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sbuyi · 1 year ago

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New York Yacht Club Membership, Events, History, Members, Address

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New York Yacht Club Membership, Events, History, Members, Address

New York Yacht Club Membership

The New York Yacht Club, one of the most prestigious and historic yacht clubs in the world, offers a unique and exclusive opportunity for individuals who share a deep love for sailing, a reverence for maritime traditions, and a desire to be part of a community that values excellence and camaraderie above all else. Becoming a member of the New York Yacht Club is not just about joining a club; it’s about embarking on a voyage into a world of nautical elegance, sporting excellence, and lifelong friendships. Situated at the epicenter of maritime history, our club’s Membership Program provides access to unparalleled amenities, world-class racing events, and a vast network of like-minded enthusiasts who appreciate the finer aspects of the seafaring life.

Founded in 1844, the New York Yacht Club has a legacy that stretches back nearly two centuries. From its early days hosting friendly regattas to the present, where it continues to be at the forefront of yacht racing and maritime innovation, the club has always been a symbol of excellence and tradition. Membership in this prestigious institution is an opportunity to be part of this legacy and to contribute to its ongoing success.

One of the primary benefits of New York Yacht Club Membership is the access it provides to our state-of-the-art facilities. Our clubhouse, located in a picturesque waterfront setting, offers members a place to relax and socialize, as well as world-class dining experiences that celebrate coastal cuisine. With elegant dining rooms, lounges, and outdoor spaces, the clubhouse is a place to gather with fellow members and share stories of your nautical adventures.

For those who are passionate about racing, the New York Yacht Club offers a wealth of opportunities to participate in and witness some of the most prestigious sailing events in the world. Our club has a long history of hosting and competing in regattas that challenge sailors of all skill levels. From local races to international competitions, our members have the chance to test their skills and forge lifelong memories on the water.

Moreover, the New York Yacht Club is known for its commitment to fostering the next generation of sailors. We offer youth sailing programs and educational initiatives that not only teach the art of sailing but also instill a sense of responsibility and respect for the sea. For families, this provides a unique opportunity to share the joys of sailing with children and grandchildren, passing down a love for the water from one generation to the next.

Being a part of the New York Yacht Club also means becoming part of a community of individuals who are passionate about the sea. Our members come from diverse backgrounds, but they all share a common bond: a love for the water and a commitment to upholding the traditions and values of yacht club life. Whether you’re mingling at a club event, participating in a regatta, or simply enjoying a drink on the clubhouse veranda, you’ll find that our community is welcoming, engaging, and filled with individuals who share your enthusiasm for maritime pursuits.

In conclusion, New York Yacht Club Membership is an opportunity to immerse yourself in a world of maritime excellence, tradition, and camaraderie. Located in [Location], our club is not just a destination; it’s a gateway to a lifetime of unforgettable experiences on the water. Whether you’re an experienced sailor, a novice yachtsman, or simply someone who appreciates the allure of coastal living, our membership program promises to elevate your maritime lifestyle to new heights while connecting you with a community of like-minded individuals who are as passionate about the sea as you are.

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New York Yacht Club Events

The New York Yacht Club, a beacon of maritime tradition and excellence, is not only a haven for sailing aficionados but also a distinguished host to a wide spectrum of engaging and memorable events. Nestled in the heart of [Location], our club, which boasts a legacy deeply rooted in maritime history, offers a dynamic calendar of gatherings that pay homage to the sea, sportsmanship, and the unique camaraderie shared among those with a passion for yachting. Whether you’re a seasoned sailor, a budding enthusiast, or simply an admirer of the coastal lifestyle, our events are a portal to a world where timeless tradition converges with spirited celebration, and every occasion becomes an opportunity to craft enduring memories on the water.

At the heart of the New York Yacht Club’s event calendar are our prestigious regattas. These regattas are a testament to our club’s enduring commitment to sailing excellence and the perpetuation of maritime traditions. Participants from across the globe converge on our shores to compete in these prestigious races, where skilled sailors navigate the challenging waters of [Waterbody] to test their mettle against worthy adversaries. The regattas are a thrilling spectacle, a showcase of nautical prowess, and an opportunity for both our members and the broader sailing community to witness world-class racing against a backdrop of stunning coastal scenery.

In addition to the exhilarating regattas, the New York Yacht Club hosts a range of social events that bring together our members and their guests for unforgettable experiences. From elegant cocktail parties on our clubhouse veranda to festive holiday celebrations and gala dinners, our events offer an opportunity to revel in the company of fellow maritime enthusiasts. Our clubhouse, with its historic charm and panoramic views of the marina, provides a splendid backdrop for these gatherings, ensuring that each moment is imbued with elegance and warmth.

The New York Yacht Club also embraces a commitment to education and knowledge sharing through our speaker series and seminars. We invite experts in maritime topics, from navigational techniques to marine conservation, to share their insights and expertise with our members. These events provide an opportunity to learn, engage in thoughtful discussions, and deepen your understanding of the maritime world. We believe that a well-rounded yachtsman not only excels on the water but also appreciates the rich tapestry of maritime culture and knowledge.

Family-friendly events are a hallmark of our club’s commitment to fostering a sense of community and inclusivity. From youth sailing programs that introduce young sailors to the joys of the sea to family picnics by the waterfront, we offer a range of activities that encourage families to create lasting memories together. Our events are designed to be enjoyed by members of all ages, ensuring that the love for yachting and coastal living is passed down through generations.

Moreover, the New York Yacht Club Events often extend their reach to charitable causes. We believe in giving back to the community and the marine environment that sustains our passion. Through fundraisers, charity regattas, and community outreach programs, we seek to make a positive impact on the communities we serve and the oceans we cherish.

In conclusion, the New York Yacht Club Events are a celebration of tradition, camaraderie, and the boundless allure of the sea. Located in [Location], our club is more than just a marina; it’s a gateway to a world of maritime experiences and community. Whether you’re a seasoned sailor, a newcomer to yachting, or simply someone who appreciates the beauty of coastal living, our events invite you to be part of a cherished tradition where every gathering is an opportunity to celebrate the sea, sportsmanship, and the joy of being a part of the New York Yacht Club community.

New York Yacht Club History

The history of the New York Yacht Club (NYYC) is a narrative that unfolds like the pages of a maritime epic, filled with adventure, innovation, and a relentless pursuit of excellence. Founded in 1844, the NYYC has a legacy that spans nearly two centuries, making it one of the most venerable and influential yacht clubs in the world. Its journey through time is a testament to the enduring spirit of the sea, a commitment to fostering the art of sailing, and the preservation of traditions that continue to shape the yachting community to this day.

The NYYC’s roots can be traced back to a group of passionate sailors who shared a common love for the ocean and a desire to promote yacht racing and camaraderie among enthusiasts. The club’s founding members, led by John Cox Stevens, established the NYYC as a platform for spirited competition and a celebration of maritime culture. From its earliest days, the NYYC was characterized by its dedication to the principles of sportsmanship and seamanship, values that remain at the core of the club’s identity.

One of the pivotal moments in the club’s history occurred in 1851 when the NYYC schooner America won the Royal Yacht Squadron’s Hundred Guinea Cup, an event that would later become known as the America’s Cup. This historic victory marked the beginning of the NYYC’s association with one of the most prestigious trophies in sailing. Over the years, the club defended the America’s Cup with unwavering determination, earning a reputation for excellence and sportsmanship on the international stage.

The NYYC’s contributions to the world of yachting extend beyond the America’s Cup. The club has been instrumental in the development of yacht design, navigation, and racing rules. Its commitment to innovation and competition has not only propelled the sport forward but has also set the standards for excellence in sailing. The club’s yacht design efforts, in particular, have had a profound impact on the evolution of racing yachts, leading to breakthroughs in hull design, sail technology, and performance optimization.

The NYYC’s clubhouse, located in a picturesque waterfront setting, has served as a gathering place for members and a symbol of maritime tradition. With its classic architecture and panoramic views of the harbor, the clubhouse embodies the club’s commitment to providing a welcoming and elegant environment for members and guests. It is a place where sailors can relax, share stories, and celebrate their shared passion for the sea.

Over the years, the NYYC has expanded its mission to include youth sailing programs, educational initiatives, and community outreach efforts. The club recognizes the importance of passing down the love for sailing and the sea to future generations. Through its youth programs, the NYYC introduces young sailors to the joys of the water while instilling a sense of responsibility and respect for the marine environment.

In conclusion, the history of the New York Yacht Club is a journey through time that exemplifies the enduring spirit of yachting, a commitment to excellence, and the preservation of maritime traditions. Located in [Location], the club is not just a marina; it’s a custodian of a rich legacy that continues to shape the world of sailing. As members and enthusiasts sail through the annals of the NYYC’s history, they discover a tapestry of triumphs, challenges, and an unwavering dedication to the spirit of the sea that defines the club’s past, present, and future.

New York Yacht Club Members

The New York Yacht Club (NYYC) is far more than a mere organization; it’s a vibrant and tightly-knit community of individuals who share an unbridled passion for the sea, sailing, and the rich tapestry of maritime traditions. Our members, drawn from a myriad of backgrounds and professions, represent the diverse mosaic of personalities that find unity in their love for the water. They are the lifeblood of the NYYC, each contributing their unique perspectives, experiences, and expertise to create an exceptional and thriving maritime community.

At the core of every NYYC member is a profound connection to the sea—a love affair with the open water that transcends boundaries. Whether they are seasoned sailors with a lifetime of nautical adventures, enthusiastic newcomers eager to embrace the joys of yachting, or individuals who simply appreciate the elegance and serenity of coastal living, our members are bound together by a shared reverence for the maritime world.

The NYYC’s storied history, dating back to its founding in 1844, has always been shaped by the dedication and camaraderie of its members. Our club’s values of sportsmanship, seamanship, and the pursuit of excellence have been upheld and exemplified by generations of sailors and enthusiasts who have called the NYYC their maritime home. The members of the NYYC are the torchbearers of this legacy, carrying forward the traditions of yachting while continually pushing the boundaries of what is possible on the water.

What sets the NYYC community apart is not just its shared love for the sea but also the bonds of friendship that form within its ranks. Whether it’s gathering at the clubhouse for a post-race celebration, embarking on a coastal cruise, or collaborating on community service projects, NYYC members build lasting connections that extend far beyond the waterline. It’s these relationships that make membership in the NYYC a truly enriching experience, fostering a sense of belonging and shared purpose.

Our members find themselves united not only by their love for sailing but also by their commitment to giving back to the maritime community and the world at large. The NYYC is dedicated to educational initiatives, youth sailing programs, and community outreach efforts that aim to nurture the next generation of sailors and instill a deep respect for the marine environment. Through these endeavors, our members actively contribute to the legacy of maritime stewardship.

In conclusion, New York Yacht Club members are the lifeblood of our organization, the embodiment of the sea’s enduring allure, and the guardians of maritime traditions. Located in [Location], the NYYC is more than just a marina; it’s a vibrant community where individuals from all walks of life come together to celebrate the sea, sportsmanship, and the joy of being part of a larger maritime family. As our members sail the waters and create lasting memories, they carry with them the spirit of camaraderie, a deep respect for tradition, and a love for the sea that unites us all

New York Yacht Club Address

The New York Yacht Club (NYYC) boasts an address that transcends the realm of mere geography—it’s a symbolic waypoint on the maritime map, a place where seafaring dreams come to life, and a testament to the enduring legacy of yachting excellence. Nestled gracefully in the heart of [Location], our club’s location is more than a mere geographical coordinate; it’s a reflection of the NYYC’s commitment to providing its members and guests with a coastal haven that is second to none.

As one approaches the New York Yacht Club, the first impression is one of timeless elegance and nautical charm. The clubhouse, a historic gem with classic architectural elements, stands as a sentinel on the waterfront, offering panoramic views of the marina and the shimmering waters beyond. Its graceful presence beckons sailors and enthusiasts alike to embark on a journey into a world where maritime traditions meet modern comforts.

The NYYC address is not just about physical location; it’s about access to some of the most beautiful and captivating waters in the world. Our club’s marina provides convenient and secure berths for vessels of various sizes, allowing members to moor their boats in close proximity to the clubhouse. This proximity fosters a sense of connection to the sea, enabling members to easily transition from the tranquil serenity of the marina to the bustling hub of maritime activities.

The location of the NYYC also places it at the heart of a thriving sailing community. [Location] is renowned for its favorable sailing conditions, offering steady breezes and protected waters that are ideal for a variety of sailing experiences, from leisurely coastal cruises to competitive regattas. Whether you’re a seasoned sailor or a novice yachtsman, the NYYC’s address provides you with unparalleled opportunities to hone your skills and revel in the joys of sailing.

Beyond the physical attributes of our address, the NYYC location carries with it a sense of history and tradition that is palpable. Founded in 1844, the NYYC has been a central figure in the annals of yachting history, and its clubhouse has borne witness to countless maritime triumphs, celebrations, and moments of camaraderie. Our address serves as a testament to the enduring values of sportsmanship, excellence, and the perpetuation of maritime customs.

The New York Yacht Club’s address is also a portal to a vibrant community of individuals who share a passion for the sea. Our members, guests, and friends come together to celebrate the maritime world, forging lasting friendships and creating memories that are as enduring as the tides. The clubhouse veranda, with its breathtaking views, becomes a gathering place for members to share stories, toast to victories, and revel in the company of fellow maritime enthusiasts.

In conclusion, the New York Yacht Club address in [Location] is more than just a physical location; it’s a symbol of maritime excellence, a gateway to coastal adventures, and a welcoming embrace for those who cherish the sea. It is a place where tradition, community, and the allure of the open water converge to create an environment that is both enriching and inspiring. The NYYC address is not just a destination; it’s a destination where maritime dreams set sail and memories are etched into the very fabric of the sea.

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#New York Yacht Club Events #New York Yacht Club History #New York Yacht Club Members #New York Yacht Club Membership

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hrrtshape · 10 days ago

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insane, dream-like things that were normal in my better cr . . . in other words, what it was like being part of the 1%

i never carried cash : i didn’t need to. if i ever found myself in a situation where cash was required, idk, a farmer’s market or bribing someone, i’d just apple pay!?

i never waited for anything : reservations were booked months in advance. lines were always skipped. at clubs we just walked right in. theme parks? VIP passes only. i have never stood in a queue longer than 90 seconds in my life...or...in my better cr.

my closet was bigger than a new york apartment : and everything was colour-coded. yep. yep !!!

i never read price tags : not because i was being reckless, because i simply did not need to know. it was always fine.

if i wanted something, i got it : saw a dress in a magazine? had it by the next morning. craved a specific croissant from a bakery in paris? it was flown in. life had no delays.

luxury was so normal i had to actively remind myself it wasn’t : by the 13th day, i would have moments, small ones, where i’d be like, " wait, not everyone has their own perfume custom-blended by a french artisan? " and then i’d move on.

the ‘poor kid’ still had a trust fund. . . they just had less in it.

errands? what errands? dry cleaning, post office, buying toothpaste. these were not my problems.

skincare was medical : not just a ‘good moisturiser’ situation, i mean dermatologist-designed, prescription-only, lab-created serums. my facials involved lasers. my face was someone’s full-time job.

my mom had a florist on retainer : fresh-cut flowers appeared in my room like magic. i never asked for them. they just were.

celebrity run-ins were painfully normal : “oh yeah, we had dinner next to tilda swinton last night.” “who?” WHO?

we never parked our own cars : valet, always. i had a friend who didn’t even know how to use a parking metre.

there was no such thing as ‘saving up’. in those two weeks i never thought, “hmm, should i buy this now or wait till christmas when i get 50 euros from my grandma?” PFTTTTT.

everyone had a ‘family office’ : financial advisers, lawyers, accountants. my money was managed. someone in my school had three.

coffee orders were wildly specific : not ‘latte with oat milk’ specific. i mean custom-roasted beans, flown in from a single farm in costa rica, brewed at a precise temperature, delivered in a monogrammed cup.

doctors made house calls : i have not seen the inside of a waiting room. ever. feeling sick? someone arrived.

vacation homes weren’t a flex, they were a given : there’s the paris apartment (1st arrondissement, obviously), the villa in lake como, the chalet in gstaad. the only real estate question was, “are we summering in capri or st. barths?

your signature scent is impossible to buy : it’s either a discontinued hermès perfume from the ’70s that you miraculously still source, or a custom blend from a perfumer who only takes five clients a year.

flying commercial is a horror story, not an option : tsa? baggage claim? delays? these are foreign concepts. you had a netjets membership at the very least, but most likely, you have a family jet with an interior designed by someone who also did a yacht.

your tastebuds have standards : your daily coffee comes from a faema e61, your eggs are from a private farm, and your idea of a snack is burrata flown in from puglia that morning. did i mention my private school had michelin chefs?? yea.

you own art. like, real art : not prints. not posters. actual, museum-worthy pieces that are either inherited or sourced through galleries that don’t even have websites.

most people don’t know what anything costs : a gallon of milk? no idea. a metro ticket? couldn’t tell you. you swipe, tap, sign, and never check.

you don’t shop in stores like normal people : you go to private showrooms, have pieces sent to your home, or shop off-runway. waiting in line… horrendous.

i’ve had a ‘house account’ somewhere : a boutique, a jeweller, a tailor. places where you don’t pay on the spot, just ‘put it on the account’ and settle later.

i was taught how to eat properly : which fork for what course, how to use a butter knife, the correct way to hold a wine glass. it’s not something i learned. it’s something i absorbed from watching adults at endless dinners, benefits, and polo events.

i don’t remember learning how to ski or ride horses : because i was doing it before i was fully conscious. i have childhood photos in full equestrian gear, little skis strapped to my feet in gstaad or zermatt. it’s just something i always did.

an art education by osmosis : grew up hearing adults talk about rothko, basquiat, and duchamp in casual conversation. dragged to the louvre and the tate before i could even read. instinctively know the difference between an original and a print.

i have a family lawyer on retainer : and not because i ever committed a crime. they exist to handle things. NDAs, reputation management, keeping your name out of the papers. they know where the bodies are buried, metaphorically (or not).

most families’ wealth is so old and so layered in offshore accounts that even they don’t fully understand it : trust funds? sure, but also shell companies in the caymans, art holdings in geneva, real estate portfolios under LLCs. money isn’t in banks. it’s spread across continents.

most parents’ have had affairs with each other for decades, and it’s not even a scandal anymore : it’s just part of the ecosystem. marriages aren’t about love, they’re alliances. the wives turn a blind eye, the husbands keep it discreet, and the real betrayal is talking about it.

i’ve been name-dropped in a deposition : it was a divorce case. i was never involved, but my name was adjacent to power, so it got dragged in. the case was settled out of court, of course.

most families has multiple passports : not for fun, not for aesthetics. because sometimes you need an exit strategy. a villa in capri, a château in france, a penthouse in dubai. doors are always open, should you ever need to disappear.

i’ve seen actual generational feuds play out in real time : my parents have enemies. their parents had enemies. the grudges go back decades, and nobody even remembers what started it.

i grew up around people who have gotten away with actual crimes : white-collar, mostly. insider trading, fraud, tax evasion. but sometimes things darker. people go to rehab, people “retire early,” people take extended trips to monaco until things cool down.

i’ve seen billionaires (and their kids) break down over the pettiest things : a bad seat at a gala, a misplaced monogram on their jet, a slight from someone whose family has less money than theirs. the richer they are, the more fragile they get.

my family has a pr strategy : this is largely because my mom is a ceo of a billion dollar company. and everything is managed. what photos are released, what stories are planted, which journalists are “friendly.” nothing is random.

i know that philanthropy is often just money laundering with better optics : charities set up for tax reasons, “foundations” that quietly funnel wealth back into the family, billionaire donations that conveniently coincide with favourable legislation.

i’ve seen people lose their fortunes overnight : one wrong deal, one lawsuit, one scandal that sticks, and suddenly, the private jets are getting repossessed. the real old money…they watch from a distance. they never risk everything.

i know that some billionaires don’t actually have liquid cash : they’re over-leveraged, playing financial gymnastics with their own net worth. yachts, art, mansions. but the second they need actual money? suddenly, things get complicated. this is why everyone in my school donated possessions instead of actual money.

met people who don’t own their clothes : couture is loaned, jewellery is borrowed, yachts are rented to themselves through shell companies. it’s all about optics. they don’t need to own when they can access.

heard rich kids joke about things that would make normal people physically ill : laughing about tax evasion, casually mentioning private rehabs like summer camp, making bets on stocks that could ruin lives.

met billionaires who are bored of being rich : the thrill is gone. the yachts, the jets, the parties. it’s routine. they start chasing danger. high-stakes gambling, extreme sports, secret societies. anything to feel something.

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a-d-nox · 1 year ago

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pac/pap: message from your future spouse/partner

take what resonates leave what doesn't - nothing is 100% for you because these aren't personalized so please no angry comments or dms about what i am saying not being a good fit for you or that you "don't claim" just keep scrolling if that is the case. be kind, self reflect, and have fun.

last pac/pap: what energy should you bring with you into the new year?

masterlist of pap/pac posts

want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices!

pile 1

their physicality: emo style, pale, dark hair, tired looking, vitiligo, multicolored hair, highlighted hair, heterochromia, attractive, cute, stylish, possible smoker, and/or nice voice

their personality: impulsive, spontaneous, foreign, traveler, commitment issues, wanderer, needs space/freedom, adventurer, flirty, mesmerizing, agile, easily jealous, charming, irritable, scatter-brained, high-energy, easily distracted, and/or indecisive

where you are likely to meet: outdoors, at an art gallery, decor/antique shop, flower shop, alternative medicine shop, card section of a store, when buying beauty products, somewhere you are meant to dress up, art class, at a metaphysical shop, psych office, at night, the movie theater, night club, new york, naval academy, on a boat/cruise, at the beach, yachting, and/or somewhere coastal

now maybe this person doesn't have the best track record with previous lovers. in fact, it might be a bit chaotic to you when first hear about it. maybe when you meet them they will be freshly out of a recent breakup. they might be the type of person to remains friends with exes. those exes might even be actively involved in their life. that likely stems from their fear of commitment or their fear of being alone. currently, they are still learning that letting endings happen leads to new space for "bigger and better things" and people (like you).

to them, you are like the only star on the darkest night. they will only have eyes for you because you will be their muse. they adore you. you are so incredible in their eyes. they will see you as someone who is immensely strong, faithful, and optimistic. they find you to be a breath of fresh air - when they are with you, they feel like they can dream. they see all the possibilities of what could be and what they could become to transform into someone worthy of you.

they have some great qualities but ranking highest is their urge to control the chaos in your life for you. they are protective - they don't like to see you overwhelmed or hurt by the world around you, so they willfully step in the path of chaos to protect you. when you are overwhelmed, they are the first to volunteer to take care of anything for you. especially, when it involves them, they want to stay with you at all costs, so they will do whatever it takes to appease you and make you comfortable. they also are very wary and do not believe everything at face value, which, in my opinion, is a good quality. they don't take "i'm fine" as it is; they need to know that you are seriously fine. they don't do insta-love either which is good because, in my experience, those are the connections where the relationship is quick to fizzle out. they search for honesty and truth in all things but even more so with a romantic partner. and you? you are as genuine as they come. one last quality i want to mention before moving on is their stability and reliability. when this person makes up their mind, their mind is unchangeable. when they commit there is no out - they are all in. they are someone very stabilizing, driven, and generous when they decide that you are the one for them. they will no doubt make you their partner in crime. they will want you with them to explore the world and to spoil.

i feel like there will be noticeable tension in your pre-relationship that will bring you guys together. it will make you both feel destabilized and make you wonder if you are doing the right thing. you might feel like you are being vulnerable unnecessarily and that the relationship will amount to nothing but that won't be the case. challenges are momentary and are meant to bring you back to where you are meant to be.

the connection will bring happiness and intense emotions, especially, because you are both willing to confront each other with honest feelings and fears. you are both assertive and focused on your goals to make a future together.

song: "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys

pile 2

their physicality: distinctive features, angular features, black/dark hair, chiseled look, strong chin, emotional, seductive, attractive, pale, curvaceous, and/or darker skin tone (olive, easily tans, etc).

their personality: talkative, articulate, dextrous, gossiper, eloquent, influential, spiritual, soulmate, deep, independent, constantly in motion, diplomatic, and/or mediator.

where you are likely to meet: via a friend, someone sets you guys up, at the doctor's office, therapist office, walking a dog, at the veterinarian's, doing charity, while out to eat, at a bar, at the bank, making a donation, a romantic place, and/or at the cardiologist

i sense that they have a good reputation when it comes to love. they are notably nurturing, reliable, sensual, and dependable in a partnership. they go into a connection wanting to build a strong and lasting relationship.

they love that you are always trying to improve yourself. in the past, you may have been codependent on other and you might have relied on others to make you feel happy, but when you meet them, your efforts to do the opposite will be noticeable to them. you won't have unrealistic expectations for them, in fact, when you communicate with them regarding your expectations in the connection, they will find them very doable and will respect you for being upfront with them.

this person has rather unique qualities that makes them an attractive partner. for one they are aware that their emotions and thoughts sometime cloud them from seeing the reality of a situation. they can acknowledge their stress without taking it out on you and those around them. they like to manage their mental health so they can lead a productive life, they aren't afraid of making changes to better accommodate their situation. it is important to them to implement healthy coping strategies such as journalling. journalling and talk therapy likely made them the eloquent individual they are when they meet you. another attractive quality is their humble natural - they aren't haughty people who believe they are better than those around them. in fact, they aren't afraid of questioning themselves and their abilities - they realize that they are not the only one with answers and abilities. they don't do anything impulsively, they think carefully about everything before they actually do anything. lastly, they aren't afraid to admit they need space to take care of themselves - they aren't the type of person who allow others into their space just so they can lash out at them. they are very caring even when they feel depleted. they look within to nourish themselves, so you never have to fear that they will drain your well to refill their own.

you both will be brought together after you both feel more stabilized (emotionally, mentally, monetarily, etc) and are willing to commit. while careful planning isn't the sexiest thing in a connection, the sense of stability you will find with one another after such a long time of waiting to find each other will be well worth it.

this was a match made in the heavens, in my opinion. it was simply meant to be - this is the most important connection of your lifetime and they are your soulmate without a doubt. you both will love and respect each other all your lives. when you lead with love, what else could you expect.

song: "helena" by my chemical romance

pile 3

their physicality: physically fit, bodybuilder, good looking, in shape, attractive, dark/black hair, and/or darker skin tone (olive, tan, etc).

their personality: depressive, unhappy, down, lower self-esteem, pessimist, sickly, talkative, dextrous, gossip, mediator, loyal, devoted, friends first, humble, persistent, trustworthy, dependable, and/or friendly.

where you are likely to meet: somewhere with illegal activity, IT, technology shop, via a plumber, jewelry shop, at an amusement park, on the road, in a courthouse, at a political rally, at a voting booth, a highway, at an art class, at a metaphysical shop, a psych office, at night, at the movie theater, at a night club, and new york.

i sense that they aren't overly experienced with relationships, mainly because they have been working on themselves. they have been looking for someone to build a strong relationship with. someone who matches their enthusiasm, passion, and/or intensity.

they love that you can wait for things they you really desire - you have very good restraint. you aren't afraid of adjusting and refocusing your plans and goals to fit where you are right now. you aren't easily frustrated by a lack of progress - slow and steady wins the race for you, and they adore that you have that level of determination, patience, and passion.

your partner will have some astounding traits that are kinds blowing to me as i read these cards. for one, i sense that this person is very healthy - they don't have any exes waiting in the winds for them and hoping they will come back. their exes know they just won't be back. when they are done, everyone knows that they are indeed done. change is natural and normal to them - they have no problems letting go of things and people that don't help them grow or serve them in the long run. they like things and people that have purpose and are driven. they will do whatever it takes to go into this next chapter in life with you. this person tends to focus on the past however. sometimes it is difficult for them to see the possibilities of what could be as they fear that only bad things surround them and their circumstances. but they do not wait for the world around them to change; they begin the change within. they go through it - they have been through it. they know pain and struggle which has taught them how to be gentle, caring, and how to be content. they know how to find peace and how to be grateful for what they have gained. all of this is to your benefit.

prosperity and generosity are what bring you together. that and, of course, maturity - maybe this is someone you knew earlier and life, and now you are getting a second chance with them. by being forward and clear about your intentions this connection will continue to blossom and grow.

i feel like you will be better off and happier when you keep the relationship private - there are people on both side of your relationship that are gossips and manipulation.

song: "puppet" by tyler, the creator

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a-solitary-sea-rover-backup · 2 months ago

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#New York Yacht Club #New York City

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sail-southern · 11 months ago

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Developments of the AC75 Mainsail || Sailing World

The complex mainsail systems of the second-generation AC75s tackle the challenge of power versus drag.

As complex as the AC75s will be when launched for racing at the Louis Vuitton 37th America’s Cup Challenger Series, New York YC’s American Magic trimmer Lucas Calabrese says that getting the team’s 75-foot foiler around the racecourse will demand the same fundamentals he honed in his years of Olympic 470 sailing. A mainsail is a mainsail, after all, but how trimmers manage the power in these towering high-aspect sails is exponentially more critical. The AC75 Tech Regulations, which define virtually every aspect of the AC75, are “quite restrictive” with the sails, Calabrese says. But for the second-generation twin-skinned mainsails, there is plenty of innovation yet to come.

Full Story Here…

#American Magic #ac37 #America’s Cup #New York Yacht Club American Magic #Sail Design

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modernelites-if · 2 years ago

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Modern Elites is a 18+ raunchy slice-of-life IF that follows you, a young royal, navigating the world of the obscenely rich and immensely famous while trying to keep your elite, royal family together in the midst of drama and tabloids.

Setting: modern times, fictional tiny country of Selusa, New York, Paris and more.

Genre: slice-of-life, drama, romance

Celebrity. Pop Culture Icon. Heir.

Royal.

As the heir to the Selusan throne, you're known by many names. Growing under the spotlight hasn't been easy, especially since it seems the vultures all want a piece of your elusive family. Country clubs, yachts, parties, private jets, elite schools, you've had it all.

But is there something missing?

Customize your heir from appearance to gender identity to personality. Dictate what kind of person they are: rebellious, dutiful. Do they care about the royal line or are parties more on their mind? Will you keep a squeaky clean rep or ruin the family name?

Customize Salusa and cater the country to your taste.

Dictate what kind of leader you want to be, and how others percieve you.

Experience the life of the hidden .01% and the drama of the ultra wealthy.

Engage in fiery, dramatic romances that could either uplift or ruin you and your family.

and more to come.

THE ADVISOR

Imogen/Ian Lancaster [f/m]- your family's advisor and publicist. I has cleaned up every mess, every leak, every scandal and at this point, there are no secrets between your family and them. Coming from a well-off family themselves, they know exactly how this world works...and they navigate it with a steel will and a cold, detached demeanor. I has you handled like an adult with a child, trying (and probably failing) to keep you in line. Anything you do will go through them, so it's better to think twice.

THE BETROTHED

Everett/Eva St. Clare [m/f] - the eldest of one of the most influential businessmen on your side of the world, black sheep, and a source of gossip in polite society, there have been talks of a betrothal between you two since the partnership started. Because of that, you two are forced into a fake romance for the cameras. E is an arrogant and brash casanova, sex-obsessed, and is proudly noncommital with string of rumors that follow them like their own entourage. Unfortunately for you, E's exploits can damage the carefully constructed facade you two have built. Of course, E doesn't give a damn.

THE REBEL

Vince/Vivian De Grasso [m/f] - (secretly) fresh out of jail and newly reformed (not) V's politician of a mother has asked in a favor from your family: to reform them and stifle their rebellious ways by adding them to your security detail. Your father having a soft spot for the kid, brings them in as one of your guards. Hopefully V keeps in line...or not.

THE COMMONER

Cordelia/Corden Bowen [f/m]- an employee at the country club you frequent, someone less polite would call them a 'nobody.' C has a bit of an attitude, but that's expected from someone who is used to getting berated by rich people all day. There's not much else to say about them...or maybe there is?

THE JOURNALIST

Romi Marshall [m/f]- a famed journalist with contempt for royalty and elitism. Their newsletters frequently slam you and your family's every move, and they don't like you one bit. You can confidently say they're your biggest hater.

THE ROYAL BEST FRIEND

Oliver/Olivia Ames-Astor [m/f]- a fellow prince/princess from another country and your best friend, who is still hung up on their ex. Forced to betroth someone else, O has so many problems you can hardly sort through them. Still, they're kind and as polite as you'd expect from a person who has had etiquette lessons drilled into them since childhood. They're also your best friend, so there's that.

#interactive fiction #interactive story #interactive novel #interactive game #cog #choice of games #dashing don #choices #cog wip #interact-if #interactive

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 12 days ago

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There's No Way

Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Loosely based on "There's No Way" by Lauv. Slow-burn, friends-to-lovers. Featuring sort of modern-day / old money Steve (there are phones but also VHS? :D)

One.

The smell of charcoal and lake water hung thick in the air as cicadas hummed in the distance. Lover’s Lake glittered under the golden haze of the setting sun, a familiar scene that somehow still felt special every time summer rolled around.

Robin tossed a burger onto the grill with a practiced flick of her wrist, the sizzle of meat filling the quiet space between them. “Alright, I’m just gonna say it - Steve, you are officially the most bougie of all of us. The Hamptons? Really?”

Eddie snorted, taking a swig of his beer. “Yeah, Stevie, how was your luxurious East Coast retreat? Tennis with the Kennedys? Yachting with the Rockefellers?”

Steve rolled his eyes, reclining in his fold-out chair. “Oh, bite me. It was a family thing. Not my fault my parents have weird rich-people traditions.”

Nancy smirked over the rim of her cup. “So no secret country club scandals? No whirlwind summer romance?”

“Yeah, Harrington, tell us the truth. Did you break some poor heiress’s heart?” Eddie waggled his eyebrows.

Steve scoffed. “I spent most of the time avoiding conversations about future investments and trying not to die of boredom.”

Robin gasped dramatically. “Tragic.”

Steve shot her a look but grinned anyway, shaking his head. This was nice. Comfortable. Everyone had been scattered all over the place over the past year - college, jobs, moving in and out of Hawkins - but somehow, summer always brought them back.

“So,” Eddie leaned forward, “what about you, Buckley? How’s college treating you?”

Robin’s face lit up. “Amazing. My roommate and I went to this killer concert a few weeks ago - front row, totally insane.”

“Wait, the roommate?” Nancy asked, smirking.

“Yes, the roommate,” Robin confirmed, rolling her eyes.

Steve sat up straight, sensing an opportunity. “Oh, you mean the one you’re secretly obsessed with?”

Robin groaned. “I am not obsessed -”

“You totally are,” Eddie cut in. “You bring her up constantly.”

“Okay, maybe because she’s cool as hell? She’s from New York, she’s got this whole effortless vibe going - like, she walks into a room and people just can’t help but stare. And she’s stupidly nice on top of that. It’s unfair, really.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone’s got a little crush.”

“Shut up,” Robin muttered, but her ears turned pink.

Eddie laughed. “Nah, Steve, she’s right though. I’ve met New York - she’s a cool kid. Got the whole leather jacket, sharp wit thing going, but she’s not an asshole about it. Makes you feel like the uncoolest person in the room, but in, like, a friendly way.”

Nancy grinned. “I like her already.”

“Good,” Robin said solemnly. “Because she’s coming to visit next week. And I expect all of you to be nice and welcoming.”

Steve smirked. “I don’t know, Robin. What if I feel intimidated by her overwhelming coolness?”

Robin snorted. “Oh, I am so counting on it”.

---

Later that night, as the fire crackled and the group dwindled into smaller conversations, Robin found Steve alone by the lake’s edge. The water lapped gently at the shore, moonlight catching in the ripples.

“So,” she started, nudging his arm. “How’s the single life treating you?”

Steve exhaled, staring at the water. “Fine, I guess.”

“You and Nance good?”

“Yeah. It was mutual.” He glanced back at Nancy, who was laughing at something Eddie was saying. “We want different things. No drama, no hard feelings.”

Robin nodded. “Good. I mean, you know I love you both, but… it was kinda inevitable.”

Steve huffed a laugh, shaking it off. “Yeah, yeah.”

She hesitated, then said, “So, uh… just a heads up? About New York?”

Steve frowned. “What about her?”

Robin’s lips twitched as she paused as if mentally fighting with herself. Biting on her bottom lip, she threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, screw this. I just know you, Steve. And I know she’s exactly your type. And I’m telling you, please, for the love of God - keep it in your pants.”

Steve choked on a surprised laugh. “Oh, come on now, Buckley!”

“No, I mean it,” Robin insisted. “You’re gonna take one look at her, and it’s gonna be all heart-eyes, and I just - Steve, I need this friendship to not be ruined by your tragic inability to control yourself around beautiful women.”

Steve grinned, placing a hand over his chest. “Robin, I can handle myself. Cross my heart.”

Robin didn’t look convinced. She gave him an unimpressed look. “Mmm-hmm.”

Across the fire, Eddie caught the tail end of their conversation and smirked.

“Yeah, no,” he muttered to himself. “No way Harrington’s not going there.”

Two.

The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, streaks of gold reflecting off Lover’s Lake as the sun dipped lower. The gathering was bigger this time—more voices, more laughter, a familiar kind of chaos. Someone had brought a speaker, and music floated through the warm air, blending with the crackling of the bonfire and the distant splash of the younger kids skipping rocks at the water’s edge.

Steve stood by the shore, his Ray-Bans perched on his nose, arms crossed as he exchanged lazy jabs with Dustin.

“I’m just saying,” Henderson grinned, arms flailing for emphasis, “it’s honestly embarrassing how bad you are at Mario Kart. Like, actually humiliating.”

Steve scoffed. “Oh, shut up. Those blue shells are rigged, and you know it.”

“Excuses, excuses - ”

Dustin stopped mid-sentence, his mouth still open but his eyes widening. “Uh, who is that?”

Steve frowned at the interruption. “Who’s who—”

Then he turned.

And there you were. Walking down the beach, the glow of the fading sunlight catching in your beautiful loose hair, making it look almost unreal. Effortlessly cool in the most casual outfit, like you hadn’t even tried but still managed to steal the entire scene.

Conversations around Steve stuttered, people’s eyes drifting toward you like a magnet.

You didn’t even notice.

You smiled, your confidence radiating as you made a beeline for Robin, pulling her into a tight hug.

Steve barely registered Dustin saying, “Dude, you’re staring.”

“That’s New York,” Steve muttered, still watching as you and Robin swayed in your hug, laughing.

“That’s New York?” Dustin hissed, his eyes following your every move. “That’s the girl Robin’s always talking about? She somehow forgot to mention that she looks like she just stepped out of a movie.”

Steve huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Dude, she’s like super old for you. She’s also too cool for us mere mortals.”

Eddie, standing nearby, caught sight of you and broke into a grin. “Oh, hell yeah — New York!”

You turned, eyes lighting up as you spotted him. “Munson!”

Eddie opened his arms. “Come here, you leather-clad menace.”

You laughed, walking straight into his hug. “Still trying to make the whole ‘cult leader’ thing work?”

“Uh, duh?! And you still out here making the rest of us look like fashion disasters?”

“Uh, duh?” you mirrored, smirking at him.

Robin grinned, turning toward the rest of the group. “Alright, everybody, this is New York. Be nice, or I’ll personally kick your asses.”

You were introduced around, your sharp wit balanced by a genuine warmth that made it impossible not to like you. Steve, still watching from the sidelines, felt that weird pull in his chest, the kind that came with meeting someone you know is going to matter.

Dustin slowly grinned from ear to ear, catching the look on his face. “Uh oh. What’s with the look?”

Steve scoffed, frowning. “What look?”

“You know what look,” Dustin rolled his eyes.

Before Steve could argue, Robin dragged you toward him. “And this —” she gestured dramatically, “this is Steve.”

You tilted your head, a smile sleeping on your lips, your eyes scanning over him - in a way that made his pulse spike. “Ah. The infamous Steve Harrington.”

Steve snickered. “Infamous, huh? That how Robin describes me?”

Your lips twitched. “Not exactly. But lucky for you, second-hand opinions are not my thing”.

He let out a low chuckle, gazing at you. “Well, how’s the first impression, then?”

The group around you went silent, subtly watching, like they could feel something happening.

You tilted your head ever so slightly, as if considering him. “I think the jury’s still out.”

Steve grinned. “Good”, he said, running fingers through his hair. “I love a challenge.”

That surprised a soft laugh out of you - and Steve wasn’t sure if it was the orange hue of the setting sun or something else entirely, but your eyes lit up. And he thought he’d very much love to see more of those little sparkles dancing in the your irises.

---

A couple of hours in, the party had settled into a comfortable rhythm — some people gathered near the bonfire, others sprawled out on blankets near the lake. Max and Lucas were in the middle of a heated argument about something, while Robin and Eddie had started an impromptu debate over the best concert they’d ever been to.

You sat on a log near the fire, sipping from a plastic cup, when Dustin plopped down beside you.

“So,” he pushed, grinning mischievously, “what’s your deal?”

You turned to face him, curious. “My deal?”

“Yeah, you know. The whole mysterious, effortlessly cool, sarcastic but somehow also really nice thing you have going on.”

You smiled at him softly, taking a gulp of the drink you’ve been nursing. “Ah. Well, I think that’s very cool of you to come up and ask”, you winked at him. “Please, go ahead and inspect away. I’m an open book”.

Dustin hummed in approval. “Okay, think we got the “really nice” part validated.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Cute.”

Eddie and Steve, who had been lingering nearby talking about Harrington’s BMW that’s been acting out lately, turned their attention towards you.

Munson snorted, jumping in. “Kid, she grew up in New York. She’s got at least a decade of experience in making people cry with one sentence. I would hold off on any sort of validations for now.”

You rolled your eyes at him kind-heartedly. “It’s a weapon I seldom use, Eds, you know that.”

Paying Eddie’s antics and your comeback no mind, Dustin continued. “And you sure know how to make an entrance. So that also sorta checks the coolness box?” He then pointed at Steve. “I gotta say, I think you’re the first person I’ve ever met who might be able to outmatch the good old King Steve in the coolness department.”

Steve scoffed. “Different sides of the spectrum, Henderson. There’s cool and then there's douchebaggery”.

You smirked at his auto-derision. You might have heard a couple of things about King Steve before coming here. “Robin told me you put the crown behind you?”

Steve scratched the back of his head, lowering his gaze. There was something vulnerable about him then.

“Never had one to begin with”, he simply said, his brown eyes seeking out yours.

You held his stare for a moment, and it was like everything else dimmed slightly — the music, the laughter, the conversations around you.

Seconds before the electricity started cracking between you, Steve took a sip of his drink, breaking the spell. Clearing his throat, he asked, “So. How’s Hawkins treating you so far?”

You released a breath and shrugged. “From what I’ve seen so far today, it’s… different. Quieter than I’m used to, but nice. I can see why Robin likes it here.”

“Yeah, it’s not New York, but it grows on you,” he pushed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, stepping closer.

You studied him. “You ever been?”

He shook his head. “Nope. But I feel like I’d get eaten alive.”

That unexpected honesty granted him a smile. You bit the inside of your cheek, pretending to think about it. “Yeah, maybe. But at least you’d have had fun first.”

Steve laughed. “If you say so”. It’s not before he moved to seat beside you that you realized both Dustin and Eddie were nowhere to be seen. For a brief second, you wondered how long they’ve been gone for.

But then your eyes met Steve’s again. “I think you’d like it more than you think.”

The conversation continued, flowing easily between you. You talked about music, the best dive bars you both have been to, about how Steve still couldn’t figure out how to properly work a jukebox (you stared at him in disbelief and promised to teach him - because that was no way to live).

At some point, Robin, watching from a distance, leaned toward Eddie and muttered, “Oh, this is bad.”

Eddie didn’t miss a bit, taking a sip of his drink. “No - this is inevitable.”

—

By the time the fire had burned low and the night air had cooled, you and Robin found yourselves making your way to the cars, spotting Steve next to his BMW. “I can’t drive”, you told her, eyeing your Jeep parked under the trees on a side of the road. “Shouldn’t have dangled that G&T in front of my face, Buckley”.

Before Robin could deny all fault, Steve waved you both over.

“I’ll drive you guys back,” he offered casually.

Robin shot him a suspicious look. “Didn’t you drink whiskey, Harrington?”

Steve scrunched his nose. “That shit Billy brought? Come on, Buckley, pretty sure he sucked that thing outta his gas tank.”

Before either you or Robin could protest, he swung open the passenger door, beckoning you in with a nod.

The drive was quiet, comfortable. With her temple pressed against the window, Robin passed out before you even crossed the city line.

You stared out the backseat window, house watching as white facades rolled by. Steve’s car smelled nice. Something sweet and heady, with a hint of wood.

As your gaze slid across the back of the leather seats, you caught Steve’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He gave you a soft smile, before switching his attention back to the road.

When you reached Robin’s place, Steve stepped out of the car and walked around to open the door for you. You carefully shook the girl awake and slid out first against the background of her sleepy muttering. Your arm brushed against Steve’s as you moved past him.

It was the smallest touch. Barely there.

But even with her eyes misted with sleep, Robin saw the way Steve’s fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for more.

She saw the way you hesitated for a second, like you felt it too.

And as you said your goodbyes and walked toward the door, Robin exhaled, shaking her head.

She’d be surprised if Steve and you didn’t end up going there. Not with the way you were already looking at each other - and you’d only just met. -

Three.

“You drive like an old man.”

Steve shot you an incredulous look as he pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Harrington,” you teased, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Ten and two, checking your mirrors every five seconds… I’m shocked you didn’t use a blinker in the parking lot.”

Robin snorted from the backseat. “He totally did.”

Eddie leaned forward between you and Steve, grinning. “I hate to agree with New York, but yeah, dude, you drive like you’re taking your driver’s test every time.”

Steve scoffed, throwing the car into park. “It’s called being a responsible driver. Sorry I don’t drive like a lunatic.”

You smirked. For some reason, you loved getting a rise out of him. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, Grandpa, let’s get the snacks.”

Harrington rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the smile creeping onto his face as he followed you inside.

There was something easy about being around you. Like you had fallen into step with each other without even realizing it.

Robin noticed.

Eddie noticed.

But neither of them said anything.

Both watched the two of you dance around each other instead, like you had known each other forever. Usual knowing smirks plastered across their faces as you and Steve bickered over which snacks to get for the movie night happening at his house.

“We have to get Twizzlers,” Steve insisted, tossing a pack into the cart.

You wrinkled your nose. “Come on, Harrington. They taste like wax.”

Steve gasped in mock horror. “Take that back.”

You smirked, plucking the pack out of the cart and putting it back on the shelf. “I refuse to enable bad choices.”

Robin covered her mouth, stifling a laugh watching Steve gape at you wide-eyed. “Oh, and who made you an expert ? You just picked up —” he glanced at the bag in your hand, “—what even is that? Trail mix?”

“With chocolate,” you supplied pointedly, throwing it into the cart.

Steve groaned. “You’re a menace.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie leaned over to Robin. “They flirting, or am I having a stroke?”

Robin grinned. “Flirting. Hard.”

Steve, blissfully unaware of their commentary, was still watching you with an exasperated but amused expression. “Tell you what, let’s compromise. I get my Twizzlers, you get your weird health snack.”

You pretended to consider it. “Alright, deal.”

Steve tossed the Twizzlers back into the cart, shooting you a victorious look. “Sucker.”

You just rolled your eyes, but the way you smiled at him made something flip in Steve’s chest.

Huh. That was new.

---

All groceries paid and loaded (Steve all but blocked your access to the cashier, refusing to let any of you pay) - you headed over to Family Video for the movie selection.

Robin, boasting her ex-employee knowledge just a bit, took charge immediately. “Alright, we need something good—”

“Oh, I get a say in this,” you interjected immediately, scanning the shelves. “Last time I let you pick, we ended up watching some—” she glanced at Steve and Eddie, “—very artistic foreign film that was just two hours of sad people staring out of windows.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

“Excuse you!” Robin scoffed. “That movie had depth.”

“...of a mud puddle,” you supplied, ignoring her.

Steve grinned at you. “Okay, definitely letting you pick the movie for tonight.”

Before you could reply, someone stepped into the aisle, their presence immediately shifting the air.

Steve noticed Jason Carver before he could make his presence known, but didn’t react. With a bit of luck, Jason would just get on with his mission to make someone miserable today. So Steve just leaned against the shelf and watched.

Jason’s eyes swept over the group before landing on you.

No such luck, then.

“Hey,” he said cheerfully, stepping closer with that too-polished, practiced smile. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

You barely glanced up from the VHS tapes in your hands. “I’m visiting.”

Jason leaned against the shelf beside you. The guy wasn’t great at taking a hint, apparently. “From where?”

“New York,” you said absently, your fingertips grazing the VHS as you hesitated.

Jason let out a low whistle. “Damn. Bit of a change coming to Hawkins, huh?”

You hummed in vague agreement, still not looking at him.

Steve watched from a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. He told himself he didn’t care. He told himself he wasn’t annoyed.

Robin, standing next to him, called bullshit.

She smirked. “You ok there, Harrington? Want me to press down on your hair so you don’t blow the top off?”

Steve forced a nonchalant smile. “I’m actually enjoying this”.

Robin grinned and nodded in agreement. “Like watching a car accident happen right in front of me.”

Meanwhile, Jason, undeterred by your clear lack of interest, kept talking. “So, what do you do in New York? Model?”

That got your attention. Looking up, you blinked at him, unimpressed. “Seriously?”

Jason smirked, encouraged by you finally looking at him. “Hey, just saying”, he threw his hands in the air. “You sure got the look.”

Before you could respond, Eddie popped his head in the aisle, holding what looked like a good old comedy. “Alright, I’ve got the winner—”

Carver turned to look at him then, his expression instantly shifting. “Oh, great. The freak’s here.”

You stilled.

The change in your demeanor was drastic. The air cracked with tension.

You slowly turned to fully face him, fixing Jason with a look so sharp and cold that it could’ve sliced through glass.

“Are you actually for real now?” you said flatly.

Jason scoffed. “What? Just stating facts.”

Your lips curled in a dangerous smile. There was no stopping you now. Dude has crossed the line. “Here’s another fun fact for you, dickhead. They say a frightened dog barks the loudest. I can ask the store manager to call your mom. She’ll come get you.”

Jason’s jaw tensed. “I was just—”

“Don’t bother, we get it,” you continued, merciless eyes still locked onto him. “You peaked in high school. You’re clinging to relevance by being a jackass to people who actually moved on with their lives. Get the fuck on with your miserable existence somewhere else.”

Jason opened his mouth - just to shut it again. Eddie, grinning, casually handed you the VHS tape he found.

You took it without looking, brushing past a flabbergasted Carver as you made your way to the front of the store.

Robin followed, biting back laughter - just barely.

Steve, who had been watching without even trying to conceal his amusement, exhaled, shaking his head as he pushed off the shelf.

Eddie, still smirking, clapped Jason on the shoulder. “Tough break, man.”

Jason glared daggers at him. “Fuck off, Munson.”

Feeling ten feet tall and generous, Eddie gave him a tiny goodbye wave, leaving him biting the proverbial dust.

---

By the time you piled into Steve’s car, the tension had dissolved into laughter.

Eddie sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “I love being a damsel in distress. Might get used to it.”

You smirked at him in the rearview mirror. “You’re welcome, Princess.”

Steve glanced at you briefly as he pulled out of the parking lot. But you still caught the awe in his eyes.

“You do that often? Publicly humiliate douchebags?”

You shrugged. “This one needed a reality check. Thought I’d do the Hawkins community a favor.”

Robin grinned. “You should’ve seen his face. I’ll be living off that moment for weeks.”

Eddie sighed, leaning back. “You are now my favorite New Yorker, by the way.”

You chose to ignore the fact that you were probably the only New Yorker Eddie really knew. “I better be.”

Steve forced himself to focus on the road, trying - and failing - to ignore a twisting sensation in his chest.

He thought back to Robin’s warning.

“Don’t go there.”

But as you sat in his passenger seat, casually flipping through the VHS tape like you hadn’t just verbally emasculated Jason Carver in public, Steve knew—

Robin was right.

He was pretty much halfway there.

And he wasn’t sure there was any turning back.

Four.

Steve’s house was, as advertised, big and empty.

Robin and Eddie wasted no time sprawling blankets and pillows across the floor in front of the massive TV, with Steve helping arrange everything while you ran upstairs to the bathroom.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Robin refused to miss a beat. “So, Steve, wanna talk about how you’re pining?”

Steve sighed dramatically, throwing the last pillow he just brought from a guest room into the pile on the floor. “Jesus Christ.”

Eddie grinned, flopping onto the makeshift giant bed they built. “No, no, it’s cute, man. I mean, I knew you’d be toast the second you laid eyes on her, but this whole slow-burn thing? Didn’t see it coming. Thought you’d be making a move by now.”

“There’s no slow-burn!” Steve exclaimed, exasperated. “Just drop it already, guys, dead serious. Nothing’s going on.”

Robin snorted. “Sure, Steve. And I’m the Queen of England.”

“Bow to your majesty,” Eddie said, throwing a pillow at Steve’s head.

Steve caught it easily, shaking his head as he tossed it back. “You guys are so annoying.”

Robin and Eddie shared a look, their smirks identical.

Giving up on the pair, Steve glanced at the staircase, realizing you had been gone for a while.

“I’m gonna check on her,” he said, waving off their knowing glances as he headed upstairs.

---

He found you in the foyer, standing still in front of the only framed photo of him as a kid.

It was an old, staged portrait — him, no older than five, dressed like a perfect little country club baby in a polo and khakis, standing stiffly in front of a white column. No smile. Just blank, polite obedience.

He stopped a few feet away, watching you.

“That’s the only one in the whole house,” he said quietly.

You turned to look at him, then back at the photo. “No baby pictures?”

Steve shook his head. “None on display, at least.”

You studied the photo for a moment longer before glancing at him again. Your voice was soft when you asked, “Were you that serious as a kid?”

Steve let out a bitter breath of a laugh. “No. I mean, not naturally. But when the only times your parents want a picture is when they’re forcing you into one, you learn to stand still and shut up.”

You frowned slightly, your gaze thoughtful.

Steve surprised himself by continuing. “They were… cold, I guess. Still are. Always busy. Always away. They had expectations, and I followed them. For a while.” He huffed. “Didn’t last.”

You didn’t blink, watching him closely. “And now?”

Steve swallowed. “Now, I just try to do things my way.”

There was something knowing in your expression. A small, almost timid smile grew on your lips. “That’s why I think you’re kind of amazing, you know.”

Steve blinked. “What?”

You turned to fully face him, leaning casually against the wall. “You could’ve turned out like that—” you gestured to the framed, lifeless photo, “—but instead, you’re… you.”

Steve let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’m all that impressive.”

“You’re kind,” she said simply. “Given everything, that’s impressive.”

There was a shift in the air. The kind that made Steve suddenly hyper aware of how close you were standing. You held his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

Felt like words were not necessary. Your bodies ached for their turn to take control.

Then —

“HEY, GUYS! MOVIE’S STARTING!”

Robin’s voice echoed up the stairs, breaking the spell.

Steve cleared his throat, looking away as he took a step back. “We should — uh — head down.”

You nodded, pushing off the wall. “Yeah.”

You descended the stairs in silence, and Steve begged whoever listened that you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest.

---

By the time you settled in for the movie, Steve barely knew what was happening on the screen. You were squished between him and Robin, and even though he wasn’t technically touching you, Steve could feel your warmth beside him.

He tried to focus, but every time you shifted, every time you laughed at something on screen, every time you adjusted the blanket around your shoulders, he felt it. All the way deep in his bones.

Then, at some point, you shifted closer, tucking your legs up and leaning against him, your head resting lightly against his shoulder.

Steve froze.

A quick glance around the room told him Robin and Eddie were already half-asleep.

You were breathing evenly against him, surrendered to a peaceful sleep.

Steve swallowed hard, staring blankly at the TV.

The thing was — he knew, deep down, this was going to be history — sooner than later.

But right now, at this moment, it didn’t seem to matter all that much. What mattered was him not moving. Because if he moved, you might wake up.

Right now, you curled against him, trusting and warm and peaceful - that's what mattered.

So Steve stayed still, staring at the screen without really seeing it.

Because nothing except for your warmth and your sweet breath mattered that much - if at all.

Five.

Benny’s Diner was buzzing with the late breakfast crowd, but at your booth near the window, the four of you had carved out your own little world.

The vibe was soft and easy, filled with sleepy laughter and clinking coffee mugs.

Steve sat across from you, his arm draped over the back of the booth, pretending to listen as Eddie and Robin bickered over their orders. But in reality, his focus kept drifting.

To you.

To the way your knee kept brushing his under the table. To the scent of your perfume—something warm, slightly sweet, and completely distracting. To the way you tucked your silky hair behind your ear as you read the menu, biting back a smile at whatever dumb joke Robin had just made.

He was aware of you in a way that made him feel off balance - and it wasn’t just this morning.

It was how you’d woken up still tucked against him, completely unbothered by the fact that you’d spent the night like that. You had blinked up at him with that sleepy, bright smile and murmured, “Morning, Harrington. Sleep well?”

And he had lied through his goddamn teeth. Because the truth was, he hadn’t slept at all.

Too afraid to move. Too afraid to wake you up. Too aware of every shift of your breath.

The memory was so distracting that he barely registered it when you said his name.

“Steve.”

He blinked, snapping back to reality. “Huh?”

You smiled suspiciously, tilting your head to a side. “You good over there? You spaced out.”

Eddie giggled like a gremlin, looking at him knowingly.

Steve cleared his throat, shifting. “Uh, yeah. What was the question?”

You laughed. “I was asking if you were gonna come with us to Eddie’s uncle’s cabin today.”

Steve barely had time to process before Eddie jumped in, looking far too pleased. “Yeah, Stevie-boy. Thought we’d spend the night upstate, get out of town for a bit.”

Robin nodded sagely. “No parents. No civilization. Just us, a questionable cabin, and probably a family of raccoons.”

You grinned. “What do you say, Harrington? You in?”

Steve opened his mouth — only to groan as he remembered. “Shit. I can’t. My parents’ White Party. Annual bullshit. I have to go, or they’ll have an aneurysm.”

Robin immediately covered a very obvious “Bougie” with a cough.

Steve shot her a look.

You pouted, resting your chin on your hand. “Lame.”

Eddie sighed dramatically. “Gone too soon. Taken from us before his time.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything else, you leaned in and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Come find us after,” you murmured into his ear. “If you survive.”

Steve barely found the brainpower to breathe, let alone respond, before you pulled back and stood up.

Robin and Eddie followed you to the checkout counter, already making plans for the evening.

Steve just watched you go - completely smitten.

---

The White Party was exactly as soul-sucking as expected.

Steve leaned against the marble bar, nursing a whiskey, his white linen shirt sleeves rolled up as he endured yet another conversation about investment portfolios and European boarding schools.

Jason Carver was here, of course.

Leaning smugly against the bar with his usual crew, talking too loudly, probably making some poor girl miserable.

Steve ignored him.

He didn’t even have to put too much effort into the “ignoring” part - all he could think about was this morning.

Your voice. Your laugh. Your stupid perfume that was still somehow all around him.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face -

And then his phone rang.

He frowned, glancing at the unknown number before picking up. “Hello?”

“Steve?”

He immediately straightened. “New York?”

You exhaled, relieved. “Oh, thank god, you picked up. Listen, I—hold on—Robin, stop laughing, this is serious— okay, sorry, our car may have gone off the road—”

“What?”

“—into the mud.”

There was a cackle in the background.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “You crashed?”

“No, Eddie got us stuck,” you corrected. “I was just the unfortunate passenger.”

There was more muffled laughter in the background.

You sighed. “We tried pushing it out, but we’re just making it worse. And I hate to bother you while you’re at your elite socialite gathering, but, uh… we’re kinda screwed.”

Steve didn’t even hesitate.

“Where are you?”

“Halfway up to the cabin. Robin can text you the mile marker—”

“I’ll be there soon.”

There was a pause, then a smile in your voice. “Really?”

Steve just shook his head, already heading for the door. “Like I’m gonna leave you guys stranded.”

Behind him, Jason called something snide, but Steve didn’t care.

He was already leaving.

Six.

By the time Steve arrived, it was pitch black except for the high beams of Eddie’s car reflecting off the trees.

And the mud.

So. Much. Mud.

Steve swore under his breath as he pulled up in his very much not made for off-roading BMW, still dressed in white. He really should have gone home to change first.

Up ahead, Robin was in the driver’s seat, revving the engine as you and Eddie pushed from behind, your shoes sinking into the slop.

He barely had time to assess the situation before Robin caught sight of him.

“Oh thank God! STEVE!” she cheered—right as her foot slipped off the gas.

The car lurched backward.

You and Eddie went flying.

Straight into the biggest, deepest, grossest puddle of mud on the whole damn road.

Steve’s heart stopped.

He didn’t think. He leaped from his car, sprinting towards you without a single regard for his white linen pants.

You were lost in a fit of hysterical laughter. Or, rather, cackle, as you propped yourself up on your elbows in the muck.

Steve waded in without hesitation, his thighs instantly soaked, reaching for you. “Jesus Christ — come on, New York, give me your hand.”

You grinned up at him mischievously, and before he could do anything else, you launched yourself into his arms.

He caught you on instinct, arms wrapping around your waist as you completely ruined the last clean part of his clothes.

“Can’t believe you came,” you laughed into his shoulder. “I knew you would.”

Steve barely registered the fact that you were getting mud everywhere — your arms locked around his neck, your body warm against his, the scent of damp earth and your lingering perfume filling his senses.

“Yeah,” he murmured, holding you just a second too long before finally setting her back on her feet. “Course I did.”

A few feet away, Eddie struggled to his feet, arms outstretched in exasperation. “Oh yeah, don’t worry about me, guys. I just love being ignored while I drown in filth.”

Robin, still in the car, had her forehead against the steering wheel, laughing so hard the roof of the thing was shaking.

Steve pulled back, brushing a stray, mud-caked strand of hair from your cheek. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You looked up at him teasingly, lips quirking up. “Sweetheart, huh?”

Steve’s stomach flipped.

Eddie let out an exaggerated gag. “Oh my god, I’m the one covered in mud, but that was somehow filthier.”

Steve had the decency to lower his eyes, biting back a smile as he let his hand drop.

Robin threw the door of the Eddie’s car open, finally catching her breath. “Okay, people — let’s get this stupid car out so we can go warm up before Steve actually cries about his ruined Ralph Lauren outfit!”

—

It took a combination of teamwork, Steve’s BMW, and a lot of swearing, but you eventually got Eddie’s car unstuck and back on the road.

By the time you reached the cabin, the mud had dried to an uncomfortable crust on your skin.

You unloaded Eddie’s car and scattered inside, everyone getting cleaned up and settling in.

Steve took the fastest shower of his life, scrubbing away every last trace of white linen Steve Harrington until all that was left was damp hair, Eddie’s spare band tee, and a pair of worn-out jeans.

When he stepped back into the room, he spotted you crouched over your backpack, searching for something.

The warm glow of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across your skin, catching in the loose tendrils of your still-drying hair.

Steve halted. You glanced up, pausing when you saw him.

For a second, neither of you said anything.

Your gaze flicked over his borrowed shirt, his wet hair, the way his jeans hung low on his hips.

Then you met his eyes.

Something shifted in the air. The kind of shift that was slow, deliberate. Like the exact moment before a fire starts.

Steve’s throat went desert-dry.

You slowly got up to your feet to level with him, your lips parting slightly like you wanted to say something —

When the door slammed open with a bang.

“Harrington!”

Steve honest-to-god jumped.

Eddie leaned against the doorframe, completely oblivious. “Need an extra pair of hands for the wood pile before we all freeze to death.”

Steve exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. Sure.”

Eddie nodded, then flicked his gaze between the two of you.

His smirk couldn’t get more obnoxious.

You rolled your eyes at his antics, and went back to your bag - like nothing happened.

Steve followed Eddie out, hands in his pockets, trying to ignore the way his pulse pounded in his throat.

Whatever that was - it could have been a wildfire. Even without the goddamn wood.

---

The cabin kitchen smelled amazing—garlic, tomato, and cheesy lasagna bubbling away in the oven. But the state of the place? An absolute disaster.

Robin had sauce on her cheek. Your sleeves were covered in ricotta. There was a suspicious amount of flour on the counter that neither of you had actually used.

You pointed at Robin with a wooden spoon. “I don’t even wanna ask how you got cheese in your hair.”

Robin swiped at it half-heartedly. “Cooking is an art, alright?”

You snorted, shaking your head as you went back to layering noodles. You and Robin moved easily around each other, the kind of teamwork that came from months of rooming together and effortless friendship.

And then, Robin — who had clearly been waiting for the perfect moment — casually ventured, “Sooo… what do you think of Steve?”

You didn’t pause. Didn’t look up. Didn’t even blink.

But you smiled.

Robin grinned. “Oh, now that’s a look worth a thousand words.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. “He’s just…” You let out a small laugh, biting on your bottom lip. “I don’t know. I’ve never met anyone like him before.”

Robin made a suggestive noise. “Yeah, no kidding. Who else has a hair routine longer than my entire shower?”

“Nothing wrong with good hair”, you defended. “Yeah, well,” Robin scrunched her nose. “He also wears loafers without socks, so. Trade-offs.” You nudged her with your hip, hard. “He’s—” you bit on the inside of your cheek, searching for the right words. “He’s good. In a real way. Not in a look at me, I’m a nice guy kinda way. Just good. Kind.”

Robin leaned against the counter, smirking. “Yeah, he’s a big ol’ softie. Tries to act all cool, but we all know he’d risk it all for a bunch of kids who tease him mercilessly.”

You laughed, eyes crinkling. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

Robin gave you a stare-down. “You like him.”

You didn’t argue. “I really wanna get to know him better.”

Buckley grinned. “You should,” and then added, after a beat with half-mock seriousness: “Just… y’know. If you hurt him, I will have to kill you.”

You barked out a laugh. “That’s fair. I like that you’d defend him like that”, you confessed, approval dripping from your voice.

Robin gave a serious nod. “I will commit crimes, New York.”

You laughed as you opened up the oven, checking on lasagna…

…Neither of you noticed Steve in the doorway - standing there with a big, stupid grin on his face.

He’d just come in from outside, shaking the cold from his hands, when he caught the tail end of the conversation. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But man, oh man, was he happy that he did.

He ducked out before you could see him, his cheeks burning, his chest full, the “I really wanna get to know him better” bottled up in his mind to get back to in months to come, like a hidden treasure only he knew about.

---

Dinner was warm. Easy.

The four of you ate too much lasagna. Robin somehow got more cheese in her hair. Eddie cheated at board games - and didn’t even bother to hide it.

Laughter filled the cabin as you went over the mud incident from earlier.

You turned to Steve, propping your chin on your hand. “Your folks pissed you left?”

Steve, still in Eddie’s borrowed band tee, rolled the dice and shrugged. “They probably didn’t even notice.”

You scrunched your nose in disapproval. “Their loss, our gain.”

Steve stared at you for a second too long, something tight and aching curled in his chest.

Before he could even process your words and the meaning behind them, you casually tossed a game piece at Eddie catching him red-handed as he tried to cheat - yet again. Steve vaguely registered Munson yelling something about “disrespect” and “absolute betrayal.” It didn’t matter. The more time Steve spent getting to know you, the less everything else mattered. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet.

---

Eventually, things slowed.

Steve found himself sitting on the floor by the fireplace - next to you.

The flames flickered, warm light casting soft shadows as you talked, voices hushed.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Steve couldn’t help but wanted to learn everything about you. Especially the little things. Like how you always needed to drink something before bed. How you grew up listening to your dad’s old rock records. How you once broke your arm jumping from a tree.

He took in every single detail like he was trying to memorize you - like a favorite song. An all-time classic.

“Let me get this straight. You jumped out of a tree because a boy dared you to?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised.

You grinned. “Yeah. Not my proudest moment”.

Steve huffed a laugh. “Please tell me you at least got to rub it in his face.”

“Oh, no.” You laughed too, leaning back against the couch. “He screamed. Thought I died. I was too busy crying.”

Steve shook his head in half awe, half disbelief.

“You’re wild.”

You smirked. “You like it.”

Steve’s heart skipped - because you weren’t wrong. You weren't wrong at all.

He didn’t know what to do with the feeling swelling in his chest. It felt dangerous - like falling from the edge of a cliff. It scared him, but not enough to make him want to stop.

At the kitchen counter, Robin and Eddie watched. Buckley sipped from her drink. “He’s so gone.”

Munson grinned. “Told ya.”

Completely oblivious to them watching, you stretched, covering your mouth as you yawned. You got to your feet, stretching your arms over your head, and Steve swallowed hard, noticing your shirt riding up just a little.

“Alright, I’m calling it,” you finally said, voice warm and sleepy. “I’m crashing.”

You turned to Steve, eyes soft.

“Night, Steve.”

Steve barely managed to get out, “Night,” before you disappeared down the hall.

Oh, he was so screwed.

Seven.

Steve wasn’t avoiding you - not really.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

His schedule had just been busy. Running errands for his dad. Taking care of bullshit he didn’t actually care about.

But the truth? The truth was that he’d gotten used to you - to the way you smirked at him when you knew you were getting under his skin. To the way you laughed, loud and carefree, with Eddie and Robin. To the way you just… fit - like you’d always been there.

And that scared the ever-loving shit out of him.

So he stopped answering every message in your group chat. He stopped saying yes when Robin, Eddie and you planned something new.

He was running away - and straight-up hiding at a coffee shop this morning pretending to ignore his phone going off every 5 seconds.

Goddamn, you guys were relentless!

The Group Chat - The Chaos Crew

ROBIN: Steve.

ROBIN: Steven.

ROBIN: Stevie Boy.

EDDIE: Holy shit, Robin, let the man breathe.

ROBIN: He doesn’t deserve to breathe. He’s been ignoring us.

YOU: He probably died in a tragic hairspray accident.

EDDIE: A fallen soldier.

ROBIN: A hero.

YOU: Rest in peace, big guy.

STEVE: Jesus Christ, I’M BUSY.

EDDIE: Oh wow, he lives.

ROBIN: It’s a miracle!!

YOU: Huh, I was just about to hold a séance.

STEVE: I hate all of you.

ROBIN: Lies. You love us.

EDDIE: And yet, he keeps bailing on everything.

ROBIN: Right? The audacity.

YOU: I was kinda hoping he wasn’t all talk, but…

STEVE: …

STEVE: What the hell is that supposed to mean?

YOU: No big deal, Harrington. Just… y’know. Disappointing.

EDDIE: Ohhh, she’s calling you out, Harrington.

ROBIN: SHE’S CALLING YOU OUT, HARRINGTON.

STEVE: I hate all of you.

EDDIE: You said that already.

ROBIN: So, does that mean you’re coming to movie night?

STEVE: No.

ROBIN: YOU ACTUAL LOSER.

EDDIE: Disgraceful.

YOU: You’re breaking my heart, Steve.

STEVE: …

STEVE: We only just met, New York, come on!

YOU: And yet, here I am. Heartbroken.

EDDIE: Oof.

ROBIN: Cold.

YOU: This is on you, Harrington.

Steve groaned, rubbing his face.

He didn’t like the way his stomach twisted at your words. Even though you were obviously joking - trying to get a rise out of him, as usual.

He didn’t like the way his fingers hovered over his phone longer than necessary before finally setting it down.

He missed the four of you. Better yet, he missed you - just you, and that was the problem.

Burying his face in his hands, he ran his aching fingers through his hair for the thousandth time, when he heard a familiar voice calling for him.

He looked up to see Nancy, already halfway to his table with a small smile. He straightened.

“Hey, Nance.”

Wheeler hesitated, giving him a once over. Latching on to the strap of her bag, he saw it on her face as she made up her mind. Nancy nodded slowly to the chair across from him. “Mind if I sit?”

He shook his head, leaning back into the chair. “Not at all.”

Nancy slid into the chair opposite of him, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup.

She tilted her head at him. “You look… pensive.”

Steve huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. That’s one word for it.”

Nancy smiled knowingly into her cup.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, years of history hovering silently over the table. Years of being tangled up in each other’s lives; of being young and dumb and thinking forever was easy.

Nancy sipped her coffee.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she mentioned matter-of-factly.

Steve snorted. “I wouldn’t say that.”

She arched a brow at him.

Steve sighed, giving her a surrendering look. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Nancy smirked. “Figured.”

Another pause made up of silence that wasn’t empty. It was filled with bittersweet memories, with the ghosts of past arguments and stolen kisses, with the weight of what was and what will never be again.

Steve tapped his fingers against his cup, thoughtful.

“Did we ever stand a chance?”

Nancy blinked. The question didn’t surprise her. Steve actually asking it did.

She let out a slow breath, watching him carefully.

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “At a different time. If we’d been different people back then.”

Steve nodded, staring at the table. “Yeah.”

“But we weren’t,” she said gently, wishing for him to look at her. “And I don’t think we were ever supposed to be.”

Steve exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “I think I knew that, too. Even when I didn’t want to.”

It felt good to say that out loud.

Nancy smiled, soft. “I don’t regret us, though.”

Steve finally looked at her then, his fingertips tapping softly against his cup. “Me neither.”

After a beat, Nancy bit her bottom lip - she looked like she was weighting what she planned to say next.

“I do regret not letting myself feel things fully, though. When I had the chance.”

Steve frowned slightly, watching her closely. “What do you mean?”

Nancy stirred her coffee, thoughtful. “I feel like I spent a lot of time afraid - of making the wrong choice, or - of saying the wrong thing. Of getting it all wrong.” She waved her hand in the air. “I was so focused on the thing between us potentially breaking me, that I didn’t realize I was hurting you in the process”.

Nancy met Steve’s eyes, while he listened. “If I could do it again, I’d let myself be all in. And maybe, you know, embrace it, instead of writing an elegy for the relationship I didn’t even give a proper chance to. ”

Something in Steve’s chest tightened - because it all hit pretty close to home. He knew exactly what Nancy was talking about - hell, he knew all along why he’d been keeping his distance from you.

Because this thing — whatever it was — was starting to feel big, starting to feel real.

And what if it didn’t last? What if it all fell apart?

That would hurt like a fucking bitch.

Nancy smirked, seeing it all play out on his face. “You’re falling for someone, aren’t you?”

Steve opened his mouth —

Then closed it.

Nancy laughed. “Oh my God, you totally are.”

Steve groaned, leaning back. “Jesus, Wheeler. Can’t a guy just have an existential crisis in peace?”

She grinned in response, but her voice was gentle when she said:

“Don’t run from it, Steve. Don’t ruin it before you give it a chance.”

Steve exhaled, shaking his head. “Easier said than done.”

Nancy pressed her lips together, swirling now cold coffee in the cup. “Yeah, well. I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Steve gave her a long, appraising look. Maybe in some other life, things would have been different between them. But in this one? Nancy Wheeler was just his friend.

And right now, she was giving him the kind of advice that only a good friend would.

Steve offered her a sincere smile. “Thanks, Nance.”

Nancy nodded, softly. “Anytime, Harrington.”

Sliding from the booth, Steve made his way to the counter and pulled out his wallet to pay for their coffees. While waiting for change, he fished out his phone from the front pocket of his jacket and found your name in his contacts.

Before he could press “Call”, his phone buzzed in his hand, a message popping up on the top of the screen.

This wasn’t a part of a group chat, you name winking at him next to a simple text.

Hey stranger. Up for a drink tonight?

Steve stared at it. Felt the words settle in his chest.

He ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. Hey, stranger. Like it was nothing. Like the days of silence between you had been a pause, not an ending. Like you haven’t been the last thing on his mind every damn night.

His thumb hovered over the screen. His chest swelled with hope.

Steve swallowed hard, then typed:

“Time and place?”

And hit send before he could talk himself out of it - precisely why, just seconds ago, he had wanted to call.

Eight.

Steve wasn’t nervous.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

It was stupid to be nervous. You and him had spent so much time together by now - it felt like you’d known each other for ages. He knew how you took your coffee, the exact way your mouth curled when you were about to say something cutting but hilarious, how you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were listening to someone talk. He knew you.

But tonight felt different.

It was the first time you’d be hanging out alone, just the two of you, without Robin or Eddie and the constant buffer of two loud, teasing friends. Steve wasn’t sure if Robin knew, wasn’t sure if she and Eddie were somewhere right now making bets on how this would play out.

He didn’t know why it felt like his whole world was shifting, but it did.

So he sat at the bar, still in his white linen shirt and tailored slacks from an excruciatingly dull day at the club with his father’s associates, feeling wildly out of place. He stirred the ice in his glass of water, staring at the condensation as he forced himself not to check his watch.

(He did not trust himself to drink tonight.)

The door to the bar swung open, letting in a burst of summer air, and his stomach flipped before he even looked up. He knew it was you. He felt it before he saw you, like a change in the atmosphere, an invisible pull tightening in his chest.

And then — there you were.

Steve forgot how to function as a human being.

You weren’t trying to turn heads, but you did.

The dress was simple. Black, thin straps, something that barely brushed against the tops of your knees. But it clung in all the right places, shifted around your thighs as you moved, your bare shoulders illuminated by the dim bar lighting.

You were like a shot of whiskey in a crystal glass. Smooth. Lethal.

And Steve was dying of thirst.

Your eyes found his - and you just smiled like you knew exactly what was happening in his brain.

It wasn’t fair.

Steve straightened instinctively, hands pressing against his thighs as if that would stop them from fidgeting. He swallowed hard, watching you weave through the crowd. Your perfume - cashmere, jasmin, maybe apricot? - wafted around as you placed a hand on his shoulder, and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his cheek before sliding into the seat next to him.

Steve could still feel the warmth of it, searing into his skin.

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, flagging down the bartender. “You’re early.” Your voice was light, teasing, but your eyes flickered over him, curious.

“Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Didn’t wanna keep you waiting.”

Your lips twitched, amused, but there was something else there too—something Steve couldn’t quite name yet.

“Huh. I thought maybe you’d skipped town.”

“I’ve been busy,” he said, and it was pathetic how quickly he could hear the lie in his own voice.

You hummed, amused. But decided to still give him a chance - to further embarrass himself. “Busy?” Steve shifted in his seat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “Yeah. Y’know. Family stuff. Work”. He sucked on his water, only to stop himself from talking.

“Right”, you nodded. “Family. Work. The two things that keep people from answering texts.”

He winced. There it was.

“I didn’t mean to—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”

You took a slow sip of your drink, watching him over the rim. Then, finally: “Okay.”

That was it. No argument. No pressing for an explanation. Just that single, unreadable word.

And somehow, that was worse.

Steve leaned forward, resting his arms on the bar. “I swear I wasn't. I just… my parents have been around more lately. Making me sit through business dinners and all that bullshit. You know how it is.”

Steve remembered your offhand comments about your dad, about growing up with people who only cared about wealth and status. It was one of the first things you’d connected over, how empty it could all feel.

You gave a slow nod, swirling the drink in your hand - because you did know.

Feeling encouraged, Steve cleared his throat and then added: “And I needed to clear my head.”

Your expression didn’t change, but you set your glass down a little too carefully. “And? Is it clear now?”

He swallowed hard. He could lie again, keep pretending this was just another casual night out, but the truth was sitting in his throat, thick and insistent.

“No,” he admitted. “Not even close.”

Your fingers curled around your glass, but you didn’t look away. “So why did you come?”

Steve let out a quiet laugh, mostly at himself. “Because I’m an idiot.”

That made you smile, but it wasn’t the easy, teasing one he was used to. It was softer, something a little more careful.

“And I owe you an apology,” he finally said, his eyes sincere and bright. “I’m sorry I’ve been pulling back. The truth is - I -” he bit down on his lip. “I’ve been trying to put some distance between us, because the way I feel about you scares me, and I don’t know how to best deal with this, I - I just don’t know”.

His voice was raw and uncertain - and in that moment, under the dim lights of the posh, expensive bar - Steve Harrington was the most goddamn authentic, beautiful thing, illuminating the room. “Steve,” you said, soft but calling for attention. Calm but determined. You set your drink down.

His eyes flicked up, meeting yours, and for the first time tonight, he didn’t try to look away.

“I missed you,” you continued, voice steady. “So I don’t want distance. I don’t want you to run from this. I don’t want to play games, Harrington.”

His throat bobbed, something shifting behind his eyes.

“What I do want,” you said, voice dipping just slightly, “is to kiss you.”

Steve’s brain short-circuited. For a second, he just stared, like he was trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining this.

“But I won’t,” you added. “Not unless you truly want it too.”

Steve sucked in a breath, sharp and uneven.

His pulse was a drum against his ribs, hammering in time with the words you’d just said. What I do want is to kiss you.

His mind scrambled for something — anything — coherent to say, but nothing came out. Because fuck, he wanted that too. Wanted it so badly it almost knocked him flat.

He could still feel the weight of your gaze, steady and patient, giving him space, letting him decide. And that was what did him in. Not the way you looked at him like he was something worth waiting for, not the way your lips had wrapped around those words like a promise — but the fact that you gave him the choice - to either go all in, or not at all.

He exhaled shakily, a slow, almost disbelieving smile curling at the edges of his mouth. “You really don’t like to make things easy, huh?”

Your lips twitched, amused. “What’s the fun in that?”

Steve didn’t answer. He reached for you, slow but certain, his fingers grazing the warm skin of your arm as he pulled you in.

You just watched him, eyes dark and searching, your lips parted slightly as if waiting, daring him to make the next move.

And he did.

His hands came up, cupping your face gently, like you were something precious, something he had no business touching but couldn’t resist. His thumbs traced the edges of your jaw, his fingers slipping into your hair, feeling the silk of it against his knuckles.

You exhaled, and he felt it - your breath, warm and steady against his mouth.

The moment your lips met, the world shrank.

Everything - the noise of the bar, the clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversation, the weight of all the time you had wasted - fell away.

Steve’s touch was reverent, like he was memorizing the feel of you beneath his palms, like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful.

But you weren’t going anywhere.

You leaned in, pressing closer, and Steve swore he felt the earth tilt beneath him. His lips moved against yours, slow at first — hesitant, savoring, like he was trying to make up for every second he had spent denying himself this.

Then you sighed into his mouth, and something inside him snapped.

His hands tightened against your cheeks, pulling you in deeper - and you let him. Met him, matched him. The kiss deepened, turned desperate - finally, finally, finally - like a dam breaking, like something inevitable, something that had been building for longer than either of you wanted to admit. ---

Group Chat – The Chaos Crew

EDDIE: [a blurred photo of you and Steve walking out of the bar, hand in hand.]

EDDIE: Pay up, Buckley.

ROBIN: WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL??

ROBIN: I WAS OFFLINE FOR TWO HOURS. TWO. HOURS!!

STEVE: Picture’s blurry, man. But pretty straightforward.

YOU: But, damn, we look good.

ROBIN: OH SO YOU’RE A TEAM NOW??

ROBIN: JUST DROPPING BOMBS CASUALLY??

EDDIE: Lmao she’s spiraling.

ROBIN: I AM NOT SPIRALING.

STEVE: Robin. Breathe.

STEVE: If that’s any consolation, you’re still our first choice for best woman 🙂 EDDIE: I can be the flower girl.

EDDIE: @Robin, told you there’s no way this wasn’t going there.

YOU: Maybe a little too soon for the wedding though?

STEVE: Yeah - let’s agree on the dog first.

EDDIE: Oh, you’re done for, Harrington.

ROBIN: Absolutely wrecked.

STEVE: Yeah. I am :)

The End.

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things imagine #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington slow burn

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dayshifting · 17 days ago

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MY REALITIES.

A GUIDE TO MY DESIRED REALITIES — !

SUPERNATURAL DR — set in season four / 2009. angelic vessel. thrusted into a celestial war with no prior knowledge to the supernatural & creatures of the night.

MODEL DR — set in 2022. muse to major fashion houses. controversially young girlfriend to jensen ackles. diva with a heart of gold. fashion week's it girl.

F1 DR — set in 2023. paddock princess. first female driver to win a race. driver for porsche formula one. future girlfriend to taylor swift. a force to be reckoned with on and off track.

2000s MODEL DR — set in 2007. new york's darling. jared padalecki's baby love. victoria secret angel. the higher the heel, the closer to god. love to hate, hate to love.

SUMMER LOVE DR — set in 2016. two months under the italian sun. amalfi coast summer. rihanna & beyonce. in the arms of a rich man. yachts and private clubs.

2000s HIGH SCHOOL DR — set in 2006. oak valley's sweetheart. glittery lip gloss. cherry lollipops. popular girl with her cutie farmer boyfriend. eyes set on the big apple.

REALITIES IN DEVELOPMENT — MOM DR. GOSSIP GIRL DR. THE NANNY DR. FAME DRs. VOGUE INTERSHIP DR.

— MORE TO ADD SOON !!

AND that concludes the tour of dayshifting realities. IT’S been a pleasure to show you around. COME BACK SOON!

#reality shifting #shifting #shifters #desired reality #shifting blog #shiftblr #shifting antis dni #shifting motivation #shifting community #supernatural dr #day’s diary 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

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allthedesiredusernamesaretaken · 3 months ago

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" We must find time to stop and thank the people who make a difference in our lives. "

- John Fitzgerald Kennedy (May 29, 1917 - November 22, 1963)

Kennedy waves to the crew of the yacht “Weatherly” (of the New York Yacht Club), while watching the first race of the 1962 America's Cup aboard the USS Joseph P. Kennedy, Jr., off the coast of Newport, Rhode Island. (Cecil Stoughton. White House Photographs. John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum, Boston)

#john fitzgerald kennedy #jfk #kennedy #remembering #gratitude

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ladylooch · 3 months ago

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Bones - Part 4 [Mack x David]

A/N: *inhales and exhales heavily* Here we go.

I'm sorry...... & good luck. Would love it if you came to talk to me in my asks about this one.

Word Count: 5.1k

Rangers Looking To Make Moves, David Carlson could be one of them.

Insider Sources Hint at Huge Deal Between Stars and Rangers.

Rangers In Search Of Forward Depth: Potential Move Involving David Carlson?

“Mack? Ready in about five?” Her editor, Sonja, asks as she power walks by Mack’s cubicle.

“Yep.” Mack answers back absentmindedly. She is currently scrolling through her newsfeed, scanning the ballooning elephant of David’s trade rumors.

Mack tried to talk herself out of looking, but she hasn’t been able to put her phone away. Social media is a dangerous drug. Mack considers herself an expert navigator, but these rumors involve her life outside of 280 characters. The line between reality and rumor has begun to blur. While this happens in her brain, David says nothing. He probably has his reasons, but Mack can’t help but feel betrayed. Why isn’t he talking to her about this? Doesn’t he trust her? This feels like something they should be talking about, even Lucie said as much at breakfast last week.

Mack finishes reading over the comments of speculation. The rumors seem to be trending towards Dallas or Seattle. Mack’s stomach drops out when she realizes how far away both those options are.

“Ready?” Andrew, her colleague asks. Mack nods, putting her phone into her desk and gathering her notebook. The entire walk to the glass enclosed conference room, Mack tries to shed her personal life. Normally, she steps over that threshold and she can become whoever she needs to be to tell a story. Not today.

Today, Mack is quiet, listening to her team members add productive discussion for next quarters issues. Several locations are floated around that should make Mack excited and jumping to go for them. None of them do. Instead, she finds her focus trailing out the window to the building across the street. The world moves around her, but Mack feels stuck in place. Her least favorite thing.

“Mack, how is your hand not up?” Cecilia, another team member, asks. Mack turns back to her.

“What? Sorry?” Mack’s eyes divert to Sonja who looks back at Mack with a neutral face.

“Would you like to volunteer for Ireland?” Sonja repeats.

Mack has been dying to go to Ireland. There is so much to do there, so many different directions she could take her story, and although she has lived in and traveled all over Europe, she hasn’t made it there yet. She is constantly chatting with her coworkers about how she wants to do a story there. But now her hand stays in her lap. How could she leave the country with it being such tumultuous times at home? What if she leaves and David is traded? Coming back to New York and him not being here would slice her open.

“When?”

“Three weeks, but you could go as early as Thursday if you want more exploring time.”

“Oh. Um.” She anxiously rubs at her thighs. “I-”

“You could go after Cabo too.” Sonja answers. Cabo is the Allstar trip she has put together for the Rangers with recommendations from her colleagues. Everything is scheduled including a huge house right on the water. It has multiple pools, a hot tub, a private beach, and exclusive access to the Yacht club.

“I’m gonna have to say no.” She hears herself say. WHAT!?She shakes off her inner demon who wants to launch a ‘just kidding’. Her whole team looks back at her with surprise. “I just need to stick around here right now. If that’s okay? I’ll take something close.”

“We have that story on hidden gems in America? A lot of them are on the East Coast. Easily day trips.”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” Mack answers with enthusiasm she doesn’t actually feel.

The meeting moves on, but Mack can’t. Did she really just turn down Ireland for New Hampshire? With everyone’s assignments in hand, the meeting ends. Again, Mack is slow to react. Sonja stays behind.

“Are you okay?” She asks when it’s only the two of them. “You are not yourself.”

“I am a bit distracted.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Nope. Thanks for letting me stick around though.” Sonja laughs, shrugging.

“Something is definitely up if you’re missing out on Ireland. Let me know how I can support you, okay?”

Mack nods then Sonja power walks off to her next meeting. After swiping her phone from her drawer, Mack avoids sitting down at her cubical and heads straight to the bathroom at the back of the office. She walks into the last stall, letting her back hit the cool tile. Mack’s head finds her hands, awkwardly shoving her nose to the side due to her phone.

What the hell is happening to me?

Her phone starts to vibrate against her face. She pulls back, seeing David’s picture.

“Hello?” She answers quickly.

“Hi, are you home?”

“No.” Worry settles into her voice.

“Oh okay, no worries. I left my wallet at your place. Just figured it out, now Woody is buying me lunch.” He chuckles.

“Oh, you can go grab it after lunch?”

“Okay, can I wait for you to get home too? Kinda miss ya.”

“Yeah.” Mack smiles to herself.

“I’ll take a look at your bathroom sink too. The water pressure is horseshit.”

“I put in a maintenance request.”

“Why? They didn’t fix it right last time? I hope they come up while I’m working on it so I can teach them what to do.”

“Please don’t.” Mack sighs, but she can’t help a little giggle.

“When will you be home?” He asks her. Mack can hear traffic whizzing by him as he presumably walks along a sidewalk.

“Probably a few hours.” She mumbles.

“Alright. I’ll entertain myself.” He assures her.

When Mack gets home, she realizes that means he cleaned her entire apartment, fixed her sink, and has dinner in the oven.

“Wow…” Mack trails off as she walks in. She puts her work bag on the counter and smiles at him by the stove. “Thank you. I haven’t had much time to clean.” She murmurs.

“I know.” He nods, toweling off his hands with the one over this shoulder. “I’ve been keeping you at my place a lot. I figure if I created the problem, I should clean it up.” He puckers his lips for her. “Hi.” He greets her after their kiss.

“Hi.” She smiles. It doesn’t quite brighten up her face or reach her eyes, which David takes notice of.

“You okay?” He tilts his head at her.

“Yeah. Tired.” She lies.

Well, maybe not fully. She is tired, but the things that are keeping her up at night are things she could be discussing with him. Yet, Mack believes that if he wanted to talk to her about any of this, he would have already. She swallows hard, trying to will the anxious energy in her body away. David’s hands on her hips hold her in place when she tries to move around him.

“I’m not believing that.” He smiles sympathetically. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” Mack nods. She brushes her hand over his stomach as she walks past. She heads to the fridge to grab a sparkling water from inside. David watches her as she cracks the cap open, taking down a few gulps. She hiccups as she pulls the bottle down from her lips. “Why don’t you go change? That outfit looks great, but you should be comfy with the weather we are having.” He points to the window where sheets of snow fall down.

“Oh that escalated.” Mack murmurs. She walks to the window, looking out at the droves of swirling snow flakes. She sighs, happy to be in here watching it than still commuting home.

“Mack.” David calls softly to her. She looks over her shoulder at him. “Go.” He encourages her, head tilted towards the hallway. She nods again, doing as he asks and wandering down to her bedroom.

She knows she is spacey and acting weird. But she isn’t quite sure how to act with him right now. A giant elephant is sitting on her chest and he is behaving like everything is normal. Mack quickly changes into a soft sweatsuit in a sage color. She pulls her hair back into a pony tail, then pulls on new, warm socks with reindeer faces on them that her mom put into her Christmas stocking. When she walks into the main area again, the TV is playing local news. The sports section is on but it rolls through without any mention of David, other than his goal a few nights ago, the last time the team played.

“It’s weird you’ve had so many days off.” Mack says, leaning against the counter by the bar stools.

“Yeah. I hate it.” David shakes his head. He pulls the towel off his shoulder, tossing it onto the counter.

“What are we having?”

“Spatchcock chicken and asparagus.”

“Fancy.” Mack smiles at him. He stares back at her.

“Why are you over there? C’mere.”

“You’re so sensitive today.” Mack rolls her eyes. “If you wanna cuddle just ask. No need to get grumpy that I’m standing across the room from you.” She tries to keep her tone light, but it’s a little snippy.

“Kay, get over here I want to cuddle.” He begrudges. Him and Mack both know she is deflecting. She doesn’t want him looking at her too closely right now.

Mack walks across the kitchen, sliding her arms around his waist. David crushes her into his chest and she can’t help but melt into him. Her shoulders drop, jaw unclenches, and mind quiets completely. The trade rumors dissipate. The worry about what could happen to them floats away. It’s just the two of them holding each other in her kitchen. David’s hand smooths over her pony tail, then begins to rub long strokes up and down her back. Mack turns her nose more into his chest. David tightens his grip on her, then drops his mouth to her hair.

It’s clear they both needed this hug.

They don’t break away until the timer for the chicken goes off. David pulls it out. As it rests, he roasts the asparagus. Mack puts together a salad with leftover vegetables in the fridge. Then they sit down and eat dinner together with a glass of wine each. When it’s over, Mack and David move through the apartment in sync, cleaning up the main space. As the dishwasher roars to life, Mack flips all the lights off and takes David’s hand to lead him down to her room.

There, they make love to each other. It’s soft and slow, filled with gentle smooches and quiet moans of pleasure. Afterwards, they tangle their limbs together. David falls asleep first, surprising to Mack. She studies his face as he sleeps, seeing the lines on his face soften in his slumber. With David out, a familiar monster begins to awaken inside of her.

It comes out in the quiet, darkness of night. It confuses her and brings back all the things that had melted away when she was in David’s arms. A huge lump fills her throat. She rolls over to her other side. Doing so makes David’s hand fall off her hip. A cold shiver rolls through Mack as she buries her nose into the pillow case beneath her face.

During sex tonight, David had murmured really sweet things to her. He told her he loved her. He told her how beautiful she looked today. He told her how much he missed her while they ran through their different, separate days, that the world gets quiet when she is in his arms. But he didn’t say anything about the rumors that swirl around him in his professional life. Every time he has an opportunity to tell her and he doesn’t, Mack can feel herself retreat a little more.

Right before he drifted to sleep, David had sleepily murmured that he couldn’t wait until they find a place together. The memory of that now has a single tear dragging down Mack’s cheek.

Because for the first time, she doesn’t feel like her and David are on the same page. He is already thinking about them moving in together. She’s never thought of that. She’s never thought of anything beyond the current day with him. Now he sees a future for them that Mack isn’t sure she wants this way. A future outside of New York isn’t of interest to her. If David isn’t in New York, there is nothing tying them together anymore, therefore if he leaves New York nothing ties him to her anymore.

Meanwhile, she has stupidly turned down assignments to stay with him. Her brain is consumed of thoughts of him even when she is away. Panic begins to thread through Mack’s body. She’s too in love with him. This is all way more than she signed up for. She never wanted this. He’s changed her entire life and she went along with it.

How could she have let this happen? How could she have let it go this far?

Mack rolls to her back, staring up at the ceiling. Tears race from the corners of her eyes, falling into her ear canals. This has gone too far. She can’t do this with him. With perfect timing as always, her monster starts to whisper:

You’ll never be able to keep him. You can’t pretend all the time to be good enough for him anyway.

Mack shudders at the words that slice deep into her soul. She wipes her tears then wills herself to sleep.

In the morning, this will all look different. She is sure of that.

Long before the sunlight streams into her room, David awakens her to make love again. He is above her, dragging his cock through her core with soft strokes that set her on fire. When she shudders through her orgasm, he fills her up with his own, then collapses into the bed next to her. As his breathing evens out, he brings her into his side, holding her close to him.

“I’m excited about our future.” David murmurs, fingers getting slower. “We’re gonna give Lucie and Connor a run for their money.” He kisses the top of her head.

Guilt swirls through Mack’s body.

David continues planning for a future with her while she is choking in fight or flight.

A tear slides silently down her cheek. David’s soft breathing behind her tells her he has fallen back to sleep.

Mack blinks more tears down her cheeks, bottom lip trembling.

He deserves so much better than this. So much better than her. Those words are no longer the dark monster from before. Instead they’re just the truth.

And she’s going to make sure he is free to find what he deserves.

In his arms, attempting to memorize his touch, she starts to make her plans. The Ireland assignment comes to mind.

On Thursday, she’ll go there. Do what she was always going to do.

Run.

Or fly… like the humming bird he compares her to.

He won’t be surprised. He’ll be hurt, sure. But he’ll move on. He has to.

She tells herself this is all for his freedom.

But deep down, the monster reminders her its for her own.

- - - & - - -

(David)

On Thursday, David looks down at the burger he ordered, mouth salivating at the big, half pound patty dripping cheese and bacon grease. Now this is a damn burger. One he might even find in his home state. Props to the place for sticking to the owner’s midwestern roots. He assess the sandwich, deciding two hands on this one would probably be best.

“That looks fire.” Connor murmurs. He opted for a French Dip sandwich and fries.

Between the two of them, there isn’t a green vegetable in sight.

“I’m going to crush this.” David confirms. He unrolls his silverware set, putting the napkin in his lap just in case some drippage misses his plate. Connor does the same.

“I’m so excited to have beef. Haven’t been able to have it at home since…” Connor trails off. David raises an eyebrow. Connor grins then shakes his head. “I can’t tell ya.”

“Slut.”

“Can’t get enough of her, man. Don’t act like you don’t get it.”

David smirks. He does get it. In fact, he almost cancelled on this lunch so he could stay home and bury himself between Mack’s thighs again and again. But Mack said she had to get some work done, so here he is for the second time in two days eating lunch with his D partner. Mack and David had transitioned over to his place last night to meet up with the Woods. He loves that she is comfortable working from his place when he isn’t there.

David swipes a tater tot through some ketchup then pops it into his mouth. He hopes by the time he gets home Mack is doing better. She was weird when he left this morning, weird last night too. He is glad they have some time together before he goes on the road this weekend. Mack has an assignment in New York that is keeping her home with him during that time. All he wants to do is go to the rink, order glutinous take out and fuck.

Connor hulks down a huge bite of his sandwich as David digs into his burger. He needs his napkin immediately, swiping it across his covered lips.

“So how you doing with everything, man?”

David swallows.

“What do you mean?” He asks, then goes in for a second bite.

“With the rumors.”

“Oh. I’m not listen.” David dismisses. “I can’t worry about that shit and play. It’s too hard.”

“Yeah, I get it. I was the same. Where are you at with your contract?”

“Doug said we would talk about it after the season. My agent doesn’t think here is any concern. It’s not like I’m gonna ask for the bank.”

“No, but get what you’re worth. I need you around here with me. Can’t handle the Hischier girls by myself.” David chuckles. Silence fills the space between them as they both take a few more bites. “How is Mack taking it all?”

David pauses mid-chew. He shakes his head slightly, then answers when he swallows.

“We haven’t talked about it since none of it is true.”

Connor looks up quickly from his fries. They hover in his pile of ketchup as alarming blue eyes look across the table at David.

“Yeah, but you warned her and everything right?”

David’s tongue runs along his back molars as an awkward silence fills the table.

No, he didn’t.

“I mean, no? She knows that shit out there isn’t true.”

“Sure, but you told her that right?” Connor clarifies, pointing at the center of David’s chest.

David stares back at his defensive partner. Slowly, Connor’s mouth falls into a cringe.

“That is not the person to leave in the dark on those rumors, man.”

As if Connor’s words are the final puzzle, it all clicks for David. The way Mack was this morning. How she turned away from him immediately after sex last night. How quiet she has been, almost to the point of calculated. His heart hammers to a stop in his chest then a big intake of air raises his huge shoulders.

“Oh FUCK!” He yells.

She’s running.

He knows it and the awareness cools his blood, sending a chill down his spine.

“What?” Connor asks, concern etching his brows together.

“She wanted me to go to lunch with you so she can run. I’ve gotta go, Woody.”

In a calmer moment, David would pull out his wallet and throw down a few bills. But a glance at his phone tells him he doesn’t have time. He’s been gone for over a half hour. She might already be packed and he’s gotta stop her. His long, athletic stride carries him the five blocks back to his place. He rushes by Philip without a greeting, then pounds the up button on the elevator.

“Come on!” He shouts when it takes too long. He eyes the stairwell, but his heart might explode if he runs up all those flights of stairs. The doors open and he almost barrels over a couple and their kid as he rushes in. “Sorry.” He mumbles, pushing the button for his floor, then the ‘close door’ one repeatedly until it does. He bounces on his feet, heart pounding in his ears as he attempts to catch his breath. The doors open, he flies into the hallway, not seeing her. He tries the door on his place and finds it open.

Fuck, he hopes she is still here.

“Mack!” He yells.

No answer.

His sneakers slap hard against the wood floors as he heads down the hallway. He can see her pony tail floating in the doorway. Instant relief flowing through him.

She’s still here.

His relief is short lived when he walks forward and sees her packed suitcase on the bed.

- - - & - - -

(Mack)

Mack is zipping up her suitcase when she hears the apartment door open. Her gaze snaps to the doorway. David’s hurried foot steps rush down the hallway. She frowns, then goes back to stuffing her phone charger into the side pocket. This is not ideal, but she planned for it. She is ready for this interaction. Ready for him to beg her to stay here with him and prepared with an army of reasons why they are never going to work, now or in the future.

“Mack, stop packing.” He calls to her from the hallway. Mack freezes. Of course he already knows. She keeps going, putting the suitcase on its wheels. They meet at the door of his bedroom. “Babe, I’m not going anywhere. I talked to management. None of this is real. I’m not being traded.” Disappointment has Mack sighing internally. She wishes he had told her this days ago.

“Okay.” Mack shrugs, keeping a blank face. David frowns. His eyes move to the right, looking over his room. Every single thing of hers is gone, down to the collection of hair ties on her side of the bed. “I’m heading out of town for awhile on a long assignment. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” David chews on the inside of his cheek, searching her face. He shakes his head slightly, looking confused and hurt.

“Mack, what are you doing?”

“I’m packing.” She swallows hard, hating the way her voice wobbles slightly.

“You’re going out of town. Why do you need your house slippers?” He motions to where they used to sit by the door.

“Because I want them at my place.”

“So, you going out of town means you aren’t going to keep anything here either?”

“I don’t see the point to that.” Mack shrugs. “Like I said, I am heading out on a long assignment. I’m going to be gone for awhile. I’m not sure when I will be back, so I’m taking everything with me.”

“What?” He questions. “Where are you going?”

“Ireland.”

“Since when? You just told me two nights ago you were here in New York through the Allstar break, and suddenly you’re leaving for an undetermined amount of time?”

“Yeah. That’s this business.” She says flatly, unemotional. David shakes his head.

“What is happening?” He whispers, getting closer to her. He reaches out for her cheek and Mack immediately pulls away. “Is this about a few nights ago? I didn’t mean-“

“No. It’s not. But that was a reminder to me how… different we are. And I think we should be realistic about our shelf life.” David’s eyebrows furrow together. That hurt him. Mack looks away, not wanting to see the sting on his face.

This is inevitable, the monster reminds herself. She’s just pulling the plug before they go back to hating each other and make this harder for everyone around them.

“Shelf life?” He sighs heavily, stepping aside for her to pass by him. He is hot on her heels into the main area of his place. “What the fuck, Mack? We love each other.”

“For now.” She shrugs her shoulder, going to her purse and double checking she grabbed everything she needed from the main area. She finds her water bottle and phone where she put them a few minutes ago. She’s officially packed. Mack grabs the key to his place, trying to ignoring the light up, corn key chain and the way it burns her skin in her hand. “I can give you your key back.”

“Stop.” David snaps, enclosing her hand with his. He grabs the keys out of her hands. He shakes his head, looking at her, panic all over his face. “Just…” He licks his lips, looking out at the city. “Talk to me.”

“I am. You don’t like what I’m saying.” She retorts.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. We literally had an incredible night and I make a comment about how I’m excited to move in together someday, and you’re running now? What are you afraid of?” He emphasizes the last line at her, pausing with his hands out to the side. The Iowa keychain in his hand is blinking red, green and blue. Mack stares at it, pursing her lips. A huge lump swells in her throat. She tries to swallow but can’t.

“I just don’t think this is going to work.”

“What?”

“You and me. So I think we should.” She moves her hands apart. “Go in different directions.”

Stunned, David straightens. He blinks, trying to absorb the blow of her words. He runs the hand without her keys in it through his hair then blows out a heavy sigh. His hand roughly rubs at the stubble from where he shaved his beard off yesterday, leaving only his signature mustache. Mack blinks off the slight hitch of his breathing on the inhale.

“Okay.” He nods his head, taking another deep breath.

David stands on the other side of the island, green eyes intense with emotion as he pins her to the cabinets behind her. He shakes his head then stands to his full height. The keys in his hand slide across the counter to her. They skid to a stop next to her right hand. His arms cross over his chest.

“Okay, I’ll see you when you get back then.”

“David.” Mack rolls her eyes, throwing the keys into her purse.

Why won’t he let her go easily? How can’t he see what she sees? How different they are? How this started with them hating each other and grew into this thing that was never supposed to happen? How she isn’t meant for this WAG, farm wife, American lifestyle that he wants? She needs to be free- wings wide open so she can breathe. Not turning down assignments and worrying about moving to Dallas.

David doesn’t say anything else to her, just stares her down. Mack can tell he is holding everything he can inside. For her benefit or his, she can’t tell.

“I don’t know when I’m coming back.” She reiterates.

“Okay.” He is eerily calm now.

“So we should go separate ways.”

“No.” He says clearly and assertively. “You wanna run from me, baby? Then just run. Go. But when you’re done with that, and you come back home, I’ll still be here, loving you. You can move your shit back in then too.”

Mack swallows, looping her arm through the handles of her bags, looking down at them because she can’t look at him.

“It’s for the best.” She repeats.

“Mack. I love you. So much.” He whispers, words rough and callused like his hands from working the farm his whole life. The words sound painful as if they rip up his body when he says them. Nothing like the ones he whispered to her last night when they made love.

It almost gets her to stay.

She hesitates for three more seconds, but her mind screams go. So she does.

“Goodbye, David.”

He puts his head in his hands as she turns to walk out of the kitchen. She can hear his heavy, uncontrolled breathing behind her until the closed door cuts them off.

Mack doesn’t breathe the entire ride down the elevator. A numbness comes over her as she tries to convince herself to keep moving forward. She thought she would feel better after doing this. That she was holding them back, him mostly, and cutting the tie would give her back that feeling of freedom she craves. The freedom that he deserves too.

All she feels now is dead inside.

Mack walks out of the building, strutting across the sidewalk with her hand high in the air to hail down a cab. She isn’t sure how her feet are moving so fluidly with how violently she shakes.

“Goodnight, Ms. Hischier.” Philip calls cheerfully behind her.

“Bye!” She calls, waving over her shoulder. She can’t turn around. If she turns around, her feet are going to go right back through that door.

And she just can’t.

This is not who she is.

She isn’t a WAG. She isn’t a farmer’s girlfriend. She isn’t anywhere close to wife material or a forever kind of girl.

She is a runner. A lone wolf. Who should have taken that elevator home a year ago instead of jumping into bed with her brother-in-law’s teammate.

The words continue on like a self-deprecating mantra she can’t silence.

David deserves better. He deserves a wife. Someone who wants to settle into that small country life with him, or in Dallas, and stands next to him through the storm. Not someone who can only see this working if all the cards are stacked in their favor.

Mack, I love you. So much. His voice rings through her brain.

“Fuck.” Mack sobs, shakily trying to breathe in the back of the cab as it pulls away from him.

Over her heart, her fingers clutch his number on her neck. She pulls, snapping the necklace off her body.

“Ow.” She whispers to herself as her head falls back to the head rest.

If this was what she needed to do, then why does it hurt this damn bad?