#and don't sweat number four | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sceletaflores · 4 months ago

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slippery when wet!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: “so who fucks better?” he asks bluntly, a bead of sweat dripping down the column of his throat and into the neck of his tank. a shocked laugh bursts from your lips. “what?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “who fucks better?” he repeats slowly, leaning down to meet your eye. “me or art? don’t fucking lie to me and tell me that prissy farmer boy makes you come harder than i do.”

—or: patrick puts you in your place three months later.

word count: 4.3k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, p in v, fighting as foreplay, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), rough sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (m!receiving), fingering...kinda (fem!receiving), very light spanking, choking, degradation, creampie, throat fucking, mean!reader my beloved, art donaldson is there in spirit, patrick is gay for art, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: no one can stop me from writing rough sex patrick fics. it's all i think about 24/7, and you guys are no help but like i love it so it's fine. i'm here to serve you and this is clearly what you want so who am i to deny you that? thank you to the beautiful anon who requested this, i hope you don't mind that i changed it from a locker room scene to a bathroom scene but that was just calling to me hehe. okay bye! hope you love it! xoxo mwah.

psst! tftw series masterlist!

You’ve been on the court for at least an hour and a half, running drills and trying to sweat out all of your stress. You were the only one in the building, but it was always less busy during finals week. Most people were camped out in their dorms cramming for fifty question tests or four part lab practicals.

Art politely declined your invite, too busy studying for his business final on Monday. So you rented a tennis machine and worked on your backhand that way. It was a nice distraction, emptying your head enough that all the anxiety of finals started to melt away as you slid into a steady rhythm with the machine.

The door bangs open with a loud creak behind you, bursting the little bubble of tranquility surrounding you. The back of your head burns with the unmistakable feeling of someone glaring at you.

You hear him before you see him, a loud call of your name followed by heavy footsteps quickly coming towards you. The sound of his voice immediately grates on your nerves, all angry and shouty. You choose to ignore it, focusing on hitting each new ball the machine spits out.

It may have been a couple months since you’ve seen Patrick, but you’d always recognize the familiar way his voice wraps around each syllable in your name.

Three months, to be exact. It’s been three months since your big fight over the phone with Patrick. You blocked his number right after you hung up, so you haven’t spoken to him in just as long. He never tried to reach out, never messaged you on AOL or Facebook. The petty fuck actually went out of his way to unfriend you on both, so you knew he wasn’t exactly torn up about your abrupt split.

“Hey! I’m talking to you,” Patrick shouts over the loud humming, sounding closer to you than he was before. You pointedly keep ignoring him, eyes fixed stubbornly on the machine. “You deaf or something?” he mocks, stepping up so you can see him in your peripheral vision. You say nothing, swinging your racket harder with each hit.

Patrick scoffs, stomping over to the machine and slamming his hand over the stop button. It makes a loud beeping sound, before shutting off completely. “Jesus Christ, you’re such a fucking baby.” you groan, throwing your head back in annoyance. When you finally turn to glare at him, you’re shocked at the state he’s in.

Patrick’s dressed in a tank and the almost too short shorts he’d usually wear to a match, and he’s dripping sweat. Curly black hair plastered to his forehead with it, his cheeks red and blotchy like he’d been in the sun. You raise your brow, looking at him with a confused expression on your face. “Where the hell did you even come from? How did you know I was here?”

He walks back over to you, hands balled into fists by his side. “I was at a tournament in Mountain View,” he explains, jerking his head in the vague direction he came from, ”it was so close I thought it’d be wrong of me to not stop by and check up on you.”

You laugh, nodding your head lightly. “Okay, so you flunked out of another tournament and hunted me down like a creepy stalker to what? Yell at me some more? Call me a cunt again?” you step closer, lightly swishing your racket through the air dismissively. “I’m not fucking interested in whatever it is you have to say Patrick, we’re over.”

He smirks but you can see the way his jaw clenches, ticking in anger. “But you’re interested in what Art has to say?”

There it is. You really should have known it would all come back to this eventually.

You sigh, casting your eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. “What’s your point?”

Patrick takes a step closer. “My point is that you’re not fucking stupid, and Art can’t lie to save his goddamn life. You knew exactly what he was doing.” His tone is accusatory, his brows pinched together hard enough to crease his skin.

Your heart beat picks up in your chest, anger beginning to bubble up inside you. “I didn’t need Art’s help to realize that you’re an arrogant piece of shit and a gigantic waste of my time, you made it easy enough to pick up on all by yourself.”

Patrick laughs, loud and abrasive. “No, you just didn’t care.” he states darkly, shaking his head back and forth a few times. You can feel a few drops of sweat fling from his hair to land on the bare skin of your shoulders as he does. “You’re so easy that you’d spread your legs from him to stroke your own ego. You’re only playing into his whole kicked puppy charade to justify acting like a fucking whore, ‘Poor Art, he’s so sad and pathetic, I’ll let him fuck my slutty pussy to help his raise his self esteem!’.” He mocks, voice pitched up in an exaggerated impression of you.

Your grip tightens on the handle of your racket, knuckles turning white with it. You feel hot all over, anger simmering under your sweaty skin. “You’re seriously trying to lecture me about egos? This has nothing to do with Art! This is about you being a bratty little rich boy who’s never been told ‘no’ before so you can’t handle rejection. It’s fucking embarrassing.”

Patrick nostrils flare, brows pinching together in anger. “Art has nothing to do with this, really? You’re delusional if you actually think that he’s just this saint among men or some shit. He’s not, he’s a fucking snake.”

“Trust me, Art doesn’t have to be a saint to be better than you.” you sneer, voice sharp and unwavering. Your hands are shaking, blind rage racking through your body like thunder. “The only redeeming quality you’ll ever have is dangling between your legs so you better get used to this, because sooner or later everyone will leave you once they see past all your bullshit and realize that you’re nothing more than a worthless loser.”

Patrick’s jaw works furiously, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. You think something like hurt flashes through his eyes, but only for a second. It's gone just as fast, replaced by a mocking smirk that stretches over his lips slowly. He crosses his arms in front of him, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body. You can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“So who fucks better?” he asks bluntly, a bead of sweat dripping down the column of his throat and into the neck of his tank.

A shocked laugh bursts from your lips before you can stop it. “What?” you ask, arms dropping to your sides limply. The completely one-eighty of his mood sends your head reeling.

Patrick takes another step closer, invading your personal space. “Who fucks better?” he repeats slowly, leaning down to meet your eye. “Me or Art? Don’t fucking lie to me and tell me that prissy farmer boy makes you come harder than I do.”

You laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief. “God, everything is always a dick measuring contest with you. It’s so pathetic like, seriously–”

“Answer the question.” Patrick demands, cutting you off sharply. He’s practically looming over you now, so close that you can smell him. That natural, manly, musky scent he always has after a game that drives you fucking crazy.

It reminds you of when he’d come back to your dorm fresh off a match, still in the same clothes and not showered. Pumped full of adrenaline and so pent up, needing something to take his energy out on. You were always that something. He’d fuck your mouth like he’d fuck your pussy, like it was just another hole for him drain his balls into. You’d be face down in his crotch for what seemed like hours, right where his smell was the strongest. Forced to breathe it in so deeply you’d feel high off it, your brain turned to mush every time.

Heat swirls deep in your stomach, you haven’t been this close to Patrick in what seems like forever. You kind of forgot how much he affects you, especially like this. The sex was always better when you’d fight before.

“You’re a child.”

“You still haven’t answered the question.”

You huff, narrowing your eyes at him. There’s a sort of crazed look on his face, his pupils blown out and dark. It makes you pause, it’s the look you’d get right before he’d pounce on you. You’ve seen it enough times to know that something is different about it. He looks needier, more hungry.

It has some of your anger subsiding, twisted amusement swiftly taking its place. If Patrick wants to ambush you like this, after weeks of radio silence, you might as well use it as a chance to fuck with him.

You smirk, cocking your head to the side slightly. “Art,” you say slowly, taking a small step towards Patrick, “is a better fuck than you ever were.”

Patrick pouts like an honest to God child, sticking out his bottom lip in indignation. “I told you not to lie–”

“I’m not lying,” you say innocently, voice dropping down to a whisper as you lean in even closer. You can see the freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks, darker than usual thanks to all the sun he’s been getting. “Last night he ate me out for hours, made me squirt all over his fucking tongue.”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Patrick Zweig is shocked into silence. His eyes darken, you can’t even see the green anymore, the solid black of his pupils swallowing it entirely. “Bullshit,” he says quietly, clipped and skeptical. His breath fans hotly over your lips, it makes your spine start to tingle.

You smile sweetly, giving a small shrug of your shoulders. “I’ll send you the video.”

Patrick physically reels back, blinking slowly with the realization of what you just said. His lips barely part in surprise, pink and enticing. You revel in it, smirking at him smugly. His eyes flit across your face like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying or not. You stare back at him unrelenting, all the proof you need is sitting in the video gallery of your pink motorola razr.

Patrick swallows hard, you watch the way his adam’s apple bobs with it. He shifts his lower body subtly, but you’re too close to not notice it. Your eyes immediately dart down, and you’re almost giddy at what you find.

He’s hard, the fabric of his shorts stretched over the length of his dick obscenely. You can see the faint outline of the tip pressing against the seam, a wet patch seeping through the gray material around it.

“Oh my god, you’re actually getting off on this!” you laugh wickedly, eyes glued to the lewd tent of his dick. “You’re calling me a whore when you’re the one getting wet just thinking about your best friend's mouth on my pussy. That’s fucking pathetic even for you, Ricky.”

Patrick is silent, breathing heavily through his nose as he stares you down so intensely you can almost feel the heavy weight of his eyes as they bore into you.

It happens in less than a second, Patrick closing the distance between you and taking your arm in his strong hand so he can force you in the direction of the showers. His grip is tight on your bicep, fingers meanly digging into your skin and forcing you to walk with him. You put up a fight, kicking and scratching but he’s stronger than you. Not letting your slaps to his chest or nails sinking into his arm deter him from dragging you across the court.

“Let me go asshole!” you snap, trying in vain to yank your arm out of his grip while you stumble over your own feet. “You’re such a fucking psycho!” Patrick ignores you, bursting into the men's showers and marching you into the first stall. He drags you inside, whirling you around to shove your back against the door of it roughly. It knocks the wind out of you for a second, the lock digs into your back hard enough to hurt.

“Art doesn’t have any fucking idea how to deal with a bitch like you.” he grates, fisting a handful of your harshly. “He’s too soft. Too busy letting you lead him around by his dick to try putting you in your fucking place.”

The sting of your scalp only adds to the warmth pulsing in your pussy, sticky arousal dripping wet in your panties. You meet his eyes, all the fire and want swirling in them mirror your own. “Art has a bigger dick than you bitch.” You spit, standing on your tiptoes to lessen the distance of him tugging on your hair. It’s a low blow, immature and basic but you don’t care.

Patrick just hum noncommittally, roughly hooking his fingers into your cheeks and dragging you forward until the tip of your nose is touching his. “Then your throat is still nice and stretched out for me.”

He drops his hands to your shoulders, forcing you onto your knees. You hit the ground with a heavy thud, a dull ache blooms in your knees at the force of it. “Fuck,” you hiss, pulling back instinctively but the hard plastic of the shower door pressing onto the back of your head keeps you pinned in place. Your hands fly up to his legs to try and push him away.

Patrick grips your hair tight, tipping your face up to look at him. You have a perfect view of him pushing his shorts down, letting his hard dick slip out as the fabric stretches taught across his thick thighs. “Open your mouth,” he demands, yanking your head to the side meanly.

“Fuck you,” you snarl, teeth bared in anger as you fight to stand up. Patrick’s strong hand on your shoulder keeps you down while the other starts to idly stroke his dick. He’s just as big as you remember, thick and hard only a few inches away from your face.

The tip all red and weepy when he pulls his foreskin back on each tug, a thick vein running up the side that you want to trace with your tongue.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” he coos softly, rubbing his leaking tip across your bottom lip a couple times, smearing his pre-come around your mouth like lip gloss. “We both know you love it.”

He’s so cocky, so sure of himself that you want to keep denying him. But he’s also right, you can feel your resolve slowly start to crack when he pushes the head between your parted lips. The familiar heady taste of him oozing onto your tongue has you sighing contently, jaw relaxing the tiniest bit almost like a reflex.

The second you give Patrick an inch and he’ll take a mile.

“There we go,” he mutters sweetly, pulling back slightly and then thrusting forward until your nose is buried in the short curls at the base.

Your whole body tenses, throat constricting over the length of his dick as your fist his shorts in your hands. As quickly as he thrust in, he pulls out, letting you sharply gasp for air before it’s back and pressing insistently on your tongue. You let him in, forcing your throat to relax as he slides forward to press his hips into your face.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he bites out, thrusting down your throat roughly. “Pussy’s so greedy it jumped on the next dick that perked up around it.”

You could only whine around Patrick’s dick, mouth too full to do anything but try and work your tongue over the throbbing length of him.

Your throat burns, spit flowing down your chin messily along with his pre-come still steadily leaking from the hot tip of his dick.

His big hands have an iron grip on either side of your head, his balls slap against your chin as he thrusts over and over and over. The back of your skull throbs, knocking into the stall with each pump of his hips.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his forehead down to the stall with a small thunk. “You look so good like this,” he breathes, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes, “so fucking pretty with my dick down your throat to shut you up.”

Your pussy aches, so empty that you want to shove your hand down your shorts and stuff yourself full of your own fingers to dull the need. Your thighs glide together slickly, the wetness of your arousal soaking through your clothes.

It gets harder to breathe. Your choked off, spluttering gags start loudly echoing off the tile walls. Your hand slaps Patrick’s thigh a few times, he thrusts hard once more before he finally pulls back, smearing spit all over your tongue and out of your mouth.

“God, that was good baby.” he praises, slapping his dick against your right cheek lewdly. “As much as I want to pump this load down your throat,” he says casually, stroking his spit slick dick lazily, ”I want it in your pussy more.”

“I fucking hate you,” you growl weakly, voice absolutley wrecked. The tears sitting in your waterline blur your vision, you blink them away to see Patrick’s smug smile beaming down at you.

“Then tell me to stop,” he shrugs, tilting his head to the side condescendingly. You glare up at him, but you don’t say anything. He snorts, brow raising in amusement. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He shoves his shorts the rest of the way down, stepping out of them and hauling you up to your feet. You’re still desperately trying to catch your breath, chest heaving as you cough and gasp.

Patrick rips your shirt over your head, flinging it over the stall along with his own. He turns you by your shoulder, pushing you against the wall as he yanks the shower handle to start the stream.

Water rains down around you, shockingly cold for a few seconds before it finally starts to warm up. Patrick makes quick work of your shorts and panties, yanking them down your legs and off your feet, tossing them in the corner of the stall with a wet thwack.

He kicks your feet further apart, one hand on your shoulder and the other lining his hard dick up with your tight hole, letting the leaking tip press into you with the smallest amount of pressure.

“I know you missed my dick, slut,” he says, bringing his hand down on your ass quickly, kneading the stinging skin roughly. “Art could be the best fuck in the world, he still can’t give it to you like I can.” He pops the head in, groaning quietly before he bullies his thick dick the rest of the way into you.

Your hole shakes around him. Patick is right. Patrick is always right, but you’d never tell him that. You wanted this. You missed this. The burn of Patrick’s dick forcing you open, stretching you so wide your toes curl. Him not giving you even a second to react before he’s pulling back and pounding into you brutally.

You cry out, eyes screwing shut at the sharp sting. You can tell through the haze of you brain that this won’t take long at all, the both of you already so worked up from Patrick fucking your throat. His right hand drops from your shoulder to your hip while his left slides up your torso, sliding along your skin to wrap around the column of your throat firmly. You keen loudly, throwing your head back to give him more room.

“I taught him how to use that fucking dick,” he goads into your ear, grip tightening on your throat. “Did he tell you about that? Huh?” He takes your earlobe between your teeth, biting hard enough to make you squeal into the wall.

The tile digs into your cheek, roughly scraping against your skin every time Patrick fucks back into you.

You’re hovering over the edge, pussy throbbing with the burning need to come. Your clit pulses, swollen and sensitive but you can’t find the strength to drop your down hand between your thighs.

They’re too busy scrambling for any kind of purchase on the slippery wall of the shower, manicured nails scratching against the tile uselessly.

You gasp for air, fighting to speak up under the intense pressure of his hand, “I could tell,” you choke out, barely audible, “you both fuck like you have something to prove.”

“You think?” he sneers, thrusting harder, your ass stinging each time he slams his hips into you. “Maybe that’s because we do. Maybe that’s because we both like seeing you fucking fall apart like this, seeing you beg for it after you finally stop being a little pissy bitch.”

Your breath hitches as his other hand drops from your hip, delving between your thighs to slide the calloused pads of his fingertips over your swollen clit.

You moan, thighs clenching together as he rubs fast circles over you. “You like that, don’t you? Being used like a fucking toy.” His hand squeezes just a bit tighter. “Say it. Tell me you love being our little slut.”

The words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them, a mix of desperation and raw honesty, “I love it,” you cry out as loud as you can, “I love being your slut.”

“God, you sound just like him,” Patrick chuckles into your ear, low and sinister. His hold on your throat tightens, cutting off your air entirely. You sputter, hand coming up to clutch his wrist like a vice. Your pulse thunders, hard enough that he can probably feel it against his palm. “Who do you think made him come harder?”

The image alone of Patrick and Art like that sends you flying to the edge. “Ah— Patrick! ” you moan, voice hoarse and strained, “Pat, I’m gonna— fuck—“

“Do it,” he goads, sliding his hand from your clit down to where your pussy is spread open on him. He pushes his thick index finger right up next to his pulsing dick, hooking it inside or you and stretching you that much wider. “Come on my fucking dick like the greedy whore you are.”

You let out a sharp cry as your forehead hits the wall, thighs shaking violently as Patrick’s hips become relentless. Your whole body tensing up as you come so hard your vision blacks out.

You think you’re screaming, but it’s hard to hear anything over the white noise buzzing in your ears. Patrick’s hips don’t stop, fucking your abused pussy into overstimulation as he chases his own orgasm.

His hand drops from your throat to dig into your hip to put more power behind his thrusts. You’re immediately gasping for air, taking in greedy lungfuls of it.

Patrick’s chest is plastered to your back, face buried in your neck as he rambles out more nonsensical obscenities. His dick pulses and twitches in your pussy, so close to filling you up.

An idea pierces through the fog of your brain, an idea so fucking filthy it has your pussy clenching weakly.

You think back to the first night Art fucked you, how he almost came all over Patrick’s pants just because they were his, just because you said his name. How worked up and hard Patrick got when you started talking about Art.

“When he fucked me for the first time, I was wearing your sweats, the green ones,” your voice is scratchy and quiet, barely audible over the shower’s spray, “he noticed.”

“Fuck– fuck you,” he grates out, hips faltering ever so slightly. “God, gonna come,” his hold on your hip tightens, strong enough that it’ll be sure to bruise.

You keep talking, spurred on by his reaction. “He almost came right there, he wasn’t even inside me yet, just rubbed his dick all over them like he could fucking feel you.”

Patrick gives one final slam of his hips, burying himself as deep as he can in your pussy. His low groans and curses fill the room as he unloads into you, pumping you so full of his come that you can feel each hot splash of it painting the walls of your pussy.

He slumps down against you, hips twitching as he works through the aftershocks. You can feel his breath puff over the shell of your ear.

You and Patrick say nothing for a long few minutes, running water the only thing to keep the room from being completely silent. Patrick is still pressed to your back, his chest heaves against your shoulders. You think you’d collapse if his hands weren’t still on your hips, practically holding you up.

You’re the one to break the silence, voice low and wrecked, “Art lasts so much longer than that…”

Patrick snorts against your back. “Fuck you.” he says, biting your shoulder hard and pulling his dick out of you in one swift move. You gasp sharply as his come floods from your puffy, wrecked hole. Thick streams of it dripping down your thighs until the water washes it away to swirl down the drain.

You turn on unsteady legs, hair plastered to your face with water. Patrick is right there, knees knocking against yours as he shifts the two of you closer to the spray. He looks like a marble statue, water dripping down the tip of his nose and between the hard planes of his abs.

He grins smugly down at you, “I’m staying at a hotel close to campus, unblock my number and I’ll send you my room number,” he wagers, hands sliding up and down the wet skin of your back. “I think you, Art, and I have something we need to work out.”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding your head with a small grin. ��I think we do”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

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xo-codbby · 2 months ago

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blue-collar!141 x reader

continued

when you managed to get the number to their service from a friend, you didn't expect too much. just 4 men, an ordinary team. and you needed someone to repair the damages to your house, the entire thing needing to be constructed from the start

it's only when they arrived, your friend had failed to mention just how big and broad they were. like walking tanks, their presence demanding attention as you explained while they listened intently. catching a few of their eyes flickering to your lips and then back up as you tried to maintain your composure. they were 100% your type and you desperately wished you had met any under different circumstances but this had to be professional. any other thoughts had to be shut down immediately

soap and ghost work in sleeveless vests, price had his shirt off. you know how it gets, the england sun (no matter how rare) was too hot for him to work in and gaz with his top unbuttoned, showing off his chest. yeah it might've been a little unprofessional but the job was still getting done, did it matter so much?

a pretty thing like you didn't need to offer them anything but they were so grateful for it either way. and they were very professional at first, purely focusing on the task at hand. but slowly when you started to offer them drinks and snacks, letting them wash off the dust and grime off of their bulging muscles, the lines were a little blurred

it was taking weeks, some parts of you wondered if they were doing it purposely. needing four hands for a one man job but you grew to become fond of their company, becoming acquainted to friends.

"s'too dusty f'you to be here, hen" soap's drawl fills your ears as you hold a tray of iced drinks and some food. they were big men, they needed bigger portions of food to eat. you watched them pause on their equipment, watching as johnny leans in to give a side hug. his musk permeated the air but funnily enough you don't mind, not a bit. it makes you hang on a little closer subconsciously and a soft sound from him emanated, his hands squeezing your waist a little before he reached for a drink.

"yeah, don't want you to start sneezing here sweetheart" gaz smiles softly, the back of his finger gently smoothing your cheek for a moment before he holds the tray off from you. dirt marks stain his cheekbones, dust clinging to his skin but you don't think he could look any better, under the sun and sweating. it's hard to take your eyes off the men as you offer a soft laugh, mumbling a response as you avert your eyes. hoping they don't see how flush you look

"y'mind checking on ghost for us, pretty?" price whispers too close to your ear, his hand coming to touch your shoulder. you can feel the warmth coming from his palm, from working or the sun you're not too sure but it makes you feel weak. his lips curved into a gentle smile, looking at you with amusement flickering in his eyes. the little crinkle you've grown to admire everytime as you tried to compose yourself. maybe the sun was doing you more damage than you thought

"of course" your answer came next, blowing out a soft breath when you turned. feeling the gentle touch of his hand against the small of your back, fingers softly stroking the skin for a second but it was nothing, it had to have been nothing

you entered your home, coming up the stairs. about to knock until the bathroom door unlocks and opens. and there, ghost stood in all his glory. the towel hangs dangerously low on his hips, exposing the v line you desperately wanted to touch. you can barely catch your breath, feeling overwhelmed from the sun and their presence. watching his muscles shining with water drops, the steam rising from his skin. the tattoos shining along with the scars he had littered on his skin

"y'lookin' f'me, doll?" his deep baritone voice caresses your senses and your throat dries up for a second, unable to speak. just wanting to appreciate him and his body. his hand squeezes your shoulder so softly, his body pressed against yours for a moment too long. you can feel his palm trail across your waist, his scent sparking heat straight to your core. without all the dust on his face, without the black mask he wore, you get to see all his features and it makes you shiver at how gorgeous he seemed to look. his gaze is much more intimate and he only offers you a half smile, eyes glinting before he straightened up and headed to the other room to change. not before skimming his lips across your forehead, your body tense wanting to follow him to get out of your clothes and feel what you've been aching for all this time

but it was all professional, it had to have been. right?

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #cod 141 #simon riley x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x y/n #141 x reader #gaz x reader #simon riley x you #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #john price x reader

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queers-gambit · 11 months ago

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Opening Night and Open Hearts

prompt: opening night - a mother's fear, a locked walk-in freezer, confessions through a thick metal door, questioning what's deserved, and a proposal at The Bear after hours.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 9.8k+

note: i think i give enough background for you guys to feel as if you don't need to read any other relating works, but i linked the fics that could be read as a small series (maybe?) also let author be lonely in peace

warnings: reader nicknamed Peach, established relationship, cursing, spoilers, fluff, angst, relationship angst, hurt and comfort, Carmy still (desperately) needs a nap, depiction of physical illness, boys are dumb and emotions are hard, reader-insert, depiction of toxic family, OC Carmy that grovels a lot, not edited!

⚠️ season two, episode ten spoilers

not necessary to read, but other relating works with Peach:

Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant

God's Plan part two: Two to Tango

Neon Sticky Notes

"Hi, yes, I can hear you - sorry about that, I was just making note of your reservation," you spoke smoothly into the phone, trying not to ogle your boyfriend wrapped in only a clean blue towel. "So, that's a party of four for Monsieur Claude Badeaux - all right, that's so lovely. I'm obligated to remind everyone that tonight's opening is a fine dining experience and the proper, corresponding dress code is being asked for. Are there any allergies I should make note of for your party?"

"Jean Paul has a tree nut allergy," you were told.

"All right, that's noted and highlighted: Jean Paul has a tree nut allergy. If there's anything else I could help you with?"

"Non," he chuckled. "I was surprised to see your invitation to this evening, though, mon cher. It's been so long, yes?"

"Well, it was my pleasure to extend the offer, we're ecstatic by your reservation," you chuckled. "We'll see you tonight, Monsieur, and should you need anything before then, you may call this number again."

You said your parting words in French, smiling at Carmy when you hung up and dropped your work phone. "Did I hear that correct?" Your lover asked with a broad grin, "Was that...?"

"Senior marketing advisor at The Washington Post?" You filled in for him. "Uh, yeah, I think it was, but you know me - I could be wrong."

"You invited someone from The Washington Post to the opening tonight?"

"Is that okay?" You asked, standing from the bed after making note in your datebook. "You look kinda - I don't know, shocked?"

"I-I am," he blinked at you, watching you gather his pristine clothing to hang on the closet door. "But in a good way - I can't believe you did this," he chuckled, wiping his mouth. "I mean - holy shit, Peaches."

You offered a toothy grin, "Figured I could pull a few of my own strings to help get the word out about your love-child."

This made Carmy snicker, "Hey, now. Tonight's important, don't make fun."

"I know," you nodded, leading him back into the bathroom to view your hair products. "Which is why I invited some important people and some not-so important people. I know this is serious, Carmy," you smiled at him, hoping to convey your support, "and I wanted to help in whatever way I could."

"You being there tonight is more than I could ask for," he chuckled, helping you onto the small bathroom counter. You squirted a bit of hair product in your hand, watching him flinch back a little, "Uh, I just don't want my hair greasy, Peach, you know? Not a good look and I'll sweat it out in the kitchen."

"I feel like I should be offended by you having no trust in me," you teased, insisting, "I know whatcha need, baby, lemme help."

Carmy smiled softly and held still, letting you run your hands through his curls to push everything back and away from his forehead in a stylish but manageable "do". There was a silent, serene moment as you and Carmy just existed together in a mundane space, his big, sad eyes watching your face as you worked. He wondered, "Think tonight's gonna be okay?"

"I think tonight's gonna be more than okay," you assured softly. "I think tonight's gonna go better than you're anticipating."

He sighed and planted his hands on either side of you, suddenly dropping his gaze. "I, uh... Sugar invited Mom t'tonight..."

"Yeah, I know."

"You know?"

"Sugar and I are still friends outside of us dating, Carmy," you smiled patiently, slowing your hands so you more toyed with his curls; pushing some strands behind his ears. "She needs someone as much as you do and I don't mind."

"But isn't that what Pete's for?"

"Yes, but you know, Pete's Pete."

Carmy snorted, "Yeah, yeah, good point."

"I don't know if she'll show up tonight, Bear, but whether she does or doesn't, it won't matter - you're not doing this for her. This is for you, Carmy, tonight's about The Bear opening - it's about you and this incredible, amazing thing you've done. Okay?" You caressed both his cheeks in your hands so he could only look at you directly. "If she shows, that's great," you whispered with a soft smile as your thumbs swept the apples of his cheeks, "and if she doesn't, it won't make tonight any less special. That, I can promise."

Carmy's forehead met yours, both pausing to breathe together; peace always a fleeting feeling as of late and being something you both capitalized on. You brought him in closer for an embrace, his face burying in your neck as your arms snaked around his to keep him as close as possible. His arms were tight around your waist, legs spread to accommodate him; both needing the feel of being close before that night's inevitable stressful event.

"Wow, well, don't you look all pretty! Wow, Peach," Pete greeted you when you scurried to the table with your friend in tow. "Oh, hi there!"

"Pete, this is my best friend, Danielle, and Dani, this is Pete, Sugar's husband."

"Hi, it's really nice to meet you," your friend greeted, the two instantly chattering as they both just blew past their introductions to instantly compliment one another's clothes. You smirked, knowing they'd get along famously, and looked around the brand new, packed restaurant.

"Hey, there she is, my pretty girl," Richie greeted smoothly, approaching your standing form to slide his hand around your shoulders.

"Hi, Cousin," you beamed, offering him a hug in greeting. "The place looks fantastic - it's so - I mean - just wow, Richie," you complimented. "You guys did such an amazing job. I need to tell Fak, too, this is - you guys should be so proud, it looks incredible. Hardly can believe what it was before this."

"It really is something, huh?" He grinned. "Hey, Pete," he nodded.

"Hey, Richie."

"And you must be the famous, the fabulous Miss Danielle?"

"That's me," your friend grinned. "You're Richie, right? Carmy's cousin who's not really a cousin but is as good as blood?"

"Yes, ma'am, the very same," he nodded with pride. "We've some drinks coming your way in just a moment, but I need to borrow Peach for just one second."

"Why do they call her Peach?" Dani asked, but Richie was leading you away as Pete was heard answering,

"Oh, because she mastered this peach cobbler with Carmy's mom, Donna, and she started the nickname..."

"What's wrong?" You asked softly with a smile as to not give the illusion to others that you were worried. "What can I do to help?"

"No, no, nothing too bad, you were just requested by the Frenchie-French guy."

"Oh, right, that's right, yeah, I can help with that," you sighed gently, smiling as you approached the table. Greeting the two men and women was easy, Richie impressed by your connections in the professional world. Tonight, The Washington Post didn't just dine with them - no, it was also the director of social media for three luxury, designer brands: Jean-Paul.

Yes, the man was so elusive that he just went by Jean-Paul. Fuck a last name!

Either way, it impressed Richie to hear the introductions. The two women were executives in their own companies, names Richie didn't catch because he was busy taking note of the way Mr. Frenchie-French was basically eye fucking you in front of them all.

"Well," Richie smiled stiffly, "tonight's incredibly special for us. In fact, uh, Y/N's boyfriend is the owner and head chef."

"Really?" Frenchie-French perked his brows, shifting his gaze over to you. "You always had a soft spots for chefs, non? For those who were versed in the culinary arts?"

"Well, mostly I appreciated a man in the kitchen simply because I burn water and would probably unintentionally starve myself," you teased easily, deflecting the man's subtle dig. "I'm actually here with family tonight, so, please, ladies and gentlemen, enjoy tonight - I know I'm biased when I say the food is exceptional, but I look forward to your own opinions."

"We will talk later, mon cher, I am sure there will be plenty to discuss," the Frenchman promised, kissing the back of your hand as you let Richie lead you away by your free hand.

You released a long sigh, muttering, "Bring them a bottle of real champagne, please, Richie, I had a few bottles imported just for them. Listen closely," you lowered your voice as you both paused on the side of the dining room, "bring them a bowl of thin sliced strawberries sprinkled in sugar and pop the cork at their table - it's impressive for whatever reason."

Richie pecked your temple and gave you a tight squeeze, "I got it all covered, girly. You all right? Look like you're gonna be sick?"

"Just men being men grosses me out, I guess," you sighed with a small shrug. "He's always had a thing for me, I figured I'd use that to get him here tonight - Carmy's work speaks for itself, but maybe he'd be inclined to publish an article or two for us if I play nice."

Richie paused you a few feet from your table, complimenting, "I hope Carmy knows he doesn't deserve you, Peach."

"You said years ago neither of us did," you smirked gently. "Said I wasn't relationship material, right? Remember?"

"I was wrong," he nodded. "I even said y'all would never be serious, but..." He scoffed to himself, "I've never seen that boy so crazy about anyone in his life. You've really changed him, Peach. I don't really know how to thank you."

"You can start by buttering up those flirty Frenchmen," you teased, giving his cheek a peck.

"On it," he winked, parting from your side.

Inside the kitchen some twenty minutes later, Richie approached Carmy, directing his attention, "Cousin?"

"Yo."

"Peach is on 17 with Pete."

"Okay."

"Go say hi."

"Yeah, eventually," Carmy nodded absently, never halting his work.

"Eventually?" Richie repeated with distain, something in his stomach twisting.

"Where the fuck is Josh!?" Carmy called into the kitchen, another chef echoing his concerns.

"Yo!" Richie barked as calmly as he could, "Just go say hi to your girl, Cousin."

"Yo, I'll go when I have a minute," Carmy deflected strongly. "I'm in the fuckin' shit, leave me the fuck alone."

"What? I'm saying - "

"I'll get there when I can get there!"

"I'm saying!"

"What?" Carmy barked.

"She's got important fucking people in that dining room, man," Richie scoffed, hands held up in defense. "Just for your ungrateful ass! Maybe the least you can do is go say fuckin' hi - even if you're fuckin' busy. She knows that, it'd be a nice gesture - or whatever fuckin' shit - I don't know! She's your girl!"

"Yeah! Exactly!" Carmy barked. "She's my fuckin' girl, she knows the fuckin' drill, I'll go say fuckin' hi when I get the fuckin' chance, Richie! Fuck's sake! Always tryna meddle and shit!"

"Jesus, fuck," Richie sighed, turning out of the kitchen with his hands waving Carmy off in defeat.

You were none the wiser, entertained by Pete and Dani's gabbing as Sugar was in-and-out, dealing with all the little things going wrong. These little things came to her in the form of notes left at the table subtly for her to go solve, you wanting to help but being shot down every time. Eventually, Carmy was approaching your table with a tray of food, shocking you slightly.

"Hey, Peach," He greeted softly, lowering the tray to balance on the table and lean over to kiss your cheek. "You look gorgeous, baby, wow," he complimented in a whisper, offering another quick kiss.

"Thank you, Chef," you smiled brightly, touching his forearm in a sign of affection. "What's all this you've got for us?"

He hummed and explained what he set on the table in front of you guys; eyes alight and cheeks flushed from the heat of the kitchen. He poured whatever sauce came with the main dish, smiling at Dani, nodding to Pete, then looking to you.

"I'll check on you later, all right, baby?" He mumbled, watching you nod. "I gotta get back," he whispered, "but thank you for being here, my pretty girl."

"No where else I'd rather be, Cream," you rushed, letting his lips find yours briefly.

"Stick around after, would you? When we close, just... Don't leave yet."

"Yes, Chef," you whispered against his lips with a grin. He gave one single more kiss before pulling away to stand upright.

"Enjoy," he bid the table before walking away.

"So, like," Dani trailed after making sure Carmy was out of earshot, "when's the wedding? 'Cause that might've been the cutest thing I've seen. I mean, opening night, he's cooking, but paused to come serve us? Serve you? And he's so soft with you, kissin' you, bein' all cute," she pouted dramatically. "I want a reason to wear a maid of honor dress, please."

"Hey, hey, chill on us. There's no wedding," you sighed with a small laugh, trying to play off how the subject made your stomach twist. "We haven't really talked about it, you know? No biggie."

"What?" She sputtered. "Wait, hang on. Y'all have been together - like - a stupid, ridiculous amount of time. The fuck you mean you haven't talked about it? What are y'all doing, just ignoring the elephant in the room?"

You shrugged lightly, "I don't know, we know if we ever got married, it'd be to each other, but that's really it. We know we want to be together, we know we want to marry each other, but there's been no serious conversation about it."

"Uh, does that sound right to you?" Dani asked Pete.

He shook his head as you all took dainty bites of food to savor the flavors (and save Sugar some). "When I knew with Natalie, I didn't hesitate."

"Well, Carmy isn't like you, Pete," you defended. "He's got a lot on his plate, too, you know?"

"You've said that since Mikey," Dani frowned, her voice quiet.

"With good reason, don't you think? Carmy's just - he's just going through a lot right now and it's a challenge, you know?"

"No, it's more like Carmy's got the emotional intelligence of a fucking teaspoon!"

"Hey," you snapped, "that's not his fault, he doesn't know much better, so watch your mouth."

"He does with you, like... He knows better when he's with you, when it comes to you, Peach," Pete offered softly. "Look, maybe Danielle has a point - it is a little weird. I mean, you guys have been together, what? Six, almost seven years? Creeping up on a decade of just dating - that's a long time. And didn't you guys do that weird little half-dating thing for two years before making it official? Don't you think that's enough time to know if you want to marry someone, and then, you know? Actually marry them? Or at least ask them?"

"Sure, maybe to other people, but Carmy and I have never been conventional, so, I don't see why we need to start now."

Danielle scoffed, "Look, God love Carmy and everything, but you're just wasting time now. He needs to either commit or let you find someone who can actually love you like you deserve."

"Oh, and Carmy doesn't?"

"Wasn't all that long ago that you two took a break 'cause he called you clingy - and some other unsavory terms," Danielle shrugged. "Doesn't really sound like someone who loves you unconditionally - the way you should be loved."

You sighed and sat back in your chair, "I appreciate the insight, but Carm and I are fine. Okay? We've got years under our belts, we don't want to fuck up what obviously works for us so chill out on the questions, okay? I don't have answers to them."

Danielle and Pete shared a look before the man got up to excuse himself to the restroom. You and Dani finished your meals before sipping your wine, waiting for Pete, but Dani sighed, "This lady's been staring in here for, like, ten minutes already. It's freezing, doesn't she want to come in?"

"Hmm? What're you - ?"

"This lady on the street," your friend pointed over her shoulder towards the window her back was now turned to.

When you peaked out, you gasped lightly when you saw Donna Berzatto smoking a cigarette. "Oh, shit!" You stood from your seat, rushing, "Okay, so, uh, yeah - just - can you just sit here for a second? I have to go handle that."

"Who is it?" Dani wondered earnestly.

"I got it, Peach," Pete told you, passing by the table swiftly with a hand patting your shoulder to keep you at your table.

"What the hell's happening?" Dani asked. "Who is that?"

"Nothing, no one, it's okay, I think that's someone we know, just, uh, hang on a second? We'll be right back."

"Sure," she nodded in confusion, watching you get from your seat and follow Pete out the door onto the blistering cold sidewalk.

"Hey, Mama Donna," you greeted happily, arms crossing over your chest to protect from the wind. "Have you been inside yet? We saved you a seat and all, but isn't this - just wow?" You grinned, trying to encourage her to say anything about her children's hard work.

"Oh, no, no, not you, too, Peach, why are you here?" She groaned lightly, looking upset and close to tears.

"I'm here 'cause of Carmy? I-It's opening night, yeah?" You offered in confusion. "Why? What's wrong, Mama D?" You worried, glancing at an emotional Pete.

"No, it's just, I can't come in, I can't, just no," she backed away, only now making you notice the way Pete cried. "I'm so sorry, Peach, honey, but I was never here. Okay? I-I'll call them later, I swear, I promise, I'll call them - but I-I-I wasn't here. Okay? You can't tell them I was here. I'm so sorry."

"Donna, don't do this," you begged, head shaking. "Don't, please. Just come in with Pete and I - just sit there for a bit. Just come in and see what your kids have done - Donna, it's so beautiful. You'd be so proud, but you should really see it for yourself - "

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I can't, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, not tonight, no, I'm sorry, I can't," she deflected in a rambling mumble, turning and hustling down the sidewalk with her head shaking like a Etch-A-Sketch.

You rounded on Pete, "What the hell was that? Pete, what just happened?"

"Um, I-I don't - I didn't mean to."

"Pete? What didn't you mean?"

"She didn't tell her mom about the baby," he rushed, tears falling. "Nat didn't tell Donna, Peach, and I think I just did - I think I just fucked up and told her."

"Oh, no... No, Pete, you didn't."

"I didn't mean to! I swear it was an accident!"

"No, I know you didn't mean to, honey," you rushed, opening your arms to bring him in for a tight hug. "Oh, you poor boy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Pete."

He sighed, "I'm sorry, too, Peach."

"For what?"

"That... We fell in love with Berzattos and this is our new normal now, right?" He sniffled.

You half-smiled, "Yeah, something like that. But it's okay. See, where Donna's afraid to give her love, neither of us are. Sugar and Carm deserve that from us, right? To be authentic and just love them?"

He nodded, "Yeah, you're right."

"And that's all we gotta do... Is love them, Pete."

"God knows where else they'd get it," he huffed, wiping his face. "Hey, um, I'll be in, in a second - I just need a minute alone, I think, in the cold."

"Take all the time you need," you agreed.

"We're not - we're not telling them about this, right?"

You sighed, "No, I don't think so - at least right now. It might hurt them more, you know? To know Donna was here, but never came in. That she ran away... Again. It'll hurt, they deserve to be happy about tonight."

Pete nodded rapidly, looking like he was gonna burst into tears. Instead of going back inside, you just moved to Pete's side and stood there; producing a cigarette, lighting it, offering Pete a drag that he turned down, and the both of you just standing silently; one smoking, one crying, both processing.

"Wow, look at these gorgeous ladies! By far the baddest in the whole place! Yeah, man!" Fak teased as he approached you and Danielle after closing the The Bear officially. "What a privilege to have you both dine with us this evening! Ugh, truly an honor to see you both here," he praised comically, evening giving a small bow that his brother mimicked.

Your eyes rolled, "You're laying it on really thick when I already tipped you." He snickered with Theo. "Hey, seriously, though, tonight was incredible. I mean, it was all so beautiful, you should all be so proud."

"Oh, we are," Neil giggled, his brother hanging off his shoulders.

"Good," you teased. "Uh, is now an okay time to go back and see him? Kinda wanna offer my compliments to the chef directly, you know?"

"No," Fak answered instantly, "uh, well, probably not the best time."

"Yeah, probably not," Theodore echoed.

"I can sense you two ramping up to something," you sighed, "so, I'm gonna ask you skip all that and tell me what's wrong. Why can't I go see my boyfriend? He just had an incredibly successful opening night, I kinda wanna kiss him if you don't mind."

"Um, well, h-he didn't want you to worry, so, he said not t'tell you, but, uh... Yeah, no, Carmy's, like, locked in the walk-in freezer. Han Solo style."

"What?"

"Locked in the walk-in," Fak nodded rapidly, "yeah, no, the handle - like, the whole handle came off. He's locked in, Peach..."

"Oh, my fucking God," you breathed. "Are you saying he - he missed opening night? Neil!"

"Yeah, kinda... Well, sorta - I mean, technically, but - "

"Oh, Jesus," you breezed past them all.

"Mmm-mmm, the fridge guy's name is Terry," Tina corrected Carmy, flinching a little when he slapped the other side of the metal door he was locked behind.

"See, th-tha-that's what I'm talking about!" Carmy raged. "I'm so fucking distracted, and for what? For fucking what? 'Cause of a girl?" He chuckled ruefully to himself.

"Nuh-uh, don't do that, Carmy," Tina scolded. "That's not no girl, that's your girl, that's Peach - you don't lash out at her, baby."

"Yo, maybe - maybe I'm just not built for this. Right? Maybe that's okay! Maybe that just is. She'd be better off, Tina... I'm just - I'm not built for this."

But what Carmy didn't hear was Sydney asking Tina to cover her at the front because she needed to step out the back, get some air; Tina accepting and telling Carm to hang on a moment. Something he missed. While Tina took Syd's spot, Syd rushed outside, and you slipped in the kitchen door; Carmy being surrounded by shitty ripped tape and an entire side full of the flowers he had brought in for tonight - for you. It was a haunting reminder; something suffocating.

When you got to the walk-in, you were prepared to call out for Carmy, but he started speaking from within, halting any word on your tongue.

"I wasn't here b-because I was looking a-a-at fucking engagement rings when the fridge guy fuckin' called," Carmy ranted, your heart stalling in your chest. "Right? Like, what the fuck was I thinking? Like I was gonna get married? Commit to this relationship? Be h-her fucking husband or some shit? Have a fucking wife? I'm a fucking - I'm a fuckin' psycho!" He laughed a little, the tears springing to your eyes as his words disarmed your heart and emotional dam. "That's why! That's why I'm good at what I do! That's how I operate! I am the best because I didn't have any of this fuckin' bullshit, right? I could - I could focus and I could concentrate and I had a routine and I - and I had fuckin' cell reception, and Peach and I just had our own routine! We didn't need this extra bullshit, and now..."

You just listened, leaning on the freezer's door, tears silently leaking down your cheeks as you had the horrendous realization that you were what now slowed Carmy down. You were what currently stood in his way, when this whole time, you thought you were helping; making things easier; supporting him. No... No, his words rattled your heart to accept that you were now the bane; the object of his ire. You and your relationship was what was wrong and was causing Carmy hurt and professional complications.

Something you never wanted to contribute towards. You both always said if this relationship got to be too hard, you'd walk away. Better to feel anger than resentment; and now, you knew you had to walk away else risk that resentment fester.

Carmy started up again, "I don't need to provide amusement or enjoyment, I don't need to be someone's 'to have and to hold'. I don't need to receive any amusement or enjoyment, nor for someone to have and hold me... And I'm completely fine with that. Because no amount of good is worth how terrible this fucking feels." You were ready to open your mouth, but he finished by nailing the final nail in the coffin of your relationship, "It's just a complete waste of fuckin' time - entertaining what I know I shouldn't. Being in this relationship, trying to give what I don't have, wasting everyone's time."

You took your chance, speaking through your tears, "I'm really sorry you feel that way, Carmen."

"Peach?" Carmy rasped from behind the door, sounding more alert than he had before. "Baby? Hey, hey, Peaches? That you? Peach - hey. Hey," he sounded desperate as you backed away from the door, a fist pounding into the metal, "hey, no, Y/N? Y/N!" The seriousness settled over you both, Carmen understanding you heard a lot more than ever intended and once those words are out there, there's no getting them back. "Y/N, baby? Hey, no, no, Y/N - listen to me - hey, no, no! I-I didn't know you were there, baby, okay? No, Y/N, please - tell me you're there now, let me explain." He paused. "Let me explain! Please! C'mon, baby, please, let me fucking explain - tell me you're still there! Y/N? Y/N!"

You sniffled and walked away, feeling smaller than you ever had in your life. You barely noticed when the kitchen door opened, not until a figured dressed in black stopped you. "Peach? Hey, hey," Richie halted you - taking note of the tears. "What's wrong? What happened? Are you okay - who fuckin' did it?"

You just stared at Richie for a long moment, opening your mouth twice before sighing and smiling sadly. "I never wanted to be what got in his way," you whispered sadly. "I'm sorry, Richie."

"Peaches, hey, what's - "

But you reached up to kiss his cheek, "Tonight was so beautiful, Cousin, and I'm so fucking proud of you all. Thank you for everything - not just tonight, Richie, but everything you do." You smiled again, whispering, "Take care of him. Okay? He'll need you."

"What're you talking about? What's going on? Where are you going? Hey, where are you going, Peach, please?"

"Have a good night, Richie, I love you," you whispered, leaving out the kitchen door as quickly as you could. "Hey," you sniffled, approaching Dani with the Fak Brothers, "can we go now, please?"

"Are you okay?" Dani worried in shock.

"I'd really like to go, Dani, please," you rushed, throwing your coat on and smiling at the Brothers as if your heart wasn't in pieces. "Thanks again for tonight, you guys, it was magical."

"Peach? Wait, hey, are you okay, baby? What just happened?" Neil worried, watching you snatch Dani's hand, but pause when screaming was heard from the kitchen. Everyone stared at the door, Neil muttering, "The fuck are they...?"

"Now, Dani, please," you whimpered to your friend, who wasted no time in escorting you out of The Bear. The moment you were outside, you burst into sobs, Dani grunting a little as she lead you down a side alley to lean you on a brick wall and beg you to breathe normally.

"What the hell just happened? Hey, honey, you need to breathe," she smoothed hair off your face - but it was like you were drowning in the air with the way you gasped and gaped and panted and whimpered and choked yourself.

"I-I-I-I think - I think w-we're done, I think we're done, I think - oh, fuck - I think we just broke up," you sobbed, hands on your knees. "Oh, my God, Dani," you whimpered, "I-I think - I think we're done, Danielle, oh, my fucking God. I-I heard things tonight that I just - I can't not know, anymore! He said - fuck! He was just so candid, he didn't know I was there so h-he was sayin' things I have t-to now confront - and I really didn't fucking want to! He just - he doesn't want to really marry me, D, and-and-and he was apparently looking a-a-a-at rings - fucking engagement rings! But then he said that w-was the issue - he missed the fridge guy's call 'cause he was looking at fucking rings for me and this is why he missed opening night - 'cause the fucking fridge broke! Oh, my God, Danielle, i-i-it's my fault, it's my fucking fault, he missed the most important night of his life and it's my fault - "

You were cut off by your stomach lurching, emptying your insides onto the pavement. The delicious appetizer, the tantalizing main course, Marcus' fresh baked bread that was delightfully soft on the inside yet baked crisp on the outside, and every bit of the sweetened dessert - all wasted on Chicago bricks.

"Okay, okay, ah, shit, just get it out, babe, there you go," Danielle held your hair, catching you in a suffocating hug once you were done puking. "I've got you, babe, I've got you. You're okay, no, hey, this isn't your fault. I've got you, come on. I think we need pints of ice cream and the saltiest pretzels we can find," she pushed some hair from your sticky forehead, pouting dramatically, "maybe some Pepto? Few Saltines and ginger ale? C'mon, we're going back to mine, there's a good girl," she coaxed you from the ground and away from the wall, "c'mon, you're stronger than this. There's my girl, here we go, just one foot in front of the other - together, with me, just like that."

You sobbed, not knowing that Sydney and her father stood listening just a few feet away behind a set of dumpsters.

The moment the freezer's door was open and Carmy was free, he was sprinting around the kitchen to grab his coat, leave Neil in charge of closing, and racing out the door as the Fak Brothers yelled at him for hurting your feelings.

"Hey, hey, hey, Chef! Carmy, wait!" Sydney chased him outside.

"No time!"

"Wait! She went with her friend!"

Carmy came to a tripping halt, catching himself before he hit the pavement before whirling around to approach her, "What?"

"Her friend? She was with some girl tonight?"

"Yeah - yeah, yeah, yeah, uh, um, that's - yeah, that's Danielle," Carmy nodded. "Her best friend, yeah, they were here tonight, sitting with Pete and Sugar."

"Listen, Carmy, I heard them when they left the restaurant... Peach was really upset, like, more upset than I've ever heard, saying you two broke up? Or something? She cried so hard, Carm, she actually threw up, it sounded like she was in genuine distress. I-I didn't know if I should've intervened, but her friend was with her and helping."

"Shit - fuck - Goddamnit," he seethed. "All right, thank you - "

"I doubt they went to your place, I think I heard her friend saying they were going to her apartment."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, great, I know where Dani lives, thanks Syd!" Carmy bid, sprinting in the other direction - never bothering with the public bus system, just running into the night. Sydney was left to sigh on the sidewalk, Neil and Theo joining her before Richie followed - all watching Carmy disappear down the sidewalk.

"He's a fucking idiot," Richie shook his head.

"What the hell even happened?" Syd asked.

"Carmy mouthed off in the walk-in, Peach heard it all," Richie supplied. "You know the dumbass was gonna propose tonight?"

"What?" Syd blinked in shock.

"Yeah," Neil tacked on, "we had a whole plan and everything. Candles, soft music, flowers - there's a bunch of flower bouquets in the walk-in."

"I'm sure that was hard for Carm to look at," Syd sympathized.

"Doesn't excuse whatever he said," Richie snapped. "She looked devastated."

"She cried so hard, she threw up in the alley," Syd frowned.

"How do you know?" Neil asked.

"I heard her," the other chef frowned. "My dad and I - we actually both heard her."

"Jesus fuck," Richie seethed.

"I mean... Should we still set up?" Theo wondered to his brother. "What if they kiss and make up, like always? Carmy might still wanna go through with the proposal, right? You know?"

"Maybe," Neil trailed, looking at Richie.

"I don't fucking know," he sighed, hands on his hips.

"She thinks they broke up, I imagine whatever she heard was pretty nasty," Sydney frowned. "Think they'll really make up tonight?"

"Let's hope," Richie sighed. "That fuckin' idiot isn't gonna find anyone better than Peach. Fuck," he looked around the city street. "All right, fuck it, fine, let's fucking set up. Not like the jackass deserves it, but let's do it for Peach."

Neil and his brother grinned at each other, turning to hustle back into The Bear - leaving Sydney and Richie on the street. No words were exchanged, just silent shakes of their heads before they followed the Faks with the intention to help set up for a proposal nobody even knew if would still happen.

The cold night burned Carmy's lungs, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of suffocation he felt earlier when listening to one of your voicemails while trapped.

Your words were sweet as pie, as they usually were; a voicemail left when you were still at work, but feeling so excited to see him that night that you just had to call him. You reminded him of the adoration and love you held for him, relaying how proud you felt - and that you knew Mikey would be, too. You were always doing that, reassuring Carmy; and maybe that's why he felt so freaked out, he wasn't used to it. Even after almost 7 years together, he just wasn't used to what he didn't know he deserved.

Because Carmy didn't think he deserved anything remotely close to love, understanding, compassion, patience, and / or reassurance.

He had sobbed out loud as he locked his phone, not having the heart to delete your message. He often never did - he liked listening to your voice on long, hard nights; it brought him peace when the world felt too loud. He also kept whatever little notes you left for him, even going as far as to get a few of your hand-drawn hearts tattooed on his forearm. One for each anniversary you've shared together. He realized he never wanted to be without you and all his doubts and fear was him projecting his own incompetence towards this relationship; so, he locked his phone, he didn't delete your message.

The moment the fridge door had been opened, Carmy was out of there, shot off like a Roman Candle - your words of love and understanding still ringing in his ears as he was freed. He needed to apologize, and he needed to apologize right fucking now.

The whole run to Danielle's apartment, Carmy wasn't sure what to say to you; mulling over different ideas in his head. He tried to plan his speech, but the only thing he could think of was how much he loved you and that the ring in his pocket weighed a hundred pounds.

He pounded at Danielle's door. Carmy paced slightly as he waited, knocking frantically, and surely waking the neighbors - but that didn't matter. All that mattered was talking to you, something he was desperate to accomplish. When the door opened, your friend offered a stale look and shook her head, "Nope."

"Dani, please," he halted the closing door, "it's all a misunderstanding, I swear to God, please, just - let me try to fix this. Please, okay? I-I need her - I fucking need her and I have to fix this 'cause she's all that matters, okay? So, let me talk to her - please. Please, Danielle!"

"Yeah? The only thing?"

"More than anyone, more than anything - more than The fucking Bear, I swear to fucking God, Danielle! Just - Just one chance, please. I-I don't know how it all got so fucked, but please, I have to try - "

"Whatever you said in that freezer, Carmen, fucking gutted her, you hear me?" Dani stood in her doorway protectively. "Should've had your ass frozen for the hurt you caused her. How the fuck do you intend on making this right? Huh? It's been almost a fucking decade, dude, if you're seriously still afraid of commitment, just fuck off and leave her alone. Let her walk away 'cause I promise, there's a line of dudes who would love to put a ring on her loyal-ass finger - "

"Please, let me fix this," Carmy begged, sounding close to tears. "I need her, Danielle, please."

"It's okay, D," a voice whispered from behind Danielle, and when she turned, you were revealed - jacket and purse in hand, looking completely exhausted, drained, and disheveled. "I'm just tired, Dani, but we have to talk about this... So, I'll go home with him and call you tomorrow, okay?"

"You sure?"

"It's a decent walk, gives us too much time to talk," you shrugged, refusing to meet Carmy's bloodshot eyes. "Thanks for tonight, sorry I was such a mess," you whispered, hugging your best friend since pre-school.

"Girl, don't you ever apologize to me. But hey, look, I don't know, you were just drowning in your tears, like, five minutes ago. Sure you really wanna go? You can stay here as long as you'd like, girl, fuck him."

"Better to work it out now than later, I guess," you whispered, letting her kiss your cheek and see you guys out.

"She calls me cryin', Carmen, I'll kick your ass," She threatened as you moved down the apartment's hall. You might've snickered just a little, but the amusement was wiped clean when you rounded the corner and came up to the elevators.

Now that it was just you two, it was dreadfully awkward.

"Baby - "

"Just - don't talk for right now, Carmen," you sighed, shaking your head. "I'm still digesting all you said."

He frowned when you walked onto the elevator without a single emotion on your face, following you, and when on the ground floor, moved out to head home. It was quiet, it was awkward; only the sounds of traffic filling the space between you as you walked.

"Listen," he started with a long sigh, "you came in at the worst time, Peach, heard some shit you shouldn't have that I-I didn't even mean. I was just," he paused, sighing, "really angry and frustrated, fucking running my mouth 'cause I didn't know what else to do."

"Sounded like I came in at the best time since you're not very forthcoming with emotions. So, hearing your confession put a lot in perspective for me, Carm."

"I was just angry, Peach," he frowned, hands deep in his pockets. "Felt like I was self sabotaging myself, I wasn't sure what else to feel. So, I just lashed out. I didn't mean it, but I just felt like being angry... So fucking angry, baby, I just - I didn't know what else to feel."

"I don't know if I can be with someone like that," you whispered. "Someone who throws our relationship under the bus when he's angry, someone who's first line of defense is apparently to blame the relationship he's been in for over half a decade with the same girl. Someone you've known your whole life..."

"Peach - "

"If it's that easy for you to just disregard us, I don't think we should continue this."

Carmy took a breath and reached out to pull you to a stop. He dug in his pocket for a moment, then showed you the black velvet jewelry box. "I was gonna propose tonight, when everyone was gone," he explained when you took the box to open gingerly. "I think because that was on my mind already, something I was more than nervous to actually do, you're right, it did become my first line of defense to blame us - not just you, baby, but us. You and me... Mostly me, though," he chuckled sadly. "You're this perfect, sweet angel who just loves me out loud when I don't deserve it, and I'm... I'm just me," he sighed, eyes reddening. "And I know I'm never gonna be enough for you, I think I started to get in my head about if you said no. How I missed the call from Terry about the fridge 'cause I was picking out an engagement ring that you didn't even want, that you rejected - rejected me; and in turn, I missed opening night, and it all just - it got to a boiling point. Look, Peach, it's never been a secret that I don't think I deserve you... But I wanted to be the man that could at least give you an honest try of my best. You've stuck by me the past seven years when you should've ran for the hills, and I knew I wanted us for life years ago - but everything was still so up in the air. So confusing. So fucked up. I figured, after opening tonight, if things went t'plan, I could propose - prove to you that we're on our feet and there weren't any rugs to be pulled."

"What if things didn't go to plan?" You whispered.

"We're kinda living it now," he admitted, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "But even if tonight was all a total failure, I know I might've still done it because it's you, Peach. It's you... I've known for years you're who I want, I just never knew how to do this - to move us forward. You're my first relationship, hopefully my only relationship, and I just didn't know how to advance us. I think when things got real for me, my insecurities crept in, and I just reacted - I didn't think."

"We always said when this wasn't healthy or when this wasn't good for us anymore, we'd walk away," you reminded. "That we'd rather be sad or angry about a breakup instead of letting resentment fester from being together."

"It's still good for me, Peach, we're still good," he whispered, stepping closer. "Is it still good for you? Or did I lose you completely tonight?"

"I don't know, Carmy, you've been lashing out a lot lately. At me specifically."

"And with The Bear now open, I-I should be okay. You know? Back to normal?"

You chuckled dryly, "I see, back to your high walls? Emotional constipation?"

"Then maybe not normal," he corrected, "because I just needed to get us here, to tonight, to opening, and then show you that it's over. Show you that part of our lives is over and we only have more adventures to look forward to. Not ones like this, though," he gestured up the street, your eyes cutting over and realizing you were back at The Bear.

"Do you really think you're a psycho?"

He chuckled, "After tonight? Yeah, pretty convinced... Plus, I, uh, I saw in the freezer the way we're labeling things - and got angry about it. Angry about the way we were tearing tape and labeling things. It was so fucking stupid, but I just - I felt so crazy. I still do, I still feel like my head doesn't make sense and I'm a bit, you know... Crazy."

You nodded slowly, "Then how can you promise me this kinda shit won't happen again?"

"I don't think I can, but I can make you the promise that I am working on it; trying to identify when I feel reactive, trying to calm that down. I'm trying, Peach, I really am - it's just... Taking a lot of time," he sighed sadly. "And I know you don't have any more left to give me."

"I've already given you this many years," you reminded softly, "I think I could spare another or two if it meant you getting your shit together, that you get better, stop feeling so crazy."

"I don't deserve anymore time - "

"I think you need to step back and reevaluate what it means to be deserving because you always say that. That you don't deserve something - even as simple as time. Everyone deserves time and opportunity to figure shit out, Carmy, and you're no exception."

He nodded, "I'm... Trying." He took a long, deep breath, "I'm, uh... Going to meetings, you know, like, uh, Al-Anon and whatever."

"That's good, they're there to help," you nodded, stepping closer to take his hands in yours after closing the ring box and stuffing it back in his pocket. "Now, I think you need to do something."

"Anything, Peach."

"Take my hand, bring me back to The Bear, and go about your plan."

He froze in shock, blinking at you in earnest, "You really mean that?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"No, ma'am, and I think that scares me more."

"You'd rather break up? 'Cause at this point, Carm, we either move forward with this engagement and fucking work our shit out, or we break up. It's been almost a decade. It's your choice, you're the one who was saying he couldn't be someone's husband, that he didn't need to provide anyone nor have them provide you with anything. So, you tell me what you want to do - because all I know is that I love you, I want you for life, but not if you're going to resent me and regret moving our relationship forward. I don't need to get married, Carmy, but you can't keep jerking me around like you have been. So... Make a decision based on what you want - based on what's best for you. Not what's best for us, but put yourself first right now, Carmy, and make a decision about what you want."

With a nod of his head, Carmy cleared his throat and offered you his hand. When he felt you lock your fingers with his, he glanced up and down the street, then lead you across it. Up the sidewalk and to the front door of The illuminating Bear, he paused to produce his keys and then lead you inside.

The lights were dim, but a flip of the switch brightly lit up the newly constructed restaurant. He seemed nervous at your cool demeanor, watching you shed your coat and set your purse down; but his hand took yours again and lead you further into the place. He seemed nervous, but once in the kitchen, it was almost like Carmy's stress melted away.

"I was... I had this plan," he explained softly, leaning on one of the work stations with both hands in yours to keep you in front of him. "I have all these candles, right? Was gonna distract you in here," he looked around the fluorescent lighting, "while Richie, Fak, Tina, and the others set everything up. We'd hang in here after the place was closed down, you know, show you around the completed kitchen. And really casually, I'd ask if you were ready to go, so, we'd go out the front, and we'd walk right into the candlelight..."

"Yeah?" He nodded, thumbs running over your hands as he pushed off the counter. "Don't deviate from your plan now..."

Carmy smirked, "Wanna hear the boring kitchen stuff?"

"Of course, I do."

So, he lead you around in a tour of the kitchen; showing off the new office space that he invited you to take advantage of whenever you wanted. The sleek appliances were shown off, the vast fridges, freezers, new cutlery, state-of-the-art dishwashers. Everything, he showed you, knowing you helped him pick a lot of it out - it was still nice to see it all come together finally.

And then, slowly, he lead you out of the kitchen, but to your honest shock, the dining room was covered in lit candles and different bouquets of thick, gorgeous floral arrangements. "Oh, holy shit," you breathed, Carmy hiding his confusion much better than you.

You came to a slow halt in the middle of the room, the lights out and only leaving the candles to provide an ambiance. "I had this whole speech planned, too," Carmy told you softly. "Remind you of the day we met, how you saved me from those jackass bullies - remember?"

You smiled softly, emotions swirling in your chest, "First day of first grade, you had a Buzz Lightyear backpack and some kids were picking on you 'cause of it."

"And what did you do?"

You felt bashful remembering, but humored him by answering, "Pushed their faces in the mud at recess and made them apologize."

"You've been my best friend since that day," he nodded, bringing you in a few steps closer. "And when we got to high school, my feelings changed. You weren't just my best friend, but the girl I was madly in love with... Took me a couple years to buck up the courage to ask you out officially, though."

"Sure took your sweet time," you whispered with a smile, "but all good things to those who wait, right?"

"And I think you've waited long enough for a man to be who you deserve," he frowned. "All these years - it's been you at my side. You even - fuck - you even came over to Amsterdam for a bit because I was feeling overwhelmed and lonely. Sad, maybe even a little homesick. But you just - you just showed up like it was the most common thing in the world."

You chuckled through your tears, "Yeah, we had some good times on that boat, didn't we?"

He nodded with a softening smile, pushing hair from your face and behind your ear; pausing to hold your cheek carefully. "And when we came back stateside... You were still the only constant presence in my life. You were my family without blood, and I knew after that Christmas that you'd forever be my other half, and I'd spend my life conveying how grateful I am for you. I just - I never knew how to put it into words until now."

"What changed?"

"Realizing that I wanted to marry you years ago - and I should've. I know I shouldn't have drug my feet with us, delay our inevitable, because honestly? I couldn't see my life without you in it and I knew I needed you with me forever. Peach," he frowned, reaching for your other cheek, "we agreed when this wasn't healthy, we'd walk away - I remember that. But I need you to know, I'll never fucking regret you. I'll never resent you. You've been unwaveringly supportive and loving and... And I've been the luckiest man to experience it all. But now," he pushed himself a step closer so he was hovered over your lips, "I know that you deserve someone just as present in this relationship as you are. I knew once The Bear was done, I was done - I was done beating this bush around and wasting time. I knew what I needed to do because the idea of you not being in my life anymore terrifies me more than anything. I don't remember life without you, Peach, and I don't ever want to know what it's like. So," he cleared his throat, "here, in the restaurant I so desperately wanted to give up on so many times, but you always stopped me, I wanted to make this official. I wanted it to be here to show you that the past year of our turmoil - it's fucking over, Peach. We did it," he whispered, "and now, the next and only thing I want to focus on is us."

Carmy readjusted you both for a little bit of space, holding your left hand tightly as he lowered himself to a single knee; looking up at you with those big, wide, sad blue eyes that were growing redder by the passing second. The candlelight created a romantic atmosphere that cocooned you both in a warm embrace, the flowers around you projecting their floral scent.

"So, I need to ask you something real important, baby," he whispered, his throat bobbing to restrain his emotion that clawed up his throat, "because if I don't, I don't think I could breathe again." He cleared his throat, pulling the ring box from his pocket and opening it to present to you officially. "Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N... My sweetest Peach, I've loved you almost my entire life, you're my best friend, my most loyal and sweetest confidant. You make me want to be a man better than I was yesterday and never before have I ever seriously considered marriage - until you. Now? Now, I can't get the idea out of my head, so, my sweet girl," he took another breath, the tears in his eyes swelling and slowly dripping down his cheeks as you slowly got on your knees in front of him, "I need to ask you... W-Would you do me the honor? Of being my wife?"

"Carmen."

He grinned at you, both with tears down your cheeks. "Will you marry me, Y/N? I can't see my life without you in it, so... I want this, I want you for life. Y/N, will you marry me?" He paused, adding a meek little, "Please?" at the end.

With a deep breath, you slowly reached for his cheeks in a soft caress to wipe his tears; both just staring at one another for a good few moments before a face-splitting grin nearly cracked your lips. "Yes," you finally answered, "yeah, yes, yes, of course, I'll marry you, Carmen, yes!"

"Oh, thank fuckin' God," he laughed, letting you lunge forward to knock him backward in a hug - missing the candles arranged in a small circle for you two to stand in. Carmy laughed loudly, happily, giving you a tight squeeze as he mused, "Had my heart beatin' outta my chest for a second there, Peach."

"Oh, please," you laughed, "after all this time, you really thought I'd say no?"

He shrugged meekly, "Thought my most recent fuck-ups would've added to any reasons you might have to say no."

"Oh, spare me - you're my best friend, Carmy, you know I couldn't ever say no to you. Not without puking in nervousness."

"Can we maybe not talk about puke when we just got engaged?"

You laughed and nodded, "Fine, fine, fine, then put the ring on, please."

You presented your left manicured hand, watching Carmy almost giddily removed the band from the box, took a slow, deep breath, and then, the most beautiful ring was being slid onto your finger in an official show of your engagement. Of your undying love. Of your commitment, promises, and future together.

"YEAH!" An array of varying cheers and hollers of support and excitement rang out around you; startling both you and Carmy to look up. Richie, Sydney, Tina, Neil, Theo, Pete, and Sugar all hung in the bathroom's alcove - watching with splitting grins and cheering in celebration.

There was no time to question them as Richie lead the charge over; helping you to your feet for a giant, bear hug before gushing over your engagement ring. Neil and Theo popped one of the authentic bottles of champagne, pouring different flutes for those present.

"Calm down," Natalie scolded Richie lightly, "and move out the way, I want to hug my engaged bestie!"

You squealed with Sugar when her arms wrapped around you tightly, Rich moving on to congratulate Carmy - who apologized for his angry words earlier and thanked them for still setting things up. Richie promised it was for you, not Carmy, but still hugged the little shit with a laugh - indicating he was just joking.

"Let me see!" Natalie grinned, examining the ring Carmy chose and squealing again. "Oh, my God! Oh, it's so pretty! Oh, shit - sisters!" She gasped, holding your hands tightly, "We're going to be sisters - like, officially!"

"Sisters in law, but yeah, cupcake," you beamed at her, wiping your tears and giggling. "I can't - this just doesn't feel real," you told her softly, looking the few feet over to see Carmy with the lads as Sydney stood with you and Sugar. "Him proposing? I genuinely thought it wouldn't happen," you tried to laugh your nerves off, looking at your ring and fiddling with it.

"Yeah, right," Sydney laughed. "I haven't been around that long and even I knew this was gonna happen."

"Oh, please, she's right," Natalie grinned when you went to retaliate, "he first started talking about how he wanted to marry you when he was, like, 15. This has been the longest thing coming."

"Thank you guys for helping," you whispered with a smile. "It's all so beautiful."

"Happy to help for a good cause," Syd smiled, complimenting your ring as Neil called for a toast. Everyone was given flutes of champagne, Carmy's arm wrapping around your waist as each friend gave their own little speech, congratulating you both before the alcohol was being drained.

"Uh, and where are you two going?" Sugar asked about an hour later with a small giggle when Carmy wrapped an arm around your neck after helping you into your coat again.

"Gotta celebrate alone with my fiancé," he smirked, "later, guys! Don't forget to lock up!"

"Carmen!" You scolded with a small laugh, gaping at him.

"What? They got this," Carmy chuckled. "Thanks, you guys, see you tomorrow!"

"We can help clean," you told him as he lead you out of the restaurant.

"Nah, we've got bigger plans," he smirked at you. "Got plenty t'celebrate, yeah? Ever fucked as fiancés before?"

"No - but I hear it's some crazy sex," you whispered, locking your arms around his waist to stay close. Neither of you cared about the bus at this hour, opting to walk home in the cold - not that you felt it. Your love burned brighter than the cold biting your skin.

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

Text

Kid

Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

Summary: You join Arsenal Women at age sixteen

Moving to England hadn't exactly been your plan when you started to play football.

To be honest, there hadn't been a plan at all, seeing as you were four when your parents first signed you up for your local academy in Sweden. It was just an excuse to keep you out of the house, so your parents didn't have to take time off work to look after you when school finished.

It helped that your school was partnered with the academy so a representative would come and walk all the academy students there and back.

Football may have been a convenience but it was clear to everyone that you were somewhat of a prodigy. Linköping Fc signed you as soon as they could, forcing you to make the move from your tiny town to the city.

Your parents were more than happy to finance the move - the kind of parents that happily parent from a distance but brag to all of their friends about how smart, how talented their daughter was.

You were happy to be rid of them.

You were even happier to get the callup for the National Team for the World Cup.

Your chest thudded in your throat when you received the call. You hadn't thought you would get the call-up, not when you were so young, so you had been at a café with some of your school friends when your phone rang.

You had picked it up absentmindedly and almost passed out from shock when Peter revealed he wanted you on the team.

The World Cup came and went and the bronze medal you won stayed with you. You had flat-out refused to give it over to your parents, who wanted to put it in the trophy cabinet in a house you no longer lived in.

The high of the World Cup bled into the high of getting a call to sign for Arsenal.

You hadn't even really thought about it.

You just accepted.

Which was how you had gotten here, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you waited for Stina to lock her car and walk in with you.

●～●～●～●～

You couldn't help but look at your jersey in awe. Your number combined with your last name on the back of an Arsenal jersey felt like a dream come true.

"There she is," Amanda said when you finally wandered into the meeting room, free from media duty. She pushed out a chair that was clearly meant for you at the table she was sitting at.

You sat in the seat awkwardly, suddenly feeling shy and awkward.

"This is y/n," Amanda said to the others, presenting you to them like you were someone really exciting.

"Hi, y/n. I'm Jen."

You didn't tell her that you already knew who she was, who they all were. You just sat there and let everyone introduce themselves to you because that was the polite thing to do.

"Hi."

"You're young, aren't you?" Asked Kim, even though you knew that she probably already knew that.

You nodded though. "Yeah." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm sixteen."

"But she's a superstar." It was nice of Amanda to butt in. It saved you from having to speak.

"I think we know that," McCabe said with an eye roll," I think we all saw that match-winning goal against Australia."

You winced slightly as you snuck a glance to McCabe's other side where Catley sat, the very defender that you megged before scoring your goal.

Your eyes widened in horror when she made eye contact. "Sorry." You looked down at your lap, hiding your shaking hands under the table.

"Don't sweat it, kid," Catley replied with an easy grin," No hard feelings. It was a good call." She smirked at you. "Though, the deer in headlights look you had after it went in was pretty funny."

Laughter rang out through the group and you relaxed marginally, groaning at the reminder. Everyone you knew had sent that picture to you and you knew for a fact that it was still circulating the internet as a meme.

●～●～●～●～

It was easy to settle into life at Arsenal.

You were still shy and awkward off the pitch but you fit in well with the other girls and Lina, Stina and Amanda were always ready to sweep you away when they noticed you getting too overwhelmed.

Somewhere along the way Catley became Steph and McCabe became Katie.

You weren't really sure when that happened but it was a welcome change from when you first joined.

"Come on, kid. You've been studying too much," Katie said as an arm dragged you away from your laptop to where the others were playing FIFA.

You were dumped between Less and Vic while Lina laughed.

"She's always studying."

You rolled your eyes. "Just because you don't have to go to school anymore, doesn't mean that I don't."

"Online school isn't really school," Cloe said before swearing when Gio scored another goal," It's like...school without the deadlines."

"Except the deadline is before Christmas," You replied with a huff," I have essays to write, Katie! Let me go!"

"Don't let her go, girls," Katie said from where she was curled up with Caitlin.

Alessia mockingly saluted as she bracketed you in her arms while Vic pinned down your legs.

"Less! Vic!" You squawked as you tried to wiggle away from them.

Their holds were unrelenting and made even worse when Kyra popped up out of nowhere, digging her fingers into your side and tickling you like you had personally offended her or something.

"Stop! Stop!" You laughed, tears running down your face as Kyra remained unrelenting. "Cait-Caitlin! Caitlin, help!"

Caitlin looked at you thoughtfully, humming to herself before giving you a faux look of sympathy. "Sorry, y/n, I can't. You see, I'm still holding a grudge against you for grabbing that bronze medal." She winked to let you know she was joking.

"Oh, come on!"

●～●～●～●～

It took you nearly two weeks of being in London to meet the ACL squad and it was only because Kathrine slid in for a tackle at the wrong time and hit your ankle.

You hadn't even been on the ground for that long but it was enough that Jonas sent Gio to take you to the physios to get it taped up with an extremely apologetic Kathrine following after you.

"I'm so sorry," She was saying when Gio shepherded you into the room," I'll make up for it. How does one of those big jelly baby packs sound?"

"I'm not allowed to eat them," You replied," Stina said that they'll rot my teeth."

"Fine, fine, I'll think of something. How about dinner? I'll buy you dinner for your cheat day. Just tell me when."

You rolled your eyes, having no intention of doing so but still nodded.

"What's up with all this commotion?"

You had to admit, seeing Leah Williamson in person made you feel a little starstruck and you immediately retreated into yourself.

Gio jerked her thumb at Kathrine. "Kuhl hurt the kid and seeing as we need the kid, Jonas wants her ankle taped."

"My ankle's fine," You said stubbornly but allowed a physio to usher you onto the bed between Goldie and Wienriother. You gave them both one of your trademark awkward smiles as you let the physio pull off your boot and socks.

You didn't want to look at your ankle, already knowing it was bruised by the way that you saw Goldie wince sympathetically at you while the physio moved away to grab some ice.

"That looks nasty," She said," Does it hurt?"

"Not too bad."

"I'm Teyah, by the way."

"y/n."

"I know." She smiled at you. "It's nice that there's someone younger than me and Naomi now."

You looked down bashfully. "Happy to be of service."

Next to you, Weinriother laughed. "Don't mind Teyah, she's just glad no one will call her kid anymore. I'm Laura, by the way."

"And I'm Beth!" She leaned over Laura to shake your hand before indicating to where her girlfriend was being worked on. "That's Viv, she's a little prickly sometimes but if you ever need some peace and quiet, I'm sure she wouldn't mind you sitting with her."

You nodded, still feeling a little awkward even though the tension had disappeared.

"You're living with Stina, right?" Leah asked," How's that going?"

"Good," You replied, focussed on the way that the physio was moving your ankle," She lets me play music on the speakers while I study."

Leah laughed. "I live right round the corner. If you ever need a break, feel free to pop in. I reckon I'm more fun than Stina anyway."

●～●～●～●～

You hated asking for help.

You hated it even more when you had to ask for help on schoolwork.

You were smart. You knew you were smart. If there were two things that a lack of parents in your life gave you, it was excellent football skills and the ability to solve your own problems.

But this maths section in your textbook was causing you more pain than a Katie tackle in training ever could.

You glanced around the room. The media room was almost always empty at this time of day - the two and a half hour window between morning training and the gym session.

Almost everyone lived close so headed back home to rest before coming back. Stina had asked if you wanted to head back home with her but you decided not to, needing to finish your maths homework.

Lina had asked if you wanted her to drop you off on her way to her own place as well but you didn't relent.

You hunkered down in the media room with your textbook and, after just over an hour, your eyes stung like you hadn't slept in three days.

You glanced around again and finally swallowed your pride.

"Frida?" You asked the least intimidating person in the room," Can you help me?"

She looked up from her phone. "What is it?" She dragged your textbook towards her. "Oh! I can help!"

Despite her optimism, within a few seconds, it became clear that Frida could absolutely not help you. The more she read through your problems, the deeper her frown got until she was holding a pencil between her fingers and mouthing the question to herself as if that would help her understand.

She looked positively ill when she looked up at you before she cleared her throat. "Lia? Do you know how to do fancy algebra?"

Lia, from across the room, sighed as she approached. "I used to be quite good at algebra," She boasted," What's the problem?"

"Algebra," You deadpanned, shoving the textbook and your notepad at her," Help."

To her credit, she got further than Frida did, jotting down her working out before falling at the last hurdle - just like you did. She frowned. "Give me a second."

She rewrote all of her work but still ended up stumped at the same place as before.

"Kim? Jen? How were you at maths in school?"

Kim and Jen tried to help as well but it was like the blind leading the blind. You were going around in circles.

"When are you going to need this in life?" Kim said, drawing a line through her most reason equation and sighing.

"Unless you want to be an engineer, never." Jen sighed and flipped the book shut. "You don't want to be an engineer, do you, kid?"

"I'm happy playing football."

●～●～●～●～

If you weren't doing schoolwork at every spare moment, it was safe to say that you napping.

Back at National Camp, it wasn't uncommon to find you curled up in bed or with your head in Frido's lap while everyone watched a movie.

It seemed that your need to nap every moment you weren't occupied had carried over to England.

It got a little embarrassing the first few times you had been caught napping in the communal space. It was even worse when you woke up to Viv staring down at you with an unreadable look on her face, taking in your form curled up under your travel blanket.

You had smiled nervously as she stood in front of you, unmoving.

When Beth appeared through the door a moment later, Viv shushed her sternly and tucked your blanket up over your shoulders again, taking a seat nearby with a book.

Beth, it seemed, hadn't been able to keep her mouth shut about it so your constant naps had just become an expected thing and, after Leah had accidentally woken you up and gotten yelled at by Viv for it, the team tended to just leave you alone.

You were slightly delirious and warm when you woke up from your nap, eyes fluttering open and then shut again.

The low murmur of chatter let you know that contrary to when you started your nap, you were now no longer alone.

You were still quite confused, brain still thick with sleep, but you could recognise Sabrina's Canadian-accented English so you gathered that the keepers had finished their morning practice and had found you asleep in the media room.

You also recognised that your head was now slightly elevated so one of them must have moved your head into their lap while you slept. That was nice. Sometimes you would wake up with a crook in your neck from sleeping on the beat-up sofa that Leah swore she was one bad back away from replacing herself.

Your eyes fluttered open again, blearily blinking.

Across from you, Naomi laughed. "The kid's awake."

"I'm not a kid," You said stubbornly even though you were," You're not that much older than me."

"Still older," Naomi replied.

Next to her, Sabrina laughed.

That meant that Manu was sitting with you, your head in her lap. She laughed as well, jolting you slightly as you clutched your travel blanket tighter around your body.

You yawned.

"How long until gym?"

"Hour and a bit," Came Manu's answer.

You hummed and yawned a second time.

"Don't tell me you're going back to sleep," Sabrina said.

"Fine. I won't tell you."

●～●～●～●～

You spent the first few matches stuck on the bench.

You were young and not as experienced as your teammates so it made sense that you would be stuck there for the time being. Besides, it made you feel a little bit better that Kyra was stuck on the bench as well so you had someone who acted younger than you to muck around with.

"Chin up," Laia said with a grin, an arm thrown over your shoulder as she walked onto the pitch with you for warmups," You're starting today. Aren't you excited?"

"You look more excited than me," You replied a little sourly," I...I feel a little sick if I'm honest."

"You'll do great."

"So long as you tie your boots correctly and don't trip," Noelle said in way of greeting.

Your cheeks lit up in flames instantly at the reminder of training a few days ago when Beth had snuck up behind you and made a stupid sound in your ear. You had jumped into the air in shock and your laces weren't tied correctly so you tripped over your own feet and went tumbling to the ground in a way that made you look clumsier than Alessia.

"Don't be mean," Lotte chastised as the four of you passed a ball around," y/n knows how to properly tie her laces." She sent you a teasing smile and a shrug. "Besides, I'm sure she'll have some of the older girls lining up to make sure they're done properly."

You huffed as you kicked the ball back to her. You spun on your heel. "You're all mean," You declared," I'm gonna warm up with Vic and Less."

●～●～●～●～

The ninety minutes of your debut match were gruelling.

The ball went back and forth between the teams. Every shot that went in was equalised quickly. Everyone was growing tired, especially when five minutes of extra time was awarded and Katie was one dirty tackle away from earning herself a yellow card.

You took a moment to catch your breath, pulling up your socks before breaking into a sprint.

The opposing team's defence was in shambles and you could see their goalkeeper getting antsy.

A long ball from Katie fell neatly into Alessia's feet and she began her run.

You followed after her quickly as the opposing defence broke their line. It was carnage for a moment as you both approached the box.

The goalkeeper came off her line ever so slightly as the defence mobbed Alessia, who passed quickly to you.

Your foot moved automatically as you chipped the ball over the goalkeeper's head and into the back of the net.

Your instincts got you the goal so when your brain finally caught up, you were sporting the same look on your face as the one you had when you won against Australia.

The final whistle rang out as you stood there in shock.

Half a moment later, the team crashed into you.

Less made it to you first, pulling you in for a tight hug before everyone else converged on you.

You felt a bit like a dog, with the amount of head pats you were receiving but the blinding smile on your face more than made up for it - especially when Viv meandered over and gave you a hug and congratulations.

"Come on, l/n!" Katie cheered as she dragged you through the victory lap. "Party tonight! I'll pay for the drinks!"

"She's sixteen," Lina reminded her.

"I didn't say we had to go out to a pub! It's legal for sixteen-year-olds to drink at home! What do you say, kid?"

You laughed. "Good luck getting Stina to agree."

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal x reader #woso community #woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics

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stevieschrodinger · 2 days ago

Text

Part One Thirty

Couple of things - I've been going through it lately and just wanted to get this bit out. I do have more planned but I need a break after this. The Carpenters song referenced is 'all you get from love is a love song' and if you don't know it you can give it a listen and then you'll get the 'broken arm' joke.

They squish together into the phone booth, Steve hitting the numbers almost on reflex now, going through the motions of briefly speaking to Robin’s mom.

He angles the receiver so that Eddie can hear too, their cheeks practically touching, “Steve! Chrissy’s here-”

“Why?” Eddie cuts her off immediately, “not time to close the shop,” he almost sounds a little critical when he says it, making Steve smile.

“I know I know,” Chrissy says, “but he came back!”

“So we waited for him to leave, and we followed him,” Robin adds enthusiastically.

If Steve couldn’t hear for himself that they’re both at Robin’s place, and they’re both absolutely fine, he’d be panicking now, maybe he kind of is, because he’s sort of snippy when he says, “Robin what the fuck, it’s not safe, you two aren’t- you’re not Cagney and Lacy for fucks sake.”

“Steve it’s fine,” Chrissy tells him, “he went to Starcourt, so we went home and called Hopper right away.”

“Good,” Steve breathes a sigh of relief, “okay, so what now?”

“We don’t know,” Robin admits, “we’re just waiting to hear now. See what happens?”

“Okay we could...Eddie, you want to kill some time in town, and we can call again later?”

“Yeah” Eddie pulls back his sleeve to check his princess watch, “...lunch. And shopping?”

“Sure thing baby.”

Chrissy squeaks down the phone, “oh you’re both just too cute together.”

“Oh my god don’t encourage them.”

“Oh!” Chissy starts, “I met El and all the rest of the kids, isn’t she just, so cool? She made some pens float around!”

“El is the fewest bad kid. She’s quiet,” Eddie agrees, but Steve is absolutely certain Eddie’s warmed to the kids a lot over the last couple of months, so he knows Eddie doesn’t really mean it like that.

“Least,” Steve corrects softly, “she’s the least bad. Probably.”

“Best of a bad bunch?” Robin hazards.

“Maybe,” Eddie tells her, “we can come home soon?”

“Errrr…I mean, see what Hopper says, I guess? We might know later, but you guys shouldn’t come back today anyway, it’s a few hours drive, and you’ll need to pack up and everything, right?”

Steve frowns, as Eddie, very briefly, looks sad, “maybe tomorrow,” he says to Eddie more than the girls, “is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, “I...like the flower shop?”

“You miss it?”

“Yes, and Chrissy. Miss them. I know they’re not gone but...they’re not here.”

“Oh Eddie honey, I miss you too, okay? And when you get back you can come into work, there’s stuff to catch up on,” she whispers then, “Robin isn’t good with the flowers like you.”

“Hey! I’m trying my best here-” but she gives up, everyone else laughing over her.

The payphone starts to beep, “we’ll call later okay!”

Steve’s pretty sure Eddie’s jar will be empty again after today. He’s bought four more records, more Led Zeppelin, plus a Dio record because ‘Rainbow in the Dark’ was playing when they walked in and Eddie really liked it. Steve absolutely certain that the girl with a green Mohawk wearing a Dio shirt sealed the deal, but he's not going to tease Eddie about it.

Eddie comes out of the changing room of the second hand clothes store, showing Steve the jeans he’s trying on. He’s been making do all this time with Steve’s draw string sweats and jeans with a very cinched in belt, so it’s definitely time for Eddie to choose his own things but...Steve wasn’t expecting Eddie to choose anything quite so tight.

“Stevie? What do you think?”

Steve swallows thickly before he answers, he swears Eddie’s only getting away with wearing them because his dicks on the inside, the thing would get strangled otherwise, “you look really good Eds. You like those ones?”

“Yes. Black, like my tail. And look,” Eddie scratches at the ripped fabric, his knees on display, “see my knees. I like to see them, they’re new.”

Steve bites his lips briefly to suppress the chuckle, “you should definitely be proud of those knees, you did grow them yourself.”

Steve frowns at the sight of Eddie in a leather jacket; it’s so very far removed from everything he’s been wearing. It’s so different from all of Steve’s clothes, but Steve can’t deny he’s making it work. It definitely suits the look Eddie’s starting to cultivate. He’s very much leaning towards darker colors, and he was really pleased when he turned up a Led Zeppelin tee shirt out of a pile.

The difference between the Eddie that comes out of the dressing room and the Eddie that went in is startling, Steve’s pullovers and polos all tend to be lighter colors, so all the black is very different.

“You like it?”

“I mean, as long as you like it, sure, you’re the one who has to wear it. But yeah, yeah I do like it. You look good.”

Steve has to stand by while Eddie rummages across a tray of cheap jewellery, “they’ll turn your fingers green,” he warns vaguely. Eddie shrugs, probably not understanding what Steve means as he tries things on, he likes the shiny silver ones that definitely are not silver, “you’re such a magpie.”

Eddie chooses two chunky rings that are so cheap he will get change from his last five dollars, but he clearly likes how they look on his fingers; he doesn’t even take them off to pay for them. Steve knows he’s just here to hold the bags, but he doesn’t mind. Eddie’s worked hard for this money, he should spend it on the things he wants.

Steve meanders through the store, it’s mostly second hand furniture and ‘antiques’, but Steve figures that term is being used very, very loosely. As near as Steve can tell it mostly looks like house clearances and that sort of thing. He spends a little while at the glass cabinets, staring at all the little figurines. 'Dust gatherers,' his dad calls them. There’s some tiny little jade ones, big tall porcelain ones and everything in between.

He’s distracted away from them by the sound of twanging. Bad, uneven twanging on an acoustic guitar. Steve follows the sound, finding Eddie just fiddling with the strings, the guitar still lying on it’s back. It doesn’t have a case, and looks pretty beat to hell to Steve, covered in stickers and all scratched up, but Eddie is entertained by the noises, and he looks up, smiling, “you going to buy it?”

Eddie shakes his head, “not enough left.”

“How much are you short?”

Eddie checks his pocket, and then the little label hanging from the neck, “six dollars?” he hazards.

“Okay, well, I’ve got four left on me, so maybe you can haggle the guy down.”

“I’ll try,” Eddie grins big, taking the change from Steve.

They’ve dropped everything off at the car and, with nothing left to do to kill any more time, they head back to the phone and smush into the booth together.

“He wasn’t there when Hopper got there,” Robin tells them, and Steve sighs, disappointed, “but! El looked into my head real quick, and she says he’s called Doctor Owens. She knew who he was, and she says he’s...nice.”

“Nice,” Steve repeats, deadpan, “a man who facilitated experiments on little kids. Nice.”

“Well...I mean maybe as nice as he could be given the circumstances. I got the impression he never...he wasn’t cruel about it. If you know what I mean.”

“I guess,” Steve hazards, “Eddie?”

Next to him, Eddie’s kind of staring into space, frowning, “Owens. Yes. Remember that word, maybe?”

“Okay. Okay, so what are they doing now Robs?”

“Well, Hoppers keeping an eye out and he’s going to try the Motel right now, but if he’s not there he’s going to start doing drive bys of Starcourt and stuff, and hopefully he turns up,” Steve can hear in her voice that she's shrugging, “but Hopper says since no one else is asking any questions, he’s hopeful that it’s just this guy working alone, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah okay.”

Eddie listens to his new record while Steve makes dinner. He has his guitar over his lap, and occasionally plays a note or two. He understood the mechanics of it already, but Steve figures he must have seen someone with a guitar on TV at some point.

Steve’s absorbed in what he’s doing, and doesn’t notice at first that the twanging noises have stopped. The record ends, but it feels like it’s been a long time of quiet, and Steve looks over to find Eddie, expecting him to be flipping it.

He isn’t.

Steve turns off the stove, covering the two pots he’s been carefully nursing. Eddie isn’t in the cabin; Steve finds him on the dock. He’s just...standing there, in the near dark. Just...staring out across the lake.

“Eddie? You okay?”

Eddie looks around again, “heard something. Had to check it’s safe.”

“You could have said,” Steve comes up close, wrapping a hand around Eddie’s hip. Eddie turns in reflexively, looking for a quick, soft kiss, which Steve is happy to give.

“Think the trees look like The Upside Down.”

“Do you?” Steve looks around; all the trees have leaves on, they’re dense and alive and nothing like the dead twisted things that litter The Upside Down, “I don’t think they do.”

Wind moves through the trees, the susurration of leaves is kind of loud, “sounds like bats. Many many bats,” Eddie shifts closer, pressing himself against Steve.

“You okay?”

“I don’t...I think I don’t like it here.”

“Oh...well,” Steve makes a decision, “since they’re pretty sure it’s just the Owens guy, how about we go home tomorrow? I mean, you might not be able to go to work and stuff until they find him-”

“Yes. Home tomorrow.”

Steve looks around again, tries to see it through Eddie’s eyes. Tries to see what reminds him so much of The Upside Down. Maybe the panic attack in the shower knocked some stuff loose; Steve doesn’t know. Eddie’s been making do with strip washing from the bathroom sink the last couple of nights, and that’s been fine but not ideal. Eddie’s hair needs a wash.

“Okay, we’ll call when we go through town, okay, let them know?”

“Yes...take my book back.”

“You finished it?”

“Almost.”

“Lets go inside, I can finish dinner and you can tell me what it’s about?”

“So they’re...stealing treasure from a dragon?” Eddie nods, his mouth full of dinner. “Okay, fair enough.”

Eddie swallows, “I want to read The Lord of The Rings.”

“Okay, I’m sure we can get it at the library.”

“You promise dragons aren’t real?”

“Yup. Definitely not real, and there’s no hobbits or wizards or- or elves or any of that stuff. And magic isn’t real- well. That kind of magic isn’t real, at least,” Eddie frowns like the book committed a crime.

“But...dinosaurs. Dinosaurs were definitely real, you have those in your book?”

“Yes...dragons can fly though. And breathe fire.”

“Well...some dinosaurs could fly, and they were big like a dragon, some of them.”

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes go wide, “I thought from my book like...cow sized?”

“Hu uh,” Eddie excitement is actually palpable, “definitely a dinosaur book next, some of them were like...as tall as trees,” Steve doesn’t actually know, he was most definitely not a dinosaur kid, but he’s pretty sure at least some of them were tall like that.

“All the time, used to do this. When I had a tail,” Eddie’s voice is muffled where he’s bent over the kitchen sink.

“Yeah...I guess I did,” and it’s true, Steve was washing Eddie’s hair pretty much every other day when Eddie still had a tail. He feels the back of Eddie’s head almost reflexively at the memory, following the ghostly, barely there ridges with his fingers through the suds, “it’s getting so long again already.”

“Good. El said Max makes nice braids when it’s long enough.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “oh yeah? That’s going to look great, now eyes and mouth closed, I’m gonna’ rinse.”

Eddie has his head resting on Steve’s tummy while Steve plays with his hair, hand buried in his curls, massaging his scalp, “what you doing baby?”

“Hear.”

“Hear? Oh what, you’re listening?”

“Listening to Stevie’s inside.”

“Anything interesting?”

Eddie nods, his cheek dragging against Steve’s skin, “funny tummy noises. And bumping.”

“Bumping? Oh, beating, my heart right?”

“Yeah. Stevie, we can definitely go home tomorrow?”

“Sure thing babe, we can get packed up in the morning,” Steve yawns, “you want to go to sleep?”

“Maybe. There’s bad dreams here.”

Steve blinks his eyes open to look down, a weird shiver raising goosebumps on his arms, all the way down to where his hand is still buried in Eddie’s hair. Eddie didn’t have to put that quite so creepily. “I think it’s just...maybe it reminds you of things here, so your mind is kind playing tricks on you a little? There’s nothing bad here baby, I promise. What do you think?”

“The water reminds me of Barb.”

Steve frowns, “Barb? How do you know about Barb?” Under Steve’s hand, something crawls unpleasantly beneath Eddie’s skin.

Eddie shrugs, “Nancy told me you killed her.”

“Stevie!” Steve fights, briefly, confused. “Stevie love, it’s okay. Bad dream.”

Steve’s kind of sweaty and panting, but he quickly realizes that it’s Eddie whose holding him, so he quits moving, “Jesus Christ,” he breathes out slowly, trying to calm himself down, “I’m fine. Thanks. I’ll be okay in a minute.”

“You want to tell me? Here, water.” Steve takes the glass, sipping it carefully. He can feel the cool water go down, grounding him.

Steve has no desire whatsoever to talk about it, so he deflects, “what time is it?”

“Five?” Eddie leans over, checking his watch before putting it back, “half five.”

“I miss you saying five and a half, it was cute.”

“I can say five and a half,” Eddie takes the glass again before snuggling in.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Already awake...bad dreams.”

“Fucking hell. We need to go home just so we can get a good nights sleep. What did you dream about?”

“You. Lost you, in the trees...we were here but...Upside Down trees? I tried and tried to find you. Could hear you, ‘help help,’ really scared.”

“Maybe it is this place,” Steve settles down again, pulling Eddie close, “weird that we’re both having bad dreams right?”

“I don’t like it.”

“No but...lets just rest a little, and then breakfast and we can get packed up, okay?”

“Okay, Stevie love.”

Eddie waits outside the phone booth, leaning against the car where it sits parked by the curb. Steve calls Family Video today, knowing that Robs should be at work, “hey Bird-”

“He got him! Hopper! He got the Owens guy!”

Steve feels himself relax, one less thing to worry about, “good. Good, we’re coming home.”

“Okay, Hopper does think it was just this guy. He was staying at the Motel, Hop had to wait around a bit, like proper stake out!! But he did get him. Said he couldn’t find any evidence of him like, working with other people, and El’s going to talk to him or something. Make sure. I’m not sure about that bit but-”

“Okay, okay, so where is he?”

“Hopper’s got him at the Motel. Probably like, tied up, do you think? Steve what if he’s like, working for the government though. Or or the Russians-”

Steve rubs his forehead, “Birdie, I know you do love some empty speculation-”

“I do!”

“But how about we wait until we actually like, know?”

“Spoil sport.”

They say goodbye and end the call, Steve offering the keys to Eddie, “want to do a little of the driving?”

Eddie grins big, clearly surprised and pleased by the offer, “yes I do!”

“Okay, careful though, you don’t know the roads like at home. And no getting distracted by the cows.”

Eddie ‘moos’ really loudly in response, once in the drivers seat, he pauses for a second, “should have bought tapes,” he laments.

“Well, unlucky, I’m thinking some Carpenters.”

“Nooooo,” Eddie laughs.

“Shut up, I know you love it. Now sing to me about how the best love songs are written with a broken arm.”

“I think that’s what she said! Broken heart makes no sense,” Eddie grumbles, Steve still laughing.

Eddie had caved after two hours of driving, but still, considering all Eddie had done before today is short journeys around Hawkins, Steve figures he did really well in an unfamiliar place, and he told Eddie so. Eddie has turned into a surprisingly careful driver, Steve doesn’t know if it’s his consideration for Steve’s beloved car, or if it’s Steve’s constant reminders that Eddie cannot afford to draw any attention to himself. Either way, Steve feels safe in the passenger seat.

“Okay, I think I should take you home to unpack, then I can figure out how to call Hop and see if I can go over.”

Steve’s not even surprised by Eddie’s response, “both go, you mean.”

“Eddie...I’m not sure it’s-”

“Stevie,” Eddie manages to make it a complete sentence.

“Look...I’m not going to take your choice away, okay, if you want to come, then that’s fine. But...you get I just want you to be safe, right? And I feel like the less this guy knows, the better?”

“I know...I know,” Eddie has his thinking face on, when he’s wrestling with how to say something. It’s been happening a lot less lately, but this concept must be more complicated. “The people had me in a tank. They...hurt me. I was scared. Now...Owens is in the tank? He has to...he has to say why. To me. And sorry.”

“I...is that what you want? For him to apologize? To...explain?”

“Apologize and explain. Yes. And...I will not hurt him. I’m Eddie. I’m not people.”

Steve shouldn’t be surprised, not really. He feels like he knows Eddie inside and out, but his natural compassion, his...kind of innate goodness still blind sides Steve sometimes. Steve had vaguely considered that a realistic outcome of this may be that he’s helping Hopper hide a body. Maybe. It was kind of an abstract thought he hadn’t wanted to poke too hard but, realistically, they’re talking about a man who experimented on children, on Eddie.

Steve is clearly no where near as forgiving.

Hopper meets them both outside the room. Steve has no idea what to expect, really. The rasp of Hopper stubble is loud when he scrubs at his face, “El thinks this Owens guy is legit. He already knows Eddie has,” Hopper gestures vaguely, “human parts.”

“How?”

“After Starcourt happened, he went back to poke about, and he saw you both. More importantly Eddie, driving a car,” Hopper’s words are full of accusation, like ‘see I knew him driving would be trouble.’

Eddie waves a hand dismissively, “I can go in?”

Hopper sighs, but Steve isn’t going to fight Eddie on this. He knows what he wants, and he’s so fucking smart. Steve’s sure Eddie doesn’t fully appreciate the risks, not since he doesn’t get fully grasp how stuff like actual governments work but...yeah. It’s Eddie’s life, but Steve still takes his hand. If they’re doing it, they’re doing it together.

Hopper just sighs and rolls his eyes.

Steve figured that, somehow, this guy would just...look evil. He doesn’t. He looks like a harmless old dude, sitting on the edge of a sagging motel mattress, looking over some papers. He cannot disguise his interest when Eddie walks in.

He’s not restrained or anything, he’s just...there. There are books and pens and folders and shit spread out on the opposite bed, like he’s been working.

“Owens?” Eddie checks.

“Yes. Yes hello it is...so wonderful to see you again. And to hear you speak! How good is your understanding-”

“I think we have questions, first,” Steve cuts him off sharply. He doesn’t seem threatening, just...genuinely pleased to see Eddie. The guy has to be up to something, Steve can’t shake the suspicious thought that the guy must be one hell of an actor.

“Yes. Of course. I have everything, all of my notes, from Starcourt, so any questions you have I will do my best to answer.”

“Okay, where the fuck do you get off experimenting on people?” Steve’s pretty sure his voice is reasonably calm. He’s vaguely aware of Hopper coming in behind them, pulling up a folding chair he must have gotten from his truck.

Owens closes his eyes briefly, before addressing Eddie,“yes. Of course. I am so so sorry for what you were put through but..the work we were doing. I was not fully aware of just how intelligent you were. Are. I didn’t at first fully comprehend that we were even dealing with a sentient specimen-”

“He’s not a specimen, he’s a person,” Steve snaps.

“I am very smart,” Eddie adds helpfully.

“Yes. Yes you are. And the transformation you have undergone is nothing short of miraculous, if I could take some bloods-”

“Absolutely the fuck not. What were you doing with the Russians?”

“Oh,” Owens seems genuinely confused by the question, like it hadn’t really occurred to him, “when the original labs were closed, the funding ended. Of course we were aware of the mirror dimension-”

Eddie looks at Steve, “he means The Upside Down.”

“-Oh, is that what you call it? Well, it was deemed for too dangerous, and not worth the expense, to continue, not after such a catastrophic failure. The Russians however didn’t seem to have any such issues and were interested in opening a gate; I had to go where I could to continue my work, you understand. And then they brought you back with them. What should I call you?”

“Eddie. I’m Eddie.”

“And you’re working? And you’ve learned to speak and drive a car...your ability to process new information is staggering. The physical changes, did they just happen? What was the-”

“Stop, just stop. What do you want with him? Why have you been asking around?”

“Stevie,” Eddie says quietly, pulling Steve back a little by his shirt. And yeah, okay, Steve may have taken a step forward.

“I just...want to continue my studies. Eddie’s change...the differences in his make up, his body’s ability to rewrite itself – it could lead to...well, significant discoveries. The data I could gather, imagine the effect on modern medicine, what we might achieve – the potential to help people could be immeasurable.”

“We could...help people?” Eddie echoes.

“Yes, well. We could try. Like I said I would have to do some tests to understand-”

“No,” Steve crosses his arms over his chest.

Next to him, Eddie asks quietly, “what tests?”

“Just...take some blood, for now. Just try to understand how this happened and...what the changes mean on a genetic level.”

“Look, Eddie, you do not have to do a single thing for this guy, okay? This could be dangerous, they could come and take you away again-”

“I would most certainly like to avoid just that,” Owens interjects.

“Oh yeah, right. Sell me on that then,” Steve snaps at him.

“Look,” Owens spreads his hands, he hasn’t moved from his seat on the bed, “I’m the only one who knows about this. The little contact I’ve had with my previous...employers implies that they’re done with the site, they’ve scrubbed the remains of Starcourt, it’s already being filled in. I only know you even exist because I just happened to see you. No one knows Eddie is alive right now, that he didn’t die in his tank, except for me. If I tell anyone they will take him, potentially back to Russia, and I’ll loose access to him. If I inform the American team, I’ll have to admit that I was working for the Russians, which would cause some obvious fall out for me. This way I can just…continue with my work.”

Steve rubs his eyes. It sounds...legit. He guesses. Logical. “Hopper?”

“El says he’s on the level.”

“Jesus fuck,” Steve huffs, walking in a circle.

“Stevie? I want to help people.”

“I know you do baby.”

“Oh, are you two in a relationship-”

Steve finds himself leaning over to point in Owens face, “do not.”

“Okay, okay,” Owens spreads his hands, “look, I think you need to see this from the other side too. What if Eddie gets sick? What are you going to do, take him to the doctor? And what about El, and her powers? What if something comes up with her? I’m more than happy to-”

“I’m sure you are,” Steve stops him, “and you agree with that Hop?”

“I mean, he’s got a point. Don’t think we could take Eddie to a regular doctor, and El was fine with letting him look her over. I mean I maybe don’t agree with the shit he’s been involved in but...I don’t currently have a lot of choice with getting my kids brain powers looked at.”

“I don’t like it.”

Hopper shrugs, “nope.”

“This is such a bad plan.”

“Not as bad as-”

“Don’t you dare-” Steve starts.

“Letting some fish guy-”

“Hopper!” Eddie adds, affronted.

“Bite your toes off.”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature #robin buckly #chrissy cunningham #buckingham

159 notes · View notes

hwaslayer · 1 month ago

Text

wildfire (cs) | four.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 5.4k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, oc is getting whiplash from prof. choi's lab culture lmao, very vague/general descriptions of mice research work, prof. choi to the rescue fr, lots and LOTS of tension, yes i promise the ending counts as foreshadowing because shit will hit the roof in 5!!

A couple of days later, you and Sunwoo are finally putting the newly built behavior rig to use. A couple of days later, you find yourself becoming way too distracted by Professor Choi.

A couple of days later, Sunwoo is asking you to text your professor about some mice issues?

"Can you do me a favor?" Sunwoo pouts. "Pretty please?"

"What?" You tease and cross your arms.

"Can you take a picture and text it to Professor Choi? Ask him if it's okay to move forward with the vet's recommendations for the mice?"

"Text him?" Sunwoo looks at you and nods, flashing you Professor Choi's number on his own phone screen.

"We usually text him if it's something really urgent and needs his attention."

"You guys don't just do this in a Slack chat or something?"

"Trust me, he's probably the worst with Slack. I don't even think the guy has it downloaded on his phone so it's easily accessible." Sunwoo chuckles. "Y/N, I promise. It's fine. I'm not setting you up for trouble." You let out a small sigh and pull out your phone to take pictures. You're not really sure why you're hesitant, it definitely was a thing in Professor Bahng's lab, too. You're probably just used to the older cohorts of professors that required everything to be sent through email, Slack maybe. The new wave? Definitely a bunch of texters.

you: hi professor choi, this is y/n! i'm with sunwoo and he asked me to send this picture to you of one of our mice. the vet said he's really sick and we should go with a different treatment plan for it. it'll cost a little more if we do, but it should help get the mouse back on track. can we move forward?

San is paused mid-workout when he gets your text, sweat dripping down from his forehead when he zooms into the picture, analyzes a bit and lets out a sigh.

prof. choi: yes please!

you: got it!

prof. choi: could i trouble you and sunwoo to make sure there aren't any other sick mice?

you: of course! sorry about that. ☹️

prof. choi: all good, it happens! no need to apologize for anything. thank you. ☺️

prof. choi: also, can you have him charge it to our outreach account? he'll know and could probably pass along the finance info to you.

you: of course!

prof. choi: 😬

"He said it's fine and to charge it to the outreach account." Sunwoo raises his brow.

"He answered you already? I thought we'd have to make rounds in this room before he responded."

"Yeah?"

"Jeez, what's the trick? I feel like I have to bombard him sometimes."

"I literally just got here, I have no trick." You laugh.

"Sure." Sunwoo laughs and shrugs it off. "Anyway, sounds good! Thanks. Let's go take care of these mice and make sure the rest are fine."

"He said that, too."

"Figured! Always gotta be one step ahead of him. That's the only way to survive here." You laugh and follow Sunwoo deeper into the mice room, looking through the rest of the mice to make sure none of them are as sick. You help him wean a couple and split them into different cages, the last half of the walkthrough consisting of making sure everything else looks good. When you get back to the basement, you spend a bit of time helping Belle before starting on the first half of your behavior experiment with Sunwoo. It's a lot of work spent in a dark room, surrounded by bright computer lights— time moves quick, but your energy drains quicker.

When you finally catch a break after the past few hours of working alongside of Sunwoo, you wander down the halls to head to the bathroom and get a snack. You freshen up after relieving yourself, feeling a bit icky after being in a stuffy room, the stuffy basement, all afternoon. You prance over to the vending machine down the hall, grabbing some peanut m&ms to munch to satisfy your sweet tooth. Just as you turn the hall to walk back towards the office, Professor Choi walks out of one of the rooms, damn near colliding with you once again.

"Woah, hey. Sorry." He says, his arm out in case of any minor collisions.

"You're good, Professor Choi." He smiles, eyes shifting down to the bag of m&ms in your hand.

"Sweet tooth?"

"Need some sugar. Been cooped up with the rooms with Sunwoo."

"You're gonna take a break, right?"

"I will." You give him a toothless smile. "Sorry about texting you earlier. Sunwoo said it was fine, but I don't know. I still feel bad somehow." Professor Choi laughs before shaking his head.

"It really is fine, I promise you Y/N. Especially in that case. You can text or call me for emergency purposes." You pause, unsure how to respond. "I mean it."

"Okay, okay." You chuckle. "I will." He smiles at you before clutching his laptop close to his hip and checking his watch.

"Good. I'll see you later, gotta run off to prepare for this symposium with Professor Bahng."

"Symposium?"

"Mhm. He's leading one next month."

"Are you doing a talk?" He nods.

"Yeah unless he boots me out of the agenda for whatever reason." You giggle and shake your head. "You'll be there whenever it happens, right?"

"Yeah, of course. Can't miss that."

"Good answer." He smirks. "And Y/N?"

"Mhm?"

"Hope that's not gonna be dinner for you. Don't skip meals on me, please." You silently nod, waving him off before turning on your heel to head back to your desk.

That same evening, you have never been so grateful for having listened to a professor. It was such a tiny detail when Professor Choi told you to save his number for emergency purposes, and here you are experiencing said emergency purpose.

You were wrapping up your behavior experiment in one of the lab rooms, excited to finally leave the small room and the darkness behind. You had set your mice down on the cart, taking a few notes on an index card to jot into your lab notebook later on— which, you probably shouldn't have left your notebook in the office area in the first place. You needed to reference something mid-note-taking about the mouse's behavior, but you couldn't. When you decided to run out and grab your notes, the door handle flew off and locked you inside.

Fuck.

You tried your best not to panic, but the room felt like it was closing in on you with how small the space was. How dark the room was, felt like it was getting darker by the minute despite the computers giving off light in the far corners. Trapped between these behavior rigs and the gazillion computers, microscopes and lasers. There was no way to re-attach the handle, or so you couldn't see any possible way, and there was nothing that could help you unlock the door from the inside. The worse part of it all is that none of your texts or calls to Sunwoo are going through due to the sucky ass service in the basement, and you know he's busy doing some neuron culturing off in the wetlab room nearby.

He's definitely not checking his phone, and he's probably not going to check on you anytime soon.

Your mind immediately goes to Professor Choi next. It could be a long shot, but you decide to pace the room, hoping the call could go through at some point. This could be considered an emergency purpose, right? He wouldn't think you're silly for contacting him because of a door handle, no?

You definitely should save the facilities and security numbers, too.

"Hello?"

"Oh. Hi!" You're wide-eyed when the call actually goes through in this one spot of the room, Professor Choi's sultry, deep voice picking up on the other end.

"Hey Y/N. Everything alright?"

"Um, no? I'm kinda embarrassed to say this but I'm stuck in the W072 behavior room. The door knob inside flew off so I can't even open the door." He smiles to himself before letting out a small breath.

"Sorry, yeah. That door's been having major issues. I'll have to ask facilities what's going on with that. I'll be over in about 5 minutes."

"I'm so sorry. I really am embarrassed, I hope I'm not pulling you from—"

"You don't need to worry." He chuckles. "You're not pulling me away from anything. I could use the break anyway. Be there for you soon. Hang tight for me, hm?" You bite onto your bottom lip and nod as if he can see you.

"Mmkay. Thank you."

"You're welcome." And with that, the call ends. You're awkwardly sitting on the computer chair in the dark room, nothing but the sounds of computers whirring in the background; sounds of the mice scrambling around their cages, a little desk lamp and the computers the only source of light. You barely have service down here, and you're eternally grateful the call actually went through to Professor Choi's phone.

You'd be stuck here until Sunwoo decides to randomly pop in, if he randomly pops in. Until who fucking knows when, really.

Professor Choi arrives within that 5 minute mark, and he startles you by the way he swings the door open. He's wearing a Stussy shirt and jeans, sporting that same, dimpled smile of his that you're finding is becoming a weakness for you.

"Hey you." He says. "You okay?"

"Yeah, thank you." You stand, the broken door handle in hand. "Uh, I have this?" He laughs before wedging the small trash can in between the door frame and the door itself.

"Let me see." He says, gently taking the door handle from your hand. You watch from behind as he crouches down to see if he can temporarily re-attach the damn thing. I mean truthfully, he is also trying to look useful and attractive in front of you somehow. Even though he doesn't know what the fuck is going on. "Uh." He hums, making you giggle.

"Maybe you should leave it for facilities." He turns to you with a playful glare.

"Saying I can't fix it?"

"I mean, doesn't look like it." He playfully tuts and stands, setting the door handle aside. "We might both get stranded here."

"That wouldn't be too bad, now would it?" He looks at you with such a shit-eating smirk, it causes you to shy away and release eye contact before you break. "But, you're right. There are things I'm better off with and that's not fixing door handles." He pouts and you shake your head.

"We can't always be great at everything, Professor Choi." You tease.

"Yeah." He lets out a small laugh. "Were you finished in here?"

"Uh, yeah. I just need to put the mice away." You lazily point at the cart behind you with a few cages sitting on top.

"Let me help."

"Oh no, I promise, I'm okay."

"I wanna." He slips on some gloves and starts dragging the cart towards the opposite end of the behavior room where the mice are housed. They sit behind blackout curtains and on ventilated shelves, some sitting a bit higher up that require a small step-stool to reach. You start setting the cages into their open spots in the middle row, but the last three need to be placed on the very stop shelf. "Where do these guys go?"

"Up there." You point and he smiles, grabbing two of the cages for you.

"Got you. Careful, your head. I'm gonna reach over." He says from right behind you, his long arms reaching above to slip them into the open slots. You freeze, eyes watching him grab the last cage and slip it onto the shelf. "Good?" You turn to face him. He's still standing in the same position, not giving you much room to work with in this tiny corner.

"Mhm." You look up at him and god, does he like looking at you from this angle. "Thank you, Professor Choi."

"You're welcome." He matches your soft tone. With how close you are, you can smell his cologne lingering in the air.

"You're always coming to my rescue."

"I don't mind. I'd do it again if I needed to." He ticks his head to the side. "Gotta give Sunwoo a little talk about not taking care of you properly."

"He's doing a very good job, I promise." You don't know what the hell comes over you, but you tap him against the chest lightly— and you almost lose it. First, out of embarrassment, but second, because of how firm his chest felt. You knew he worked out, but damn; you were wondering how well built and toned he actually was. He doesn't do anything, though. He's still looking at you with a small smile etched on his lips. You can tell he's having a slight internal debate on whether or not he should also tease and play around.

He knows he can't. Doesn't mean he won't.

"Oh yeah?" He starts as he steps a little closer to test the waters. His eyes are flicking across your features as if he's trying to study you and study you well. It's a bit obvious he's itching to do something— brush your hair back, put a hand on your waist. Something, anything—

"Yo, you all good in there?" You hear Sunwoo's voice at the door, causing you to abruptly step aside and wipe your sweaty palms down your pants. "Oh shit, woah! Professor Choi out in the wild! What's going on?" Sunwoo fully steps into the behavior room and places his hands on his hips, San giving off a hearty laugh at his comment.

"The door handle flew off." Is all you say while pointing at it sitting on the edge of the table. "I tried calling and texting you but none of them went through. Professor Choi had to come save me." Sunwoo nods nonchalantly. Luckily, it doesn't seem like he thinks anything is strange or odd. Definitely didn't catch you two being only inches away from each other, damn near pressed up against one another. You're curious as to what Professor Choi would've done next, and now, you may never know.

Welp.

"The hell did you do?" Sunwoo laughs. "Just started and already breaking things?" He teases.

"You know that door's been an issue since forever." San chimes in.

"I know, I'm just teasing." You roll your eyes. "Anyway, are you all good in here?"

"Mhm. I uploaded everything onto the server."

"Sweet. I'll take a look in a bit." You watch Sunwoo as he starts to leave the room, grabbing your notebook and laptop from the other table before following suit.

"Thank you again, Professor Choi." You give him a cute smile that he finds himself admiring, being last to leave the room.

"Of course, Y/N. I'll come save you any time you need me to." You let out a small laugh before shaking your head and catching up to Sunwoo. He bites onto his bottom lip as he sheds off his gloves and tucks his hands into his pockets, letting the both of you be as he heads back into his office. Once he's inside, he lets out a hefty sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose because fuck.

He needs to control himself better.

"Fuck." He finally says outloud, slightly stressed over you and those pretty eyes.

Pretty lips.

Pretty smile.

He plops back down onto his office chair, shaking off the thoughts before proceeding to check his inbox and review his final draft of the progress report. He needed to find any distraction right now; his thoughts, judgment even, slowly being clouded by you.

—FLASHBACK

"I think I'm getting this all wrong." You rest your head on the library table, reviewing your journal club presentation lazily.

"Why do you think that, Y/N? The way you interpret the paper is gonna make sense to the lab. Journal club is meant for you guys to build off of it and have a discussion." Jiung continues to work on his homework across from you.

"I know, I'm just nervous for some reason."

"Then just send your email to Professor Choi to see if he'll go over it with you. Give you peace of mind." You sigh.

"Yeah. He's probably gonna be so done with me after the past few days." Jiung snorts.

"Imagine if he hadn't saved you." His laugh grows. "How the fuck would you have gotten out?"

"I'd like to believe that Sunwoo would have at least checked on me." He nods.

"Yeah, maybe. Glad you're okay, though. What did Professor Choi say?" You shrug, completely [and obviously] leaving out the details about the close moments you've had with him.

"Nothing. He just came to get me and that was it." Jiung nods silently, giving you the opportunity to type away on Outlook to send Professor Choi an email.

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Hi Prof. Choi, Do you have some time to go over the paper I chose for journal club on Monday? I just want to make sure I'm getting the format and processes right. Here's my presentation attached. Best, Y/N

You minimize the window and continue to work on other things, hoping you can meet with Professor Choi and talk about it soon—

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Sure! We can go over it tomorrow if you'd like? 11am good? - San

"He responded." Jiung hums as a response.

"Nice. What did he say?"

"We can meet tomorrow to go over it."

"See, that's good! I'm sure it'll be fine, but at least you can get Professor Choi's input for your first journal club." You nod.

"Yeah. Hopefully it is fine."

—END

You take your knuckles to the surface of Professor Choi's door, giving it a good two, three soft knocks before you hear a faint 'come in' from the other side. You swing the door open, finding Professor Choi diligently typing away as he sits at his desk. His brows are tightly knit together, and he's wearing a simple white button-up; but today, he's got black glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

"Hey Y/N." He says. "Sorry, give me a sec. I just need to respond to this email really quickly."

"No worries." You sit on the couch. "Take your time." His lips curve into a small smile just as he types away, then clicks to send it off.

"Alright. Hi." He smiles his usual, dimpled smile, black strands framing his forehead. "How's it going?"

"Good. How about you?"

"I'm alright, can't complain." He chuckles. "So, you wanted to talk about journal club? I checked your powerpoint and everything seemed fine. What's wrong?"

"I just feel like I'm not getting it right."

"Why do you think that way? You know, journal club is for us to discuss the paper as a lab. You don't have to get everything right, Y/N."

"But, still." You pout and San almost melts into a puddle in his seat. Fuck, he thinks. This is gonna be difficult. "I just wanna make sure I'm at least getting the process or the concept of the paper correct." Professor Choi stands and walks around his desk and it's your turn to internally lose it. He's got on black slacks but they fit him so well— his outfit fits him so well, you don't think you've ever seen someone built so.. perfectly.

"Wanna walk though it?" You barely hear the question as your eyes continue to [subtly] glaze over his figure, and he surely catches on.

How much more obvious can you be?

Well, how could he not know how attractive he is? Him and his friends are a consistent, hot topic on campus.

He's so damn fine. He knows it.

"Y/N?" He leans back against the edge of his desk, snapping you out of your thoughts. He's got a leg crossed over the other, arms crossed tightly against his chest. His head is tilted while he watches you, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while you shift your eyes back up to meet his. You're sure you aren't seeing things. You're almost positive Professor Choi's subtly feeding into this, right? "Lost you there?"

"Yes. Sorry." You purse your lips together. "Got distracted."

"Hm." He hums, licking his lips. "Over what?"

"Nothing." You smile and shrug it off like it's nothing even though it clearly isn't. He knows, and he's not entirely mad about it one bit. It's a relief he's not the only one; question is, who's gonna be the first to break? San knows he can't, and it's a game he hates to play.

Doesn't mean he won't.

"Didn't seem like nothing."

"Swear." You stand to walk over to the whiteboard on his wall, grabbing a colored marker to start doodling out your thoughts for the journal club paper.

"Lying to me again?" He teases.

"I would never lie to you, Professor Choi." He chuckles, coming behind you as you continue to write.

"That's nice to know. I hope you know you can tell me anything, though." You pause, letting his words marinate. No, you don't know that. You don't think you can tell him how fine he is or how much you wanna jump his bones, not at all.

"I'm just confused." You continue your writing. The statement goes for a couple of things: the journal club paper, some of the data that you and Sunwoo have from recent behavior work, Professor Choi himself. "I need to know if I'm understanding it correctly." You point to the board, slowly turning over your shoulder to look at him. "I don't wanna misread anything." He subtly bites onto his bottom lip before stepping closer and taking the marker from your hand, drawing a huge circle around your writings.

"You're not." And for San, that statement can also go for a couple of things: your overthinking, the way you feel silly for questioning your understanding of the paper, you. "If it's one thing I can tell you Y/N— it's to not overthink and question every little thing. You'll waste time doing that when you've had it right all along." He looks at you and gives you one final reassurance: "You're not misreading any of this."

"Okay." You respond softly, eyes shifting to his lips and back up to his almond-shaped eyes. For some reason, this no longer feels like it's about the paper. For some reason, it feels like he's telling you he's on the same page, like he wants you just as bad as you want him. For some reason, you no longer feel like you're just delusional and in your feelings— even though, everything about this is completely wrong and against the code. It could fuck everything up for the both of you.

But, you don't care.

He doesn't either.

"So, tell me again." He clears his throat. You watch his adam's apple bob when he swallows, capping the marker as he sits back on the corner of his desk and looks at you. "What's your understanding about their process?" You continue to write on the board, explaining your understanding of the paper. Professor Choi continues to sit closely behind you, nodding in agreement as you talk him through it. He saw your presentation and he didn't find any flaws with it; he's not sure why you're second guessing yourself when you did everything correctly.

You've done everything perfectly.

"Y/N." He says lowly, almost near your ear. "You've got it down. Don't second guess yourself."

"I can't help it."

"Trust me, don't. You'll make it more complicated than it needs to be. That was perfect. Your presentation was great."

"Should I fix anything?"

"No."

"Professor Choi. Are you lying to me now?" He chuckles.

"Is that what you think of me?" He's fighting with himself, closing his hand into a fist to fight the urge to tuck your hair behind your ear. He continues to keep his eyes on yours, though. "You know I could never do that."

"I'll take your word for it." In the end, you've gotten the reassurance you felt like you needed, you yearned for. But, in the end, you've also grown more confidence— enough to believe that Professor Choi was in the same boat as you. Because he is, he just can't say it out loud right now. This has nothing to do with the lab. His work. Your rotation, your projects.

This is all about you, and just you.

"Good." His tone drops before he checks his phone. He lets out a sigh, a small frown growing on his lips. How the hell did 30 mins go by so fast? "Shit. I gotta run to another meeting." He says softly, eyes quickly shifting around you facial features. "Is it okay if we continue this on the phone later? Just to make sure you've got everything before journal club on Monday?"

"S-sure." You quickly look at his lips, back up to his eyes. "Yeah, sure."

"5pm okay for me to call?"

"Dinner time for you?"

"Mm, not really. Dinner is whenever I feel hungry." You chuckle and nod. "What about you?"

"I can eat after."

"Okay, 5pm."

"Thank you, Professor Choi."

"You're welcome." He smiles toothlessly, watching as you carefully walk past him and grab your things. Again, he fights the temptation to pull you by the waist and press you flush against his body—

Doing things only he can imagine in his head.

"Are you walking out or are you doing a Zoom meeting?" San forces himself to snap out of it, lowly clearing his throat as he walks around and plops onto his computer chair.

"Zoom. Talk later?" You smile before waving, leaving San to his peace. The tension in the room feels like it's finally gone, finally been lifted. He almost felt a little suffocated in his own office while having you there— but it's only because of how you make him feel, and now obviously, how he makes you feel. He lets out a hefty sigh, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes before hopping into the Zoom call about budgets and the status of his current grants.

The meeting goes on for so long, it feels like. The whole afternoon is a drag and San feels exhausted by the time it hits 4pm. He's skipping out on the gym today, still a little sore from yesterday's workout. As soon as he wraps up his last meeting, he packs up and leaves, saying goodbye to the one or two heads still lingering in the office area.

He still has enough groceries at home to make it through to the weekend, so he doesn't take any pitstops on the way home. He lets out a huge sigh when he finally pulls into his garage and parks the car, stepping out of his shoes and setting his bag aside in his office. He jogs upstairs to take a hot, steamy shower— enough to help relieve the stress from the week's activities. He throws on some flannel pajama pants and a white tee, heading back downstairs to throw some salmon and vegetables in the oven before cooking rice.

While waiting for his dinner to finish, he settles back down in his office and pulls up your contact info from the text thread just as it's about to hit 5pm. He leans back against the chair, listening to the phone ring on the other line.

"Hi." You pick up so sweetly and it immediately brings a smile to San's face despite his long afternoon.

"Hi. Still a good time to talk?" You sit on your couch, presentation popped up on your laptop.

"Yeah, it is."

"How was the rest of your afternoon?"

"It was okay. I just finished working with Belle on a few things after our meeting."

"Is that going well?"

"Yeah." You chuckle a bit. "I really like working with Sunwoo and Belle."

"I'm glad to hear that. That's all that matters." He pulls up your presentation, clicking through it as his eyes skim each slide.

"How was yours, Professor Choi?"

"Ah, well. Really long. But, it's over with." He laughs. "So, I'm skimming through your presentation and everything looks fine. I think the one thing I'll say is, maybe you should add another slide to talk about the results that didn't pan out well. I know we typically don't do stuff like that, but it helps us discuss what went wrong and what they should've done to get the end result they wanted."

"Oh, yeah. I was thinking about that but wasn't sure if I should."

"You definitely should. Remember what I said about not second-guessing yourself?" He says in a light-hearted tone that has you rolling your eyes and holding in a big smile.

"I know, I know."

"I think the only other thing I'd add is a slide on Figure 2 and 3. It isn't much, but it does relate a lot to what we do in lab. Think you can handle that?"

"Yeah, I can."

"Yeah?" He repeats, sinking into his seat with his legs spread. "Good." He hears you typing away before you sigh, pausing the conversation for a brief moment while you gather your thoughts and take notes.

"What else are you doing this evening, Professor Choi?" You finally break the silence after a few.

"Hm." He hums. "Just talking to you." You can hear the smirk through the phone, see it even. You bite your bottom lip and shift your position on the couch, heat rising to your cheeks— pooling at your core replaying the deep tone he speaks in.

"Nothing else?"

"Don't really need to do anything else while I'm on the phone with you, no." You sit on his statement, hand toying with the string from your sweats. He doesn't need to do anything else because he's on the phone with you? You take it as a compliment, one that has your heart beating through your chest, palms all sweaty again. He was going to be the death of you.

"Y/N! Let's go! I'm hungry!" You hear Felix from the other side of your door, and San does, too. He lets out a silent chuckle, a little sad he's gonna have to let you go eventually.

"Is there anything else I should do?"

"For?" He questions because his mind is running through a million thoughts at once. You are very much talking about journal club, but he's very much thinking about other things; ways to push you and him forward.

"The slides."

"No. That's all, Y/N. It's perfect."

"Thank you."

"Y/N! Please! They have the best menu tonight, we need to go before everyone gets there!" Felix whines, making the rest of your friends laugh as he pounds on the door. "What are you even doing anyway?!"

"I gotta go." You sigh and shut your laptop. "My friends are about to bust my door down." He chuckles.

"Well, hope the call helped, Y/N."

"It did, Professor Choi. All of this did. Thank you again."

"Course. Have a good night."

"You too." San subtly nibbles on his bottom lip as he hears you breathily respond, the tone and sound of your voice immediately doing things to him. He clears his throat to rid himself of the thoughts, to rid himself of the feeling, distracting himself with the unread emails sitting in his inbox and the random announcements for the week.

Well now, Namjoon's sudden group text with him, Jongho, Christopher, Mingi and Yeosang.

namjoon: my brilliant, all-star fellas

chris: oh lord, what is it?

namjoon: 😀 need ya'll to attend the happy hour event

yeosang: to babysit? yaaaay love this time of the year...... !!

namjoon: lol no, just to hang out! please 🥹 gotta show the students we're involved in student life esp at the start of the new quarter. you know this!

jongho: they run around in our labs and play w/ our equipment

jongho: how much more involved do we need to be exactly

san: 🤣 what're the details again? sorry i totally glazed over that email. it's probably in my trash bin actually

namjoon: all that energy put into announcements just for you to trash it 🫤

namjoon: tomorrow, starts at 7pm at the monroe bar

san: i'll be there

mingi: same

yeosang: 🫡

jongho: 👍🏼

namjoon: knew i could trust my boys!

jongho: make the dean give me and san some real estate

namjoon: putting my phone on dnd now 😅

namjoon: jk yes don't worry, i'll work my magic ok. give me a bit of time, but i got you.

namjoon: thanks guys, have a good evening!

San lets out a breath when he sets his phone aside and runs a hand down his face, mustering all the energy he has left to get his dinner together and onto a plate. He can't, though. His thoughts are too stuck on you, and the way you look. The way you act around him. The way you sound on the phone.

With how big the welcome back happy hour event tends to be, there's no doubt you'll be there with your friends. And as much as San is excited to see you outside of the lab, enjoying yourself in a bar with your friends—

He knows it's equally, incredibly dangerous for him.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thespiffynerd @vixensss @santineez @nopension

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heartfullofleeches · 10 months ago

Text

[+18]

V and fuckboy playboy/wingman male Darling-

Hear me out-

Darling is the son of some other loaded family that has close ties with V's. The two cross paths at a gathering and their parents urge them to make friends. Darling plays video games. V plays video games. They exchange numbers with some persuasion from their folks and set up a time to play something together although begrudgingly on V's end. V ends up having a better time than he expected, but right before he really starts to enjoy his time with Darling - he tells V he has to head out.

"Nice meeting you, dude. We gotta do this again. I got a girl coming over and I gotta bounce."

And just like that V's hopes are crushed. He's still learning about his attraction towards guys, but - Darling was sorta cute....

"oh....so you have a girlfriend."

Darling laughs.

"Nah, man. Haven't found the right girl...or guy to tie me down yet, plus I'm just enjoying the single life for now.... I can send pics after we're done if you want. She's totally chill and likes when I show her off."

Pictures?.... V agrees - thinking not much of it. He goes back to playing and eventually it slips from his mind. Hours later he receives photos of what looks to be a topless girl in a dimly lit room. She smiles big at the camera - eyes and upper face blocked from sight by the shaft of the bastard with her cheek pressed to his inner thigh. He still had on the same pair of sweats V had seen him in earlier that day. He only met this guy not even twenty-four hours ago and now he's seen his dick. Even worse - there's a pretty girl with her lipstick and spit all over it in the same picture. V's pissed - yet the image magically appears in one of his porn holders later on."

"what the hell...."

"My bad! I thought you might like it. You don't seem like a guy who gets a lot of action... If you ever want to meet someone, just give me a call. I know a lot of people who'd be interested in a rich brat like you."

This guy.... he acts like he's any different. V thinks Darling is a freak to put things lightly, but its not like he has other people to hang out with. As the two hang out V sees that Darling isn't as bad as he first seemed. He's still a horny, inconsiderate prick most days - but he's still the best thing V has to a friend and cares for V in his own way..... Still sends V dick pics he sweats were for someone els.

Darling is genuinely surprised that V has never been with someone. Sure, he doesn't seem like he gets that much attention, but he was sure V had at least kissed someone once. The topic comes up when Darling tries for the hundredth time to hook with up with one of his flings. He's always sending V evidence of the nights he spent with strangers. Oddly enough - V only ever complains about the videos and photos when they don't have darling in them as well.

"Damn.... I know you're a pain in the ass sometimes, but you're cute I thought somebody would've looked past that.....

V hates with Darling says shit like that. He's not used to people flirting with him and... and it gives him false hope. "Shut up....

"So, think she's cute? I can give her your number~"

"I don't want it."

This sucks.... By now, V's fully aware of his crush on Darling - and he fucking hates the bastard for what he's doing to him. If Darling is so concerned about him seeing people why doesn't he just take V out instead. He jerks off to everything Darling sends him wondering when he'll get his turn. V has some solace in the fact Darling rare sees any of his partners twice. V has been with him and always will be with him longer than any of them have. He just has to be patient.....and ruin any chances Darling has of being with anyone else.

V nearly jumps out of his skin reading one of Darling's numerous drunken texts.

"Hey, man. Totally speaking out my ass here, but would you ever be down to have a threesome sometime ;)"

#V my oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere drabble #yandere smut #male reader

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shhhsecretsideblog · 3 months ago

Note

I was your lamaze instructor at a local gym. Both of us hit it off and we became good friends, and bonded over how we both got pregnant around the same time.

You asked if I could give a private lesson as you were a bit scared of birthing and wanted to know everything on how to reduce the pain by trying birth positions so I gladly say yes.

As I was setting up on the third floor with no one around us, and I was breathing deeply as the elevator broke and had to walk all those stairs. I turn around and see you waddling widely, breaking a sweat.

"Sorry, I meant to text but my phone just died." I said. You told me it was alright and we headed towards the yoga mats and balls.

"Now, let's get on our hands and knees. I want you to breathe in and out like this." You copy my movements and breathe slowly as I coached. I suddenly hear you moan out of the blue and look at you, worried.

"Just the baby kicking. Carry on." I nod my head as we progressed on different positions. We both started fidgeting uncontrollably from the pressure from our hips.

"Now- why don't we sit on the balls and spread our legs, and just sway side to- oof- side" I said, wincing from the pain on my back.

You rub your belly and closed your eyes, releasing a sigh.

"That's it, just relieve all the tension you have." I said, moving my hips widely as the pressure wasn't going away.

"I think those stairs really did a number on meeeeee-" You gasped at the end, feeling a pop sensation in your one piece yoga suit as we both saw your water break.

I look back at you as we realized that we've been in labor all morning.

"Oh no."

Sitting on the yoga ball and circling my hips was doing wonders for the pain that had been plaguing me all morning. Everything had hurt; my back, my hips, my cervix, my boobs. As well as preparing me for labour I was also using this class as a way to relieve some of the nagging tension and pressure that I’d not been able to get rid of.

As we both bounced lightly on our yoga balls, my belly and breasts squished tight into my jersey one-piece with thigh-length shorts, the pressure wasn’t going away and just kept building and building. I widened my legs and circled my hips and suddenly the pressure released along with the splashing sound of liquid hitting the plastic yoga ball.

“Ohhhhhh oh my god I think my water just b-broke…” I groaned, staying oddly still atop the ball as I look down at the damp fabric between my legs.

When you didn’t respond I looked up to see you rocking rather frantically on your ball, your face pink and flushed, and you were panting heavily.

“Are you in labour?!?!” I cry out, just as another cramp pulls my insides down.

You’re my friend as well as my instructor and I feel a need to go to help you. I slide off the ball and land on my knees and crawl across the floor to where you were grunting and moaning and rocking on the ball.

“I-I think I need to p-push…” you growled, your eyes wide with panic.

“No! You can’t be r-ready to push… already.” I panted, ignoring the weight and pressure between my legs that only got worse when the word “push” was uttered.

But you were lost to your own bodily instincts and were holding your breath and bearing down, your hands clasped at your wide knees as you pushed. The sound of your pushing triggered my own pregnant body to respond, as if your birthing noises matched my own labour. Stuck on all fours at your side my head dropped and my hips sunk backwards as my uterus clenched and pushed the massive baby down down down.

I could already feel the baby behind my lips, just inside of me and desperate to be born. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything other than submit to the uncontrollable.

With my clothing still on and my body stuck on all fours, the baby began to part my folds and crown slowly into my underwear. The elasticated fabric was like a second skin all over my torso and upper legs, following every inch and curve, and I was certain the shape of the baby’s head was surely visible as I bore down with everything I had.

[in the mood to write more little inconvenient birth drabbles like this, send me more prompts please!]

#answered asks #my writing #birth kink #birth denial #clothing birth #birth fic #inconvenient birth #birth rp #birth roleplay #birth fiction #birth prompts #public birth

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lesbiansruledawurld · 4 months ago

Text

thinking about gymratgf!abby and how you two are on opposite sides of the gym you both visit frequently together, you being too intimidated to go in the weight lifting section so you decline every time she challenges you to a bench press. she finds out of course but its whatever because she promises you that you wont need to lift a finger...

by spotting her!

on a mini tour of this unfamiliar section you watch as she show's you the different types of weights and weight machines and what they're used for. she puts the weights on the bar as you read the label '50' on all four of them. how she is able to flip and throw you around like it's nothing makes sense now.

"okay, all you gotta do is hold your hands over the bar and make sure it doesn't kill me..alright"

you shake your head in understanding as you hold your hands over the bar and keep focus on wherever abby's go. you literally are not that focused though due to the determined yet casual look on her face. the sweat beads from previous workouts coming back as abby pumped the bar up and down. huffs and groans came from her mouth as she pushed through the lifts. her face now going into complete focus. you can't help that your girlfriend is literally built by aphrodite herself and don't even start on her body, muscles she's been working on since sophomore year as she constantly to brag to you from time to time.

"hello?!"

you didn't realize how long you were spacing out until abby started to complain. you help her lift the bar over her head and onto the rest.

"im sorry i wasn't paying attention i-"

"was looking at me."

cutting you off abby chuckled and sat up, you walked around now waiting for her to follow suit. taking big gulps from her water bottle the excess dripping down her chin to her neck. she wipes her mouth and again catches you in a haze.

"two times in a row, geez you want my number or something"

you playfully push her and roll your eyes walking away she gets a chance to get a good stare in too, watching you walk away from her in the new workout shorts you decided to wear this go round. whistling to herself she catches up to you wrapping an arm around your waist and leaning into your ear to whisper:

"i think i got a way better workout at home that'll get you sweating bullets gorgeous"

ogie bye :p

#this was my first time writing in years #lwk nswf undertones??#no i did not proofread #this is an abby anderson fan page #very short #abby anderson #tlou #this is a lesbian work of fiction #nyny writes ୨ৎּ ֶָ֢.

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peachetteprice · 1 month ago

Text

CW: dark themes, kidnapping, assault.

Neuroscientist!Price wishes to explore the established neurological link between sex and fear, to better understand the heightened state of sexual arousal present in abduction victims who have experienced symptoms of Stockholm syndrome at the hands of their kidnappers.

He files an advertisement in the morning paper and tapes his research proposal form onto the faces of street-lamps, urging women who may be interested in his project to rip a strip of paper from the bottom, a phone number – his phone number – advising anyone who fits the criteria of his sample to call it; it states you must be over thirty and under forty-five, have been sexually active for the previous five years, and have natural brown hair. You don’t quite comprehend enough about neuroscience to discern the relevance of asking a woman for the colour of her hair, though you assume it is the simple reasoning of an intellectual with much more expertise than a lowly accountancy firm receptionist, and, fitting the description with enough accuracy and curiosity to wish to take part: you call the number.

Three days later, you receive a voicemail asking if you’re available to meet him in his office. The man's voice is warm, woody; it has the exact qualities that would warrant you fantasising about him requesting that you get on your knees, like the good slut you are, and keep your hands to yourself as you throat him. His office is in the centre of London, you learn, within a building you’ve never heard of before, though it seems to be across from a quaint café that requires you stop off at an hour before the scheduled meeting, arriving in the building's empty foyer with a latte and a croissant.

The research will take place not far from his office, he explains, and leads you down a set of stairs, indented from the rear of the caretaker’s workroom, though you’re hardly paying attention to his words, nor the path you’re taking when his hips are swaying so seductively, biceps flexing against the constraints of his lab coat as he opens door after door, descends step after step, all the while a fragrant and tantalising scent keeps your mind hazy.

Poor thing. You don't stand a chance. Neither did the four other women before you.

By the time your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, to puzzle together a set of metal chains and leather straps hanging from the ceiling and a cold, wet, stone interior, you’re thrust to the floor with a deft slap, nostrils free from the smell of his cologne to settle, instead, on the faint, rustic scents elsewhere, coalescing together much as the damp and mould in the corner of the room, that not a soul would be able to guess incorrectly: blood, sweat, and cum.

No one quite understands what Doctor Price does in the evenings: why the back-up generator in the basement ticks overtime long after every employee has left the building, why his office remains vacant and his name and photo stripped from every company poster and website listing, or why he has such a friendly rapport with the building's sole cleaner, a man who goes only by the moniker of Ghost, but they know exactly how he elicits such darling noises from the women he passes in the street during the daytime – for he has the sort of mind that drives women insane.

| Masterlist |

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magics-neptunes-things · 1 year ago

Text

Hands up!

Hello everyone!

I continue on with my Christmas stories, they may be shorter than the last ones I made, but the pace may be a little more regular! Tell me what you think and let me know your requests if you have any:) I will try to respond quickly.

Enjoy!

TW: None!

The spirit of Christmas being something important for the Catalan club, it's not with great surprise that the team learned that in addition to the usual games to animate the different social networks, a mini-tournament for different associations was organized. The squad of the women’s team sufficient to create four different teams, they were all picked at random that day.

You smiled when you heard your name being shot on the first team, giving you Cata, Mapi, Lucy, Ingrid and Salma as teammates. If Mapi had fun seeing that even fate didn't separate her from Ingrid, you quickly noticed the competitive look Alexia gave you. It amused you a lot and you gave her a provocative smile when she came to the second team, when her name was shot. Having Ona, Patri and Aitana on her team, she seems to have an advantage. But you are here to have fun and you intend to enjoy these moments of relaxation after a rough end of year.

After a little warm-up to avoid a stupid injury, you found yourself with your teammates of the day at the edge of the field, your blue bibs on the back. The organisation put you at rest for the first game, so it's with jokes and laughter that you watch two of the other teams play against each other.

Matches are usually held in the stadium dedicated to indoor football, so that the spectators are not too cold. It adds a different atmosphere to what you’re used to, but you don’t find it unpleasant. Quite the contrary actually.

You won your first match against Caroline’s green team and now you have to face Alexia’s reds. Always with her playful face, Alexia stands in front of you, separated by the line of demarcation of the field, waiting for Aitana to shoot in the ball to start the match.

"Ready to lose Y/SN?"

You laughed mischievously, bowing an eyebrow before answering her.

"Count on it baby" you simply answer, quickly taking your place on the field when the ball is put into play.

The game is dynamic, but good. You don’t know what impression the spectators have of your match, but between the small playing comments launched between the players, there is something to laugh about. If you and Alexia don't hesitate to tease you, Ona and Lucy are not left out either.

During a corner for your team, you feel someone sticking against your back and you recognize your girlfriend without any difficulty. Her hands sit on your hips and her lips are just up to your ear when she speaks to you, in a whispered voice.

"I prefer when you only sweat because of me"

You know that you are the only one to have heard what she said and it's with an amused smile that you turn your eyes slightly in her direction, ignoring the heat wave that reverberates throughout your body, because of her comment and her chest against your back.

"You wanna play that way?"

Alexia doesn’t answer anything, just smiling at you. Her little game is nevertheless noticed by Lucy who calls her.

"Hands up, Putellas!"

Alexia raises both hands in the air, trying to prove her false innocence, which again amuses you a lot. With this story you completely miss the corner that Mapi sends into the box, which was obviously Alexia’s goal. While taking your place on the field, you wave to her with your hand that you keep an eye on her and she sends you a kiss.

A few minutes later, it’s your turn to call her when she has the ball in her foot to try to score.

"Nice ass, Number 11!"

Of course, the ball pass far from the goal and it's in front of your laughing face that she finds herself when she turns in your direction.

"Can we swap numbers at the end of the game?" you add mischievously as she passes by you, maliciously pinching your ribs as you pass. "Hands up Lucy said" you add, smiling.

Alexia pulls out your tongue and you laugh again. An amused smile appears on the captain’s face, after struggling a few seconds to mask it.

A few minutes later, the bell rang, announcing the end of the game. You lost by a goal, but again you don’t play to win today.

After the match, having once again to wait for a confrontation between two other teams, you find yourself leaning against an advertiser, in discussion with Salma. At least that was before two arms grabbed you by your waist. You drop a little cry of surprise, triggering Salma’s laughter, but you willingly let Alexia draw your body against hers.

"You’re not bad either, number 3" whispers Alexia against your cheek before kissing her.

Alexia seems to be more relaxed too, her mood impacted by the general atmosphere. And you love seeing her like that.

"Maybe we can exchange our jerseys in addition to our numbers?" you answer maliciously.

It makes her laugh and you add your laughter to hers when Mapi looks disgusted and asks you to find a room. But you don’t change position, enjoying Alexia’s embrace. Few people in the audience can see you from where you are but since the Spanish doesn’t seem to care, you either.

"So, do I have a nice butt?" asks Alexia playfully in a low voice after a few minutes watching your teammates play.

You laugh softly, turning slightly in her arms so you can look at her better.

"It’s even the part of your body that I prefer, if you want to know everything."

Alexia answers you with a thoughtful exclamation, having fun again. You put a kiss on the corner of her jaw, taking advantage of your position.

"Needless to say, I love everything about you, hmm?"

Alexia’s face turns to you again and tenderness has replaced the provocation in her gaze.

"I love you" she whispers gently before kissing you tenderly.

And, at the end of the tournament, when you and your team step on the second step of the podium all dressed up with your Christmas hats, you can’t help but give Alexia (On the first step of the podium, of course) a little slap on her butt. Who slaps you in the back of the head.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine

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lovelytsunoda · 2 years ago

Text

one of the boys // charles leclerc

summary: she's worked for ferrari for four years now. four years that only let her feelings for their number one driver grow stronger and stronger, until she wishes that charles leclerc would stop seeing her as just one of the boys, and start seeing her the way that she sees him

pairing: charles leclerc x mechanic! reader

warnings: ferrari fuckups, sexual tension, sad charles, actually charles goes through a whole range of emotions, matchmaker seb, mentions of workplace harassment, set in the 2022 season when charles won australia, sexual innuendos and references.

she sat on the halo, her feet resting against the seat as she leaned over the engine compartment, her boiler suit tied off around her waist and her hair pinned to the back of her head as the bahrain sun beat down.

ferrari had bottled it again. which meant double-duty for the pit crew to fix it for jeddah.

the radio hummed softly in the background as she cursed, losing her grip on the ratchet. when the engine fried itself, it had also made the parts a lot harder to take apart.

"fucking hell." she groaned, resting her head against the cool, red body of the car. "vasseur was supposed to fix this."

"what are you still doing here? you should have left at least an hour ago?"

the movement in the garage, as well as the voice breaking the almost-silence was enough to get her to look up, heart hammering against her ribcage.

the same annoyingly alert reaction that she'd had to his presence for the last two years.

"charles. what are you doing here?"

"hiding." the driver smiled sadly. the balaclava lines had faded fomr his face, but she could still see the sweat in his hair, the scent of the race mingling with his team-sponsored cologne. "you know how it is after a weekend like this."

"yeah, i do." she could feel the blush creeping onto her face, and she subtly pinched herself to try and make it go down. charles leclerc couldn't give her butterflies, it wasn't right. technically speaking, he was her superior.

but that didn't change how much she cared about him, how much she longed to feel the monegasque's lips against hers

"you should not be working. come out with the rest of us, we're getting drinks and commiserating. did i use that word right?"

it was hard for y/n not to smile at charles' attempt to learn the english language. he had a fantastic grip on the language, but when he tried to use larger words to sound cooler, it was usually followed up with uncertainty, all adding to what she liked to call his 'boston terrier energy'.

"yeah, you got that one right." she chuckled, dismounting the car, pain rocketing through the nerves in her feet as she hit the ground too hard. "that's a beauty of a car. such a shame that the scuderia doesn't know how to treat it properly."

standing next to charles, she was all too aware that she was wearing nothing but a sports bra on the top half of her body, and she wondered if she could pull her boiler suit back on without charles noticing.

charles snorted. "try driving that thing."

she patted him on the shoulder, a sad smile on her face. "give me ten minutes to go put some proper clothes on, and then we'll go out somewhere. drinks are on me, god knows you deserve it."

______

"seb, i don't know what to do!" y/n groaned, face against the tabeltop as the german man laughed.

sebastian vettel had been the closest thing she had to a father when she was on the road with the scuderia. in all fairness, the job with ferrari hadn't even been what she went to school for. she had picked engineering at college because it was what everybody else was doing, and she'd stumbled upon this job by accident with the promise of travel. when she was starting to regret everything, it had been sebastian who had convinced her to stay.

"ugh, this is so not funny!" she shouted, throwing her arms in the air and wincing as her knuckle banged against the shop window. they were in a quaint little café in fiji ahead of the australian grand prix, and y/n was in need of some serious advice.

but to get advice from seb, you needed to bribe him with coffee first. hence why they were in the rustic cafe, every bare surface covered in plants that sebastian had spent ages talking to the manager about.

sebastian vettel was a nerd. in a good way, of course.

"you're a lovely young woman, y/n. you have a nice figure."

"does hanna know you're out here complimenting younger women?" she joked, taking a sip from her strawberry lemonade.

sebastian laughed, shaking his head. "you need to let everybody else see that side of you, y/n. let your hair down, wear a nice pair of jeans for once instead of that boiler suit. let the world see the lovely girl that we all know is there."

"i'm going to miss you when you retire."

"i know, kiddo. listen, we're all going out after the race, to have drinks and whatever. go out with hanna, buy yourself a nice new dress on my credit card, and then come out for drinks with us. i guarantee that one look at you will whip charles into shape. you're a catch, y/n. i think that charles would be lucky to have someone like you in his life."

"i'm already a part of his life. as a work friend. and i'm accepted that i'm not likely to be anything more."

seb raised an eybrow. "doesn't sound like it."

in another bar, on another part of the small island of fiji, carlos and charles were having a very similar conversation.

"carlos, i can't make a move! technically, i'm higher ranking at ferrari than she is. there's a power imbalance, what if she feels like she can't say no? it's a harassment case waiting to happen!" charles whined, a pint glass clutched in his hands.

carlos shook his head, an annoyed sigh escaping the back of his throat. "you're an idiot, hermano. she's in love with you! you think you're the only person who sees her staring at you in the garage?

"forgive me if that's not something i want to be wrong about. i could be staking our careers on your little hunch."

groaning, carlos buried his head in his hands. getting through to his teammate was a hopeless and futile affair. once charles leclerc was set in his ways about something, there was no changing his mind.

"what about the party in australia? ask her to dance, buy her a drink? you're not getting any younger, charles. you need to get back out there and start dating again."

______

as f1 descended on albert park, the glitz and glamour taking over melbourne, y/n y/l/n and hanna vettel were standing in a small, glitzy boutique, armed with hanna's husband's credit card. the young ferrari mechanic was standing in front of a floor-length mirror, her hair falling around her shoulders.

"hanna, i don't know how i feel about this." she inhaled, staring at her reflection and the ferrari red dress that hugged her figure. "i love it, honestly, i do, i just cringe at the thought of ever wearing it outside of the house. especially if i;m in front of charles!"

hanns sighed, brushing her fingers through the younger girl's hair. "have a little bit of faith in yourself, darling. you look stunning, this dress shows off all your best physical attributes, and charles already knows your best qualities."

"yeah, because who else is going to sing nineties stoner rock songs in the car on the way to the track with me?" y/n laughed, remembering singing ‘teenage dirtbag’ with charles on their way to the track in jeddah, a carpool with some of the other mechanics. charles barely knew the words, but then again, y/n got them wrong a lot as well. “yeah, okay. lets do this fucking thing.”

hanna grinned. “that’s our girl!”

hours later, she was regretting her decision, standing in front of the club in her baggy leather jacket, shaky knees knocking together as she stood outside the front door in her heels and that tiny little dress, voices and laughter wafting through the walls as the inside hummed with the rarity of a ferrari victory. she nervously tapped her fingers against the side of her purse as a group of haas mechanics crossed the parking lot, wolf whistling at her before she flipped them both the bird.

“are you coming inside, or are you just going to stand there and freeze your balls off?”

“oh, if only I had balls to freeze. and this is bloody australia, its not even that cold.” y/n chuckled to herself, turning to look at jessica hawkins, one of the aston martin young drivers. “I need someone to remind me that I dont look stupid in this goddamn dress that hanna vettel picked out for me.”

jessica cocked an eyebrow, looking the mechanic up and down. “babes, you look hot! who are you trying to impress?”

“charles.” y/n mumbled, her face flushing pink before she cleared her throat. “its stupid, isn’t it?”

the other young woman shook her head. “not at all.” she grinned, linking her arm through y/n’s. “come on, lets go get you your man!”

the inside of the club was crowded, yet closed to the public as f1, f2, and the w series descended on the establishment. all of the f3 drivers were too young to legally drink, and had made their displeasure quite clear as they were herded away to an italian restaurant instead of the club.

"drinks for the lovely ladies?" abbie eaton chortled, bringing tequila shots over to where the mechanic and jessica were standing. "cheers on three, yeah?"

jessica sounded off with the countdown, the three women tapping the tiny glasses against each other before throwing back the burning alcoholic drink.

"if i'm going to do this," y/n began, raising her voice to be heard over the drake song that was playing. "i'm doing it right!" she took off her jacket, throwing it over a chair before she made her way over to the dj booth, her ballet flats sticking to the floor.

after a whispered conversation (and a monetary bribe), wheatus' 2000 hit 'teenage dirtbag' began to play over the speakers as y/n and jessica took to the floor, champagne flutes in hand as they began to dance.

from across the way, under the deep blue lights, charles leclerc was in a trance as he watched the way she moved, laughing and giggling as she sang along, finally getting each word right. adn charles would be lying if he said he didn't love the way her legs looked in that short little dress, how full her breasts looked in the red fabric that cradled them.

"is he still being a pussy?" pierre gasly groaned. "come on, man! you won the fucking race, and that's still not giving you the confidence you need to tell her you have a crush on her?"

"i'd rather not embarrass myself too much, thank you pierre." charles grumbled, taking another sip of his fruity mixed drink.

"he won't even drink proper alcohol." carlos commented. "i think she broke him."

pierre shook his head. "i will not stand for this, i am not letting it go on any longer. ilies!" he shouted, waving over his best friend- save for charles of course- and social media manager. "we need you to do something for us, for charles."

ilies nadri nodded. "it's about that girl he keeps talking about, isn't it?"

"exactly. so here's what you're going to do."

back on the dancefloor, y/n was beginning to forget that charles was watching, laughing and singing with jessica as the dj began to play 'toxic' by britney spears, at a drunken lando norris' request.

"looks like you've got an admirier. and it's not charles." nerea marti pointed out, nudging her head in the direction of ilies nadri, who was beginning to make his way over to the girls.

"well, if charles isn't interested." jessica shrugged, calpping her on the shoulders. "you look too pretty tonight to go home alone if you don't want to, and it looks like there's a good looking bloke who wants to join ya."

moments blurred as nadri took y/n's hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and making her laugh with a french come-on, and before she knew it they were dancing to britney.

and she had forgotten about him, about the reason she wore that red dress in the first place.

but charles never forgot about her, his eyes boring into the back of ilies' head as he watched them dancing to a christina aguilera song. his grip was steadily tightening on his glass, and carlos looked over at him with a concerned glance.

"are you sure that getting her to dance with ilies was the smartest idea?" carlos whispered under his breath, raising his eyebrow at pierre. "he's going to break the fucking glass."

"or, he'll get jealous and go over there." pierre reasoned.

"how the fuck do you have a girlfriend, gasly?"

but pierre's reasoning must have been rooted in proof, for charles put down his glass and tromped over to the dance floor, his eyes a certain shade of jealous as he prepared himself to finally make a move.

he didn't speak, sweeping over the dancefloor to grab y/n's arm and pull her away from ilies and away from the dancefloor and it's illuminated vinyl flooring.

"charles, what is wrong with you?" y/n shouted, tispy on her feet and buzzing from alcohol as she tried to ignore the way her chest tightened and her heart skipped a beat at charles' possessiveness.

"i'm in love with you." he blurted out, desperation in his voice. "and i'm tired of hiding how i feel. i don't care how it looks to the outside, or to mattia, but i want to be with you. you were never just one of the boys to me, y/n. you were just you. and i like who i am with you. i want to be able to be that person for you, all the time."

"charles." she said softly, heart softening before starting and stopping again in an erratic beating pattern that would have worried her if she could have heard the beating over the refrain of charles' confessions playing on loop in her mind, louder and louder each time. "just kiss me."

and that's what charles did, an *nsync song playing in the background as he mashed his lips to hers, backing her up against the wall as she giggled, wrapping a slender, bare leg around his own, arms looped haphazardly around his neck and over his shoulders.

"charles, your phone isn't in your front pocket, right?" she panted.

charles looked confused, resting his forehead against hers. "no, i always put it in my back pocket."

"fuck." y/n all but moaned, arousal pooling in her own thighs as she thought about what was in between charles'. "that means that it's your rock-hard cock that's pressing against me right now, and that's so fucking hot."

grinning to himself, charles pressed up against her even more. "whay don't you join me at my hotel, and i'll show you just how fucking hard you make me."

"is that a threat or an invitation?"

"it's whatever you want it to be, mon cher."

"kiss me one more time, and you've got a deal."

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 imagine #lovelytsunodas katy perry series #charles leclerc x y/n #scuderia ferrari #Spotify

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 1 year ago

Text

The Only Tally Mark

Ship: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: The 'You Suck' tallies are getting pretty high, but there's a girl in Scoops Ahoy who knows Robin in wrong. If she can just get the courage to open her mouth, Steve's luck is about to change.

Word Count: 7,250 words

Warnings: Robin's a bit mean, she also has no filter, pining, Steve's failed flirting attempts, blatant staring/pining, implied confession, first kiss

Note: Set pre-s4 and the day Dustin comes back, before the Russian code is cracked.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

July had only just begun in Hawkins, and you could already tell it was going to be a hot one. Less than twenty-four hours in, temperatures had already hit record-breaking highs—at least, that was according to the weatherman on the television you were sat in front of, sweating and feeling relief from the heat only when the fan beside you swiveled back toward you.

“Every July is this hot,” your father said from the kitchen, where he was drinking his second glass of water in five minutes.

“Oh, sure, but never this early,” your mother retorted. “It’s only the first, and already we’re melting out of the house.”

Sensing an irritable argument birthed from the nearly unbearable heat, you left the living room and headed up the stairs to your bedroom. You picked up the phone you’d begged your parents to let you have years ago, dialing the number of your best friend of four years: Robin Buckley, the band dweeb to your theatre kid.

It was her mom who answered the phone, several dial tones later. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Buckley—is Robin home?”

“Oh, hi, sweetie! She’s at work right now, her shift ends at seven.”

You stopped yourself from swearing. “Oh, right, I forgot. Thank you!”

“No problem, dear,” Mrs. Buckley said before hanging up.

You leaned against the wall. How could you have forgotten? Robin had been telling you about her new job in the mall—and the sailor’s uniform she had to wear. You’d seen her get ready for work once and had burst into giggles the moment she put the hat on her head.

You glanced at the digital clock next to your bed, checking the time. There was still several hours before the mall closed. You might as well visit Robin and abuse your friendship to get some free ice cream at the same time, right?

So you grabbed your wallet and shoved it in your pocket and bounded down the stairs.

"Hey, I'm going out!" you shouted to your parents.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" your father asked, appearing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen.

"To the mall? Robin works there and I'm going to visit."

"Don't spend too much, dear!" your mother called.

"Sure, Mom!"

You hopped in your car and headed for the mall, following the thick cluster of traffic that always lined the streets leading to the mall, passing through the streets lined with empty, hollow shops.

~❊~

The mall was crowded, as busy as it had always been since the day it opened. You pushed your way through the crowds gathered around storefronts and display windows, trying to remember which floor Scoops Ahoy was on.

You took the escalator down to the first floor and scanned the shops surrounding you. When you spotted the sign for the ice cream store, you headed toward it, maneuvering past a group of pre-teens cackling about manipulating the store's workers into giving them free samples.

There was no one at the counter when you walked in. A majority of the tables were occupied by groups of teens. As you approached the register, you could hear faint bickering from behind the pebbled glass windows, Robin's distinct voice floating out to you.

"...do the job you're supposed to do, I've been scooping so much ice cream my hand's cramped," she was saying.

You stifled a giggle and tapped your hand lightly against the bell in front of you, wincing when it was a little louder than you had been expecting.

The swing door on the left opened with a bang, revealing the back of a boy who was gesturing at Robin, who was quite literally pushing him out the door. She disappeared before you could catch her attention, and the other attendant took up his place in front of the register.

"Ahoy, sailor! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I'll be your captain, I'm Steve Harrington."

You blinked at him. "Is that company policy like the hat and the outfit?"

He stared at you. "I'm sorry, what?"

You shrugged. "I'm a friend of Robin's, she complains about the, and I quote, stupid company rules that make everyone look stupid."

He stared at you. You stared at him. Awkward silence settled between the two of you.

The introduction hadn't been necessary. You had spent most of your high school experience listening to Robin complain about Steve Harrington and his stupid perfect hair and his stupid easy charm and his stupid actual stupidity. The Steve she'd painted matched up perfectly with the kid you'd seen around in the halls, dressed in his ironed polo shirts and pleated khakis or that stupid basketball uniform and letterman jacket—and Nancy Wheeler on his arm.

You and Robin had watched his life crash and burn with malicious glee—and all the while you had tried to ignore that this was the very same boy you'd crushed on in middle school, and had been so shocked to find out had changed so much when you got to the high school, a year after he did.

Steve cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to the register, firmly away from you. "Um. What can I get you?"

"Uh..." Every ice cream flavor you had ever liked instantly disappeared from your head. It wasn't like the usual mind-blankness that came from being asked a question about your favorite anything. It was like your entire body had stopped, freezing in the pretty face of Steve Harrington, ridiculous as the uniform was. Especially with the hat, which Robin hadn't told you about.

The door swung open again. "Jesus, Steve, what's taking you so damn long?" Robin froze where she stood. A smile lit up her face. "What are you doing here?!"

You grinned. "Visiting!"

Robin hip-checked Steve out of the way. Steve glared at her while she grabbed the ice cream scoop from the pocket at his side.

"Jesus, do you have to be so brutal?" he snapped.

Clearly fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Robin turned back to Steve. "I'm sorry, would you please get out of the way so I can serve my best friend? Thanks," she said, her customer service smile plastered to her face.

Muttering under his breath, Steve pushed away from the counter, leaning on the sill of the window behind him. He crossed his arms, still staring resolutely at the floor.

Robin grinned at you. "I wasn't expecting you to—"

"Be here?" you finished. "I called your house before I realized you were working, so I thought I might as well come visit."

"Glad you did," she said. "You would not believe how much of a headache it is working with dingus over there."

You glanced over her shoulder at Steve, his pink lips forming a pissy pout. Oh, yeah. Still pretty, still a bitch.

"You didn't tell me you worked with him," you said under your breath.

Robin shrugged, shooting you a knowing smile. "Yeah, well, I knew you'd show up and find out for yourself eventually." Her eyes slid to the corners, as if she could see Steve sulking behind her. "We'll talk about him later. What ice cream do you want? On us."

You giggled. "How did I know you'd say that?"

She snorted. "Oh, so you're abusing our friendship for free ice cream?"

"Maybe," you said. "Just this once."

Robin rolled her eyes and grabbed an ice cream cone. "Here—I'll grab your favorite."

And, without you needing to remind her, she lowered the scoop into the tub of ice cream that you got every time the two of you had gotten ice cream after going to see a movie, back before the mall. You wondered how you could have forgotten, until you looked over Robin's shoulder again and found Steve looking up, lips parted and eyes fixed on you. The minute you caught his gaze, he blushed and looked away.

You took advantage of his embarrassment, admiring the pink in his cheeks and how he awkwardly licked his lips. He toyed with the watch on his wrist, crossed and uncrossed his legs. Was he nervous? An even better question—had you ever seen Steve Harrington nervous before?

While you studied Steve, Robin made a second cone of ice cream, a different flavor than yours.

Robin looked behind her. "Hey—man the counter, will you? I'm going on break."

Steve spluttered. "You just came back from break!"

"No, we just finished our lunch break. I still have my federally-required thirty minutes to take. So I'm gonna take 'em." She shoved the scoop at Steve's chest and stepped out from behind the counter.

The pair of you took an unoccupied table near the counter, in case she was needed.

"Should you be leaving him to do it by himself?" you asked, glancing back at Steve one last time.

"What, are you worried about him? He'll be fine," Robin said. She shrugged with a sigh. "He's...he's not as bad as we thought he was in high school. He's less of a douche now, at least."

"Just a dingus?" you asked with a smile.

She nodded. "He's still as stupid as we always thought."

You turned your attention away from Steve at toward your ice cream. "Why didn't you tell me he worked with you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Let's not have that conversation while he's here, okay? For your dignity's sake. I know he's far away, but he's got impressive hearing." She shrugged. "Blame it on four years of listening for gossip, I guess."

Your gaze shifted back to Steve as he raked a hand through his hair, stretching enough for his shirt to lift. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you crossed your legs. Now that he wasn't surrounded by assholes who mocked you and Robin and your friends for their own personal entertainment, it was easier to appreciate how he'd grown into himself since middle school. Taking care of himself had made him a whole new level of handsome.

Robin giggled. "Yeah—that's why we're not gonna talk about this while he's around. You still have a thing for him, don't you?"

Steve relaxed against the countertop, fixing his hair and putting the hat back on with a scowl. You cleared your throat.

"I was hoping you'd forgotten about that."

"Me? Forget about you having the most embarrassing crush on him for years? Only to get to high school and find out he'd become a dick? Never."

You groaned. "Oh, stop rubbing it in!"

A gaggle of girls walked into the store, four of them giggling and talking and rolling their eyes. Immediately, Steve stood up a little straighter and fiddled with his uniform.

Robin snorted. "Oh, watch this. He's been failing catastrophically with every girl that walks in. I keep count."

"You keep count?"

She nodded gleeful, pointing with her chin in the direction of the counter.

"Ahoy, ladies!" Steve said, leaning on the counter. His attempt to be attractive failed dismally, however, when his hand slipped off the side and he lost both his balance and his composure for a moment.

One of the girls giggled with her friend. Steve's cheeks darkened.

"I'm Steve Harrington, I'll be your captain on this ocean of flavor. What can I get you lovely ladies today?"

You glanced at Robin. "I don't see what he's doing wrong."

"That's because this is scripted," Robin whispered back.

The first girl stepped forward. "One scoop of chocolate and one of vanilla, please."

Steve tried a debonaire smile. "Oooh, classic, I like it. I'm all for vanilla myself, you know, all the time."

You winced. "Was...was that supposed to be a double entendre?"

"Yep," Robin said, popping the p with a smirk.

"I see what you mean now," you said. The girl was making a face that said she caught Steve's drift and found it rude. Steve cleared his throat and moved on, scooping ice cream into a cone and handing it to her with a mortified whisper of "here you go." His gaze flicked over to you and Robin, at which point his mortification seemed to grow.

You watched the exchange grow steadily worse. Steve stumbled over his words and tripped over his feet and dropped an empty cone twice. Customers who had already gotten ice cream became onlookers who left, one by one, as the secondhand embarrassment grew.

"God, he's hopeless," you whispered. "Whatever happened to the Steve in high school?"

"You mean the one with a new girl on his arm every week? I'd say that stopping can be blamed on one Nancy Wheeler," Robin said.

You rolled your eyes. "While they were dating, obviously. But now? One relationship shouldn't make him incapable of flirting with a girl."

Robin watched the girls leave, snickering behind their hands. A moment later, Steve groaned, wiping a hand over his face. "You know what I think his problem is?"

"What?"

"He's trying to flirt all of them into submission, not just one girl he likes out of the group."

You nodded slowly. "Sounds about right. I mean...if he flirted with me one minute and then you the next, I don't think I'd want to jump his bones, exactly."

Robin rolled her eyes. "What are you talking about? You've always wanted to jump his bones."

"That was middle school, and that was before any of us gave a shit about sex."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Robin teased. "I saw how you looked at him during gym class."

You shrugged, trying to hide your face behind your hair. Robin knew your expressions better than anyone; your embarrassment was going to be obvious the minute she caught sight of you. "It's gym class! Guys don't wear shirts ninety percent of the time, they practically invite girls to stare." Your gaze slid back to Steve, who was once again staring at the floor. His cheeks were still red, and that pretty mouth of his had once again formed a pout. "Jesus, I don't think I've ever seen him so...despondent."

"He's like that at least five times a shift," Robin said. She played with a small red plastic spoon she had pulled from her pocket. "You know... You could come work here with us. Then you'd get to see Steve every day."

"Robin, you're constantly complaining about how much you hate working your, and I quote, pitiful minimum wage job."

"Yeah, but you like Steve, and eye candy makes the day go by faster."

You swatted her arm discreetly. "Don't objectify him!"

She rolled her eyes. "Hey, Steve!"

Steve looked up so quickly you swore you heard his neck crack, even with some distance between your table and the counter. "What?"

"Come convince her to work with us!"

You glared at her. "Robin, I already have a summer job!" you protested, trying to stop your heart from racing as Steve approached the two of you. You looked anywhere but him, knowing a soft smile and a well-timed flutter of his eyelashes was all it would take for Steve to convince you to do anything he asked.

Steve pulled a chair from the other table for two next to you, spinning it unnecessarily in his hand and dragging it to the edge of your table. He straddled it, leaning his arms against the backrest. Your heart climbed into your throat.

Steve's eyes met yours and every thought melted from your brain. Brown had never been such a pretty color. Although his eyes weren't just brown, they were hazel, mottled with soft greens and blues and greys. You'd never seen such beautiful eyes before, so expressive and kind and interested and attentive and—

"Tell her why she should come work with us," Robin said, breaking your focus on Steve's eyes.

You rolled your eyes. "Robin, I already have a job," you repeated. "A job I like that pays well that I can work at year-round."

Steve snorted, shaking his head absentmindedly. "Then don't come here, that's for sure. The pay is shit, the job is just as bad, and nobody likes ice cream in the winter."

Robin glared at him. "What part of convincing her do you not understand?"

Steve shrugged, ignoring her. "But, then again, you'd get to work with Robin and you might alleviate my boredom from dealing with her all the time." He jerked his head toward Robin. "You wouldn't believe how mean to me she is."

You stifled a giggle as Robin huffed. An easy grin reminiscent of the king he once as slid across Steve's face. You felt slightly giddy, knowing you had been the one to put it there.

More people walked into the store and Robin shot to her feet. "Come on, dingus. We have a job to do." She dragged him to his feet, ignoring his hiss of complaint. He shot you an apologetic shrug as she pulled him behind the register again.

While the two of them got back to work, you sat back in your booth table and finished your ice cream. Once you were done, you discreetly snuck out of the store, leaving a note for Robin at the counter promising to call her after her shift.

As you wrote the note and taped it to the register, you failed to notice Steve pause where he was scooping ice cream to watch you, or that his gaze stayed on you until you left the store and Robin had to snap him out of his reverie.

~❊~

Though it seemed utterly impossible, the next day was even hotter than the last. You lasted all of two hours at the community pool before you got tired of the screaming children and moms flirting with Billy Hargrove and you went home.

You changed out of your bathing suit, dressing more consciously than you had since the eighth grade semi-formal. You selected your jewelry carefully before hopping in your car and heading to the mall for a second time that week.

Scoops Ahoy was significantly less busy when you walked in. Robin looked half-asleep where she stood at the counter, but she brightened when you walked in.

"You just couldn't stay away, could you?" she asked, leaning on the counter with a grin.

You shrugged. "It's hot, ice cream is a solution."

She studied you for a moment. "The pool didn't solve that?"

You scoffed. "Hell no. It's full of tiny children and middle-aged moms and girls who only go so they can take up space and stare at Billy."

"And there's no Steve there, is there?" Robin teased.

You rolled your eyes. "No," you admitted. "Or you."

Robin scooped your ice cream and passed it to you over the countertop. "He'll be back soon, his break ends in a minute. He went to go grab us food."

"He what?"

Robin shrugged. "Yeah, he does that a lot. I hate to say it, but he's actually a nice guy. I think we might have been wrong about him."

You grinned. "So I was right back in middle school! I told you."

Robin rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you did." She cleared her throat. "Behind you."

You heard Steve's footsteps approaching a split second before he said, "Hey, you're back! Applying?"

Turning to face him, you snorted. "Absolutely not. I'm here for ice cream and ice cream alone."

Steve frowned. "What are we, chopped liver?" he asked, gesturing between himself and Robin.

"I'm surprised you know that phrase," Robin said.

Steve made a face. "I do know some things, Robin." He turned back to you. "I told you she's mean to me."

You laughed. "She's mean to everyone sometimes, it's nothing personal."

"Yes it is, dingus," Robin said, and you remembered she had plenty of reasons aside from Steve's years mocking her and her friends to be angry with him.

You just shrugged at him when Steve looked at you for guidance. He copied your shrug and passed Robin a plastic bag that smelled heavenly.

"If I'd known you were coming to visit, I would have gotten you something," Steve said apologetically.

"Oh, it's fine," you promised. "I've got ice cream." He smiled at you, his laughter shining through. "Honestly, I'm surprised you two don't exist off of ice cream."

"We used to," Robin said.

Steve nodded. "It got pretty tiring after a week. It's like when they told us in health class that energy from sugar doesn't last very long. Or something like that."

Robin squinted at him. "You can't remember enough of high school to get to college, but you can remember health class?"

"I remembered enough to graduate," Steve mumbled, cheeks turning pink once again. You were starting to get used to Steve's embarrassment. It was as cute as he always was.

"Stay and eat with us," Robin said, turning back to you. "I'll split my fries with you. You did remember the fries, didn't you, dingus?"

"Of course I remembered the fries," Steve snorted. He dropped the Closed for lunch! sign on the counter and held the swinging door open for you. You thanked him as you walked by, aware of his eyes following you.

You sat in the seat Robin pulled out for you and finished your ice cream before stealing some of the previously offered fries.

"I think we're closing early, Robin," Steve said, glancing out the cracked window. "We've had, what, three people all day?"

"Four if you count the Radio Shack employee across the way," Robin said. "But I don't, because they get it for free."

You frowned. "Do I not count as a customer because you give me ice cream for free?"

Steve shook his head a bit too quickly. "No, you count, Robin just doesn't like the Radio Shack employees."

"Because they're rude," she complained. "They complain about everything and change their minds three times—but always after you've already started scooping, and even when you're done, they don't like it!"

"Sounds like a regular day in customer service," you said, feigning cheerfulness.

"Yeah, a shitty day," Robin said.

"Where do you work?" Steve asked. "I don't think I've ever asked."

"The record store down on Main," you said.

"You know, the one I said I had been planning on working at," Robin said. "But Scoops hired faster."

"Maybe we should switch jobs," Steve muttered.

Robin snorted. "Yeah, like that'll go over well."

"The store won't hire more people, anyway," you cut in. "It got rid of most of the staff, especially the new people, to cut costs because of the mall."

"Is there a record store in here?" Steve asked.

"No, but there is a Sam Goody and a Camelot Music in the mall. We used to have a partnership with the Sam Goody on Main, but then it closed due to the mall, and we started losing business to the one in the mall." You sighed. "I hear about it all the time. It's all the owner ever talks about these days."

Steve munched on a fry, staring at you as you spoke. His eyes were stuck firmly on you. You tried not to squirm under his intense gaze.

Robin leaned back in her chair. "One of these days, I'm gonna visit you at work instead."

You rolled your eyes. "If you ever have a day off," you said.

"Kinda hard to have a day off when we're the only two working here," Steve said.

You nodded. "The constant problem of being short staffed."

"That would be solved if you just came and worked here," Robin muttered into her wrap. You rolled your eyes again, stealing another one of her fries.

"No, Robin."

Robin harrumphed and took a bite of her sandwich more viciously than twas strictly required.

Steve faked a pout. "You just really don't like us, do you?"

"She doesn't," Robin agreed, smirking. You knew that smirk; she was going to do her best to guilt trip you—using Steve, which was perhaps the only way to guilt you into doing what she wanted.

You rolled your eyes. "It's got nothing to do with you, I promise."

"Ouch," they said in unison.

You frowned. "What are you, the same person?"

They both shrugged.

"Alright, that's just weird," you sighed. You glanced down at your watch. "How long does your lunch break last?"

"Thirty minutes. Why?" Steve asked.

You shrugged. "Wouldn't want you to get fired because I'm here distracting you."

Steve propped his head up on his hand. Stray curls of hair fell into his face. Your heart twisted in your chest. He was beautiful. How could he be so beautiful?

Robin watched as you and Steve stared at each other. You were aware of her gaze bouncing back and forth between the two of you, observing the way you were melting under his gaze, your lips parting the longer he looked at you, the barriers you'd put up slowly crumbling. Steve was no better, staring at you with open, asking eyes. He moistened his lower lip with his tongue and it took everything in you not to whimper.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the look on Robin's face—the look of disgust that crossed her face every time she was disgusted by public affection from straight couples. Your heart did flips at the sight of her expression.

"Would you guys stop that?" she groaned, getting up from her seat.

"Doing what?" Steve asked, still looking at you. You tore your eyes away from him and back to the half-empty container of fries.

"Making eyes at each other," she said. Steve spluttered, instantly losing the lovey look in his eyes.

"Making eyes— Robin, what are you talking about?"

You cleared your throat. "Hey, um, what's the board for?" You hoped your question would steer the conversation away from the feeling bubbling in your chest at the sight of Steve.

Steve groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

"I told you I was keeping score of Steve's failing dating life. This is my scoreboard."

You nearly choked. "You keep track of it on a whiteboard at work?!" You looked at the neatly drawn board, the 'You Rule' and 'You Suck' columns divided by a line.

"Actually, I have to put the one from yesterday on here."

Steve groaned again, cheeks burning very red. He looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and stay there.

You watched her add a line. "Robin..."

"She's right, I suck," Steve sighed. "My luck's been pretty shit recently."

"You don't suck, she's just being mean," you said. You sent her a look, shaking your head slightly. She just shrugged.

"You don't have to be nice about it," he said. "I know how bad I am at this. I haven't gotten laid in months."

"Okay, too much information, Steve," you said with a little laugh.

"Oh, so this suddenly isn't a safe place to talk about all our life troubles?" he teased.

You laughed fully. He smiled, and the room seemed to light up with the glow emanating from him.

"Get a room," Robin groaned.

Steve turned around. "I'm not flirting, Robin!"

"Yeah, right," Robin smirked. "It's just working this time."

You coughed. "I, um, I have to go."

They both turned back to you, as if they'd forgotten that you were even there.

"Shit, hang on," Steve started, but Robin cut him off.

"No, wait, I didn't mean it like that—" Robin said, realizing she'd practically told Steve you liked him.

"Yeah, right, I know, I just have, uh..." You fumbled for an excuse for a minute. "I have to go drive a friend home! I'll call you later, Robs!" You rushed out the swinging door just as the bell at the counter rang.

Steve pushed his hands through his hair. "Shit."

"Oh, no," Robin whispered. "Steve, ignore that, ignore all of that, I screwed up, I shouldn't have said anything, she's going to be so pissed. It's just that she's liked you since middle school and it's gotten worse now that you're not a douchebag—" Robin clapped a hand over her mouth.

"I won't tell her you said that," Steve said quietly. "Oh, Jesus, Robin..."

"I'm sorry—"

"Stop apologizing to me," Steve said. "If you hadn't said anything, I never would have realized."

Robin made a face. "See, that's why you suck, not because you're bad at flirting with girls. You've just been flirting with the wrong ones, because you're oblivious of the ones that actually like you."

Steve was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Thanks for pointing that out." He peered out the window, watching you leave the mall, wiping at your eyes and pushing your hair out of your eyes.

Simultaneously, Steve and Robin whispered, "Shit."

At the counter, Erica Sinclair tapped the bell again. "Hello? I want some samples!"

They shouted, "Shut up!"

Steve slammed the glass doors shut.

~❊~

Steve unlocked his front door, stepped inside his house, and put his back to the closed door. He slid down the door with a heavy sigh.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath. All he had been able to see since you left Scoops was your stricken face, horrified and embarrassed that Robin had spilled your biggest secret. (Which Robin had told him after, in bits and pieces, while they closed up the store.)

Steve couldn't believe it. How had he never noticed? Granted, he hadn't been the most observant for, well, the majority of his life. And his middle school years had been fairly dull, unmemorable. But wouldn't have noticed if you—you, out of everyone in Hawkins Middle—had been crushing on him?

To his utter shame, the most Steve remembered of you in middle school was how you had been a good friend to him, long before any of his high school friends knew who he was, and that he'd ditched you once he got to high school. You'd helped him study a few times, too. He wasn't sure what year it was, but he knew you'd helped him pass both English and History in the same year.

He'd shared a handful of classes with you, too, when classes had been so small they'd mixed grades. Sixth grade science, when the two of you had worked on a minor chemical project together. In seventh grade, you'd had two classes together. Gym, which had been downright brutal so early in the morning, especially when the teachers split up the teams as boys against girls. He remembered you had gotten nailed in the head with a basketball once, and that he'd been asked by your teacher to take you to the nurse. Then there had been math class, where he'd sat behind you, asking you questions and begging you to explain the concepts he didn't understand—even though you didn't understand it much more than he did. Eighth grade history, where Steve had done a presentation on his grandfather's experience in the World War, and you had been the only to actually raise your hand to ask a question.

Steve got up from the door and went up to his bathroom, stripping out of his uniform to take a shower. While the water soaked his hair and skin, warming him up, Steve's mind turned back to you—not that it had ever really left you.

You had been his first crush. Well, his first real crush. You'd been pretty, even when you were young and curious and a year younger than he was. Most of his friends had said that the younger girls were cute, but embarrassing to like. So Steve hid that he liked you. It wasn't until Nancy in high school, when it became cool, that he dated anyone younger than himself.

He wished he'd said something to you then. Would it have saved him a world of hurt? Or would it just have been an even worse broken heart waiting for him?

Steve recalled the way you had looked at him earlier, your eyes practically sparkling and your lips stretching into a gorgeous, content smile. It had stopped his heart to know that he was the reason you looked so happy, that he had brought that smile to your lips and that he had made those smile lines around your eyes appear and that he had been the reason your pupils were blown wide.

Steve shut off the shower and pulled on a new pair of boxers, flopping onto his bed with a content sigh, which matched the happy smile on his face.

You liked him.

Feeling like a teenage girl, Steve rolled until he could hide an excited squeal in his pillow.

You liked him again.

Steve was certain that's what made him so giddy. You'd liked him before he'd become King Steve, before the popularity made him interesting—and you liked him again, now that he'd changed and learned and grown up. Now that he'd learned to be himself without a care in the world for anyone else's opinion.

It was like redemption, but it felt so much better than that.

A sudden feeling overwhelmed Steve.

The next time he saw you, he needed to tell you how he felt about you. He needed to make it clear that Robin's slip-up had not ruined the slow banter, the friendship the two of you had been dancing around.

Resolved, his thoughts stopped spinning. He turned off the lamp on his nightstand and shut his eyes.

Please come back tomorrow, he thought, before falling into a gentle sleep, full of dreams of romanticized meetings, confessions, and kisses.

~❊~

You avoided Scoops for several days, choosing to tough out the warm weather in the overcrowded community pool until your mortification subsided. Robin had called repeatedly to assure you Steve wasn't weirded out or annoyed or embarrassed by your crush on him. In fact, she almost made it sound as if he was pleased by it.

But you still couldn't make yourself go to Scoops Ahoy. Even the mental image of walking in and seeing Steve's face twist with some kind of disgust made your stomach twist.

But a girl could only take so much of Billy Hargrove. So, after nearly a week, you drove to the mall instead of the pool. It still took you nearly ten minutes to force yourself out of your car.

You had thought seeing Steve and Robin in their sailor uniforms had been strange, but there was a far stranger sight directly ahead of you: Robin at the counter, staring in absolute confusion, and Steve jumping with joy at the sight of the small child in the front of the store.

"Henderson!" Steve's smile was huge. The sight made you smile, albeit a bit more confused. "Henderson! He's back, he's back!"

"I'm back! You got the job!"

"I got the job!"

And then, just when you thought this strange scene could not get any weirder, Steve mimed playing a trumpet and both he and the child did a strange miming handshake, giggling all the while.

Robin leaned forward. "How many children are you friends with?"

Steve's overjoyed smile slipped from his face. He gestured to Robin with a strained look on his face, as if he were signaling See what I have to deal with?

"You mean there's more children?" you asked, walking up to them with a shy smile, almost embarrassed to make your return. Your stomach dipped as Steve turned to you, but his smile was back.

"Hey, you're back!" Steve said. "I thought we'd never see you again!"

You shrugged. "Yeah, well, I got tired of Billy flirting with me."

"Max's brother?" the child asked.

You stared at him. "I don't know who that is. Or who you are, actually."

"Oh, I'm—"

"This is Dustin," Steve interrupted. "Dustin Henderson. He's, uh, he's one of my friends." He went behind the counter and started making an ice cream sundae.

You gave Dustin your name and offered him your hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"How do you know Steve?" Dustin asked.

At the same time, both you and Steve pointed to Robin. She waggled her fingers at him.

"I'm going on break," Steve said, handing the sundae to Dustin. "Your turn to man the counter. Come on, Dustin, my treat!"

The two of them slipped into a booth. You leaned against the countertop with a heavy sigh.

"There's like...five or six of them," Robin said. "Kids, I mean. That he's friends with."

"Jesus," you muttered. "How old are these kids?"

"Like...thirteen, maybe?"

"Oh, boy."

Robin giggled. "Looks like you gotta share your man with children now."

You choked. "He's— He's not my man, Robin!" you hissed, your entire body burning. You glanced at Steve, but he was too engrossed in whatever story Dustin was telling him.

"But that's why you're here, isn't it?" Robin asked. "You came back because you're ready to talk to him again, knowing that you like him and he likes you."

You glanced over at Steve. While you observed him, Robin slipped out from behind the counter, quietly humming to herself as she worked.

"Yeah, I mean, sure," he was saying to Dustin. "It's not really a good idea for me though, gotta keep in shape for the ladies." Was it just your imagination, or did his eye stray over toward you?

"Yeah, and how's that working out for you?" Robin teased.

"Ignore her," Steve said quickly.

"She seems cool," Dustin said.

"She's not," Steve said, even quicker. "But, uh, the girl you just met? She's cool. She's really cool." A smile tugged at your lips. You pushed it away as you looked down at the floor, completely missing Steve's lovestruck glance toward you.

Dustin, however, missed nothing, and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really, Steve?"

Steve cleared his throat. "Anyway. So, uh, where are the other knuckleheads?"

"They ditched me yesterday," Dustin said.

"No," Steve said, his face falling. Your heart squeezed at the sight of his empathy. The Steve from high school never would have cared about a kid whose friends had abandoned him, but this Steve did.

"My first day back! Can you believe that shit?"

"Whoa, seriously?!" Steve demanded, incredulous. Your heart warmed once again.

You turned back to Robin. "In answer to your earlier question," you said under your breath, "yes, that is exactly what I'm here to do."

She giggled. "I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" She paused. "Was Billy Hargrove really flirting with you?"

You nodded. "I guess he doesn't really care about high school social status, as long as he gets laid." You shuddered. "I've never felt more objectified in my life, and I pranced around on stage in fishnets and a bodysuit in front of the entire school last year during Chicago!"

"I'm still convinced that was our best show," Robin said.

"I'd like to know how we got the rights to it," you snorted.

"I'd like to know how we convinced Principal Higgins to let us perform it."

You snorted. "Yeah. Has anybody heard anything about next year's shows?"

"Nothing yet," Robin said.

You harrumphed, your gaze sliding back to Steve and Dustin and found them talking in hushed tones. Steve's face was fixed into an expression of embarrassed confusion.

"Oh, got customers, hang on," Robin said, and served them while you moved off to the side, watching Dustin speak behind his hand. Steve just blinked at him and told him to speak up.

"I intercepted a secret Russian communication!" Dustin said, far too loudly.

The entire store went quiet. You and Robin exchanged a glance.

"Jesus, shhhh!" Steve hissed. "Yeah, okay, that's what I thought you said."

Business as normal resumed and Robin's customers headed for their own table.

You cleared your throat. "Well, I guess I should head out—"

"No, no, no, wait! What about Steve?"

"He's busy, Robs," you said, gesturing to him. Your stomach did flips at the cute, teasing little expression on his pretty face as you caught him saying American heroes. You weren't sure you wanted to know what mischief they were getting into. "I'll just...come back tomorrow."

Robin sighed. "Fine. As long as you let me play matchmaker!"

You rolled your eyes. "You've been doing that for the past, what, four years?"

"Yeah, but this time I might actually be successful!"

You shook your head with a smile. "Catch you later, Robin. Bye, Steve!" you added as you walked past.

Steve's head snapped up. He scrambled up from his seat at the booth. "Hey, wait, wait, where are you going?" He caught your arm and your eyes darted to his fingers on you. Every possible excuse was wiped from your head. "I thought you were gonna stay and...hang out for a little while."

You smiled apologetically. "Yeah, I was going to, but your friend just came back, so I figured I'd just come back another time. So you don't have to...divide your already divided attention, y'know?" You gestured back to the counter.

Though there was understanding in Steve's eyes, he still looked disappointed. "Oh...um... Would you—" He cleared his throat, his cheeks gaining a deep pink shade. "Would you maybe wanna hang out together—" He stopped again. "Would you wanna go on a date? With me? Sometime?"

You couldn't stop the smile that stretched across your face. "When?"

"Oh, you know, whenever you want? If you want to, I mean."

You stopped his rambling with a finger against his lips. His eyes widened. "I want to, Steve. I really, really want to. I always have."

He beamed. "Really?"

"Really," you promised. You patted his chest. "Even in this stupid little uniform."

He laughed. "What do you say to...two days from now? Meet me here at the end of my shift so Robin can make fun of us like always—" You laughed with him. "—and then we can go see a movie?" His thumb caressed the skin of your arm. That single touch alone sent butterflies through your stomach, not to mention the beautiful, sappy look in his eyes.

"I'd like that," you said. "I'd like that a lot."

"And, um, if you'd like, there's a little dinner about ten minutes from here with awesome milkshakes we could go to after."

You beamed. "Oh, Steve."

"Yeah?"

"You're absolutely perfect," you said to him, cupping his cheek and smoothing your fingers over his skin. He hummed happily. "Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I... Do you... Can we kiss? I know it's soon, it's just... I've wanted this for a long time."

Steve beamed. He leaned in, cupping the back of your head and pulling you into him. His lips touched yours, and you swore your body crackled with electricity. A feeling similar to pins and needles, but far more pleasant, spread throughout you.

He made to pull away. You brought both your hands to his cheeks and held him to you, kissing him for all you were worth.

In the booth, Dustin's mouth dropped open. A grin spread across his face.

At the counter, Robin, who couldn't see the kiss but saw your hands slide into Steve's hair, pulled out her whiteboard and added a singular tally into the 'You Rule' column.

She glanced back at you and Steve. Steve had broken the kiss to tug you close to him, hugging you to his chest. You twisted your hand into his hair, smiling over his shoulder, your eyes closed against the rest of the world.

Robin grinned; she guessed the 'You Suck' tallies didn't matter anymore. Steve had found the one his charm worked on.

☞ ❊ ☜

Stranger Things // Steve Harrington

part 2 coming soon!

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the S.H. taglist!} @ohatropa@nix-rose@live-the-fangirl-life

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