you for the past few weeks helping me move in... I was wondering if you wanted to relax for a bit?" You murmured, sitting down on your couch. Leon soon accompanying you. "How can I say no?" He gave you a slight smirk as the rim of the wine glass pressed against his lips, the alcoholic liquid sliding down his throat.

A bottle or two of wine later caused the both of you to erupt into laughter and giggles - getting to know each other quite well. You learned that Leon worked for the government, although not being able to go into grave detail, he was an important figure for the USA. It wasn't long until you also explained what your job was, explaining in why you chose your path. However, you felt hot. Way too hot as you sensed his eyes gaze all over you. Lingering onto your lips and eyes as he looked at you with such awe and fascination. Leon felt warm within himself, you were like a new light that he had been longing for. You spoke without care, refreshing for him as his job withheld such secrecy. An urge secreted in him as your soft lips moved with grace. He yearned for you, and it was becoming evident from the pained strain in his jeans.

Taking another sip from your drink, you spoke without thinking. "How's your love life?" Shit. Was that too personal? Hoping for the best outcome you fiddled with your glass as your eyes wandered to his face, trying to decipher what expression he had. "Boring. If I'm being honest with you, I haven't dated anyone for years." A deep chuckle elicited out of his throat. The rasp laced in his tone giving you a shiver. "Seriously? You're joking." A giggle came out of you. Was he actually single? "Nope. But I'm surprised you don't have a certain someone here. You've got a boyfriend haven't you?" Leon hiccupped out, the alcohol making him feel fuzzy. To his surprise, your head shook side to side. "No, I'm single alright." You said with a soft smile plastered on your face. Leon genuinely couldn't believe it. A woman like you single? "Now that's a surprise." Leon grinned as he finished his 4th glass of wine. "Well, I'm sure you'll be able to find a man of your age. Although most of them are probably a pain in your ass." He laid back onto the couch, his arm behind his head. Again, your eyes couldn't help but avert to the flex of his bicep. This time, it didn't go unnoticed.

"You're right." A sigh came from your lips, "Which is why I don't usually go for guys my age." You admitted, making Leon confused. So who did you go for? "Hm? So you like younger men?" He asked, staring into your eyes with his own lustful ones. Praying that what you were looking for was the opposite of young. A mellow giggle followed out of your mouth as you shook your head once more. "No, I like older men." Leon's smirk became wider as those words left your mouth. Maybe he had a chance after all. Perhaps his wrongful thoughts were okay with you - that you wouldn't mind a man near twice your age to fuck you. "Really sweetheart?" A low groan drawn out his throat, his eyes basically fucking you. That same heat returned to you, just much more insatiable.

It was like a flip in you switched, your body longing for touch as so for Leon. Sloppy kisses shared between you two as Leon's hands gripped the fat on your hips. Subconsciously grinding himself into you as he felt your clit throb on his crotch. Your quiet whimpers muffled by the crashing of yours and Leon's lips unmethodical rhythms as saliva was shared. "F-Fuck.." A moan left Leon's lips, his head clouded by lust as he tapped your legs. "Wrap 'em around me darling." He demanded as he held you up, your legs squeezed tight around his waist - your irregular breathing echoing in his mind. Leon wasn't going to just fuck you on the couch, he wanted to show you his love. Heavy footsteps followed behind him as he nudged your bedroom door open, placing you gently on your newly built bed. "Let's see how well I built this frame, yeah?" Leon joked as he littered your neck with butterfly kisses. Pinning you down, stopping your squirming beneath him. "L-Leon..." That was enough to get him going, the pornographic moan after the lustful mumble of his name had his cock throbbing for more. He wanted you, he needed you.

Leon's hands slowly crept under your shirt, caressing your chest as he kneaded your tits. Pinching at your nipples to elicit another whine out of you. Your soft, mellow skin opposed his calloused hands. The hands that killed bioweapons were fondling with your tits, shakily taking off your shirt to show them in true beauty. "So fucking gorgeous." Leon groaned out, without a doubt in his mind he shoved his head in between your breasts. Your whimpers echoed throughout your bedroom, just to be stopped as you gasped when you felt his knee part your legs. Rubbing your clothed clit as he sucked on the plush parts of your tits. His hands methodically unbuttoned your jeans, slowly pulling them off you as he saw your pretty laced panties. They would've looked so innocent if it wasn't for the soaked wet patch in the middle of them. "All this for me baby?" He murmured, enchanted by how wet you were. You could couldn't help but frantically nod your head, needing to feel his touch somewhere else. "P-Please Leon.. need you to touch me." You moaned gently, your hips bucking for any type of touch. Who was he to say no to such a polite question? "Alright sweetheart.. C'mon spread your legs f'me." He ordered and you obeyed, feeling like mush in his hands.

The pads of his fingers played with the lace and the little bow at the top. Cute. Slowly, he slid your panties to the side, your slick leaving a small strand attached to the material. Leon was mesmerized by the sight, yet you felt embarrassed. Trying to close your legs failed as his strong hands pried you open. "Don't close 'em love, you're so beautiful. Let me appreciate you, yeah?" He groaned, feeling himself rut into your fresh linen sheets. Leon positioned himself in front of your clit, feeling his mouth water as he looked at it. His eyes flickering to you before asking "Do you want me to carry on darling?" His hot breath tickling you, a soft moan squeezed out your throat. "Yes.. Please Leon.. Want your tongue on my clit." Leon gave you a deep chuckle in response, his eyes flickering back to your clit. "'Atta girl.. Didn't know you were so dirty." He whispered before licking your slit, slowly capturing you in his mouth.

This was pure filth. Your moans alongside the wet sounds your pussy was making as Leon's pistoned two fingers in and out of you. His tongue skillfully flicking over your clit as his baby blue eyes watched your reactions. Your fingers felt themselves entangled in Leon's hair, pulling at his strands as choked moans fell out of your mouth. Chasing for that sweet release, you subconsciously bucked your hips, allowing for Leon's nose to press up against your clit. Deep, shallow moans trembled into your clit as Leon was determined to make you cum. He wanted all of you, he needed you to be ready for his cock. "C'mon, give it to me baby." He pressed his tongue against you, curving his fingers in you in the right spot. "L-Leon... I'm gonna.." Your sentence was soon cut off by the shaking of your body as the coil in you snapped. The orgasm took over your body, your lips chanting his name as you pulled on his hair. Granting you a groan from Leon as he swallowed your cum. "So sweet." He chuckled, pulling himself off you. Before pulling your face close to his, allowing you to taste yourself as he kissed you.

Leon felt a hand tug on his shirt, your pleading eyes staring into his blue ones. A smirk tugged his face as he took off his shirt. Slowly unbuckling his belt, removing his jeans alongside it too. Your cunt ached to be fucked, your mind telling you that only Leon could satisfy your needs.

He pulled down his boxers, a pretty dark red tip beamed at you. Glistening with pre-cum smeared all of it. You couldn't help but stare as Leon's face flushed a light pink. "Fuck.. Don't look at it like that sweetheart." He moaned softly, positioning himself right up against your entrance. "You ready?" His hand slowly caressed your face, a nod coming from you as he intertwined his hand with yours. He was big. Real fucking big as you felt yourself stretch open, your eyes rolling back in pain mixed with pleasure. Fuck. Leon could've came right there as he saw your expression change. You were so attractive. He slowly rutted himself into you, moaning your name as his hips sputtered. "Y-You alright?" He stuttered out, you were so tight. "Yeah.. I'm okay. You can move Leon." A soft smile appeared on your face, he couldn't help but reciprocate it back. He moved his hips, his thrusts soft - but it was hard to keep it that way after a minute. His thighs started to slap against yours as his dick pistoned into you. Leon threw his head back in otherworldly pleasure, moaning sweet nothings as he felt himself lose himself inside of you. You were no different. Your moans and screams increased in volume and pitch as you felt him pound into you. Your legs shaking in pleasure as you felt that same coil tighten in you again. "My good girl.. f-fuck so fucking good f'me." Leon growled, feeling his body become weak to your pheromones. He buried his head into your neck, marking you with lovebites. He felt his dick throb as his hips moved without thought.

"Leon.. I'm gonna cum again.. Feels too good." Mewls escaped from your throat as your hands scrapped at his back. Scratching him. The pain mixed with pleasure was enough for Leon to start panting as he felt himself get close. "Cum for me, please cum for me baby.." He whined as he thrusted into your sweet little pussy. You were so pretty for him, his good girl. The marks on your neck slowly started to become more evident, a smirk appeared on his face as he saw you scrunch up your face. His hand snaked down to your clit, slowly rubbing it. Giving you a whole new sensation as you felt his dick pulsate inside you. "I.. I.. Leon!" The coil in you snapped again, twice as hard as you creamed all over his cock. He didn't stop smacking himself into you, a white ring forming at the base. Leon started to chase his own high. "Take it, take it, take it." He chanted as he felt his hips stammer. The clapping of your skin quickly died down as Leon jerked himself out of you, rubbing his dick as his cum splattered all over your stomach. You couldn't help but think how handsome he looked as he threw his head back, moaning your name.

After both of your highs, Leon practically collapsed on top of you. "G-Get off.. You're so heavy." You tried to push him off, a laugh escaping Leon's lips as he pulled himself off of you. Pressing a soft kiss against your lips. He climbed out of your bed, pulling up his boxers and walked out of your bedroom. Soon, he returned with a damp cloth in his hand with two bottles of water in the other. Whilst wiping you down, Leon flashed you a quick smile and passed you the cold bottle. Your lips pursed the top as you gulped down the liquid. "C'mon... Let's shower." He took his hand into yours, lifting you up from your bed and carrying you to your bathroom. Your hot thighs pressed against the cold counter as he flipped the shower on. "Hey guess what." Leon couldn't help but giggle out the sentence. Your eyebrow cocked up as you looked over to him. "What?" You asked him with a smile on your face.

"At least we know I built the frame right." He laughed out, finding himself hilarious. "Oh shut up." Your laughter soon followed along.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil smut #leon smut #leon kennedy older

[everythingne]

christmas in monaco - cl16 [2]

Trying to even bring up boys with Max ends up in a fight. You and Charles have a heart-to-heart. Daniel and Carlos help you devise a plan.

warnings/notes: comparing Max to Jos during the fight, mentions of shit parents, one (1) jab at Kelly, the chapter is serious and then Daniel shows up and that goes to shit, the last bit of set up before i go full scooby-do search party through the doors on you guys

verstappen!reader x charles leclerc, secret dating/brothers best friend

prev | next

-

You know you're in for it when you open the door to Max's apartment, groceries tucked lazily in one arm and coffees in the other and he's staring at you.

"What?" You ask as if you have no idea what he wants. You can see Penelope laying on the floor, coloring while some cartoon you've never heard of plays, and thus immediately switch to Dutch.

"[Why do you look like you're mad at me?]" You say, walking over to where he sits on the kitchen island, plopping down the groceries, and handing him the coffee you'd bought. Kelly's off doing god knows what today, leaving the two of you to watch Penelope before you return to your apartment next door.

"[Who is he?]" Max asks, taking the coffee with a nod of a thank you as he helps you organize the groceries. You knew posting that picture would cause this conversation, you and Charles had spoken about easing Max into the fact you were dating at all, and maybe it wasn't the best idea. Max had been fiercely protective over you since you were kids, you don't know why you assumed he'd stop now that you were adults.

"[I haven't told anyone yet. We're keeping it hush.] Okay?" You speak softly, setting down some things for dinner. Simple pasta, since Penelope had picked that over pizza--as long as you made her meatballs as well. You pluck the ingredients from the mess of other groceries, making sure you have everything as Max leans back in his seat.

"[Oh, so I'm just anyone now?]" Max lifts his hands in agitation, the same accusatory tone of your father's ringing in Max's voice. You swallow your vitriol, crossing your arms taught over Charles' hoodie you wear as you cross the room, then you tug up the red sleeves of the hoodie as you set down the ingredients for dinner by the stove.

"[Max, come on.]" You urge, hoping he'll drop it. But he's as stubborn as your father and as impatient as him too.

"[No, I feel like I have a right to be upset over this, how long have you two been seeing each other?]" His pointed glare at you as you whisk out a pan from under the stove makes your skin burn hot. You pause, mouth opening and closing as you slowly slide the pot onto the stove. If you say two years, does that link you to Charles too quickly? But if you lie, will Max see right through you? And you can't dodge the question, not here, not now.

"A couple months." You say. Yeah, twenty-four of them, then you scoff when Max makes a face, "[Stop acting like a child.]"

"[And how come Danny knows?]"

"[He found out on accident, and honestly I remember now why I didn't wanna tell you.]" You huff, filling the pot with water and clicking the burner on. You tie your hair up lazily, looking over at Max as your crack-open fridge next to the stove and then turn to grab the ingredients to make the sauce, "[you're treating me like a toddler.]"

"[You're my baby sister, I feel like I am kinda... obligated, to be concerned?]" Max's voice is sharp as you start to whip up the same sauce you've been making since you were fourteen. Max stands up and crosses the room to stand next to you, "[And I'm not treating you like a toddler. It's my job to protect you as your brother.]"

"[I'm a year younger than you! I'm not a baby, you just don't trust me, which is fucking stupid because I'm not the one dating a woman almost a decade older than me!]" You huff as you turn to Max, who tries to stammer some defense to his situation but you don't give him a chance to, "[and I don't know why you think I can't date drivers, by the way, you trust those guys with your life but not my heart?]"

"[Those guys are cheaters, I don't want you hurt.]" Max runs a hand through his hair, watching as you continue making the sauce. You can tell, just by his eyes, that he's thinking of the times you used to make him pasta after races growing up. You try to not think about the past.

"Who?" You ask, looking at the sauce and burning the red color into your retinas, mentally praying that he's not catching onto you.

"Lando, probably." Max huffs, stepping back, "Charles."

"Charles?" You hum, hating that you come to his defense immediately and not Lando's, "[The guy who just announced the girl he's been dating for two years?]"

"[He's done some interesting things.]" Max says in his defense and you can't help but laugh. You knew before Charles met you he had been a bit of a womanizer, or 'man-whore' as your friends so kindly said. But with you, it was like Charles was a brand new person.

"[You're so overdramatic.]" You deadpan, turning to add the noodles to the sauce and Max scoffs.

"[I'm trying to protect you so you don't end up with someone like Dad!]"

"[You haven't even met my boyfriend yet and you're assuming the worst! Why are you being such a dick, Max!?]" You slam the spoon down and then flinch, remembering Penelope is in the other room the second you do it. It takes a few seconds, and then her little head peeks around the doorway.

"Are you fighting?" She asks sweetly and you shake your head.

"No, Penny, it's fine." You try to smile at her, but Max seems to have taken another level of offense to everything.

"Y/n. [Go fuck off to your mystery boy, why don't you?]" Max takes the spoon off the counter. His cold shoulder isn't something new, but it's the way he says it, sounding like the harsh whispers your father would pass at you in public, makes you swallow hard. You walk across the room, grabbing your purse and car keys off the table before kneeling down in front of Penelope and kissing her hairline.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay honey? Sorry if I scared you when I slammed the spoon down." You squeeze her in a tight hug, closing your eyes as you feel Max's eyes burn into the back of your head.

"Okay, Tante Y/n." She smiles, throwing her tiny arms around you, "And it's okay, I thought you dropped it."

You step back, kissing her hairline again, before getting up and leaving the apartment in a breeze, coffee forgotten. Your hands fumble with your phone, finding Charles' contact and sending him a quick message as you try and calm your anger.

--

You have a spare key, and as you jiggle your phone and keys in your hands to find it, the door swings open and two arms wrap around you. Laughing softly, you bury your face into the fabric of Charles' sweater and sigh heavily. He's warm, smelling of the usual cedar cologne you'd bought for him a while back. He also smells weakly like his hair products and if you try to search for it, your perfume lingers on his neck.

"Hi, amour." You murmur into the fabric and he bends at the knee enough to scoop you up to carry you the few inches inside before popping you back on your feet as he uses one hand to push the door shut.

"Hi." He says back, stepping back and squishing your cheeks in his hands and peppers soft kisses to your hairline, "Sorry about Max."

"It's fine. He's just being overprotective again." You kick off your shoes and follow Charles to the living room, flopping down on his couch and burying your head in your hands.

"You know if..." Charles sighs, hand coming through his hair and then pausing as he scratches at his neck, "If it's gonna be easier for you, I can try and talk to him?"

"No... I should tell him, he's my brother. I just don't think now is a good time?" You say as Charles pops down next to you on the couch and you shift so you can lay his head in your lap as you kick your feet onto the coffee table to rest, "he just seems so... agitated."

"Because you're dating?"

"He's afraid I'm gonna end up with someone like Dad. That's the problem. He doesn't trust anyone with me and gives them no chances. He thought Jolie was a drug dealer for like, six months!"

"She's a teacher?" Charles turns to you and you can't help but just laugh because that's Max.

"I know!" You huff.

Silence lulls for a while, and then Charles sits up and grabs you to unceremoniously pull you against his chest as he lays you both down on the couch. your face squishes against his hands as he peppers soft kisses to your hairline, the apples of your cheeks, and your nose, before pressing one long kiss to your lips. Pulling back just enough to murmur,

"I wanna spend Christmas with you, properly, this year." He says against your lips, your eyes fluttering before he presses his thumb to your pulse to draw you back enough to make eye contact, "I want to be able to post you, to talk about you with everyone because you're so fucking amazing, and I wanna meet your siblings and your mom and go on holidays with you guys and have our moms meet because Maman and Arthur both adore you and..."

Charles drawls off for a moment, hands coming up to cup your face as he thumbs along the warm, delicate skin of your cheeks, "I want, one day, to be able to get down on one knee and give you my whole heart."

Your pulse rams under his touch, cheeks dusted red, eyes wide but happily smiling as he leans in to lock in a long kiss, then he peppers some pecks on the corners of your mouth.

"The problem is, I can't do anything without Max knowing about us. Two years of us dating without telling him is already bad enough and he's been in my life since we were kids--even if we absolutely hated each other at first." Charles sighs, pressing a final quick kiss to your lips before letting you rest your head on his chest, "I feel terrible he doesn't know."

"But you know what he said." You sigh, closing your eyes against the warm fabric of his sweater--the grey one you'd bought for him a while back.

"I know, but we're either going to tell Max, or Max will find out." Charles sighs, "I prefer the first if I'm honest."

Even as you nod in agreement, you feel sick. The bubble of you and Charles had been safe for so long, that you weren't sure if you wanted to let Max in. But he was your brother, a year and fifteen days older, and you had told him everything up to this point. You'd be lying if you said you didn't also feel like shit for keeping Max out of the loop, but yet you feel like you have to.

"How'd Daniel find out?" Charles asks after a moment and he looks at you with those big eyes that make your heart thrum under your skin, love, and adoration seep from him and you don't understand at that moment how he could've ever been a womanizer when he looks at you like you hung the moon and stars just for him.

And then a small smirk peeks across his lips, "Because I know how Carlos did--"

"That one was your fault, Leclerc." You poke his chest, "Not locking the driver's room door was stupid."

"It was! But we're lucky it was Carlos."

"We're lucky we were only kissing."

"[We could've done more.]" He teases, making sure to really ramp up his accent as he speaks French so it's a bit harder for you to follow along, but you get the gist and whack his chest.

"Daniel saw me leaving, he was in the area doing media stuff." You explain, "I guess he saw me leaving."

"Oh, I thought it was because he moved in downstairs last week." Charles hums and you snap your eyes open and exclaim--

"What?!"

"Mhm. And Carlos lives in this building too." Charles looks over at you from where his eyes had been burning a hole in the ceiling, "Mon chéri, a lot of the drivers live in Monaco."

"I'm gonna lose it." You grumble, then pause, sitting up so you're hovering over Charles, one of his hands slides to support your waist immediately so you don't slide off.

"Carlos and Danny know." You say.

"Mhm."

"And... Carlos is your best friend--"

"--Arguably--"

"--and Danny is arguably Max's best friend, behind you."

"Uh-huh."

"...What if we ask them for help?"

"Absolutely not am I asking those two," Charles says and you huff.

"Come on! We clearly can't do it ourselves!" You exclaim, bouncing yourself on him with your arms, making him grunt as your body weight hits him.

"Daniel will tell us to do some sort of skit and Carlos will say for us to just say it!" Charles grips your waist and pulls you closer, "I don't need their shit advice."

"Maybe we need their guidance, and I promise it won't be bad! I promise! We can invite them over, have some wine and dinner, and voice our concerns--maybe they know something about Max we don't! Maybe they'll know he won't be mad or something."

"Y/n." He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

"Charles!" You whine, "Look, if they give us shit advice, we kick them out and go back to the drawing board."

"Fine. But I'm holding you to this."

--

"I'm going to kick Danny out in about five seconds." You hiss to Charles and he laughs.

"Dude!" Danny shouts from where he sits on the floor, "I'm just saying, Max likes Charles. We all see it!"

"Believe me." Carlos hums into his wine, "There's a reason that... what is it... Lestappen shit is so popular. He's not gonna be mad its Charles. If it was like... me? Probably. Charles and Daniel are probably the only two drives you could date."

"And Yuki." Charles hums, "I don't think Yuki could do wrong."

"He might stab someone with the chef's knives he got for Secret Santa." Daniel points out and you snort.

"But you seriously have nothing to worry about." Carlos nods, "Honestly, you both are so stressed about it, I don't think either of you can think clearly."

You huff, "I feel like I can be stressed though. Max will either be fine with it or hate me forever."

"No, not forever, étoile." Charles hums, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as he draws you close.

"I don't think Max can physically hate you. I think he'd explode." Daniel hums, "Remember when you were sick and he thought you were ignoring him but you just literally couldn't hear out of one ear and he almost had a crisis?"

"You remember that?" You blink at Daniel. That had been only shortly after you'd met Daniel, the first race of that season. You were so delirious you couldn't remember most of the weekend, but you remember Christian and Daniel holding that over Max's head for weeks after.

"I do because he almost lost his mind for like four hours thinking you were mad at him and ignoring him. And then you rolled over and woke up from your nap." Daniel finishes the unceremonious story and Charles and Carlos burst into high-pitched laughter.

"He didn't think to like, shake her shoulder?" Carlos asks between laughter, finishing off his wine and grabbing a bottle from the little makeshift bowl cooler you put on the floor. He pours himself another glass and then tops everyone else off before putting the bottle back.

"He knew she was sick, and Y/n specifically told him not to touch her or go near her while she was sick." Daniel explains, thanking Carlos before taking a sip of the wine, "It was ridiculous. And then he made her promise that she wasn't actually mad."

"It was pretty funny." You grin and Carlos nods.

"So then Daniel is right, Max can't stand you being angry at him. So he can't be angry with you. If he is, he's a hypocrite, and fuck him, obviously." Carlos raises his glass in mock toast as sarcasm bleeds through his sentence halfway through, "But I can't say he won't be mad. He might be furious when he finds out, you have explained how protective Max can be, but I think he'll feel better knowing it's Charles."

"Charles is like his best friend," Daniel hums, "if you're dating someone he trusts I'm sure he'll feel better about it."

"Didn't we just make this point?" Carlos turns to Daniel who nods.

"Yeah, but it's a good one, so make it again."

"Max trusts Charles so it's fine," Carlos says and you laugh, waving your hands.

"Okay, so how the fuck do we do this?"

The plan is simple but effective. And it takes a few words to describe; be exactly the same, but a bit less secretive.

And the best way to start that is via social media. Once again.

-

y/nverstappen made a new post! ↴

liked by carlossainz, charlesleclerc, maxverstappen, and 412k others..

y/nverstappen: he called me his star <3

joliejolie: CYOOTIE PATOOTIE WHHAAAT

user1: caption??? GUYS?? CAPTION??

maxverstappen: i still don't know who

charlesleclerc: thanks for using all my film

charlesleclerc made a new post! ↴

liked by ynverstappen, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 612k others...

charlesleclerc: never getting rid of this camera.

user2: get me someone who will do this for me.

danielricciardo: DUDE THERE ARE KIDS HERE.

⤷ landonorris: im covering oscar and logans eyes

⤷ logansargeant: yeah ok.

⤷ charlesleclerc: ill get worse

⤷ oscarpiastri: pls no

⤷ carlossainz: ill buy u wine if you do

⤷ danielricciardo: DONT ENCOURAGE THAT WE DONT NEED A FUCKING HOMICIDE ON OUR HANDS??? CARLOS???

⤷ ynverstappen: why is DANIEL on damage control??

user1: why is this the sweetest thing ever?

ynverstappen.jpg: make a jpg coward

⤷ charlesleclerc.jpg: who says i dont have one.

⤷ landonorris.jpg: its just priv.

⤷ danielricciardo: unpriv coward

⤷ charlesleclerc: ok ?

⤷ ynverstappen.jpg: YEAAA SECRET CHARLES PHOTOS!!

charlesleclerc.jpg made a new post! ↴

charlesleclerc.jpg: in her own world.

arthurleclerc: vomiting. put clothes on.

y/nverstappen: TWO shirtless photos. BRO.

⤷ charlesleclerc: oops.

maxverstappen: so she takes after you with not wearing a shirt?

⤷ charlesleclerc: low blow

⤷ ynverstappen: accurate blow tbh

landonorris: where is ferrari's pr manager.

⤷ carlossainz: no one can help her.

ynverstappen.jpg made a new post! ↴

y/nverstappen.jpg: some fuckin gems in my camera roll recently

charlesleclerc: omg finally a feature

danielricciardo: WHEN WAS THAT TAKEN I DO NOT RECALL

⤷ carlossainz: shit talk night w her and charles

⤷ danielricciardo: after the advice?

⤷ ynverstappen.jpg: yes and u still owe me a new shirt >:(

maxverstappen: can you ever post a nice photo of me on here?

⤷ y/nverstappen: nope <3!

charlesleclerc: the banana is so old why now

⤷ ynverstappen.jpg: comedy

-

And by god, it starts working.

You're walking with Charles, hands intertwined as you wiggle through the tiny stalls in the small market that's popped up for the holidays. You both find a small corner to hide, stealing a chaste kiss and then you pop a chocolate strawberry in his mouth.

"Oh, damn." He hums, "You are right, these are amazing."

"I told you!" You grin, peeking behind your shoulder to see if anyone is watching. You swear you make eye contact with Max, but the longer you look the less the guy looks like Max so you turn back around.

"You good?" Charles rests a hand on your waist and you nod, taking a strawberry into your mouth and sighing.

"Mhm. Just hate hiding." You lean into his touch, letting him wrap a firm arm around your waist as he peppers a few kisses to your hairline.

"Hey, think about it this way." Charles says, "Soon we won't have to."

As you step back and agree, Daniel pops up next to you with big wide eyes--and not the usual excited ones you're used to seeing.

"Hey, Max, on your six." He pokes your shoulder and you make a face, before Daniel waves his arms around in some sort of odd gesture and hisses out to you, "Clock direction!"

"Oh-!" You whip around as Charles' hand moves off your waist and walking towards you is none other than your brother. Offering a soft smile and wave.

"Hey! Didn't think you'd be here!" You call and he pokes your arm, crossing his arms over his chest as you, Charles, and Daniel kinda scramble to make it look like nothing was going on.

"Kelly wanted to grab some flowers for the kitchen," Max hums. The two of you hadn't really apologized for anything said during the argument. In your family, arguments were never really apologized for, you kinda of just moved on from everything. So even if there was still a bit of an awkward twinge, nothing was said.

"Oh! Somehow Charles and Daniel haven't had the strawberries so I brought them here to try them." You smile, and someone's hand comes to your jaw. You blink as Charles uses one of the napkins to poke your cheek.

"You got chocolate on your face, somehow." He murmurs and you laugh, grabbing his wrist and taking the napkin into your own hands.

"Thank you, Charlie." You blot where he says the chocolate is and you notice Max giving you a weird look. Looking over at your brother, you go to say something before Daniel pulls Max away to look at something, mouthing to you both,

"Be more discreet, maybe?"

And you can't help the giggles that leave your mouth as you lean into Charles and he wraps an arm around you, laughing out apologies.

Yeah, Max was gonna catch on.

-

and now you and Charles had to get real good at lying and dodging watchful eyes. Monaco was a small little country, and now that it would be filled with more people who knew you, it was about to become a real challenge to see if you could make it through the holidays without anyone knowing or noticing.

Oh, especially when your Christmas Eve dinner was now going to have the Leclerc's stopping by as well.

taglist. thank you!

@angelayse @iamahallucinationnn @ilove-tswizzle @supremebaddietrash

#f1 fanfic #formula one fic #formula one fanfiction #max verstappen fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smau #f1 smau #formula one smau

[xxblairexxss]

Ice cream date

Theme : Fluff

Thank you so much for your request, anon! 🩷🫶🏻 A short break from angst before I start writing for another angst request! I loveeeee writing for dad!charles soo adorable! 🥹

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Charles?” You tilted your head to your side once your husband picked up the call.

“Yes, honey?”

You looked back facing your nail lady and pointed at the pastel lavender colour before bringing your phone back to your ear. “Can you pick up your little daughter from the daycare today? I don’t think my nail appointment would end in 15 minutes.”

“Yeah, of course. Don’t worry about her. Enjoy your day out with your friends, okay?Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, honey! I love you!” You ended the call and went back picking different charms for your new nails.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Dada!”

“Hey, baby! I missed you.” Charles crouched down and picked up his baby girl into his arms and nodded as an act of acknowledgement and gratitude to the daycare worker as he turned away to make their way to the car.

“Sir, may I have a word with you?” He turned back and raised his brow in question to the sudden interference.

“Yeah? Yeah, sure. Is there anything wrong?”

Charles was told how his little girl was caught scribbled on her classmate’s notebook using her crayons. The notebook was actually used for kids and tutors for daily activities which required paper and pencils. Not only did his little girl scribbled on her classmate’s notebook, she also shred a few pages.

“We left the children a few minutes and came back to see the other student crying. And this is what she did.” She handed him the proof of crime and Charles was astounded. He had to continuously apologise on behalf of his daughter while Y/D/N kept on hugging his neck and giggling in his arms, completely oblivious to the informal parent-teacher meeting.

“Dada, I want choco this time!” She squealed in her car seat, elated for her daddy and daughter ice-cream date which had become a ritual every time Charles picked her up.

“No ice cream this time, baby.”

“Eh? Why? But, dada, I want ice-cream!” She stopped clapping her hands and caught Charles’s gaze on her through the rear view mirror.

“You were not a good girl today so you don’t get ice cream. We are going home and there’ll be no movie night for you too.” Charles saw she jutted her bottom lips out and whimpered.

“Did you say sorry to your friend?” Charles looked back into the rearview mirror and saw she was wiping her tears off with her arms. “Baby, dada’s asking you. Did you say sorry?”

She didn’t reply as she kept on sobbing but she actually nodded to his question but Charles didn’t catch that so he thought she was ignoring him.

“No cartoon after this and go straight to your room. I’m telling mommy what you did today and she will scold you even more.” He had always been very gentle with her before she was even born. He never had a sister nor any girls from his family members. When you told him you were pregnant with a girl, you knew right away he would make her the centre of his world.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

When you came home, Charles was in the bathroom while your daughter was nowhere to be seen. You usually would always came home with your husband and daughter cuddling on the couch watching Disney movies.

“Baby?” You had found her in her room with puffy eyes. Sitting on her little bed, you brushed her hair away from her face and she hugged your middle. “Who made you cry?” You cupped on her chubby cheeks and softly rubbed your thumbs across her cheekbone, wiping the freshly tears away.

“Dada hates me…”

“Who said that? He loves you so much, baby.”

She ended up telling you everything that happened, which made her cry again and you had to continuously wiped her tears and told her it was fine. You had learnt that she was upset because she was looking forward to her little ice cream date and was turned down by her dad without being told why. She was upset because she had never seen her daddy being so mad at her and she didn’t understand why.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“I missed you.”

You were making dinner when Charles hugged you from behind and you could smell the scent of lavender from his shower gel when he dropped trail of kisses on your neck.

“Did you get into a fight with your other girlfriend?”

“What?” He broke the hug and went to your side, leaning against the kitchen counter with a frown. “Did she complain to you? Honey, she ruined her classmate’s notebook. How can I not ground her.” He stole a slice of mango that you were cutting and you slapped his hand away.

“Did you actually ask her what happened?” You raised your brows when he looked dubious to the questions.

“Did she tell you what actually happened?”

“Yeah, she did. And I think you are in trouble this time, honey.” You took a slice of mango and put it in your mouth, chewing it while looking very thrilled meanwhile your husband looked like he was going through every single possibilities in his head.

“Oh! Hi baby! Are you hungry?” You exclaimed when your little girl approached your little time with your husband with her fluffy friend, Mr. Boo.

“Baby, do you want to set the table with dada? Like always?” He crouched down and stretched his arms, expecting her little girl to come running as she usually did but she didn’t. She went to your side instead and hugged your leg, struggling a little when Mr. Boo almost slipped off her little arms.

“Oh, shit.”

“Language, Charles!” You glowered at him. “Baby, let daddy set the table alone while you helped me stir the soup, alright?” You picked her up as she shrieked with laughter, leaving a peck on your cheek and tried to grasped on the ladle, completely ignoring your husband.

“Can I get a kiss too, baby?” Charles went to her side and leaned in to kiss but she quickly turned her head away, hiding her face in your neck. “Honey, help me here.”

“Don’t involve me.”

Charles didn’t get a kiss and he stopped asking when your daughter got into a fit crying as she got annoyed from the constant bugging. When she walked to the dining table, Charles pulled the chair by his side, as she usually wanted to sit by her daddy but this time, she went straight to your side. You had to hold your laugh seeing your husband looked defeated with the constant ignoring game.

“Baby, say ah!” He cut the steak into a smaller piece and stretched out his arm that was holding the fork to feed his little girl but she shook her head without looking at him.

“No thank, dada.”

“Wow, I just got rejected over and over. Honey, can you–“ You shook your head without letting him to finish his questions.

“I can’t help you, Charles. Serve you right.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You had left your little girl alone in the living room while she got busy munching on her animal shaped biscuits as you went to the kitchen to hug your husband from the back while he was washing the dishes, your head leaned against his body.

“Did she make you upset, honey?”

You heard him heaved a sigh which made you chuckle. “You are so silly. Just go and apologise, she’ll be fine.”

“Flirting you was way easier. Ouch!” He winced when you slapped him on his back. “Honey, she’s 2! Where did learn how to sulk like a literal teenage girl?”

“She probably learned it from me.” You leaned away when he turned his body around as he properly engulfed you back in his arms.

“Why did you teach her these bad things. Where is she, anyway?” Charles slanted forward to try to look for Y/D/N and you pulled his face closer to peck on his cheek.

“She’s eating her snacks. Go and talk to her, baby. I don’t think she’s still cranky.”

“Wish me luck.” He tilted your chin and brushed his lips on yours, patting your bum as he left the kitchen.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Hi, baby. Can I get one?”

Her small hand was in a fist, full from grabbing the biscuits along with her little chubby cheeks. When Charles took a seat by her side and asked for one, she was contemplating, her other hand opening and closing as she looked on her little plate back to her dad. Once she came to a decision, she took two pieces of the biscuits and handed it to him.

“Can you feed daddy instead?”

She lifted up her hand and put the biscuits into his mouth, giggling when Charles tried to chomp on her hands.

“Are you still mad at daddy?”

“Not much. A little bit, I think. Is dada still mad at me?” She pinched her chubby fingers together and scrunched her nose while answering the question.

“Daddy’s not mad at you, baby. I’m sorry, okay? Can you forgive me?” He swept off the crumbs on her cheeks with his hand as she put another biscuits into her mouth.

“My friend ruined my book first, dada.” She wept the back of her hand against her cheeks and Charles immediately leaned in to stole a peck on her cheek. She looked like a little chipmunk, he couldn’t not kiss those little face.

“What else did your friend did, baby?”

“She threw my book away and I was upset so I did bad things back to her. But I said sorry to her.” Charles’s heart was swollen with guilt when he saw her little pout.

“Next time, don’t do that to others. Just let daddy knows if someone’s being mean to you, okay? Are we good now, baby?”

“I think so.” She wiped off her hands once she was done eating and grinned. “I finished!”

“Can daddy get a hug?” She pushed her little chair back to move closer to her dad and wrapped her arms around his neck. Charles stood up with her in his arms and began attacking her face with kisses, making her laughed.

“Oh? You guys are back to best friends now, I see.”

“Mama!” She ducked down and pecked on your cheek as Charles pulled you closer by his freehand.

“You got crumbs all over your face, darling. Did daddy say sorry already?” You brushed off the leftover crumbs on her face and fixed her bangs.

“Yeah, dada said sorry to me.”

“Dada owe you an ice cream date, right, baby?” You poked on his waist, causing him to twitch.

“I want chocolate ice cream!” She squealed with exhilaration, causing both you and Charles to chortle.

“Can mommy come too?”

Charles shook his head immediately and turned your daughter away. “Mommy can’t come. It’s only for us, right?”

“That’s mean!” You scowled and slapped on his arm.

✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @aundercover

please let me know if you would like to be removed or added in the tag list!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

[spikedhe4rt]

I need dating Darry hcs. NSFW and SFW

Darry Curtis x Reader Headcanons 🪸🪸

A/N: I hope yall enjoy this, I also have a darry smut coming out soon. My request box is always open!! Love you guys<3

✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❥ You met eachother while he fixed your roof, which your family helped you pay for.

❥ You kept making excuses to come outside and talk to him.

"Hey, Darry" you yelled out to make sure he could hear you from the roof. He responded with a loud "yea?" I smiled at his voice. "I made you lemonade and homemade pretzels.

❥ You started to invite him inside the house and talk more

❥ You were highly upset when he finished your roof, you knew you would miss him.

❥ He asked you out on his last day because he took so much interest in you.

❥ You both wanting to take it slow, because he had his brothers to look out for.

❥ Meeting Soda and Pony, and them taking a liking to you.

❥ Visiting his parents grave with him for support.

Darry gave a sad chuckle as he finished a story about the time his parents bought him his first bike. "They sound amazing, Dare" you gave him a loving smile before a tears ran down his cheeks. "They were. I just really miss them sometimes."

You nodded and brought him in for a hug. Once the hug ended, his lips found their way to your forehead, kissing it softly. "Thank you for coming with me."

❥ Trying to keep a serious face when he lectures Pony over the silliest things.

"Ponyboy, how many times do I have to tell you...you can't leave your stuff anywhere. You left your book on the floor and Soda slipped on it." You truly tried to hold it in, but once he said Soda fell, you lost it. Wheezes came out as you tried to control yourself. You were met with the eyes of shocked and mildly offended Darry as he stared.

❥ You calming him down with kisses.

❥ Holding hands when you walk together.

❥ He will fix anything for you. He basically refuses to ever let you hire a maintenance man because he claims he can do it.

❥ Thinks about what you like when he buys groceries.

"Since when did any of us like Pringles, Darry?" Pony asked with a face of pure confusion. Darry grabbed the can of salty crisps from his hand "Y/n likes them, tell the rest of the boys not to eat them either" Pony nodded to his older brother, smiling at the fact that he cares enough about you to do that.

❥ Random slow dancing when you guys get bored. It seems cheesy to others but it makes you guys feel like the only people in the room.

❥ Him randomly picking you up just because he can.

❥ You running your hands along his abs under his shirt when you guys sit together.

❥ You two always making sure Johnny is safe and taken care of.

❥ Him promising that he will put a ring on your finger one day.

  ✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

❥ He loves any physical marks on you both. Hickeys, bite marks, bruises, scratches make him go crazy.

❥ He loves how much bigger he is so he can bend and take you how he needs to easily.

❥ Is strong enough to keep/hold your hips down while he eats you out and overstimulates you.

“Im gonna cum!” I panted out for the second time tonight. My hips bucked up into Darrys face again, as continued too suck my throbbing clit through my high. Two hands snaked around my thighs, making he secure as he continued. “Give me a couple more, hon”

❥ Will not cum until you have at-least once because he puts you first.

❥ Takes his stress out in the best ways, the bedroom

❥ Burys his face in your neck and moans when he cums.

❥ Grabs your chin to force eye contact when you can't look at him.

"Look at me, baby." Darrys fingers were thrusting in and out of your pussy. Your head was over his shoulder and tucked into his neck, trying not moan out loudly. "Please-" your words were cut off when you felt his hand on your chin, making you look him. "You look so pretty like this. Keep looking at me, just like that." His words made you whimper, grinding into his thick fingers.

❥ Loves to cum on your ass after taking you from behind.

❥ He will whimper while getting head from you.

❥ Holds your hips and bounces you up-down when you get tired when riding him.

"Fuck, Darry!" you panted out, grinding your hips down on him. "Im tired, Dar" your movements came to a halt as you tried to catch your breath. "I gotchu, hon. I always do." His large hands came to your hips and slowly moved you up and down on his cock. "Faster please" you moaned out as your hands came down to steady yourself. "There you go, baby. Such a good girl for me"

✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

#darry curtis #darry curtis x reader smut #darry curtis x reader #darry #darrel curtis #the outsiders #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #sodapop curtis #two bit mathews #dallas winston #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders smut #the outsiders fluff #the outsiders preferences #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders headcanons

[nhlclover]

the story of us | jack hughes

summary: at a wedding, you and jack are forced to reunite, bringing up the question of whether or not you are truly over one another.

warnings: not entirely proofread, a bit of angst, kissing, probably more i just don't know

a/n: based on ‘the story of us’ by taylor swift. kind of obsessed with this...

word count: 2.19k

If you asked your past self where you saw yourself in a year, you likely would’ve said this scenario. You would’ve been at the end of the aisle, Jack waiting for you to join him at the other end.

Instead, you’re standing heartbroken in a pink bridesmaid dress, waiting for the groom and his groomsmen to appear. You hear the grand doors of the church open, and loud, boisterous laughter enters the hall.

“There you are!” You say, spotting Quinn amongst his groomsmen. You try not to look past him knowing that Jack, being his best man, would be right behind.

Quinn looks down at his watch, scrunching his brows. “We’re right on time.” He says.

“Early is right on time. Right on time is late.” You tell him. You fix his crooked tie, also adjusting his boutonniere.

You look up at his face, reading a tinge of nervousness. “You ready?”

Quinn and Sara had been dating for 6 years before he finally proposed. Being childhood friends with Sara, you had been there from the beginning of their relationship and their very first dates, to just a year ago when you helped Quinn pick out the ring.

Their love had coincidentally brought you your own. A couple of years ago, Quinn introduced you to his younger brother, Jack, and the sparks flew instantly. It was near instant attraction for both of you, Jack asking you out after getting to know one another. You used to think one day, you’d be in Quinn and Sara’s shoes, getting to tell people the story of your relationship for years to come.

However, you and Jack were now standing on opposite sides of the room, doing your best to avoid the other.

It had been a while since you guys had broken up, and if you were being honest, you’d forgotten exactly how you guys ended. The last month of your relationship was filled with constant fighting. It was something of a simple miscommunication that led to your fallout and the story of you guys was now looking more like a tragedy.

You hadn’t spoken to him since the day after the breakup when you exchanged items left at one another's place. And now you were being forced to walk down the aisle next to him as you were Sara’s maid of honour and Jack was Quinn’s best man.

“Yeah, so ready.” Quinn replies, a familiar grin forming on his lips. You couldn’t imagine someone more perfect for Sara to get married to.

“Okay, get in your places guys!” The wedding planner says.

Quinn stood at the front, the rest of you guys lining up behind him. You felt him accidentally bump your shoulder as he stood beside you. His familiar cologne was overpowering your senses.

“Take my arm.” Jack mumbles, sticking out his elbow.

You do as he says, linking arms. The doors open, revealing the beautifully decorated interior. The organ began and Quinn made his way down. You and Jack were next, making your way down the aisle at a painstaking pace. You spot Jim and Ellen in the front row of the pews. Jim shoots you a smile while Ellen places a hand on her chest, whispering something to her husband.

You loved Jack's parents. You still love them. At the engagement party, happening just after you and Jack broke up, they spoke to you, letting you know how upset they were when they found out. They had always been the nicest to you, from the moment Jack introduced you to them. Even now as you were broken up, they made sure to keep up with you and the happenings in your life. You easily recognized where Jack got his traits from in the kindness of his mother, as well as the passion and drive of his father.

You reach the end of the aisle, splitting from Jack as he stands behind Quinn, you going to where Sara was about to be. You felt his eyes still on you, but you didn’t dare look at him.

Soon, Sara walked down the aisle and read the vows you’d helped her perfect. The ceremony was beautiful and you were over the moon for your friend and her now husband.

Everyone from the wedding party headed back down the aisle, Jack not linking arms with you this time. You head back into the lobby, and the wedding planner informs you that there is a car outside to take you guys to the reception venue, which is a restaurant a couple of minutes away.

Sitting in the back of an SUV, you and Jack remain silent towards one another. Luke was a welcome presence, being a buffer as he was forced into the middle seat despite his large stature. He kept the conversation going, mostly with Jack.

You’re thankfully kept busy the moment you’re in the restaurant, helping greet guests and guide them into the room. As dinner comes, you are somewhat thankful that Quinn and Sara placed you in between Luke and Brady, two guys who have seemingly endless topics to discuss.

Dinner is soon over and the newlyweds enjoy their first dance. You can’t help but find him across the room. He had abandoned his tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone. He’d obviously abandoned the urge to avoid tousling his hair, now a wavy mess compared to the styled state of earlier.

Sara and Quin find you shortly after their dance. Sara engulfs you in a hug. “I’m a married woman!” She squeals.

“Yes, you are! You’re a married woman who’s clearly had a couple of glasses of champagne.” You chuckle. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

You give Quinn a hug before Sara pulls you close to her. “Have you talked to him yet?” She asks.

“Um not really, he said about three words to me when we walked down the aisle and that’s it.” You reply.

Sara groans. She was one of the biggest campaigners of your and Jack's relationship. Sara was the one who pushed Quinn to introduce you two, saying she ‘had a good feeling’ about the pair of you.

“Quinn get Jack to talk to y/n/n.” She says to her now husband.

“I can try but… I don’t know he’s weirdly cagey when people bring you up.” He says.

Both you and Sara furrow your brows, Sara speaking the words you are thinking. “What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know. The other day my parents started asking Sara about you and they asked him why you guys broke up and he didn’t want to talk about it.” Quinn explains. “Then he just left the room.”

“Oh my god, he hates you.” Sara gasps.

“Wow, thanks Sara.” You say sarcastically.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Quinn says, dispelling what his wife said. “If he hated you he would not hesitate to trash talk you.”

“He doesn’t trash talk me?” You ask.

“No, definitely not. He just doesn’t like to talk about you for some reason.” Quinn shrugs. “Listen, we’ve gotta go see some other people but… If I were you, I’d try to talk to him.”

You bid goodbye to Sara and Quinn as she moved on to talk to his aunt and uncle. Suddenly you were left alone, despite being in a crowded room. Your normal comfort would be to find Jack, as he was always so good at talking to anyone. You recalled the many times Jack effortlessly introduced himself to people, becoming friends with them in less than a couple of sentences.

You stood to the side, your hand fiddling with the satin strap of your dress. Trying to look busy, you pull out your phone, scrolling through social media and responding to random texts. You were grateful when two familiar-spirited boys joined your side.

“Hey y/n!” Trevor practically shouted, scooping you up.

“Trevor, put me down!” You squeal, kicking your feet that are a couple of inches off the floor. He set you down, Cole pulling you into a hug right as you were on solid ground.

“How are you boys?” You ask them.

Cole and Trevor tell you about their lives, speaking about their respective seasons, their summers so far, as well as their love lives.

“So are you and Jack back together yet?” Trevor asked.

You nearly choked on your drink as he asked that question. “What?” You ask.

“When are you and Hughesy gonna smarten up and get back together?” He rephrases.

“We’re not getting back together, Z.” You tell him.

“Bullshit,” Cole says in a sing-song voice.

“I’m serious.” You say. “We’ve both moved on.”

Cole and Trevor exchange doubtful looks. “Yeah? And how come neither of you brought a date even though you both had plus ones?” Trevor asks.

“Just because we’ve moved on doesn’t mean we’re necessarily seeing other people at the moment.” You say.

“Well, I happen to know that somebody also hasn’t dated since the break-up…” Cole says, sipping from his beer bottle.

You’re rendered silent, looking down at your pedicured toes peeking out of your heels.

“Aha! We got her.” Trevor grins.

“Just go talk to him, please,” Cole says. “It’s honestly painful watching this. It’s like you’re in a contest to see who can act like they care less. And you’re both losing.”

You catch his eyes from across the room, his pride forcing him to pull his gaze away. “Yeah, not happening.” You sigh.

You throw back the rest of your drink, going over to the bar to get a refill.

“Quinn and Sara would like to invite all couples to come to the dance floor and celebrate their love with our newlyweds!” The DJ says into the microphone.

You take a seat, watching couples crowd the dancefloor, Jim and Ellen joining hands as a perfect example of love.

“Come dance with me.”

You look to your right, Cole standing there with an extended hand. You give him a soft smile, taking his hand and following him to the dance floor. His right-hand rests innocently on your waist, holding your hand in his. You sway to the music, slow dancing with the boy who has become one of your best friends over the past couple of years.

Suddenly, there’s a familiar figure to your left. “Mind if I butt in?” Jack asks.

Cole drops his hands from you, passing you off to Jack. He gives you both an enthusiastic thumbs up, walking off.

Jack’s hand finds its familiar spot on your hip, yours resting on his shoulder. Your hand still fits comfortably in his, calloused skin bringing an odd sense of comfort. You find it hard to meet his eyes, his gaze bearing down on you.

“You look really pretty.” Jack says.

You finally bring yourself to look up at him, his soft eyes meeting yours. You yanked back to a time when you were his. His features are all the same, all the more comforting. You resist brushing back a lock of hair that falls over his eyes, no longer your job to do that.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

The pair of you sway to Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton, an oddly comfortable silence filling the air between you. You can’t help but think of both Quinn and Sara, as well as Cole and Trevor urging you to confront Jack. Whether it was the alcohol in your system or the proximity of Jack that was driving you, all the thoughts you’d had decided to spill out.

“How’d we end up this way?” You ask.

You feel Jack still, no longer gently swaying to the music. His gaze looks over you and to the other side of the room at nothing in particular, his eyes just needing to look at something that’s not you.

“I’m not scared to admit I miss you, Jack.” You continue. “I just want to know if it’s killing you the way it’s killing me.”

Jack finally meets your eyes, and you try to read what he’s thinking. You don’t know if it’s just you trying to see what you want to see, or if it’s what’s really there, but you swear you can see a tinge of happiness from your words. Jack stays silent just staring into your eyes, so you speak again.

“It’s in your hands now. I’ll lay my armour down if you’d rather try this again.” You say. You can see Jack thinking, and processing your words. “I don’t want to fight you anymore.”

In one motion, Jack sweeps down and connects your lips. The familiar feeling of butterflies fills you, something you got any time he kissed you, even when you had been dating for over a year. Jack’s hand drops yours and instead comes up to the side of your face. His attempts to pull you closer are futile, your bodies already pressed against each other.

The song comes to an end, your lips leaving Jack’s. A small smile, one you’d missed having in your life, is present on his face. You can’t help but grin back, happy to start a new chapter in the story of you and Jack.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey #quinn hughes

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for taking pictures of my sister's house and not deleting them?

I (25f) and my adopted sister L (also 25) have grown up together since we were babies and are extremely close. I truly love her and want the best for her.

She has been married for 5 years to D (25m). They dated since they were 18 and got married at 20. I never had an issue with him except at times I thought he was immature. They have a kid together who is adorable and about to turn 3.

However, as they have been married i have an issue with him. I don't hate anyone, but he is highest on my shit list. Not an exhaustive list but he has (and I want to make this clear THESE ARE THINGS I HAVE WITNESSED I AM NOT LISTING THINGS SHE ONLY HAS TOLD ME ABOUT):

Whenever they argue yells at her. Even in front of guests (ahem me). She'll yell back and then he gets upset she is "raising her voice" at him, when he started it.

He won't let her get a job. He has canceled her applications for jobs before. She has sold some stuff online until he sold the materials she used to make things. Her only "income" is if he decides to give her an allowance and transfer money from his account to hers (please note they have BOTH their names on the accounts but one is considered hers one his). If she takes money from his account he gets mad. Bills, groceries, etc. Come from "her" account

Was always sweet but now uses her as jokes to his friends. Demeans her in front of them.

They move a state over after they got married, almost 5 hours away. Doable in one day, but many don't like to do it. Since being married, she has effectively not seen any of her friends except when they come into town to visit. I have went to visit her and one of her friends did, that friend confided they did not feel comfortable or welcome. That doesn't bother me cause personally I don't give a shit what D thinks and am there for my sister and nephew. But I have overheard D talk bad about all her friends, even me, snd encourage her not to talk to them.

The two friends she has made in the area D has told her to drop because they are "bad influences". The worst thing one has done was medical Marijuana that was prescribed to them. Not sure how they are bad except they've encouraged her to get a job and be more independent

D decided to get a cat, which my sister has a known allergy to. She didn't want the cat, but D brought it home. It has absolutely zero training and has destroyed their home. It pees everywhere, including my nephew's bed. It hates absolutely everyone except D, even attacking my sister for sitting on the couch next to D. D refuses to get rid of the thing even though it has scratched my sister and nephew multiple times and my nephew is afraid of it

Of course, there's more, but those are all things I have witnessed. The last part is what prompted me to take pictures of the bed that was peed on, the scratches on the kid and my sister. My sister showed me texts of her begging D to get rid of the cat and to me it seemed he threatened her, so I took a picture of that.

I personally believe D is an abusive prick. Definitely financially and emotionally, but not physically unless you consider neglect or him keeping the cat. He has never once hit my nephew or my sister that I have seen, and she has never stated he has. My sister has talked about leaving but then goes back to him, and I know on the outside it seems clear to me what to do but I know there is a cycle of abuse. When she is ready to leave him, she knows she can come to me and our parents.

However, D found out I took the photos. He called me drunk and extremely irate, but he didn't explicitly threaten me. It was implied. He called me an asshole, which is what made me think of this. He told me to delete the photos and that upon me doing so, he will get couples therapy.

On one hand I know they need therapy. On the other, what's to prove he will do this after I do that? My sister is begging me to delete the photos because she believes if they have therapy things will improve.

To be specific: D wants to be there when I delete them and make sure they are gone and to me that just proves how bad of a person he is because he doesn't want any evidence of any wrongdoing. My sister has sent me multiple texts and I know she has been trying to make a way for things in case it does go south, but she is afraid the inlaws will attempt for custody because apparently the inlaws have a bit of money and know the judge in our area. I dont want these photos to be used against her either...

AITA for not deleting them?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[charlesslut16]

Hi love!!

Could you maybe write something for Max like, he and reader had feelings for each other but couldn’t be together and they would meet up secretly to spend time together and have angry, frustrated and sad sex 🥺

Sorry if I’m being vague with this suggested plot 😫 love your write ❤️

-in secret-

summary : you and max are not allowed to be together but you both do not care...

PAIRING : max verstappen x fem!reader

WARNINGS : 18+. smut, NSFW, dom!max, sub!reader, a bit toxish, bit angst, rough sex, p in v, curse words, dirty talk, aftercare, unprotected sex (be safe!).

note : i hope you like it, love! Send in more requests!

masterlist 

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

Best Friends. That was what max and you had always been. Friends, since you were two years old. You met through your parents, who were friends themselves.

You spent days, weeks, months, and years together. The bond between the two of you was unbreakable. No one or nothing could ever tear you both from one another.

Except your parents. When you were 13 and max was 15, both your parents had a massive fight, which made your parents so mad that they decided to cut the friendship with max's parents.

They cut all the connections to one another. That meant that you and max had to be friends in secret to not upset or anger your parents. You had to meet up in secret to not be caught.

Lovers. Years later, the friendship between the two of you turned into more. You had started dating, when max had begun in Formula One, which made it even more difficult to meet up.

But you still tried to. When max was in the paddock in his drivers room, you snuck in and spent time with him until he needed to do media stuff or something else. It was great to spend time with your love, even if it was secret.

It was frustrating to not meet up at each other's houses, in the paddock or in a restaurant because you were too afraid that your parents would find out about your relationship.

Even now that you are 23 and 25, you were still in a secret relationship. You met up on weekends or when he was away, you flew there to support him in the shadows and met with him in the hotels in the evenings.

When you met there was talking, laughing and just having, but mostly there was sex. Sad, frustrated and angry sex. There was nothing better for your feeling than that.

Just as you were having now. You were frustrated and Max was angry because your parents told you that they found someone for you to have a relationship with.

He told you that he wanted to take his anger out on you, not that you minded one day. Max had always told you that you were destined to be with him and that would not change.

You laid naked on the hotel bed, max hovered over you and the anger clearly visible on his face. He gave you a kiss on your lips and then lined his cock up with your pussy.

Max looked at your face for consent, which you gladly gave him, and he stuck his cock into you. As max was halfway in he waited, so you could adjust to his size and then thrusted all of him into you.

You moaned his name out, and he groaned at the pleasure. He thrusted in and out of you, and you rolled your body to his rhythm to provide the most amount of pleasure.

He hissed above you, but you were too far gone to care. You had been for a while, too lost in the feeling of his hands against your hips, his cock dragging against you deliciously.

It was almost embarrassing how easily you let him have his way with you. Your body completely under his control, every gasp of his name only serving to feed his ego, encouraging him to go faster, harder, more, more, more—

“Max—!”

“That’s right, say my fucking name—”

If the squeaking of the old wooden bed he had taken you on wasn’t already a sign of what was happening in the room, the shameless moans escaping your lips would be.

“Let the entire hotel know whose cock you’re begging for.”

You did, without any thought to how loud you may be.The force of his thrusts were brutal against your backside, your body ached, and yet you couldn’t stop moving, desperately trying to meet his every thrust.

It was hopeless, but he seemed to enjoy your attempts at least, a wicked chuckle escaped him as he watched your body move on his own.

“Is this what you wanted, hm? To be used like a pleasure girl?” His body was pressed against your back now, the weight of him blanketed against you. Your breath caught in your throat, his lips whispering absolute filth into your ear.

“Your new 'boyfriend' which you will never get could never fuck you like I do. You will stay with me, like it is destined to be. I don't care what your parents, say, schatje.”

“I know, max. He could never fuck me like you could. But please stop or low don't I can't anymore.”

Max did not stop moving, how could he when you sounded absolutely debauched below him, a picture-perfect image of sin to be molded by his own hands.

He fucked you unrelenting, finding every single one of your weaknesses and taking advantage of them until you cry out that it’s too much, that you couldn’t take it, and didn't give you a moment of reprieve.

“You know? I'm not so sure about that.”

Max was taunting you, dangling your own shameful display in front of your very eyes. Even if you wanted to respond, you couldn’t, the sound of your hips meeting, echoing through the room proved answer enough.

He lets you go, only for that hand to grab your face, fingers pressed against your cheeks. He forced your tear-rimmed eyes to gaze at him from below, a contrast to the sinister look in his own.

“Can’t take it? Too much? I don’t think that’s true—” Another hard thrust had you keening, back arching, a fog of lust clouding your brain. “—I think you’re going to take everything I give and more.”

He was right, of course, and you did, graciously. Your legs threatened to give out, shaking, barely holding on, and in an act of mercy, he grabbed your weakened limbs with a strong hand. Practically a rag doll, legs wrapped around his body to bring him as close as possible. 

You could see him in this position, see the way his brows crease and furrow every time you clench onto his cock, the pleased grin that lingers when you grab onto his arms, seeking purchase.

It’s filthy. Max didn't think he’s seen anything more beautiful.

It’s addicting, sadistic in ways he never thought himself capable of. He can’t get enough.

A painful dance of give and take. He gave pleasure and took your very sanity with it. He took and took until you had nothing left to give, until you were a writhing mess of slurred words and half-mumbled promises.

Max could barely understand you at this point, your mind far away, but he doesn’t need to. He could understand your body well enough. But then both of you were finished, totally drained. You were in desperate need of sleep, and max was in need of cuddles. Max stood up and took a damp towel from the bathroom and cleaned you up.

He came in bed next to you, pulled you into him and cuddled you. Your head laid on his broad chest, while he stroked your hair and ran his hands up and down your arm.

“I want to tell our parents. I mean, we are adults, they can't do anything about it. It is draining, Max.”

“I know that it is draining, but we can do this together, my love. We can tell them that we are together and can start going out for real.”

“Yes, I would love that.”

“Ik hou van jou”

“Ik hou van jou”

I love you

#f1 #formula one #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen angst #max verstappen x you

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏

Toji Fushiguro

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[Chapter 13] Back to the Beginning

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“I’m an escort.” Toji says which leaves you wide-eyed. You aren’t sure how to react, other than simply staring at the man. You’re dumbfounded. Dumbfounded even sounds like an understatement. Your mouth is parted, and you’re simply shocked to even hear that. Maybe you should’ve suspected that, but you didn’t. “I’m not dating anyone.”

“Yeah um…” You really aren’t sure how else to respond. You still feel hurt mainly because he hid this from you. You’re gathering your thoughts, and you think about talking this out with him but you aren’t sure if he’ll accept the offer to talk right at this moment; you’re afraid to ask. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks, his hand still on the door. You bite down on your tongue, holding back on making a snarky remark due to the words he used not even five minutes ago. You clear your throat, tilting your head to the side,

“Is that any of my business?” You respond as you move to the side to let him in. It’s too cold outside for him to explain something that seems like a mouthful to explain. He walks inside and you shut the door. You watch him take a seat. “Don’t waste time, Toji. I’m tired.”

“Right…” He looks at the ground in shame. You’re not in the mood to comfort him, and you certainly aren’t going to tell him that him being an escort is no big deal. “Momoko and I aren’t dating. She just… Pretends like we are to her friends and her coworkers and parents– Just everyone around her. I look… Presentable enough and I guess she likes that I don’t really try to engage with them.”

“Okay…” Your brain isn’t coming up with the right words to say. “So how far–”

“Just going to events. Doesn’t get past flirting and occasional pecks on the lips.” He answers, and while it’s not as horrible as you thought, your stomach still churns. You don’t like what you’re hearing– But it’s fine, you’re not dating Toji or anything. He’s just your neighbor who you’ve gotten extremely friendly with. You take a deep breath and slowly nod your head. “What’s up?”

“Why didn’t you tell me this? Why are you doing all of this?” Questions flood your head. You aren’t really sure what you’re expecting to hear, but you hope that it’ll put you at ease.

“I didn’t want to scare you away… It’s not something that I’m exactly proud of.” He tells you, fidgeting his hands, not really having the courage to look at you. Toji isn’t a man that’s ashamed of anything but for some reason as he stands before you, he finds himself extremely embarrassed that he’s doing all of this. “I… Just want to save up a lot of money and buy Megumi a proper house, where he has his own room and can go outside and play in his own yard. Fixing cars is not enough with all my expenses.”

“I– I don’t know what to say, Toji.” You’re simply shocked. Maybe you should’ve expected it, but you were hoping he was a waiter or something along those lines. Not an escort. “I guess… You have to do whatever you have to do.”

“So what do you think?” He asks when you sit in complete silence for a minute, although it feels like it’s an eternity. He finally looks at you, watching as you stare down at your thighs. You really don’t know what to say, it’s not something light.

“You should’ve told me sooner.” You have no other words. Maybe if you found out sooner than you would’ve taken the news better. It’s not that you’re upset but… This is all so confusing for you. “I guess there isn’t that much trust between us and… It’s not something that you’re exactly proud of.”

“I mean, do you look at me differently now?” He questions, and you do. But mainly because he tried to hide it. He just makes it seem like he’s actually sleeping with them and– God, the idea of him sleeping with other women makes you upset.

“Did you… Fuck any of them?” You ask, and he quickly shakes his head. That makes you feel a lot better, but you still feel pretty weird. “I guess, I do. I just thought you would’ve told me. Considering that I almost consider you a boyfriend.”

“I guess sometimes things aren’t how we want.” He responds. You sigh, and he stands up from the bed, beginning to walk towards the door. His hand lands on the doorknob, and he turns to look at you. You stare at each other for a moment before he speaks up, “I hope things don’t change between us.”

“I hope so too.” You muster to say. He opens the door and exits, making you lay down on your bed. You don’t want things to change, Toji has been making you feel so good.

But you know things will change. There’s no way they can remain the same after finding out the truth.

It’s not because he’s an escort– Well not entirely. You feel weird knowing that Toji’s been hiding this from you. The idea of Toji kissing other women for the sole purpose of money makes you sick. You doubt that you’ll be sleeping tonight.

You’re more concerned about what he’s doing, rather than questioning who sent you the photos. Who knows about you and Toji? You have an answer, but you don’t really care to think about it. Your main concern right now is your relationship with Toji, a man who you thought you had a possible romantic relationship with.

You want to say that things remain unchanged, but they aren’t. You’re awkward around Toji, the same way he’s awkward around you. The only reason you interact now it’s because of Megumi, and it makes you feel upset because you were sure a relationship was developing. 

Slowly your walls were coming down and you’d allow yourself to be with the man that you were starting to like more than a friend. Sadly, things didn’t turn out the way you were hoping. 

You try not to dwell on it, maybe you’re just not meant to be with each other. It’s fine though, your hopes weren’t up too much. You won’t deny how weird this whole arrangement is. You feel like you’re trying to coparent Megumi even though he’s not your son. At least now Toji is paying you some money, even if it isn’t a lot. 

You want to act like everything is okay, but for some reason you find yourself upset when he’s working late nights, and your mind wonders just exactly what he’s doing. At least it doesn’t get past kissing; at least that’s what he told you. You aren’t quite sure if you can believe Toji’s word. 

The first week of February strikes you, and you’re shocked to realize just how fast time is going. It’s been over a month since you’ve had your conversation with Toji, over a month since he last kissed you. You don’t miss it, at least that’s what you tell yourself.

You don’t like Toji all that much either way. That sentiment slowly fades away. A little too slow for your liking, but regardless, it’s leaving. 

As Valentine’s day approaches, you find yourself a bit saddened though since you were expecting to have a Valentine’s this year. First it was Kento, your late husband, since you expected him to last longer. That hope clearly vanished, but as you got closer to Toji, maybe he could be your Valentine.

The most unexpected thing though is when you’re in your apartment taking care of Megumi. He has a little backpack– Which isn’t exactly so little. It reaches past his knees and he has to be careful with it. You have no idea why Toji got that backpack for him since it’s plain black and boring, not to even mention twice his size. He’s looking for something there.

“What are you looking for, GumiGumi?” You ask him, crouching down to help the little boy that looks determined to find something. He finally pulls out a wrinkled piece of paper that’s folded in half. It’s a card, and it’s filled with attempted shapes. You squint your eyes, trying to make out what it is. “What is that, honey?”

“Would you be my valentine?” He asks, as he extends his arm to you. You feel your heart soften, your bottom lip sticking out as you put your hand over your heart. He’s simply the cutest. You always knew you wanted kids but this just confirms it even more. You hug him.

“Of course, baby.” You respond. You kiss his temple, a big smile on your face when you look at him. Maybe you won’t be so lonely this Valentine’s day, you still have Megumi who is almost like your son. Knowing Toji, he’ll be busy. “Do you want to do something special? Maybe go to the movie theater or get something to eat?”

“Can we get ice cream?” He asks, a spark in his eyes as he mentions the cold treat. You end up nodding in response, causing the biggest smile to come to his face. Then he asks, “Can daddy come with us?”

“If he’s available, yes, baby.” You answer. When you fully stand up, you put the card down on the counter and you ask him, “Do you want anything specific to eat, Megumi?”

“No.” He shakes his head. You walk over to the fridge to look at what ingredients you have that can make a quick and easy meal. You’re not really in a cooking mood. 

You hear your phone ring, and you furrow your brows. You grab it to see an unknown number calling. You’re about to hang up the call since lately a lot of weird numbers have been calling you. Something urges you to pick it up, and when you do, you almost regret it. You heard your name, and you aren’t sure whether you should confirm or deny.

“This is her.” You end up confirming it. Your eyes widen when you hear it’s from the hospital, and you feel your heart drop. You remember a similar call years ago, and it ended up in you losing so much. “Who is in the hospital?”

Your eyes immediately dart to the little boy who opens his notebook to scribble with his crayons. God you hope it’s not– “Toji Fushiguro? I’ll be on my way.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #daddy toji #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fic

[writer-in-theory]

inspired by a conversation i had with @serenity-lattes over a fic i'm writing

--

"Hey, Steve, why didn't you tell us you had a brother?"

There were a lot of things that Steve still didn't know about his family. He didn't know his great-grandparents moved to the United States from Italy until he had to do an ancestry project his senior year, and he'd just learned last week that there were others on his mother's side with hearing loss like him. Still, Steve knew that despite all the secrecy, there was no way he had a secret brother.

"I don't have a brother," Steve told Robin as much, coming back into the living room to see Robin and Eddie huddled over something. "What makes you think that?"

"Harrington, I think dear ol' dad's lying to you," Eddie teased, handing over the paper they were staring at.

Birth Certificate

This is to certify that Robert Steven Harrington Jr weighing 8 lbs. 13 oz. was born on the 13th day of December to Robert and Theresa Harrington in the year of 1967.

"How the hell did you find my birth certificate?" Steve balked, watching his best friend and boyfriend stare at him like he had two heads.

"Your birth certificate?" Robin repeated, eyes drifting back down to stare at the paper in his hands.

"Who else's would it be? Am I missing something?" It wasn't too uncommon for Steve to miss the joke, especially with people as quick-witted as Robin and Eddie. Still, this one seemed particularly confusing to even the others, with all three of them staring at each other in complete cluelessness.

"No, no, no," Eddie spoke up then, snatching the certificate out of Steve's hands and holding it up to the light like that might make reading it easier. "There is no way I'm dating a Robert."

Wait...

"You thought my legal name was Steve?"

Was that all this was? Steve didn't fully understand the big deal, especially since he'd never once gone by his legal first name. Even as a kid his parents were calling him Steven, eventually caving and calling him Steve as he wished by the time he entered middle school. He thought everyone had known by now, what with Tommy choosing to call him 'Robert' whenever he was upset with Steve.

"Why would I think anything else? Steven Harrington, how could you not tell me!" Robin shouted, playfully hitting his shoulder when all he did was laugh.

"Robert Harrington," Eddie corrected, immediately pulling a groan from his boyfriend.

"Uh uh, you're not calling me that," Steve decided, taking the certificate back and tucking it away in the drawer where they'd found it. Tomorrow he'd have to dig through the house and hide anything else he didn't want them to see, including any pictures his mother might have left lying around.

"How about Junior?" Robin tried, bursting into laughter at Eddie's responsive cackle. "I mean, who knew someone would go by a nickname of their middle name?

"Are you two done yet?" Steve groaned, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling.

"Aw, c'mon, Robbie, you love us." That was Eddie judging by the arm quickly slung over Steve's shoulders and the kiss planted firmly on his cheek. "I just can't believe you didn't tell us that Stevie isn't your name."

"Stevie has never been my name," Steve laughed, stepping away from Eddie's hug and laughing when the man's arms reached out to hold onto him tighter. "I'll take it over Robert."

"I knew you loved it, baby," Eddie teased, laughing at Steve's expression.

Then Steve grinned, turning to face Eddie so he could lean in close. Right as Eddie licked his lips in anticipation of a kiss, Steve patted his cheek and said, "Baby, you didn't even know my name."

He and Robin laughed until they could hardly breathe, but Eddie was the one laughing when he had the entire Party calling Steve "Rob" the next morning.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #steddie ficlet

[celestialbeing2]

hii! would you write headcanons for poseidon!reader and luke? <3

figuring you out

a child of poseidon!reader x luke castellan fanfic

warnings - not proofread

a/n - thank you for being my first request, anon! this is also my first official story so thanks for giving me a clear foundation to build off of. i hope you enjoy it!

backstory

arriving at camp half-blood wasn't easy. you arrived there with your protector covered in open cuts and you were physically weak. your mental state wasn't well either. suddenly finding out you're the child of a GOD is a tough pill to swallow. figuring out who that god was felt like an even bigger pill. your stay at camp was rocky the first few days. mr. d had a...interesting character. the ares kids were shockingly rowdy, and everyone found their place (with a few exceptions). you were like the odd one out.

that was until luke sat next to you for lunch for a day. it was awkward at first, but one day grew to nearly everyday. you two started to bond more outside of lunch. you two were always found laughing hysterically in your cabin, and physically close during activities. he also showed you around camp, even though you told him chiron already did. he was just happy to finally get to know you.

crush headcanons (before you are claimed)

during the crushing period, luke would most likely do little things for you. he would open doors for you, tie your laces before an activity, and always give you pointers during archery days. you thought he was dong it to be friendly, but the true reason was far off

similarly with percy, he would stick by your side as you tried to do every activity you could to get an idea as to who your godly parent was.

during a specific activity, if it didn't have an outcome you liked, you would always give you encouraging words to keep trying. he would never want to see you feel like you weren't good enough

during capture the flag, he would protect you from the red team whenever they got too close to you

he would also stay up with you at night, listening to whatever stories you have for him. whether they were funny, upsetting, or just random thoughts, he was very open to hearing your voice.

he would constantly ask you to sword fight with him, even if you couldn't move an inch from all of the other activities. he told you he wanted to build your strength and endurance. secretly he believed you looked attractive with sweat dripping down your neck and forehead.

================================================

once you finally found out that poseidon was your father, you were filled with joy. however, realizing you were at a higher risk of being killed by monsters turned your smile upside down.

crush headcanons (after you are claimed)

if you ever feel fear from the reality of you being claimed, luke was always open to being a shoulder you could cry on. he never stopped being eager to listen to what you had to say.

once he found out your assigning as well, he was happy for you. not because you were at a higher risk of death, but because you were finally claimed. he loved seeing a smile on your face, even if it was for a split second.

when you started to pack your stuff to move into your new cabin, he was a bit disappointed. he would miss the late night talks you guys would have. but that didn't stop him from hanging out with you.

he would push you even harder to "build your strength and endurance", but this time to actually benefit you, you needed it.

dating headcanons

luke would love holding your hand, lying in your lap, and resting his head on your shoulder. he just loved being physically close to you.

it took him a bit to tell say "i love you", but not because he wasn't sure if he loved you. he did. he just didn't want to face rejection

he would open up to you about his problems and insecurities, and thrive off of your support and advice. he would wait to speak about his trauma for when you guys are in a committed relationship because he wouldn't want you to think any less of him (we all know you wouldn't)

being a child of poseidon, he always complimented your ability to swim. he would throw little compliments your way on away occasion, even for the littlest things. he just loves giving and receiving praise.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson #pjo series #pjo show #disney plus #headcanon #percy pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x you #pjo x reader #pjo x y/n

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt. 1)

Summary: Cinderella is too old for fairytales. But when one is her only chance at escape, she may have to start believing again. TW: child abuse, child neglect

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

Once upon a time in a land far away, a girl lived with her stepmother and her two stepsisters. Though they were a family, the girl had to do all the chores so as not to overtire her new family. She rose at dawn everyday--

It starts like this:

Cinderella’s parents teach her to love with open hands. It’s in the way her mother sets aside the watering can the moment her father’s carriage rolls past the gate. It’s in the way her father peels the last bills of their family’s fortunes from his billfold and hands them to the doctor. When Cinderella starts stepping on ants in the garden, upset that they’d made a butterfly their meal, it’s in the way her mother tells her to let them take the wings, the antennae, the body.

It’s in the way Cinderella is given the duty of mopping her mother’s clammy brow, barely eight-years-old and smelling death in the air.

“Everything,” her mother wheezes, “everything will be okay.”

They are strange last words. Cinderella ponders them as her mother’s face pales and each breath comes more and more labored. Did that mean her mother was going to be okay? Did it mean her father would come back from his merchant trip soon? Or was it something bigger than Cinderella could yet understand?

“It doesn’t feel okay,” Cinderella whispers. She feels empty inside. The doctor left even when she begged him to stay. Nothing more to do, your father will understand. She squeezes her mother’s hand with both of hers. “Nothing feels okay.”

“Okay takes time,” her mother says. Her eyes are fever bright but she squints through the collapse of her own body to make eye contact with her daughter. Her colorless lips form a tremulous smile. “Be patient, darling. Be kind and everything will be okay.”

Cindrella has been lying awake for long nights, promising the world too many things. She promised she wouldn’t step on the ants in the garden anymore, not even by accident. She promised she would rake the leaves from around the oak tree without being asked. She promised to only think nice thoughts from now on, even when her father went on trips with no end dates and her mother stared out the window for hours on end. She promised so many things in the hopes that one of those promises contained the magic words that would save her mom.

Cinderella watches the breath rattle out of her mother for the last time. The hand she holds between her own cools. A wind with the bite of winter rolls through the window, making the bedcurtains shiver.

Okay takes time.

Cinderella waits for one of two things to rise. The sun or her mother.

The sun wins.

---------------.

Stepmother and her daughters move in too quickly after that. Cinderella doesn’t remember when her father brought them home. Was it the day he found her in the master bedroom? Or was it weeks later when Cinderella could finally tear herself away from staring out the window?

“This is your new mother,” her father says. He kneels in front of Cinderella and cups her cheek with one broad hand. He scans her with worried eyes. “Okay? We’ll be a family now.”

Cinderella wants to scream. Her fingers tangle in the front of her dress and her toes dig into the ground through her shoes. She keeps thinking of her mother’s hand in hers. And now she has a new one?

“Cinderella,” her father says. He squeezes her shoulder with his other hand. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she says. Her eyes dart to her stepmother standing behind her father. “I-it may take some t-time, but…”

“And we will have time,” Stepmother says. Her voice is the very opposite of her mother’s, high and lilting where her mother’s voice was low and round. She smiles at Cinderella. “Thank you, my dear.”

“We will be a family,” her father says. He stands so he can wrap one arm around Stepmother. He puts his hand on top of Cinderella’s head. “A very loving family.”

------------.

A very loving family.

Things are taken from Cinderella slowly. A pretty ribbon goes to Drizella when Stepmother notices her daughter’s envious stare. Her room is given to her stepsisters’ governess when she’s eleven. A textbook goes to Anastasia when her governess runs out of material to teach.

“Father,” Cinderella says from the door of her father’s study. She’s embarrassed that her ankles are showing from under her dress, the sleeves falling short of her wrists, her golden hair knotted on one side of her head. She’d only learned of her father’s homecoming an hour ago when Anastasia called for him too loudly. “May I speak to you?”

Her father doesn’t look up from the reports in front of him. He mutters as he runs numbers over and over and over again, scratching each calculation out with the quill Cinderella gave him last year. The sight of the quill gives Cinderella comfort.

He loves me still, Cinderella thinks as she waits for his attention. She’s too old to tangle her fingers in her dress now, or so she’s learned from eavesdropping on her stepsisters’ etiquette lessons. So she folds her hands behind her back and holds her spine as straight as she can.

“What is it?” her father asks at last. He pushes away his papers but, rather than focus on Cinderella, pulls a ledger in front of him. “It is late.”

“I’m sorry,” Cinderella says. She is sorry. The sun has been done for hours and here is her poor father working away. She bites her cheek. “I—my room. Stepmother said the governess would need it and I would need to move for the duration of her stay.”

“Yes?”

Cinderella’s heart stings. He knew. She breathes in deeply. “It’s only—well, she’s been here for two months now.”

“And she will be here for many more,” her father says. He turns the page of the ledger and freezes. He frowns as his eyes skim the same line over and over again. “Is there a point, Cinderella? I’m busy.”

“I’ve been told to sleep in the kitchen,” Cinderella blurts out. She can see soot on the hem of her nightgown and she steps back to hide the stain in the shadows. “If I could have some space in the servant’s quarters, maybe…”

“It’s temporary,” her father says. He stands without taking his eyes off the page. Sweating, he dabs at his forehead with a handkerchief her mother embroidered for him and waves her off. “Go to bed, Cinderella. It’s late. We will talk in the morning.”

Be patient, Cinderella thinks. She wraps her arms around herself. The cold stone floors bite at her bare feet. Think kind thoughts. Rake the leaves around the oak tree.

Her father is gone in the morning on another trip.

He does not come home.

-----------------.

When Cinderella thinks positively, her life is like a fairytale. The kitchen hearth is warm and she never lacks for company between the birds that sing in the branches of the oak tree and the mice that snatch up crumbs before the ants can get to them. Her father is a dashingly handsome man on a mission to save their family from total ruin. The last letter he sent (over a year ago) detailed a harrowing trip over the seas to a new land in hopes of trade. He’s an adventurer. He’s a hero.

When her life is like a fairytale, Stepmother is only cruel to protect Cinderella from the Curse. She’s never decided what the “Curse” is, but it feeds on happiness. Stepmother piles chores and chores onto Cinderella so Cinderella is too tired to be happy and the Curse is held at bay.

Her stepsisters don’t make fun of Cinderella’s soot-filled hair or her tattered clothes. No, they tease as all sisters do. They happily eat what Cinderella cooks for them and, though they don’t say it out loud, they are always grateful to Cinderella.

Cinderella is patient. Cinderella is kind. The governess leaves without ever directly giving Cinderella a lesson. Cinderella’s room becomes a closet for her stepsisters and that’s okay. It’s okay because she loves them and she wants them to have room for their belongings.

Stepmother has her move to the attic instead. It’s nicer there than in the kitchen. She has a bed and a dresser and a little window that looks out over the driveway. She thinks it’s a turning point in their loving family and she’s finally been patient enough--

Stepmother starts insisting Cinderella answer to the call of a silver bell at all hours of the night. She thought Cinderella would hear the ringing better from the attic than from the kitchen. Cinderella, come here. Cinderella, move faster. Cinderella—

Cinderella rakes the leaves under the oak tree and stares down the driveway, wishing for her father to come home.

---------------.

Cinderella turns 17. It’s been six years since her father left on his quest and four years since his last letter. The money in the estate is drying up and Cinderella’s chores grow as their finances dwindle.

Cinderella feels the walls caving in a little more each day. Like she alone is sinking further and further underground and the collective weight of the earth around her attic bedroom is the reason the wood creaks a little more each passing storm.

Be kind, her mother told her.

But what is kindness when she is disintegrating in front of the the people who were supposed to love her? Her face is hollowed from understanding smiles. They love you, they just don’t know how to show it. Just be kind a little longer and then everything will be okay. Be patient—

So she ties her hair up in scraps of cloth leftover from mending the tablecloth and she goes out to face another day. The list of chores she must complete stretches until the sun goes down. She presses her hands into abrasive water and scrubs, scrubs, scrubs. She collects the silverware and polishes it (though it does not need to be polished). She sweeps and mops and prunes the roses.

She dusts the great, creaking carcass of a manor her father left behind and wonders for how much longer she is expected to be its beating heart?

Be patient, your reward will come, maintain your kindness and open your soul, carve out what you can spare —

Cinderella is growing too old for fairytales.

-----------------------.

She writes her father one last time on the last full moon of her nineteenth year. Cinderella feels so much older now and so young at the same time. The chill of fall permeates the attic and stiffens her fingers, but her heart is beating very hard.

I’m leaving, she writes. Her quill hovers over the next line. She could end the letter here, but she doesn’t want to. Her father has been absent, he may be dead, but she loves him still. She wants to share her elation with him even as it breaks her heart to leave behind what he built.

I’m leaving. Once my birthday comes, I plan to take a carriage into the city. I have a reference from our old gardener, and I will find work. I can’t stay here anymore, Father, waiting for letters that may never come. Thank you for everything you’ve done.

Cinderella stares at the letters. Thank you. The joy she’d felt earlier is dying under those words.

The truth is, Cinderella doesn’t feel thankful. She feels…raw. Tired. Like leaving is her last ray of hope and, without it, her world is darkness. She’s spent so many years making her life into stories to keep herself from breaking.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived under a terrible curse. Luckily her stepmother was clever and determined. Though she did not want to, she made herself be cruel to Cinderella in order to stave off—

Once upon a time, there were three sisters. Though the older two teased the younger, they loved each other very much—

Once upon a time, Cinderella worked hard enough and her new family realized they should have loved her all along—

She is tired of being kind. It hurts. Hurts like sleep in front of the hearth for years, hurts like the chill clawing through her attic room, hurts like remembering her mother’s last breath rattling out of her chest.

Telling her father thank you is kind. If he really is off trying to save their family from ruin, he is owed thanks. But Cinderella can’t give it. She is selfish in the end. Cruel and unkind. That’s why the family who was supposed to love her never could.

Cinderella presses quill back to parchment.

If I must suffer, I would rather it be from my own choices. There is no future for me here any longer. I will carry the memories of Mother in the garden for the rest of my life. I will remember the dinners we had at the dining table. I will think of the oak tree we used to sit under as a family. I hope you return to your new family safely and I hope you do not think of me when you do. I think we parted when Mother died. I must start my new life so this is goodbye.

Goodbye, Father.

She signs her name and seals the envelope before she can falter.

--------------.

A month after she sends her letter, a messenger arrives from the castle.

“A ball,” he says, handing the invitation to her stepmother. He frowns at the cobwebs along the ceiling and eyes the high polish of the ebony banister. “Open to all noble ladies of suitable peerage.”

There’s doubt in his voice when he says the word noble. Cinderella, eavesdropping from behind the closed door of the parlor, silently agrees. It’s been years since she thought of her father’s title of Baron. As part of the landless nobility, it rarely came up and, with her father’s absence, there’s no one to care.

But Stepmother cares. As soon as the messenger leaves, she’s celebrating with her daughters. “We’ll order dresses,” Stepmother says, clapping her hands together. “New dresses that will make my daughters shine brighter than any Duke’s daughter.”

“I want to wear green,” Anastasia says. She sighs dreamily. “They say the Prince’s eyes are green.”

“I want to wear black,” Drizella announces. She presses a hand to her chest. “The Prince and the King both have black hair. It will be to honor them.”

Stepmother does her best to hide her grimace. “Darling, black is…for other occasions. How about you try a nice lilac? Purple is for royalty.”

Drizella grins happily.

Cinderella slips back up to the attic. This speeds up her plans a little bit. The ball is three months away, but that is still a month before her birthday. A ball means the house will be empty. Cinderella will leave the night of the ball and, with any luck, it will be days before Stepmother even thinks to ring her silver bell.

Cinderella has work to do.

------------.

The ball affords Cinderella more opportunities than she thought. Stepmother keeps a strict inventory of the pantry, so Cinderella must collect her rations little by little to avoid detection. When her family goes into town to visit the seamstress, Cinderella leaves behind her chores. She picks her way through the woods behind the manor, eyes scanning the sides of the path. She can dry mushrooms or can berries if she finds them. Foraging is a faster way to fill her rations.

Cinderella likes being alone in the woods. The sun is high overhead and the light that shines through the canopy turns the leaves bright green. Birdsong drifts through the air and there’s a small scuffling from the ferns to her right as some small animal searches for fresh shoots. It feels like the woods are the only place she can be herself without worrying about kindness or unkindness.

She remembers a time when she hated it. One winter, they did not have enough firewood. Stepmother sent 15-year-old Cinderella into the woods in search of twigs and branches. She remembers the fear that still winter night built in her, the surety that she would either freeze to death or be eaten alive.

She’d wandered further and further from the house, desperate to complete her task so she could return to her attic. Her fingers had nearly frozen even tucked into her sleeves. The trees were stripped bare by the weight of the snow and ice. The moon had been barely bright enough to light her way and, looking back, there was no way she would have been able to collect enough firewood to make a difference. She was going to die before she completed her task, or so she thought.

Then she found the clearing.

She steps out of the treeline and into that same clearing now.

The woods are dense behind the manor. They trees that grow here are too hard for most loggers, ancient and gnarled in appearance. When she first stumbled into the wide, circular meadow, she had thought she was imagining things.

Even on that snowy, terrible winter, the clearing was green and warm.

Wildflowers peak out through grass as high as Cinderella’s knee. She wades through it, never fearing sharp stones or unexpected holes. In all the years she’s been coming here, she has never twisted her ankle or torn a hem. The clearing is like stepping into a picture, everything as soft as a brushstroke.

In the center of the wildflowers is an oak tree. From her studies, Cinderella estimates it to be twice as old as the one in the manor’s garden. Perhaps three or four hundred years old. The base is easily as big around as a carriage and the tree stretches a good dozen feet higher than the forest’s canopy.

There won’t be any mushrooms here, or at least not the kind Cinderella can eat. But it’s been so long since she’s had the chance to come here. She heads for the oak tree and sits against its trunk with a sigh, titling her head back against the bark. The warmth coming from the tree eases the tension from her shoulders. She’ll have to be careful lest she fall asleep. She’ll need to be back before Stepmother returns from the seamstress…

“You were gone a long time.”

Cinderella hums and folds her hands over her stomach. The boy’s words are accusatory, but Cinderella knows him well enough now to hear the undercurrent of worry in his words. “I had a big decision to make.”

The boy in the tree never shows himself. He may be the tree for all Cinderella knows. She’s never looked for the source, sensing that her friend may never come back if she asks too many questions. So, like always, she keeps her eyes shut as the boy’s presence grows all around her.

“About what we talked about last time?” he asks.

“Yes,” Cinderella says. She thinks of the letter she sent to a father who probably won’t read it and sighs again. “You’re right. I’m old enough to leave.”

The boy’s presence – his aura – brightens in her mind’s eye. She doesn’t know what he is, but she thinks fairies in fairytales move like this. Moving in short bursts, flashes of light, and sensations of warmth. “You’re coming to the Capital?”

Coming? Cinderella shakes off the odd phrasing. “Not quite.”

The boy is confused. “Then you’re not leaving?”

“I am.” Cinderella stretches out her legs in front of her. “I don’t know anyone in the Capital. Someone who used to work for my father gave me a reference that will be good in the next town over. That’s where I’m going.”

“You can’t!” The boy is in the tree now and it surges with heat as his temper flashes. “You can’t go there!”

“Why not?”

“Because we won’t be able to see each other anymore,” the boy says. The leaves of the tree rattle together. “I can’t get to that town.”

Cinderella sits up straight. “Wait, I could still see you in the Capital? That’s why you want me to go there?”

“Why else would I suggest it?” the boy asks. His voice softens. “You do still want to visit me, right?”

“Of course,” Cinderella says. She opens her eyes. There’s a sheen over the world, like she and the tree are being held separate from everything else by the boy’s presence. She watches rainbows drift through the air. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“We are.” The boy nudges her. “Close your eyes, you know it’s not good to look at magic too long.”

Obediently, Cinderella closes her eyes again. The boy is always saying that, but Cinderella has never felt any ill effects from looking at the rainbows. “I’ll get to the Capital eventually. But I do need to go to that town first.”

“Why?”

“I need to work,” Cinderella says. “If I’m going to the Capital, I definitely need money.”

“I can give you money.”

Cinderella doubts that. She doesn’t see why a fairy would have human money. “I still can’t go right away. My stepmother and sisters will be there for a while.”

“They’re coming—going there?! Why?”

“The Prince is looking for a bride,” Cinderella says. She shrugs. “A messenger came a while ago to invite us. That’s why I could come out today. My family is at the seam—Whoa!”

The wind picks up all at once, a warm and gentle gale that sweeps Cinderella’s hair up into the air. When she peeks, the rainbows are dancing.

“You got invited to the ball?” the boy asks. “How? Why?”

Cinderella furrows her brow. “All nobility is invited, even the children of barons who haven’t been seen for nearly a decade, apparently. Why are you excited? Do you even know what a ball is?”

“Do I—of course I—” The boy falls silent. When he speaks again, he’s using a much calmer voice. “I’m just excited that you could be in the Capital so soon.”

“I’m not going,” Cinderella says. She crosses her arms. “This is my best chance to leave. I’m not giving it up just so I can play servant to my stepsisters when they attend the ball.”

“You were invited too, right?”

“I wouldn’t actually be able to go,” Cinderella says. She can see the way it would play out. They’d bring her along to satisfy the messenger’s invitation and that’s it. “I don’t have a dress and, even if I did, my stepmother would force me to stay at the inn. I’d just be brought along to curl Drizella’s hair and patch Anastasia’s dress when she inevitably tears a hole in it.”

“That’s not fair,” the boy says. She gets the impression he’d be scowling if he had a face. “That’s not what the Prince meant to happen when he invited all noble ladies. He meant all of them had to come to the ball, not just the Capital.”

Cinderella can’t help it. She laughs. “It’s not fair, true. But I’m tired of waiting for the world to be fair. I’m sorry, but I won’t be going to the Capital just yet. I’ll come and find wherever your tree is as soon as I get there. Maybe in a year?”

The boy is silent for a long moment. At last he says, “If I could get you to the ball without your family knowing, would you go?”

Cinderella blinks. “I just said that I need to get a job right away—”

“But if I could,” the boy presses, “would you?”

Sometimes Cinderella forgets how naïve the boy is. He’s always talking like that, as if anything is possible. “But I can’t,” Cinderella says gently. “Even if you could get me to the Capital, I’d need a place to stay.”

“I could—”

“And a dress,” Cinderella interrupts. “And I’m sure I’d need the invitation and Stepmother would never let me have that. Even if I did go, what then? How long would I have to wait until I could leave again? Not to mention if my stepmother ever found out…”

“What if I got you a way to the Capital, a place to stay, a way for your stepmother to never find out, a dress, and a guaranteed way to stay in the Capital?” the boy asks. His aura shivers with intensity. “What if I promised you that I could do all that? You could go to the ball and still escape and you’d be somewhere we could still see each other.”

“That’s a lovely dream,” Cinderella says. She’s irritated now. Of course, that sounds wonderful. Cinderella has never been to a ball and the idea of having everything taken care of for one night sounds divine. But Cinderella is too old for fairytales. “Of course, if it were possible, I would do it! The truth is that it’s not possible—”

“Come back the full moon before the ball,” the boy says. His presence jerks up towards the canopy of the oak tree. “At night. Bring your things as if you were leaving. Alright? Promise me!”

“I don’t—”

“If it doesn’t work, you’re not any worse off. You’ll still be able to leave for the next town and we’ll see each other again in a year. But if it does work—”

“If what works?” Cinderella cries.

“Magic,” the boy says before disappearing completely.

Cinderella blinks rainbows out of her eyes. It’s suddenly too bright in the clearing and her head is spinning. Magic? What magic?

“I’m not going,” Cinderella says out loud. The boy isn’t there to hear her. She glares at the meadow. “This isn’t a fairytale. Magic won’t fix anything.”

Cinderella stands, dusts off her dress, and goes looking for mushrooms.

——-

Thanks for reading!

Part two is already posted on my Patreon (X)! If you’d like to read it a week early, please consider supporting me on there :)

See y’all next week!

#long post #my writing #Cinderella #fairytale retelling #twisted fairytales #writeblr #short story #third person

[cringe-but-proud]

Can you do a story were you date Sirius so he can actually Date Remus and reg don't know and likes you and gets jealous

If you can thx you <3

I didn't think I'd like writing this as much as I did lol.

Regulus Black x Fem!Reader

Some Warnings: Technically a modern AU, a bit of cursing, mentions of a bad home life, jealous Reg, sort of angsty???

A/n: I made this new Year's themed even though new years has passed 🤗 Cause y'all can't stop me 🤬🤬🤬 This is DEFINITELY my longest fic yet. PLEASE DON'T LET IT FLOP GUYS.... My requests are open btw

Ah, winter break. It was something everyone at Hogwarts looked forward to. Well, almost everyone. There were those who didn't get to go home to their families and some who wished they didn't have to go home to their families.

One of those people was a friend of yours, Sirius Black. He often avoided talking about his home life, but you knew it wasn't good. And you knew going home for the holidays could be hard for him. So, when it was the day before winter break and the two of you had a moment alone, you asked if there was anything you could do to make the break easier for him.

"I need you to be my girlfriend."

Seven words you'd never expected to hear from your best friend. Your best friend who was in a gay relationship, nonetheless.

"What?" You asked in bewilderment. "No!"

"Wait, wait, wait. It's not what you think." Sirius put his hands up as if to show his innocence. "I don't really want you to be my girlfriend. I just need you to pretend. Please."

"Why?!"

"Because," he explained. "My parents have started to get... Suspicious about my total lack of any girlfriend. And I may have told them that I was dating you.... Y'know, to throw them off my track..."

You stared at him. "You told your parents we were dating?!" You repeated, clearly upset at him.

"I know, I know. It was a shitty thing to do, and I'm sorry." He says. "But, if I didn't give them some sort of excuse, they might've found out about me and Remus!"

You were still upset, but you could understand why he did what he did. "So..." You crossed your arms. "You said I need to pretend to date you. What is it exactly that you need me to do?"

"Over the break, I need you to come over for a couple days. My parents will meet you, get to know you, blah, blah, blah. And then, you'll never have to speak with them again. If they ask about you after that, I'll say we broke up."

You really weren't a fan of having to fake date your best friend. You also weren't a fan of having to meet his parents who you'd only heard negative things about. But... You knew how happy he was with Remus and you would hate for his parents to find out about the two. You sighed. "You're lucky we're friends."

"Is that an agreement?" He asked, a grateful smile on his face.

"Yes. But, you'll be forever in debt to me."

"Fine by me."

The next day, while on the train to 9 3/4, you and Sirius mostly just planned for you having to meet his parents. You decided that you'd arrive the day after Christmas, stay for news years eve, and leave new Year's Day.

A lot of the train ride was spent establishing some basic facts about your "relationship". How you'd met, your first date, what your wedding would be like (which was strange, but Sirius assured you that his parents would ask about marriage), and some other details.

Soon enough, the train ride was over. Your winter break was fine. You enjoyed getting to see your family, but you were quite stressed about seeing Sirius' family. Part of you wanted to call the whole thing off, but you knew that was out of the question. You had to do this. For Sirius.

The morning of December 26th was a cold one. You wished you'd had more protection against the cold, but the formal attire you were wearing could only do so much. Sirius had told you to bring nice, formal clothing for the few days you'd be there. You were a bit worried you'd still be underdressed, though.

You took a deep breath and knocked on the door to the literal mansion that Sirius lived in.

After a few moments, the door opened. Regulus black stood on the other side.

Oh.

"Hi." You greeted, trying to politely smile at him. He didn't return the gesture. He did the opposite he gave you a look of... Annoyance?

"You're here for Sirius."

You couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement, so you just gave a nod.

He stepped aside to let you in, his eyes trailing over your attire, making you feel nervous. "He's in the living room with mother and father." Regulus said before walking off.

What a strange interaction. You and Regulus weren't close, by any means. But, you never thought he disliked you. You thought the opposite was true. Whenever the two of you did interact, he was always quite nice.

You tried to shrug off the interaction, but you just couldn't. Even when you were next to Sirius, meeting his parents for the first time, the way he'd acted toward you was on your mind.

The worst part of your day was dinner. You were worried about everything. How you were eating, how you were sitting, the way everyone was looking at you, the way Regulus was looking at you.

"Y/n," You were broken out of your thoughts by Walburga's authoritative voice. "I want to know how you and Sirius began seeing each other."

You nervously glanced over to Sirius who gave you a forced looking smile. You looked back to Walburga. Gods, she scared you. "Well, it wasn't too long ago." You said, trying your hardest not to break eye contact with her. "It was late September. He told me since we'd known each other for so long, he thought we'd be a good match."

Sirius nodded along. "We went on a couple dates, turns out we really like each other." He said.

You glanced over to Regulus. He was glaring at you. You didn't break eye contact and after a moment something else flashed through his eyes. Something softer. Sadness?

"So," Walburga broke your attention away from Regulus as you looked back to her. "Are you serious about your relationship with my son?"

"Very." You replied.

"Do the two of you plan on marrying?"

You swallowed. "As soon as possible."

You heard silverware clatter as Regulus abruptly stood up. "I need to be excused." He said lowly.

Walburga raised an eyebrow. "You've hardly eaten." She stated. There wasn't any concern in her voice like you'd expect. It was a blatant statement.

"I know." He says. "I'm done."

His mother gave him a disapproving look, but didn't object.

Regulus stormed out of the room. You couldn't help but frown as you watched him leave.

The next few days were a bit uneventful. Most of your time was either spent in the guest bedroom you were staying in, or talking with Sirius. You were still confused by Regulus' attitude toward you. You knew his and Sirius' relationship was a rocky one. But, you didn't think that affected what he thought of you. He'd known you and Sirius were friends, and he still treated you kindly. But, now that the two of you were pretending to date, he had a problem with it? It didn't make any sense!

It was December 31st now. You and Sirius were sitting in his room, eating lunch while sitting on the floor.

"I was thinking-"

"Oh, God."

"Shut up, let me finish." Sirius chuckled, playfully hitting your arm. "I was thinking about going to a party tonight."

You furrowed your brows. "Where?"

"James and his family have a new years party every year. I'm sure they wouldn't mind some extra company."

You thought about it. Honestly, you weren't really in the mood for a party. Plus, if his parents caught you sneaking out, your heart would probably stop. "I think I'll sit this one out." You said after a moment.

"You sure?"

You gave a nod. "Yeah, I'd rather stay in. I'm sure you'll have plenty of fun without me."

"Oh, I will."

You smacked his arm.

The clock read 11:39. You were alone in your guest room sitting in your bed. You had your laptop open in front of you as you watched a broadcasting of one of the many new Year's events that were going on tonight. You were absentmindedly looking at the crowded city streets displayed on your screen when-

"I wouldn't be using that while having the door open." Regulus said. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, looking from you, to the laptop, and then back to you.

"Why not?" You asked.

"My mother doesn't approve of us using muggle technology." He said. "And I doubt she'd be okay with her son's girlfriend using it."

You sighed. "Right... Girlfriend."

Regulus raised a brow at how you'd said that. "What are you watching, anyway?" He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

"A new Year's parade."

"... Could I join you?"

You were surprised at that. After how cold he'd been acting toward you over the past few days, you'd assumed the last thing he'd want to do tonight is spend time with you. But, you weren't against the idea of not being alone when the new Year started.

"Sure." You replied as you moved over on the bed to make room for him to sit.

The two of you watched the parade in silence for a few minutes until Regulus spoke. "How come I had no idea you and Sirius were dating?" He asked.

You glanced over at him. "What do you mean?"

"You said the two of you had been together since late September." He said. "How come nobody knew about it?"

You subconsciously began to fiddle with the fabric of your shirt. "I don't know." You shrugged. "Guess we weren't shouting about it from the rooftops."

Regulus didn't break his gaze away from you. After a pause, he spoke. "I never would've guessed you liked him in that way."

You didn't know how to reply to that, so you just shrugged again.

Regulus was still looking at you, even though your gaze was focused on the screen in front of you.

He paused. "What made you fall for him?" He asked.

You thought it was an odd question. When you turned to look at him, he looked sort of sad. "He..." You trailed off.

Regulus looked at you expectantly. You were trying to come up with something, but your mind was blank.

"You do like him don't you?"

You looked away nervously. You began to wonder whether or not he'd even care that your relationship with Sirius was fake. If he really was upset about you dating Sirius, then wouldn't he like to know that it was all just pretend?

"Y/n." He said your name and you were pulled away from your thoughts.

"He's not actually my boyfriend." You blurted out.

Regulus paused. "What?"

"He asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend. He didn't want Walburga finding out about his actual relationship, so-"

"It's all fake?" He asked.

"All of it."

"You don't like him?"

"Not like that."

You swore you saw a sliver of a smile creep on to his face. "That's... Good."

You tilted your head. "Is it?"

"I mean..." He shrugged. "I just... I guess thinking you'd gotten with my brother was making me upset." He said.

"Why?"

"Because..." He hesitated. "I like you, Y/n."

You felt your heart skip a beat. Fuck, that actually explained a lot. You couldn't believe you hadn't realized sooner. You felt your face heat up. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "I was jealous. That's why I was acting so... Weird. Sorry for being such an asshole to you."

"That's alright." You paused. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? About your feelings, I mean."

He shrugged. "I didn't think you'd feel the same."

Honestly, you'd always found Regulus quite attractive. But, you figured there was no way he'd ever like you back, so you let go of that silly crush a while ago. But, this? This was making all of those feelings wash over you again.

It was 11:59 now. You could hear the commentators of the parade excitedly get ready for the countdown.

"I feel the same." You said, watching as a blush creeped on to his cheeks.

"Really?"

"Really."

His eyes seemed to sparkle at your admission. "I..."

You heard the countdown to the new Year begin.

"Can I kiss you?" Regulus asked softly. You nodded.

"Five!"

He leaned closer.

"Four!"

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips.

"Three!"

His hands came up to cup your cheeks.

"Two!"

He closed his eyes. You closed yours.

"One!"

Your lips met in a soft, romantic kiss. He brushed some hair out of your face and Gods, his hands were soft. You couldn't believe you'd ever managed to stop liking him.

When you pulled away he sighed contently as if that kiss was all he'd been needing his entire life.

You whispered something to him before pulling him in for another kiss.

"Happy new year."

#x reader #fanfiction #regulus black x reader #regulus x reader #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction #regulus black fanfiction

[headkiss]

something in the air

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you’re convinced you hate steve, and that he hates you right back. during your camping trip with friends, you find out just how wrong you’ve been.

word count: 13.9k

warnings: smut, mentions of a bad home life/family relationships, one bed (tent) trope, enemies to lovers (ish), and a sprained ankle

a/n: okay this one took forever so thank u for your patience and i hope it was at least partially worth the wait! please let me know what you think and reblog if you enjoyed, it helps a bunch!!!!

༄

Steve Harrington is a menace. And not in a good way.

For some reason, he insists on making your life more difficult. It couldn’t be for nothing, but you didn’t know exactly why. Maybe it’s because you tend to do the same to him, maybe you liked to get under his skin just as much.

He hung out with assholes in high school, and by proxy, he was also an asshole. Plus, you were really close with Nancy throughout school, and when she and Steve broke up, it didn’t really help his case. You didn’t know the full story, though.

You had no idea that Nancy cheated on Steve with Jonathan, only that she had feelings for him. You didn’t know about his parents and how it all affects him. You didn’t know that he dumped his friends so quickly after upsetting Nancy, that he worked hard to make it better. You didn’t know how much he cared.

You barely knew him. All you knew is that he got on your nerves. You couldn’t stand him.

It went both ways, though. Steve found you irritating and he hated that you had the same group of friends now. Because it meant he had to be around you almost all the time.

He wasn’t aware, however, that you struggled in school to have friends that weren’t Nancy, and when they dated, he sort of took her away from you, cut your time with her and you were alone a lot. Logically, it’s not his fault, but it’s how you felt. He didn’t know that you had a hard time at home like he did.

Maybe, for both of you, the feud was an escape, a way to channel your negative energy towards each other and not anyone or anything else.

After graduating, you applied for a job at Family Video, only for it to be taken by none other than Steve Harrington. You knew Robin worked there, too, but she was actually your friend.

That left you with a job at the grocery store that you hated but had to keep. It sucked.

Again, maybe it’s not his fault, but you were usually mad at him anyways. Why not add another layer to it?

On your days off, you spent your time at Family Video, though. You didn’t like being at home, and Nancy was still busy with high school for another year, so you hung out with Robin. Unfortunately, hanging out with Robin often meant hanging out with Steve, too.

That’s where you found yourself now, walking through the glass doors into the video store.

“Hi Robin,” you said as you walked up to the counter.

“Hey!” She noticed the takeout bag in your hand, “oh my gosh, you’re the best.”

“No hi for me, babe?”

“Fuck off, Steve.”

He scoffed. “This is my workplace, actually. I can't leave.”

“Yeah, I’m painfully aware of that.”

“Why don’t you ever just go home? You don’t need to be here.”

You tense up at that one, because he’s right. You don’t need to be there, but the last place you want to go is home these days. You roll your shoulders and try to shake it off.

“Anyway. Robin’s taking her break now. Bye.”

Robin just shrugs as you pull her away into the back room.

Steve is left thinking about why you reacted that way to what he said. It wasn’t the worst thing he’s said to you by far, and he knows it, so why was it enough to make you wince a little? And why the fuck does he care?

Once you were alone Robin glanced at you. Noting your off behaviour due to the home comment. She hates that two of her closest friends don’t get along, and she thinks she has a plan to change that.

“He doesn’t know,” she says. “About…you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” And you did, but that didn’t stop it from stinging. You just wanted to stop thinking about it. “So, how’s work going?”

“Ugh, it’s so boring. This food helps.”

“Not even my presence? Just the food?”

“Oh. You’re okay too, I guess.”

The both of you laugh, and you’re reminded of just how great Robin’s company can be. She takes your mind off of things and you wish you could show her how much you appreciate it.

So, when she asks you if you want to go catch a movie that night, you say yes.

-

You show up a little early, making sure you meet Robin outside before the movie starts.

However, she wasn’t showing up. And Robin wasn’t the type to be late, or blow you off without an excuse. So, you just went inside without her. You wandered around for a bit, giving her another chance to show up but she never did.

A call of your name grabbed your attention, but the voice made you roll your eyes. Why was Steve here?

“What are you doing here, babe?”

People would think the nickname was an endearment, something sweet. When it was coming from Steve, directed at you, though, it was almost like an insult. Spat out and accompanied by a frown of an angry pinch of his brows.

“Supposed to meet Robin, not that it’s any of your business.”

He chuckles, like he knows something you don’t. “Actually, it is my business. ‘Cause I was supposed to meet Robin, too.”

“She’s gonna be the death of me.”

“That’s something we can agree on.”

She must’ve thought putting you two together unknowingly would solve the issues. It certainly wasn’t that simple, but bless her for trying.

“Well. I’m not gonna give up some popcorn and a movie, Steve.”

“Neither am I. I’m already here, so…”

He wasn’t going to leave? Why? You really didn’t think seeing the latest rom-com would interest him, but then again, Robin got him here somehow. She thought she was so slick, you’re sure of it.

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he parrots back.

You get your snacks and go to the screening room, all without talking to Steve. You’re actually trying to ignore his presence as a whole. He’s trailing behind you the entire time, though, so it’s not that easy. When you sit down, he sits beside you, and you glare.

“Why are you beside me?”

“It’s the seat on my ticket, babe. Where else would I go?”

“Seriously? Do you see the amount of empty seats?” You gestured around the theatre to prove your point.

In return, he just leaned back in his seat and let out a dramatic sigh, like it was the most comfortable he’d been all day when you know the seats are lumpy and stiff. You turn your face to the screen and go back to ignoring him.

He was a dork at the movies, you found. And it hadn’t even started.

Steve giggled at the stupidest commercials, would nudge you anytime he found a joke funny just to annoy you more. He ate his popcorn in giant handfuls where most of it would just land in his lap anyway. You even moved seats, leaving two between you and him, and he just moved over with you.

Fucking Steve.

“Would you move back over?”

“But the view’s so much better here.”

“Insufferable,” you mutter as you move back to your original seat. He tries to follow again but you push him back down with a hand on his chest, you ignore how it feels under your palm. “Stay here like a good boy.”

His heart rate picks up and he prays you can’t feel it. He kinda thought that was hot, but he shakes it out of his head before he thinks about it too much, what it might mean. He looks at you from under his lashes, taunting. “What if I wanna be bad, babe?”

You stand up fully and take your hand off of him. You don’t know if the comment was meant to sound so dirty, but you don’t even want to think about it. The idea of Steve in any way that’s more than a pain in your ass makes you shudder. The opening credits of the film grab your attention.

“You stay here. I’m gonna go there.” You don’t give him enough time to respond.

He watches you walk away, and he decides he’ll let you have at least some peace until he goes over and bothers you again. He’s itching to go and sit next to you, and he convinces himself it’s because of his pent up frustration from the work day, nothing else. You’re the only one he can argue with that will give it right back to him. He hates it, but he craves it all the same.

It’s about halfway through the movie when Steve sits next to you again. You shake your head, though you're surprised he waited this long.

“Thought I told you to stay,” you whisper rather aggressively at him.

“Yeah, well I don’t think you really hold any authority over me, babe.”

“Nobody trained you as a kid to listen?”

“You’re talking like I’m a dog.”

“Might as well be.”

He scoffed, maybe a little loudly, but he didn’t care. You tested him constantly, and he wasn’t sure what it was about you that made him so frustrated all of the time. Maybe it was the fact that you never even gave him a chance to be civil with you, staring him down and rolling your eyes the first time you even met. Maybe it was the way he knew you were a good friend to others, he saw it with Robin and Nancy and everyone else, just not him.

Either way, you made his blood boil, so much so that he often thought about you when you weren’t around. The things you’d say and the looks you’d give him. You never left his mind and it infuriated him.

“You’re a real pain, you know that?”

“That's all you got for me, Steve?” You blinked at him with an innocent smile.

“You know-” he’s cut off by multiple people in the theatre shushing him.

“I tried to tell him, guys. So sorry.”

Despite people telling you to be quiet, you and Steve only last about two minutes next to each other before whisper-fighting again. It gets bad enough that you’re asked to leave.

As much as you know you’re both at fault, you feel fine blaming him.

“Seriously, Steve?” You spoke harshly at him once you’re outside. “You couldn’t just stay two seats away and let me watch the damn movie?”

“I didn’t want to watch it, so I talked to you instead. What’s so bad about that?”

“Oh don’t play innocent with me.”

“Fine. No, I couldn’t. You piss me off and I just wanted to hangout with Robin, not deal with you yet again today.”

“You’re not dealing with me. I can deal with myself, and I wanted to be with Robin too, asshole. Don’t get that twisted.”

“Trust me. You never let me fucking forget how little you want to be around me.”

“Because this is what happens!” You’re tired, and you don’t feel like arguing with him anymore. “Fuck this, I’m going home. Thanks for ruining my night, Harrington.”

He almost offers you a ride home. He knows you took the bus, you usually do. And he also knows that you hate the bus, he hears you say it to Robin enough. Then, he thinks about sitting next to you for longer and decides against it.

“Ditto,” he spits your name back at you. Not ‘babe,’ not any other nickname.

-

Once you're home and safely in your room, after the usual shit from your parents, you dial Robin’s number. She picks up on the third ring.

“Heyyy,” she sounds guilty, and she should.

“I’m gonna end you, Robs. What the hell?”

“I’m sorry! I just wanted you and Steve to get along and I thought maybe forcing you two to spend time together would help.”

She says it in a rush, her rambly way of speaking and you feel bad for being angry with her when you know she had good intentions, but she lied and you hated being lied to. Even if it was a small one.

“Robin, he got us kicked out of the fucking theatre.”

“You mean you both got kicked out?”

You sputter. You know she’s right but you hate to admit it.

“Fine, whatever. Still. That was torture, Robin. Torture!”

“I just want you guys to be civil, at least.”

“Maybe you should talk to Steve, then,” you hate that even when he’s not around, you can’t avoid him. “He’s just as guilty as I am.”

“I know that, and I will. I have another thing to bring up, actually.”

You’re eager to change the subject, to not talk about Steve Harrington for five fucking minutes so you hum, tell her to go on.

“The camping trip?”

You groan into the phone, “I know we do it every year but I hate camping.” Hate is an exaggeration.

“Nance wanted me to remind you, so that you book off work and don’t make any excuses.”

Fuck. She knows you too well.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go.”

“Yay! And I really am sorry about the movie, I thought it would work.”

“I wouldn’t be so hopeful if I were you, Robs. Thanks for trying, I think? Bye.”

You hang up and flop backwards onto your bed. Staring at the ceiling, you can’t help but reflect on your day. The way Steve seemed to infiltrate everything you did, how his chest felt under your hand, the way he made you lose your mind like nobody else. You roll over and bury your face in your pillow.

Even when he’s not around, Steve’s able to drive you insane.

He wasn’t feeling much different. Steve had a very similar phone call with Robin where he complained about what she did, asked her what the hell she was thinking, and agreed to the camping trip reluctantly just as you had.

Robin couldn’t believe how similar you two were, and you had no idea.

Steve fell asleep with his face squished in his pillow and your perfume lingering in his senses. It was a fitful sleep.

-

The days pass by and you manage to avoid Steve as much as possible. When you visit Family Video, you make sure it’s during Robin’s breaks or on a day Steve isn’t meant to be working. When you do see him, you try to stay quiet and simply glare. You don’t feel like wasting energy arguing with him anymore.

Before you know it, it’s time for the camping trip. Nancy writes packing lists for everyone, Jonathan and Argyle are in charge of equipment, Robin plans everything, Steve and Eddie get the tents, and you plan the meals. It really is a whole system, and it’s been working so far and you can only hope it stays that way.

The morning you’re set to leave, you’re extra tired. You barely slept the night before and when you think about it you haven’t been sleeping well for a while. Since the movies with Steve, actually. You’re half asleep sitting on your porch steps next to your luggage when Eddie’s van finally arrives.

The sharp honk of the horn startles you, and you groggily grab your things and make your way over to the car. Of course, you’re not ecstatic to be spending an extended amount of time trapped in a van with Steve, but you’re too sleepy to worry about it too much.

Jonathan and Argyle are taking a car packed full with most of the stuff, while Eddie drives the rest of you along with whatever couldn’t fit in Jonathan’s car.

As you climb in, you don’t really take note of who’s sitting where, only that there’s enough room in the back for you to take a nap, so that’s what you do. You say hi, then, you’re curling up and closing your eyes. Your friends decide not to bother you and let you sleep.

Steve, sitting in the passenger seat next to Eddie, couldn’t stop turning his head to check if you were still asleep. He’d cover it up by saying something to Robin or Nancy, but they could see where his eyes were looking. On one hand, he was glad you were asleep; you seemed tired—more so than usual—and it kept him from having to argue with you. On the other, he sort of wished you’d wake up and say something to him, even if it was an insult. He missed the banter, the way he could let himself go around you.

He’d never say it, he barely even lets himself think it, but he misses the sound of your voice, too.

He didn't even want to wake you up when the van finally got to the campsite, even though the others left him to do just that. You looked so peaceful, the usual scowl you wore around him wiped off your face. He reached a hand out carefully, slowly, like he was almost afraid to wake you. He ran it up your arm first, ignoring the buzz in his fingertips, and shook your shoulder gently.

“Babe, wake up.”

You blinked your eyes open lazily, “oh god. Please don’t make fun of me right now, Steve. I’m too tired.”

He tries not to think of the pinch he feels at the fact that you think he woke you simply to say something to tease you. He doesn’t blame you, but it still bothers him. He pulls his hand away.

“Just telling you we’re here, sleepyhead. Would’ve let you keep sleeping, you know, enjoy the quiet. Everyone else wanted me to wake you up.”

“‘Kay, well your job is done.”

“Yep. Bye.”

He walks away after that, and you think that might’ve been the most awkward interaction you’ve ever had with Steve. He was distracted, maybe. Something on his mind you think. You stretch with a groan and move on.

You finally make your way over to where everyone else is setting up the tents, and Robin greets you with a dramatic hug. “Don’t be mad.”

You pull back and squint at her. “What did you do?”

“So,” she rocks back on her heels. “While you were asleep during the drive, the tent arrangements were sort of made and you and Steve happen to be sharing.”

“What? Why?”

“Well…me and Nancy want to share,” she looks at you shyly, even though you know she’s harboured feelings for a while. “And so the big tent went to three of the guys and Steve volunteered to share the last one with you.”

“He volunteered? You’re joking, right?”

Steve? Voluntarily share a tent with you? There was absolutely no way. The last time you checked, he hated you and vice versa, so what the hell was he trying to do here?

“No, I’m not.”

“Fuck’s sake,” you take a deep breath. You don’t want to ruin Robin and Nancy’s time and to be honest, when you think about it, you know Steve the most out of all of the guys. “Okay. Fine.”

“Thank you!” She then runs off to set up the tent with Nancy.

You look around for Steve and find him by himself, trying to put up the tent that would be yours, too. You make your way over there to help, and maybe to figure out what he was up to with this sharing thing.

“Hey, Harrington?”

He looks up from where he was fiddling with the tent, his forehead slightly damp and his jacket forgotten on the ground. You look at his arms, the way they move, but catch yourself before he notices. What the hell?

“Uh oh. The last name…”

“You agreed to share a tent with me?”

He honestly has no clue how he’ll talk his way out of this one. The truth is, he volunteered to share with you not only because he thinks Robin and Nancy deserve to share, but because he hated the idea of any of the other guys being the ones to sleep next to you. He doesn’t even want to begin to unpack what that might mean.

“Is that gonna be a problem?”

You crossed your arms, “you tell me, Steve. What are you playing at?”

“Wha- nothing. You should be thanking me, actually. ‘Cause Eddie and Argyle smell like weed all the time and Jonathan Sleep talks. I know from last year.”

“Thank you? Oh, Steve my saviour, for saving me from having to sleep next to a sleep talker.. the horror!”

He rolls his eyes, “are you gonna help me with this tent or stand there like a princess, huh?”

You stomp over to help him, sort of petulant and grumpy. You just want to know why he seemed so okay with this. None of it made sense and ever since he woke you up from your sleep in the van, things feel weird with Steve. You aren’t having full on arguments so far, and you don’t even remember the last time you’d gone this long without yelling at least once.

Miraculously, you and Steve actually finish setting up your tent first.

He smiled at you when it was done, and you shook off the feeling in your chest at having that boyish grin of his directed at you. You don’t think he’s ever genuinely smiled at you before.

After the site was set up, you all spent the rest of the day moving your stuff to the right places. It occupied enough of your time that when you were all finished, it was beginning to get dark out, the sun and its beams replaced by the night sky.

That night, nobody was up for cooking a big meal, so you all settled for cooking hot dogs over the fire that Steve built. It was a good night, in the end. Steve sat across the fire from you and the whole group split off into smaller conversations meaning you didn’t really have to interact with him. You still looked at him, though.

Every couple of minutes your gaze would flick over to him, his face lit up by the orange glow of the campfire. He’s always been pretty, you knew that, but you could see it now more than ever. The way he looked when he laughed, his hair a little messy but he didn’t care about it around his friends. It was hard to look away.

He found himself doing the same, stealing glances when you were too preoccupied telling a story or giggling at something someone said. You always grabbed his attention in a way he didn’t understand. He wanted to look at you, to talk to you (even when talking was more like fighting).

As it got later, and the majority of the group had already gone to bed, the rest of you decided to turn in, too. You had sort of been dreading going to bed because you were worried about how having Steve there would be. If you two could get along long enough to sleep.

He let you get changed first, hanging back to put out the fire and make sure everything was cleaned up. He waited a bit before going to bed, lingering by the dying fire and hoping you’d be asleep by the time he joined you in the tent.

You weren’t asleep, but you laid facing away from his sleeping bag and stayed that way while he laid down next to you. It was weird, feeling Steve’s body so close to yours. You could feel the body heat, the slight shift everytime he moved.

Steve had trouble getting comfortable. Something about you being so close to him in this way had his mind running miles a minute. He could smell your shampoo, could see details he never really lingered on before.

When Steve shifted once more you turned onto your back, “will you stop moving? Can’t sleep ‘cause you’re noisy.”

He smiles at the sleep in your voice, he hopes you don’t see it.

“Sorry, babe. Trying to get comfy.”

You expected him to say something along the lines of ‘you can sleep outside if it bothers you so much,’ not to apologize. He’s sweet when he’s tired, it seems, because after that he really does try to stay still.

“Um. ‘S okay,” you turn back onto your side, shutting your eyes and adding, “night, Steve.”

“Goodnight.”

He moves one more time before falling asleep, as slowly and quietly as he can and he winces when the noise of his sleeping bag against the fabric of the tent still rings through the small space. Luckily, you’re already sleeping this time.

-

At one point during the night, Steve wakes up extra warm. He opens his eyes and the space is dark, but he can see enough to know that the two of you have moved much closer in your sleep.

Your sleeping bags were against each other, Steve’s arm sticking out of his and slung over your waist, his nose almost touching your hair.

It’s an intimate position, especially for the pair of you, and he really doesn’t want to move but he also doesn’t want you to wake up and yell at him for being so close.

He takes another inhale, smelling your hair again before pulling himself away from you and turning to face the opposite direction.

He misses the feeling of you tucked close to him but chooses not to dwell on that.

-

The first full day was mostly uneventful.

You spent the time hanging out around the campsite reading, or playing cards, or just talking. It was nice to be able to spend so much time with the people you keep close, the friends you know you’ll always have.

As for Steve, things with him are odd. You don’t find yourself arguing with him, more so just teasing and letting things go that you wouldn’t have before. It seems like you both have realized something. What exactly that is, you’re not sure.

For now, you blame the atmosphere. Something in the air is making things shift around, feel different.

At one point you and Robin take a walk, finding the communal bathrooms and some trails that you can take later. She really just wanted to have someone to spill to about how things went with Nancy, and you were more than happy to listen. To get your mind off of a certain boy who wouldn’t seem to leave your thoughts.

The time ticked by lazily, the day filled with laughs and a lightness that you don’t feel when you’re in Hawkins. There are so many horrible people in the town, and while you know there are good ones, too, it’s nice to escape the bad for a couple of days.

Nothing super eventful happened until that night.

You all decided to open up the lunchbox Eddie brought containing joints, some provided by Argyle, which you wouldn’t touch given your tolerance, and smoke by the fire that burned as brightly as the night before.

A couple of joints were lit, passed around the circle until they were finished. Some people would hog them for longer, causing some false anger and light slaps and playful whines to ‘share,’ and ‘be nice!’

Somehow, you and Steve ended up next to each other this time. And somehow, there wasn’t any comment made about it, you both accepted it, welcomed it, even. He was warm, his skin like a space heater that you actually wanted to keep close. You blamed it on the fact that you got chilly easily.

Once, when you tried to reach for the joint from Steve’s grasp, he gave you a teasing grin and held it out of your reach.

“Hand it over, Harrington,” you huffed.

“If you want it, you gotta come get it, babe.”

Usually, the nickname would come out harsh, but not this time. No, this time it lost its edge, leaving his mouth like a true endearment. It made your heart stutter.

“‘Kay,” you were already feeling it, so you didn’t hesitate to practically climb into his lap to get it.

He was frozen at the feeling of you against him, on him. It made him blush and he hoped that the glow of the fire hid it well. You grabbed the joint easily, humming in success and moving back to your spot next to him.

He avoided Robin’s gaze, knowing it would say ‘seriously?’ and raise even more questions in his head about what he actually feels for you. He wasn’t ready to dive into that just yet.

As the sky got darker and the hours shifted to the earliest of the morning, the group began to head to bed. First, it was Nancy and Robin, stumbling off giggling with their elbows linked. Then, it was Jonathan and Argyle, who left with a ‘goodnight dudes.’ When Eddie saw that it was just him, you, and Steve left, he sent you both a wink and strutted off with that mischievous grin on his face.

You didn’t really want to know what he was implying with that look.

“You tired?” Steve asked you.

“Not really,” you shook your head. “Would love to lay down in my sleeping bag, though.”

“Forgot weed makes you snuggly, babe.”

He’s right, it does, and you're resisting the urge to lean your head on his shoulder as he speaks. He stands before you can, grabbing a bucket to put out the fire and then leading you both to your tent with his flashlight.

It’s not long before you’re both in bed, facing each other and laying closer than you ever thought you would. The weed was mingling with your thoughts about the boy, the new feeling you got when he looked at you. You’re sure it was nothing. At least, you think you are.

“Hey Steve?” You speak softly.

“Yeah?” He’s laying on your side, facing you and you’re doing the same. He isn’t sure when your face got so close to his but he doesn’t mind. Not one bit. What is happening?

“Why’re you being nicer to me? Thought you hated me,” you’re being more honest than you would usually allow yourself to be, especially with him. “It’s confusing.”

His eyes roam your face, the color of your eyes and the way your hair fell over your forehead messily due to your position. He brushed it back, contemplating what he might say.

“I never hated you,” and he means it.

“Oh,” you don’t know what else to say. You’re surprised by his admission.

“Do you hate me?”

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head, correct yourself. “No. I don't.”

He realizes his hand is still pushing the hair from your forehead, and when he goes to pull it away you make some sort of sound in protest. He keeps going.

“I’m sorry that I judged you ‘cause of high school.”

Your eyes are closed, but he knows they’re probably looking sad, misty. He can tell you feel guilty, though he appreciates the apology, he doesn’t want you to be upset.

“I’m sorry, too.” He knows the dislike went both ways. He’s not so sure about that anymore, though.

You shuffle closer to him, letting your cuddling tendencies while high get the best of you and pushing yourself into Steve’s warmth. You tuck your head under his chin, the sleeping bag preventing you from using your arms. Instead, he frees one of his and wraps it around you.

You fall asleep with the smell of Steve surrounding you, bergamot, something woodsy, something sweet buried under the scent of weed that still lingers.

Your clouded mind doesn’t let you think about what this might mean, what might’ve changed in the short time you’ve spent at the campsite. Same goes for him. Steve’s content holding you for now, and worrying about it in the morning.

-

When you wake up, Steve still has an arm wrapped around you, though you’ve spun to face away from him. He’s close, his chest against your back and legs bracketing yours. You can tell even through the layers of your sleeping bags.

It makes your head spin.

You think maybe everything you’ve ever thought about Steve has been wrong—except for the fact that he’s pretty, you’re right about that—and it’s making you panic.

You lift his arm off of you as carefully as possible, just enough to slip out from under it. You wince when he makes some sort of sound of protest, his arm seemingly searching for you. You don’t want him to wake up now, you’re not ready to face him, really. You need to think.

Lucky for you, he finds your pillow and decides to cuddle that instead, remaining asleep.

You’re up before anyone else, catching the last bit of the sunrise and seeing the yellows and oranges give way to the blue skies of the day. You sit on the ground with your back against one of the logs used as a bench during campfires, your legs bent and your chin propped up on your knees.

The quiet is nice, nothing but the birds chirping and the wind rustling tree leaves. It allows you to try to figure out whatever the hell this camping trip has done to your relationship with Steve, if you could even call it that.

It seems that at some point during the short time you’ve been here, the hatred you thought you had for him had dimmed, changed into something more friendly, maybe. Though, you wouldn’t describe some of the thoughts you had about him recently as friendly.

You huff and drop your face so your forehead rests on your knees now. You haven’t figured one thing out. If anything, forcing yourself to think, to unscramble your thoughts, has only made things worse. Blurred the lines more.

It could’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been hours before someone else got up. That someone was Nancy, who simply walked over to where you sat, and took a seat next to you. She knew when not to ask, when to just be there. You’d known each other long enough for things to be easy like that.

When you turn your face to look at her she gives you that classic Nancy smile, close-mouthed and soft, and it tells you that she’s there, that it’ll be okay in the end.

In that moment, you believe it, and you rest your head on her shoulder.

-

Other than your inner crisis of the morning, the day is uneventful like the one before. You all head down to the nearby lake and laze around. You keep reading the book you brought, munch on the snacks Nancy packed up in a picnic basket, and even have a nap on the blanket that was lying beneath you.

You had an early morning, after all.

Steve couldn’t keep himself from sneaking glances at you all day. Though, maybe it doesn’t count as sneaking if both Robin and Eddie call him out on it. He doesn’t say anything to them, he doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. He himself has no idea what’s going on.

All he knows is that you look really pretty when you sleep. Well, you look pretty all of the time, but there’s something about the complete serenity on your face, the way your cheek is squished against your hand and your hair falls around you messily.

When the breeze picks up, he uses the blanket he was sitting on to cover you. He doesn’t let himself overthink it in the moment, even if he knows he will later. He just wants you to be warm and comfortable.

Robin pulls him aside under the guise of wanting to grab something from her tent and fully believing in the buddy system. In reality, she wanted to try and knock some sense into him, because she knows she’ll be able to crack him sooner than she could you.

“Steve, you like her,” she tells him. Not a question, a statement.

“I don’t, Robin.”

“Oh come on! You won’t stop looking at her, you tucked her in for fucks sake!”

He only stares at her, unsure of what to say.

“How can you be so clueless about your own feelings? We can all see it. Me and Nance talked about it earlier, and she said she saw your lady really early this morning looking all troubled.”

“She’s not my lady. Jesus, Robin.”

“Of course that’s the part you choose to focus on, dingus. Means she’s confused, and so are you. I knew you guys didn’t hate each other.”

“Just ‘cause we don’t hate each other anymore, or whatever, doesn’t mean we like each other, either.”

“Can't wait to tell you I told you so later.”

With that, she heads back to the group, leaving Steve even more frazzled than he already was.

That morning, when he woke up holding your pillow, his face buried in it, he couldn’t ignore the disappointment he felt because of your absence. Hated that he inhaled deeply to catch a whisper of your perfume or shampoo on the pillow.

He also can't stop thinking about the conversation from the night before.

‘Do you hate me?’

‘I don’t think so…No. I don’t.’

He wonders if you really meant it. He hopes you did.

-

The two of you don’t talk again until you’re going to bed, back in the solitude of your shared tent. You’d been orbiting each other all day, round and round and never colliding.

You’re forced to talk to him when you climb into the tent, Steve already in his sleeping bag with a book propped open and a pair of glasses perched on his nose.

“Didn’t know you could read, Harrington.”

He peeks at you through his glasses, your face clearer than usual thanks to them. “I’m full of surprises, babe.”

You’re realizing that now, you think.

“And the glasses?” You gesture towards him with your hand, moving to sit down atop your sleeping bag when he replies.

“Got beat up one too many times, I think. Ended up with shit vision.”

“At least you look good in them,” you blurt out.

It’s true, he does look good in them. You think he’d look good in anything, really. The frames suit him, make him look softer in a way. Even though you mean it, you didn’t want to say it out loud. You hope he’ll ignore it for your sake and move on. He doesn’t.

“You think so?”

He sounds like he truly means that question, like what you think actually matters to him. It does matter to him. In fact, you’re the only person besides Robin who’s seen him with them on and he can’t help but feel nervous, insecure.

“Um,” you look at him. “Yeah, I do.”

You’re pretty, you almost add, but you stop yourself. You haven’t figured things out enough to say things like that to him right now. You don’t know if he’ll tease you for it, hold it against you, or if maybe he’ll keep looking at you the way he is right now. You hope it’s the last option.

His gaze is tender, but it leaves your skin burning. His eyes trail your entire body, down and back up until they’re locked on yours once again. He’s taking his time to see you in a way he hasn’t let himself until now. The color of your skin and the dips and curves of your body, the way your hair frames your face and the shine of lip balm on your lips. He closes his book, tosses it aside.

“They’d look good on you too,” it takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the glasses. He shuffles closer to you, takes them off and pushes them onto your face. “There.”

His fingertips brush the skin of your face when he pulls his hands away.

“Jesus, Steve, you got punched badly enough for this prescription?” You squint at him through his lenses.

He huffs out a laugh, small, but there. You want to make him laugh again and again. The thought scares you because you know that something is changing in how you look at Steve, that maybe it changed a long time ago and you were too busy mouthing off at him to notice.

“I think it has more to do with the number of punches, not their force,” he says. Then, “they look nice. The glasses, I mean.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

You take them off and give them back to him, he tosses them aside to where his book lays forgotten. He’s not so interested in reading anymore, anyways. Not when you’re here, not when you seem to be getting along well enough that he keeps looking at your lips.

Everything’s fucked. It’s all so different, like a tectonic plate has shifted in his mind and stirred it up, changed how he sees you. If only he knew the exact same thing was happening to you, too.

It’s quiet for a bit, sort of awkward. There’s something you know you have to talk about, but neither of you want to bring it up.

Steve seems to be the braver one in the moment as he starts, “listen. About last night-”

“It’s okay, Steve,” you cut him off. “If you didn’t mean what you said. I understand.”

“No! No, it’s not-” he cuts himself off this time, trying to find the right words to say. “I did mean it.”

“What parts, exactly?” You hate that you have to ask for clarity, but you need to know in order to feel less afraid about what you feel. If he was in the same boat, you’re sure it’d make you feel safer.

“All of it. The part where I don’t hate you, that I never did. The part where I’m sorry for how things have been between us until now.”

“I meant it, too,” you say after a beat, voice almost shy. “All of it.”

“Can we be friends?” He asks, though the way his sight keeps flicking from your mouth to your eyes to the way your pyjama top falls off your shoulder doesn’t feel friendly. No, it feels heavier than that.

You nod, “I would like that, Steve.”

You can smell his shampoo, his scent, and feel his body heat that’s become more familiar in the last couple of days than ever. When did you move so close?

He’s right next to you, your legs touching and facing each other and you can feel his breath tickling your lips, taunting you.

“Do you think maybe we can start being friends tomorrow?” He says.

“Why’s that?” You ask, though by the way his hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip, you think you know exactly why.

“‘Cause I want to do some very unfriendly things to you right now if you’ll let me.”

“Okay.”

It’s the only confirmation he needs before he leans in, pushing his lips onto yours sweetly at first, just a peck. Like he’s testing the waters and making sure you won’t pull away. When he pulls back and you try to chase his mouth, that’s when he really kisses you.

This time, it’s messier, quicker. It’s heated in a way that has your stomach swirling and your thighs squeezing together. He licks into your mouth, fully tasting you and opening you up for him. It’s dirty, the way he slows it down so it’s languid.

It has you climbing into his lap to straddle him and pushing your hands into his hair to keep him close. It has you grinding yourself against him and letting a small whimper escape when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth before diving back in.

You’re absolutely done for when he pulls back long enough to peel off his shirt and then kisses you dumb all over again, his hands on your waist urging you to move over him. He eventually takes your shirt off, too, but he doesn’t lean back in.

No, he’s completely taken by the sight of you and your lack of bra. Transfixed.

“Can I touch you, baby?”

That one’s new.

“Please.”

The word sparks him into action, and he can’t believe it just came out of your mouth and was directed at him. He thinks he must be dreaming, it’s all too good to be true. The feel of you against him, on him, all over him. The way your tits feel in his hands when he cups them and brushes his thumbs over your nipples, the hitch in your breath when he does.

“Fuck. You’re so pretty. So, so pretty.” He can’t stop himself from saying it.

”You’re pretty, too.” Your hands interlock at the back of his neck and pull him in to kiss you again.

It’s not much longer before he flips you over, grabbing a pillow to place beneath your head and letting his hips weigh yours down, pinning you beneath him with one hand propping him up and the other still busy at your chest.

Your hands trail down his back, feeling the muscles ripple and shift under his heated skin. He’s pushing himself into you, hard, giving you both a taste of the friction you’ve been needing. It’s not enough, though, and he knows it. He needs more, too, but he holds off to tease you, to hear you say please again.

He can feel your chest heaving beneath him, and he pulls away from your mouth to give you room to breathe. He moves his kisses to your jaw, down your neck, instead. He’s careful not to leave marks, but he’s greedy with you nonetheless, covering as much skin as he can until he finds that spot that makes you whimper.

His ear is right by your mouth when you do and he thinks he’s found his new favorite sound.

His kisses stray further south, and your hands push into his hair when he pauses at your chest, pecking across the swell of your tits before taking a nipple in his mouth. As much as he wants to, he doesn’t stay there for long. The way you’re squirming a little under him, pulling his hair tighter, tells him you need more and he decides he’s teased you enough.

“Can I?” He asks, sitting up enough to hook his fingers in the waistband of your pyjama bottoms and panties.

“Only if you take yours off, too.”

It sounds like a good deal to him, he’s straining against his boxers, and he really wants to see you. Taste you.

He pulls your bottoms off first, leaving you naked and waiting as he stands to take his pants off.

“Hurry up, Steve. It’s cold.”

He lowers himself to hover over you once again, “don’t worry, baby. I’ll warm you right up.”

Then, he’s making his way back down, a kissed path down your stomach until he’s laying between your legs. His hands run soothingly along the outsides of your thighs, hold them apart when you try to force them shut.

You feel shy under his stare, focused on where you’re wet and wanting. You seriously can't believe this is happening.

“You’re beautiful, okay? Don’t need to hide from me,” he punctuates his sentence with a sweet kiss to your inner thigh.

You don’t have time to say anything back because his mouth is on you, licking a stripe from the top up to your clit that has your eyes fluttering shut. One of your hands is back in his hair, the other searching for one of his and holding tight when you find it.

It’s not long until he has you moaning, your thighs now thrown over his shoulders. He’s groaning into you everything you buck up towards his mouth, encouraging you. He acts as if he’s enjoying it just as much as you are even though nobody’s mouth is on him. It makes it that much hotter.

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to look at him without thinking of what he’s capable of making you feel after this.

“Steve,” you whine.

He pulls back to look at your face, the pinch between your brows telling him you need more. “What is it, baby?”

“Please.”

“Gotta tell me, pretty girl. Use your words.” He knows he’s teasing you but the reaction it’s getting him is too good to stop. The way you whimper when he licks at your clit only to pull back before you can even process it.

“Your fingers, please,” you say it quietly, but he lets it slide.

He uses the hand that isn’t still holding yours and brings two fingers to your entrance, circling it and getting them wet before he pushes them in slowly.

Steve doesn't think he’s ever felt this way with another person. He's so invested in making sure you’re comfortable, so taken by how you look and how you sound. He’s so completely lost in you and this and he doesn’t want it to end.

His fingers are moving steadily, finding that spot inside you that has your toes curling. He keeps going until he feels you squeeze around his fingers, his mouth back on you, though his eyes stay on your face. He knows you’re close when your head falls back, when you moan louder than before, when your thighs tighten around him.

“Is that good, baby?” It’s a rhetorical question, but he wants to hear it from you.

“Yeah, Steve,” you breathe out. “Really close.”

“Go on. Come for me.”

You don’t know how, but his words draw your orgasm out of you. It’s intense and has you laying back down, your head digging into the pillow and your hand squeezing his tight.

He doesn’t pull away until you push his head lightly, needing a minute to regain your bearings because of him. You don’t know how he can be so good, make you come in a way you didn’t think was possible. And he still looks as pretty as ever while doing it, his mouth and fingers wet with you.

You think your eyes almost roll back into your head when he sucks his fingers clean.

Steve Harrington really is a menace, just maybe not in the way you thought.

Your legs fall from his shoulders when he moves back up to your lips, kissing you slow and steady. It’s grounding, in a way. Brings you back to him and clears whatever remaining haze was there from your orgasm.

You can feel him hard against your lower stomach as you kiss, and you reach down to grasp him in your hand, stroking him slowly. He moans into the kiss when you do. You utter his name against his lips, he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours in response.

“Yeah?” He’s breathing heavy, his voice coming out breathy and rough.

“Fuck me.”

His hips buck into your hand when he hears the words come out of your mouth.

The hand holding him guided him down to your entrance, and he takes over from there. He holds a hand by your mouth, “spit.”

You do, and he uses it to lube himself up, and pushes in with his elbows on either side of your head, blocking out anything that isn’t him. Once he’s buried all the way, your legs wrap around his waist, urging him to stay close.

The first thrust is slow, almost painfully so because you can feel every single inch as he moves. He’s big and the stretch is just enough to make your eyes water, just enough to have you moaning again.

“Holy shit, Steve.”

“I know, sweet girl. You’re doing so good.”

“Faster, please.”

He complies, his rhythm picking up and his mouth finding the spot on your neck he discovered earlier. It’s all-consuming, the way he touches you, the way he fucks you. It’s as if the rest of the world has melted away and all you can sense is him. His smell, his skin against yours, the way he moves inside you.

You tug him by the hair back to your mouth, letting him swallow your moans. He savours every single one, adjusts his hips every time one is louder than the rest.

Somehow, he can tell when you need more from him, like he’s learned your body completely even in the short time he’s had it. When he knows it this time, he sits up so he’s on his knees, takes one of your legs and sets it on his shoulder so he can move deeper, better.

“You feel so good, babe. Fuck, can’t believe you’ve been right in front of me for so long.”

It’s like he can’t control what comes out of his mouth anymore, all he knows is that you feel incredible, that you’re beautiful and he wants to break down every single wall that’s been put between the two of you. He wants to know you.

It doesn’t take much longer for your second orgasm to build up, your hands bunching up the fabric of the sleeping bag for something to hold onto. When Steve takes a hand and pushes it against your lower stomach, asking, “can you feel me, pretty. Right there,” that’s when you hit your peak again.

You’re a mess, moaning his name over and over as he fucks you through it all. When you’ve come down, Steve isn’t far behind you, his thrusts sloppier and small moans escaping him.

“Can I come on you, baby?”

“Fuck, Steve. Yeah.”

He pulls out, jerking himself off until he comes over your stomach, all but collapsing next to you when he’s done. Your heads on the same pillow and pants leaving your mouths. Steve searches the tent for his boxers from before, using them to clean the both of you up the best he can.

You’re still sticky and sweaty when he covers you both with his sleeping bag as if it’s a blanket, but you don’t mind. You want him to stay close, you think.

“You’re really pretty,” he says quietly. “I definitely do not hate you.”

You giggle, push yourself closer to him, your face at his chest. “I feel a lot of things for you, I think. Hate isn’t one of them.”

His heart swells at your words. He doesn’t think you’ve ever been so candid with him and he treasures it.

“Where have you been hiding this sweet girl, huh? ‘Cause I really like her.”

“Shut up,” you deflect.

“Just being honest. Let’s sleep?”

“Yeah, let’s sleep.”

You find that Steve’s embrace feels familiar now, letting his arms come around you and pull you close. You think that his lips on your forehead in a goodnight kiss is something you might need every night.

You also think you’ll have a slight panic about all of this tomorrow. But, for now, you let yourself fall asleep, safe and satisfied.

-

When you wake up, Steve’s already outside, and you can hear the chatter of your other friends, too. You figure it’s later in the morning, that Steve let you sleep in.

You can't believe what happened the night before, half convinced it was a dream until you notice that you’re still naked. You don’t regret it, you only wish it didn’t cause so much confusion in your head.

You really do want to be friends with him, though, now you’re not sure if that’ll be enough. If you might want more than that.

Once you get up and ready, and the day begins, you keep your distance from him. He seems to be doing the same. It’s not that you’re upset with him, it’s just that you’re scared of how much has changed in so little time and you need to process it, to let yourself solve the puzzle in your mind.

The only thing Steve had said to you that morning was while passing you a plate of breakfast he seemed to have saved for you. “We’ll talk later?”

You nodded and that was it.

It’s the afternoon when the group of you head towards one of the hiking trails, water bottles and granola bars packed in your bags. You all smell like sunscreen, thanks to Nancy going mom mode on you all.

The sun beats down on your shoulders as you walk, only quick moments of shade provided by the trees that you pass. You know that by the end of it you’ll all be sweaty and sticky, but it’s a nice trail, with a view of the lake peeking through the trees.

Argyle stops to look at every plant he deems ‘peculiar’ including mushrooms, he forces Jonathan to look at them, too. Eddie is humming a guitar solo the entire way, he says it’s the soundtrack to your adventure. Robin picks flowers along the way, putting one in everyone’s hair—two in Nancy’s.

As for you and Steve, you hang back a couple of steps behind the group, walking alongside each other. You don’t talk, settling for a comfortable silence. A mutual understanding that there is something to discuss, just not right now.

Every so often, your hands will brush, and you’ll glance at each other shyly before looking away again.

You’re about halfway through the trail when a tree root gets in your way. You happened to be looking away at the moment, Steve laughing at Robin’s joke caught your attention. You trip over it, your ankle rolling painfully as you fall with a small yelp.

Steve notices first, and he crouches down next to you. “Shit. Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” you try to brush it off, even with tears gathering in your eyes.

Everyone else comes to see if you’re alright, too, and you hate all of the attention. You know they mean well, but it’s embarrassing.

“Can you stand?” Robin asks.

Steve holds out his hands to help you up, and he catches you when the pressure on your ankle is too much and you almost fall again.

“Guess that’s a no,” Argyle says. Jonathan gives him a light slap for it.

“I’m fine, guys,” you urge, though you’re clinging to Steve to help you stay up. “Just give me a minute and we can keep going.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve says firmly. “We gotta take care of that ankle, babe.”

Just as you’re about to protest, Nancy cuts in, “he’s right, it’s kinda swollen.”

“There’s a first aid kit in the van,” Eddie adds.

You’re frustrated that you’ve ruined the walk for everyone, and you cover your eyes with the hand that isn’t holding onto Steve to hide the fact that you are now crying. You’re in pain and humiliated and there are too many eyes on you.

Steve can tell, so he says, “you guys keep going, I’ll go back with her.”

They agree, and Robin gives Steve a look that tells him she knows exactly how he feels even though he’s not one hundred percent certain. When he hears you sniffle, his attention doesn’t stray anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you say between your crying.

“None of that. Was getting bored anyway.”

You try your best to gather yourself, wiping at your cheeks and eyes roughly. Steve pulls your hand away and does it for you, he’s much more gentle. The two of you stay put until you’ve stopped crying, and Steve doesn’t let go of you through any of it.

“I’m gonna carry you, okay?”

“No, I can walk, Steve. I swear.”

“Shut up and get on my back,” he leans down enough so you can hop on, in position for a piggy back. Your arms hold onto his shoulders, trying not to choke him, and your legs are around his waist. He holds you by the thighs and begins the descent very carefully.

His hands on you feel all too familiar now. You know what they do in intimacy, how they move and squeeze at your skin, your thighs. Almost like he’s doing now, though the situation and intent is much different.

Again, the walk is spent in silence apart from the sounds of your breathing and Steve’s footsteps.

Once you’ve made it back, he sets you down so you can sit on one of the log benches by the fire pit, and he goes off to Eddie’s van with a promise to be back soon.

You discover that he’s good at keeping promises, as he’s back before you really noticed his absence. You think he might have ran there and back and that thought has your heart skipping a beat in your chest. He’s good at taking care of people, you think. The way he knew how to calm you down, how he offered to carry you, and how he takes your injured leg in his hands so carefully you almost melt. He tugs your shoe and sock off, apologizing when you say a small ‘ouch.’

“There should be a tensor bandage in here somewhere. I’ll wrap you up real good, I swear.”

“I trust you, Steve.”

He thinks those words hold a lot more weight and meaning than just wrapping your ankle, and he files it away in his mind to think about in the future. He can tell you don’t trust a whole lot of people, and he feels special that you do him. His lips curve into a soft smile.

He kneels on the ground in front of you, first aid kit open at his side and your foot propped on his knee. He wraps it slowly, fully focused on making sure he does it right because he doesn’t like the thought of you hurting. He hates it, actually.

He knows things have changed drastically since you’ve been here, and he knows they won’t ever be the same. He only hopes that the outcome is good.

You watch as he works, eyes focused on the way his hands move and hold you so softly. With nobody else around, you allow yourself to relax around him, to let your eyes linger.

When he finishes, he presses a small kiss to your ankle over the bandage. If kisses had healing powers, you think you’d be all better after that.

You don’t know how or why your feelings for him seem to have shifted so much, all you know is that any trace of hatred you had towards him has disappeared, wiped away to make room for something else. Something fonder that could be described using four letters and might have been around much longer than you thought.

“Thank you,” you say as he sets your leg down and moves to sit next to you.

“No problem, babe,” he pauses before continuing. “Do you want me to take you home today? I bet Eddie would let me take the van.”

“No!” It comes out more panicked than you wanted it to, but you really didn’t want to go home. You’d be happy staying at that campsite forever, because you hadn’t thought of your parents since you left until now. “I mean. No, I'd rather stay. Thanks though.”

Steve knows something’s wrong, that your relationship with your family may not be the best. He’s suspected it ever since your reaction to his comment about you always hanging around Family Video. He wants you to know he can relate.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

You shrug, “not much to say, really. Just don’t like being home.”

“You can stay with me, you know… If you ever need to. My parents aren’t really around anyways.”

You lean your head on his shoulder, giving him some silent support. “Thank you. You’re kind of a great guy, Steve.”

“Only kind of?”

He turns his head towards yours, and you do the same. You’re close enough that you could lean forward ever so slightly and you’d be kissing. You think about it, he does too.

Steve breaks the moment first, though. He wants to kiss you, he really does, but he doesn’t want it to be in this grey area the two of you are stuck in. He wants it to be real, and to know exactly what it’ll mean.

“Why don’t I find you some ice for that ankle, huh?”

He squeezes your knee and stands, not waiting for a reply.

-

The rest of the day passed quickly, the group coming back from their hike and showing you polaroids they took of the view for you, Steve fussing over you every time you went to walk on your own.

Before you knew it, it was time to head to bed. Steve helped you walk over to your tent despite your insistence that you could do it yourself, “I’m going there anyways,” he said.

You simply huffed and let him curl an arm around your waist to give you some support. Maybe to have an excuse to touch you, too.

Steve left while you got ready for bed, even though he’d seen it all before. He still didn’t know where you stood and wanted to be mindful of that. As he walked back to the tent after a few minutes, he geared himself up to start some sort of conversation with you. The intent melted away when he saw you, though.

You weren’t usually a crier, but as you tried to get comfortable, you bumped your ankle against something and pain shot up your leg, sharp and sudden. You were sitting up when he came in, knees bent and your face buried in them, and your hands clutching above the bandage.

The tears fell before you could stop them, the frustration you felt and the flare up in your injury bubbling and spilling over. You heard the zipper of the tent’s entrance slip open, and you knew it was Steve, but you didn’t really want to look at him.

You hated crying, it made you feel embarrassed, and the softness in his brown eyes would only make you cry harder because you never had anyone care that much about you being upset.

“Hey,” he starts, sitting next to you. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Hurts,” is all you manage to get out.

One of his hands rubs up and down your back soothingly, the warmth seeping through your shirt. His other hand reaches to where yours are holding your leg, prying them away gently and grasping it himself.

You lift your head to look at him, shy under all of his attention.

“You tired?” He asks.

You nod, and he urges you to lay down, so you do. He wipes away your tears for you yet again once you’re settled on your pillow. He reaches for his pillow, lifting your leg and placing it under your ankle to keep it elevated.

“Steve, you need that. What’re you gonna sleep on?”

“Got some sweats I’ll bunch up, don’t you worry. You need that more than I do, ‘kay?”

“You’re really sweet.” You say quietly, already much more comfortable than before. You don’t know if it’s the pillow he’s placed under your foot or if it’s simply Steve’s presence that makes you feel that way.

He does as he said, digging for his sweats and balling them up to use as a pillow but you stop him by saying, “you can just share mine.”

You scooch over until half of your pillow is empty, leaving room for Steve to lay down next to you. He’s careful as he does, watching where he puts his legs so that he won’t bump your ankle. He lays on his side facing you, wondering whether it would be okay to reach out and hold you.

He does it anyways, figuring you’d tell him to get off if you didn’t want him to. His arm slips out of his sleeping bag to hold your waist. You turn yourself towards him as much as you can while keeping your foot in a good position.

You find yourself getting sleepy a lot faster with him near, and it’s odd. Less than a week ago you were convinced you hated the boy and now… Well now you felt something far from hatred.

You never thought you’d even become friends with Steve, let alone whatever the relationship between you is now.

“Thanks for taking care of me today, Steve.”

His hand pulls you a little closer, “no worries. You’re a great patient.”

You breathe out, a hint of a laugh that would be there if your eyes weren’t so heavy.

“Do you think this is weird?” You ask. You’re not specific but he knows you’re referring to you and him and the lack of arguments.

“It’s different, but I’m happy. That we can actually talk now, that you don’t hate me.”

“Me too. Cuddling is also nice.”

Neither of you bring up the kissing, or the sex, but the thought of it lingers. It hovers over the two of you constantly, waiting to be brought up.

You fall asleep soon after, barely noticing the pain in your ankle anymore.

-

The next day was your last full one of the camping trip. So, naturally, everyone was together for it all. There wasn’t room for a conversation with Steve about the serious stuff which you didn’t mind all that much.

You were nervous to know what he thought. Did he even want you, or was it just a heat of the moment thing? Does he only want to be friends, or did he feel more than that?

You’d rather float in the unknown rather than hear that he didn’t like you the same way. Because this was new to you. You never had a boyfriend, never wanted one, either. And then Steve Harrington just had to make you feel so much for him. Things you didn’t know how to deal with for so long that your instinct was to act like you hated him. To convince yourself you did.

You weren’t ready to go home, to go back to reality. You were scared that you and Steve would revert back to how it was before, the dirty looks and the comments and the mask of dislike. You didn’t even want to think about going back to your house or your lousy job.

Though you didn’t have time for any serious chats, Steve would find ways to check in on you, to ask if your ankle was bothering you at all. He even rewrapped it for you when he noticed you struggling with it.

As day turned to night, the sun swallowed by the horizon, you all spent time packing up the site so it would be quicker to leave in the morning. Everything apart from the tents and what you needed to sleep was cleaned up and packed into Jonathan’s car.

Once more, the most talking you and Steve did was before bed, in the bubble of your tent.

He shared your pillow like the night before, held you the same way, too. He couldn’t stay away from you no matter how hard he tried. Steve found himself making excuses to come up to you during the day, asking if you needed help even though he knew you didn’t, checking on your ankle even if he had already done it ten minutes ago.

“What do you think is gonna happen when we go home?” You ask.

“You mean with us?” He checks, and when you nod, he takes a moment to think before continuing. “I want to be your friend, I meant that. I also think that there might be more? Maybe. I just don’t want to rush things with you,” he says the last part quieter than the rest.

“I do, too. Think there could be more. I’m scared, though.”

He reaches a hand to hold your cheek, his thumb brushing back and forth.

“I know that a lot has happened in the last couple of days, but I think we could be something. Don’t you want to give it a try?” He asks you, his face close enough to yours that you can feel his breath on your lips.

“Yeah, I do.”

You know that you’ve barely scratched the surface of what you really feel. You’re ninety nine percent sure that you love him and you know he deserves to know that. You’re just not ready to say it, and you want to give yourself time to see what things will be like back in Hawkins before you do.

He nudges his nose against yours in response, waiting to see if you’ll pull away before leaning in to kiss you. It’s slow, languid and you know it won’t lead to anything more but you cherish it all the same.

You try to pour what you can't say into it.

Steve couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He’d been wanting to kiss you ever since the last time and it was as if the rubber band of his reserve snapped when you said you wanted to try with him. Deep down, he’s a romantic and he wants to show you that side of him.

He figures kissing you the way a lover would is a good start.

-

The next morning was a whirlwind of packing what was left, making sure nothing was forgotten, and taking the tents down. It was a lot of yells back and forth and stuffing cars as full as you could.

The energy was down, everyone slightly bummed to be heading back to reality. You were especially bummed about going home. You never realize how much you hate it until you’re gone. You also worried about what would happen with Steve, how things would play out.

On the drive home, everyone sat in the same spots. Though, this time, Nancy and Robin stayed a lot closer, hands intertwined and smiles a bit brighter. It seems you and Steve aren’t the only ones who felt a shift while you were away. Maybe there really was something in the air, something that wasn’t as heavy as things felt in Hawkins.

You ended up falling asleep again during the drive, the crack of the music through the van’s speakers making your eyes heavy. You’re lucky nobody let Eddie play his music or else you surely wouldn’t get a nap in.

You’re the first one to get dropped off and Steve can’t help but worry. From the very small amount of information he’s gathered about you and your family, he knows you don’t like being around them. He wishes he could shield you from it all, how odd is that?

He’s pretty damn sure he loves you, actually.

That’s why when Eddie pulls into your driveway he offers to wake you up and help you grab your things. It’s why he’s gentle when he does so, getting out of the car and opening your door.

“Hey, babe,” he shakes your shoulders gently. “Wake up.”

You do; you’re a light sleeper. You rub your eyes tiredly and when you blink them open the first thing you see is Steve. It’s a nice sight to wake up to.

“Mmm, hi.” You say, stretching your arms.

“Hey, we’re at your place,” he tells you.

“Okay.”

You climb out of the car, thanking Eddie for driving and saying bye to Robin and Nancy. Steve grabs your bags for you and walks you to the porch. He goes to help you inside but you stop him.

“It’s alright, Steve. I’ve got it,” you take your bags from him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he’s quiet for a moment, glancing at your door before adding, “you’ll be okay? I meant it when I said you could stay with me, you know?”

“I’ll be fine. Promise.”

You smile at him shyly, not quite sure whether you should hug him or just go inside. You wait to see what he does, but he has his hands in his pockets, rocking on his feet.

“Okay, I’ll head inside. Bye, Steve.”

“Bye, babe,” his hand brushes your arm as you go inside.

Back in the van, everyone looks at Steve like he’s an idiot. And, well, maybe he is only this time he doesn’t understand why. He looks out the window for the rest of the drive.

He knows your parting was awkward, but he didn’t want to scare you off by kissing you or doing something in front of the others when you had only become friendly a few days ago. He wasn’t used to having things move so fast, or to having them feel so strong, so vivid.

When he gets home, the house is empty. He can’t help but feel like it’d be much brighter with you in it.

-

You’d been back for a week and nothing major really happened between you and Steve. You weren’t sure if the conversation was forgotten, if it didn’t actually mean anything. All you knew was that you definitely loved him and it was scary.

You didn’t let yourself feel things like it so often, and it was hard for you to admit it, but you were in love with Steve. It’s why it made it almost harder to be around him than it was when you thought you hated him. You didn’t know how to act, what to say.

When you weren’t working, you still visited Family Video, though now when you and Steve would tease each other it would end in smiles and laughs, not someone storming off.

Things were sort of awkward, too. Neither of you knew if you should touch, or kiss. Neither of you wanted to be the one to ask, either. You were constantly tip-toeing around each other, never fully diving in even though you wanted to.

He called you somethings, too. Late at night when your parents would be asleep. You’d always pick up right away, ‘cause you waited for his calls, sitting in your bed with a hand next to the phone just in case. He’d always ask you how you were doing, remind you that you were welcome at his place. He once said he missed sharing a tent with you, that he wanted to see if sharing a bed would be the same.

It’s the boldest statement either of you had made since your return.

Despite the actions not being there, the feelings never left. Steve would stare at you when you visited him and Robin at work, distracted from tasks and practically hypnotized. Where he used to watch you with red hot anger, it’s turned into a rose coloured haze. A pair of heart sunglasses.

It’s not until you finally take up his offer that you’re alone with him.

Your parents were being their usual selves, only somehow it was worse, more amplified. You couldn’t stay in that house anymore, so you packed a backpack, snuck out your window, and walked all the way to Steve’s house. It wasn’t too bad of a walk. It gave you time to clear your head.

Steve was actually about to call you when he heard a knock on his door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and he couldn’t stop himself from hoping it was you. Then, he opened the door and there you were, looking pretty as ever with a backpack on your shoulders and an apology in your eyes.

Before you could even say anything, he ushered you inside.

“Hi, babe,” he grabbed your backpack. “You okay?”

There was a softness in those brown eyes that warmed you from the inside out, that made you feel like everything would be okay as long as he was around. God, love makes you so gooey inside it was gross.

“Yeah, well, not really. Can I stay here?”

“‘Course you can. Anytime.” He holds a hand out for you to take, and when you do, he squeezes your fingers.

He holds it all the way up the stairs to his room, setting your bag down at the foot of his bed and sitting on the edge of his mattress. He pats the space next to him for you to join.

“Thanks, Stevie.”

Stevie. He’s only ever had people call him that teasingly. Mostly in high school and he didn’t like it then. He much prefers it coming out of your mouth.

“Don’t need to thank me,” he says, reaching to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m happy to have you here. I, um, I’ve missed you.”

He’s had a hard time opening up to people romantically since what happened between him and Nancy. He’s not sure how, but you make it easier. You make him feel like it’s okay to be more open, to let the walls around his heart crumble.

“I missed you, too,” you say.

“C’mere,” he moves up to sit with his back against his headboard, and pulls you into his lap, your legs on either side of his. It’s not in a dirty way, not at all. Rather, it’s for the comfort that can only be provided when having someone you love is that close to you.

He winds his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a hug, yours going around his shoulders, face turned into his neck. You indulge yourself in his smell and his arms and his warmth. You push a small peck into the skin just below his ear before pulling back enough to see his face.

“I needed that, I think,” you say.

“I really fucking like you,” he says, his head tilting back to rest against the headboard with a thump.

It’s like he couldn’t stop the words from coming out anymore. He’s been thinking it for too long without being able to say anything, and he’s done waiting, he thinks. He knows he loves you and as terrified as he is, he won’t let that feeling go ever again.

“Really?” You ask.

“Yeah, really,” he smiles at you, shutting his eyes for a second before looking at you again. “Listen, I know things have changed crazy fast, and I know that we’ve really only just started to get along but, I love you. I have for a long time, I think.”

The butterflies in your stomach are set free, a smile breaking out on your face because this is what you’ve been waiting for since the trip that changed everything.

“I love you too, Stevie,” you say, pushing the hair off his forehead as if it’s a reflex; without thought. “I think I just convinced myself I hated you ‘cause I was scared.”

“Gave is an interesting story, don’t you think?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

He leans in to kiss you then, tender and smooth the way that only couples do. Full of love and emotion, your bottom lip between his. It’s the fluff and sweetness of the best kind of pink cotton candy. It melts on your tongue.

Steve pulls back when your smiles break the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I think this could really last. You and me,” he tells you. He says it quietly, like it’s a secret for your ears only. A confession; he’s thought about this, the future.

“You do?”

“I mean we already had our first fight like forever ago. And our second, and our third, and our fourth, and-”

You cut him off putting your hand over his mouth, “okay! I get it,”

You can feel him smiling against your palm.

༄

if you enjoyed please reblog, it would mean a lot!

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington request #steve harrington requests #steve harrington story #steve x reader #steve stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic

[mrscarmenbearzatto]

promise me? | carmen berzatto

rating: | cw: mentions of mikey’s death/funeral, a few timeskips, afab/fem!reader, angst/fluff content, unfinished ending i guess (i’m so down to write a part two if yall ask for it tbh)

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request: “a more angsty idea would be that reader was dating Michael and no one knew she was pregnant when he died… so in order to avoid making their family sad/starting conflict, carmy agrees to pretend that they’re dating and it’s his kid? “

Since the funeral four months ago, your world had felt.. emptier.

Michael Berzatto was your everything. He was the boy in high school who threw rocks at your window, who climbed inside to make out with you on your bed until he fell asleep holding you close, only sneaking out to avoid your parents learning about his visits.

He was the guy who would make a big deal out of every small accomplishment. He was the person who you planned on spending the rest of your life with.

That was until everything happened. One phone call from the Chicago Police Department, and your entire view of the future had been shifted. There was one less person in it.

You didn’t talk to his family much anymore. His younger brother, Carmen, was the only person you really kept in touch with. You called Sugar every so often, and you’d send Donna a check-in text every week or so.

You knew Carmy was in New York, and he hadn’t come to the funeral. You weren’t expecting to see him again until he showed up on your doorstep.

The one thing he wasn’t expecting? You to open the door, tears in your eyes and a pregnancy test in your clenched hand.

“Hey, are you okay?” is the first thing Carmen says. He wraps his arms around you, trying to soothe you in anyway he can. A slight head shake from you and you taking a step back, holding the test out for him to see.

“I’m pregnant. The one person I should be able to tell.. isn’t fucking here.” Your soft voice breaks his heart. It’s the rush of realization that comes first.

The fact that, you’re pregnant with Mikey’s baby.

And Mikey is dead.

“Y/N, we can.. we’ll figure this out.” He promises in a whisper, and you shake your head, more tears streaming. “How?! How am I supposed to do this by myself?” You ask, and you fall into Carmen’s arms, crying on his shoulder. He could care less about the tear stains on his white tee.

If Mikey were here, if there was a way to talk to his dead brother right now, he know what he’d say: “take care of her. Take care of my baby for me.”

“You aren’t alone. You have me.” He swears.

It’s what his brother would want.

“Promise me?” You request quietly. And he nods, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“I promise.” He repeats.

──

You knew bringing up the pregnancy to Mikey’s family would be.. rough. Sugar and Donna would be upset, with Donna resenting every choice you make.

It would be chaos. So, you kept it a secret, which was harder than it seemed.

You and Carmen had it planned out. To start “dating” two months later, and lie about the timeline of your pregnancy. No one had to know other than you two.

You and Carmen announced your pregnancy to the Berzatto clan three months later, seven months after Mikey died. All of it felt rushed and you found yourself having to force yourself to slow down.

Thankfully, though, Carmen was by your side through it all. Moving in with you and helping set up the nursery, which you made sure to send photos of to Natalie and Donna.

You were there for him when he took over the Beef. It was a while before you found the strength to go back there again, reminiscing on the times you spent in there with Mikey. Him flirting with you as you volunteered your time behind the counter.

Once you had, you found yourself in the same spot you were nearly a year ago. Laughing with Tina and Marcus, threatning jerks with Richie. Even making friends with the new chef, Sydney.

Carmen thought it was good for you. He found himself smiling in the back office as he heard your familiar, light laughter and calming voice.

“You were deeply missed!” Marcus says as he hugs you while you laugh. “So, how’s pregnancy going?” Tina asks as you sigh. “It is a bitch sometimes. But this little one will be worth it.”

“Can I just say.. thank you for bringing a smile to my brother’s face. Seriously. He hasn’t been this happy in a while.” Natalie says as you nod. “It isn’t just me. You guys play a huge part in that.”

“Yeah kid but none of us are having his baby.” Marcus points out. “I should hope not.” You reply, and that’s when the kitchen fills with laughter.

It felt like you were at home again. Carmen wasn’t the only one smiling again.

──

You stood in the nursery, your bump larger. It felt surreal to believe how far you’d come.

You were in your third trimester, 38 weeks pregnant. The nursery looked gorgeous, with a shelf close to the door holding photos from the maternity photoshoot you and Carmen did as well as sonograms pictures.

You wanted to memorialize Mikey in the room as well. A frame sits on the shelf near the sonogram, containing a photo of Natalie, Carmen and Mikey as kids.

You run a hand over Mikey’s spot in the photo, shaking your head and setting it on the shelf. “I remember the day that photo was taken. Mike hated that shirt. That was the only good photo that our mom decided to keep.” Natalie says, entering the room with a glass of water for you.

You accept it, only to nearly drop the glass when a tightening in your stomach forms. It’s at that moment you realize - your water broke, you’re having contractions and.. you’re in labor.

It’s a frenzy from there. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. You waddling-running out to the car, Natalie following behind with the bags while you begin calling Carmen’s phone repeatedly. Time feels like it’s slowed.

It isn’t until you’re at Chicago Medical and being wheeled down the hallway to your labor and delivery room that you realize two things:

1. You’re actually having this baby.

2. Mikey won’t be here to see it.

Some part of you, the part that hasn’t been hitten by the grief yet and the same part that won’t accept he’s gone, is now being hit with the grief. The realization he won’t just come into the room and come back into the room or your life again. It doesn’t rush over you, it drowns you instead.

Maybe it was just the pregnancy excitement and rush. Things hadn’t felt real since the funeral and now? Now they were forcing themselves to be accepted. Forcing you to realize that this is occuring.

It isn’t until you’re alone in the room that you allow the tears to break free. Your vision feels blurred as your heart aches for a man whose gone. One who isn’t here anymore and you can’t change that.

The sight that Carmy finds in the hospital room hurts his heart. It’s quiet, the beeping of monitors that are keeping an eye on your vitals, the baby’s vitals, contractions is the only noise filling the room. You’re seated upright, your eyes exhausted.

“Hi. How are you?” He asks softly as he walks over. He hesitantely puts a hand on your face to brush some of the hair away, and you allow it. You sigh, your face relaxing when he cradles your face like you’re the most precious thing.

“It hit me.” You say softly. “I let myself grieve for a week before his funeral, and then at least three afterward. And then I found out I was pregnant and I bottled it up because I couldn’t do it anymore. And now it hit me again. That I’m having his baby and he’s not going to get to meet him, or her.” Your fists clench at the anger of it.

There are five known stages of grief. Denial, anger, barganing, depression and acceptance. You were on the second stage: anger.

There’s nothing Carmen can say. No words to make it all better, he knows that from his own experience and people trying with him. So, instead, he stays quiet and he lets you get it out.

You exhale, laying back with his help as he props a pillow for you. “Thank you for being here.” You say softly as he takes your hand in his, entertwining your fingers. “I made a promise to be here with you through all of this.”

He intends to keep that promise.

──

‘Roan Michael Berzatto’. Eight pounds, six ounces. Born at 11:37 AM.

Most of the labor process felt like a blur. You remember crying, a lot, and Carmen holding your hand and letting you squeeze while you push, doctors and nurses overlapping each other as they speak to you. Sweat pooling on your forehead as a nurse wiped it away.

Roan looks like Mikey. He has his eyes, his nose, even the same small smile when he sleeps. It’s faint, but it’s there.

His entire hand wraps around Carmen’s pinky while he holds him. There’s a warm aura in the room, the sunlight filling the room perfectly.

You sit, watching them. Carmy walks over and sits beside you on the bed while he puts your son on his legs, as you look down at him. “He really does look like Mike.” You say softly, and Carmen laughs.

There’s a quiet in the air before he speaks again. “I love you.” He says softly. “I know maybe this isn’t the right time to tell you that, but I had to. We agreed to tell everyone this is our son and I want to keep that up, but I want more for us. I want you and I to.. be something more.”

You don’t say anything more, instead you lean over and press your lips against his, letting yourself embrace him. To take in what it feels like to kiss him, be this close to him.

Your world was suddenly full again.

#maeberzatto #mae writes! #mae writes: the bear #mae has mail! 💌 #mae’s inbox #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fanfiction

[marleyybluu]

Boys

dad!Oscar x mom!reader

Sum: Oscar's not a fan of his daughter going on a date.

WC: 928

Warnings: old draft not proofread.

this was not what I originally wanted to post but this was in my drafts so I'm letting it go out into the Tumblr world.

"Ay! Papaaa! It's not a big deal!"  The teenage girl dramatically raised her voice throwing an outfit on her bed, she suddenly hated her closet. Her father's arms crossed over his chest, an unhappy look on his face as he stood in the door frame. "Who is this guy? Why have you never told me about him? Where is he taking you?"

You chuckled rolling your eyes at the small argument as you stirred your pot of food, your youngest sat in her high chair giggling her head off. "You're laughing? Girl you are next." You joked pointing at her which only made the twelve-month-old laugh even more. A bedroom door slammed and your sixteen-year-old appeared. "Ugh!! What is wrong with your husband!?"

He was dad when everything went her way but was quickly your husband once when things go awry.

You shrugged. "You know how he is, girl, but I mean you could have said something to him."

 She let out an exaggerated sigh and plopped herself down around the kitchen table. Your daughter had let it be known to you and you only that she had a crush on a boy named Nico at school, you'd known of  Nico, met him a few times and seemed nice. Then one day your girl comes home squealing with joy about how the young man liked her back and asked her out on a date. You were happy for her and found it a bit cute that she'd reached this stage in life, a bit cautious of what was to come if the unspeakable happened.

Young heartbreak was a bitch.

Oscar on the other hand was not too fond of the thought of his daughter, his precious angel, going on a date with a boy he's never heard about. The doorbell rang causing your child to jump up, her hands ironing out her light blue dress from any creases, even though there were none. Your brooding husband came sliding down the hall on his way to open the door. You had asked her to turn down the stove so that you could beat him to the door so he wouldn't terrify the young boy.

He caught wind of what you were doing at picked up his pace, you attempted to match him and almost met up with him until he shoved you out of the way, not so hard that you would plummet onto the floor but enough to knock you off balance. 

 Oscar had made it to the entrance his iconic scowl returning to his face as he answered the door. The young man swallowed, fear visibly creeping in when he was met with a more well-toned, and well-tatted man who looked like he was ready to put his foot where the sun doesn't shine. "Who are you?" He nodded. 

 "I'm uh, I'm Nico. I'm... I'm here to pick up Nia... if that's okay." He stammered. 

"Well, it's no-"

"Nico, hi sweetie how are you?" You chimed in pulling on Oscar's arm, your nails digging into his skin causing him to hiss and cuss under his breath. "I'm good Mrs. Diaz. How about yourself?"

"I'm great. I think Nia should be here any second she's just grabbing her jacket."

"Where you guys going?" Oscar asked arching his brow. Nico played with the bottom of his black shirt, the poor kid was sweating. "Just the movies, McDonald's or something after."

You smiled. "That's nice."

Nia cleared her throat as she appeared from behind her mother. "Hi, Nico." She blushed. His smile was all of a sudden brighter. "Hi Nia, you look pretty."

"Thank you. You look pretty too." You softly smiled as you watched Nia's face fall, probably thinking what she said was stupid. 

"Thanks."

The young girl said goodbye to her parents and they watched her get into the passenger seat of his car and drive off. You closed the door turning to Oscar who still had a frown on his face. "You are a piece of work Spooky."

He kissed his teeth, you never called him that unless you were upset. Now, technically, you weren't mad at him you just wanted to sting him a little for almost ruining your daughter's nice evening. "She couldn't wait until she was at least twenty-five to start dating." He groaned. 

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. "You didn't wait. I didn't wait. We were their age once Papi. Es la vida. Let her grow."

He pouted, that was his firstborn, the first to have him completely wrapped around her finger, poor Oscar was at her beck and call no matter what. So, as much as he hated to say it out loud, he was sad that his little girl was growing up right before his eyes. Your husband followed you back into the kitchen, slithering his hands around your waist, holding you close. He hummed at the smell of your hair pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

"If, and I mean if, he breaks her heart. I'll come with you to beat him up." The two of you laughed. "Deal."

Oscar turned his attention over to your youngest who was stuffing her face with a small store-bought cupcake. He smiled at the icing covering half her face, he grabbed a paper towel and wet it before wiping off her face. Her little hands reached for his face and he leaned into her tiny palms, kissing all over her face causing her to explode into a fit of laughs. He took her out of her high chair lifting her in the air. "You gotta wait a little longer than sixteen to date okay mi amor."

You kissed your teeth and threw a kitchen towel at him. "Estúpido."

More Papa Spooky otw bcus i have a problem

if you liked this fic feel free to like this fic. Comments and reblogs are appreciated. For the newbies I see y’all I just can’t respond.

Peace and love

Tags: @skyesthebomb @darqchilddaydreamz

#oscar diaz #fem!reader #spooky #spooky x reader #spooky x fem!reader #oscar diaz x fem!reader #oscar diaz x reader #spooky fanfic #spooky fanfiction #on my block fanfic #on my block #on my block fanfiction