#but i had no hopes bc of obvious reasons

[shefinallyrose]

70k people got to scream “give me back my girlhood it was mine first” with taylor tonight and i wasn’t one of them…never gonna recover from this i fear

[louwhose]

This or That | Week 2 | Twilight Princess | Jewelry and Flower Crown

The flower crown is definitely more obvious, but if you look closely you can see a very particular jewelry I wanted to be sure to include...

@zelinkcommunity

[cyberbullyinc]

😐

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

ok so i figured out why the conversation with my acquaintance felt so weird to me. it’s bc while they did say they were embarrassed and that i had the right to still be upset if i was and apologised they still. made a lot of excuses and kinda joked a little. and i think it was bc they were embarrassed but also im a little. tired of giving them excuses for shit

[aliosne]

Look i KNOW they’re just playing pretend and making up cool looks i K N O W it but every time critrole are dressing their characters for a special event im just like *digging my fingers into my thighs* THAT SILHOUETTE REQUIRES BIAS CUT AND THAT LEVEL OF FABRIC WASTE REQUIRES INDUSTRIALIZED FABRIC PRODUCTION DO YOU HAVE INDUSTRIALIZED FABRIC PRODUCTION IN YOUR WORLD MATTHEW MERCER

[lnfours]

close to you | l.n

summary: chemical override, ultraviolet, you could be mine tonight ; or having a crush is mind boggling, soul crushing and confusing, but also so exciting at the same time.

warnings: inspired by close to you by gracie abrams, friends to lovers (bc it’s my brand), pining, all the feels, reader is childhood best friends with pietra, fluff, and some language here and there

jordans notes: hi everyone! long time no see (😅) i’m slowly getting back into writing, school has been kicking my ass. i don’t think this is my best work, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys since ive been gone so long! i promise there’s more to come than just this! i hope you all are well!! sending you all my love 🤍

masterlist | listen to the playlist

before you met him, you didn’t think about the color green too often. it was one of those colors you didn’t necessarily love or hate, it was just kind of… there.

to you, it was just one of those colors where shades of it were prettier than the actual color itself. or a color you only really liked during the fall. like how, typically, people only liked the color blue during the summer.

that was until you met him.

the boy with those big, beautiful, slightly blue but slightly green, water-colored eyes. now you love the color green. obsessed over it. thought about it every second of every day. it was crazy how a simple opinion could change in a matter of seconds, all because of those stupidly pretty eyes.

You lie awake on your back, staring at the ceiling. surely it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone this much, right? especially over someone you weren’t even sure would ever feel the same.

sure, you had crushes before, and had your fair share of falling quickly and all at once. it wasn’t an unusual feeling to you, no stranger to catching feelings rather quickly.

but this time around, everything was different. everything felt more intense, more mind-boggling and confusing and pulse rising. the feeling so foreign that sometimes you wish you had never met him so you wouldn’t have fallen so hard so sudden, but deep down you were so glad that you had.

it was the little things that made you wonder what it was like to be loved by him. the subtle glances in your direction, the gentle but lingering touches. you had thought you were going crazy, reading too much into things in the beginning. over-analyzing every little thing that made your body light up with excitement.

until pietra confirmed your suspicions.

“he’s totally into you,” she said, leaning closer to your ear as you watched him from across the room, his head tilted back, nose scrunched and eyes half shut as he laughed about something max had said, which was likely something stupid, “like, one hundred percent, down bad, into you.”

you tilted your head at the blonde, “you think so?”

she scoffed, “more like know so,”

“who told you?”

“no one has to tell me anything,” she said, “i can just tell.”

you rolled your eyes at her, “p, i’ve told you a million times, he’s not into me.”

but she was right. he was one hundred percent, undoubtedly, down. fucking. bad.

ever since the moment he met you at that stupid pub with max and his group of friends, all he wanted to do was get to know you. he didn’t want it to seem obvious when he asked max about you, but he knew no matter what he did it was going to seem obvious. just from the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the night sky, he was no where near subtle.

he hated to admit it, but he had even done some lowkey instagram stalking through one of his private accounts. he had seen all the pictures of you and pietra, a life long friendship explained to him in front of his own eyes.

and every time his fingers would swipe through your account, all he could think about was how beautiful you were. how your eyes sparkled every time you smiled for the camera, how happy you looked when you genuinely laughed, and how he wished to be the reason behind the gorgeous sound forever.

he wasn’t trying to make it obvious tonight, not wanting to make it well known that he had his eyes on you for a while. but he had lost track at the amount of times you had caught him looking at you, and he swore he had even caught you looking at him first a handful of times.

so when everyone in the house decided that it was the end of the night and started filing through the door, he took it upon himself to make his way over to you. you were talking with pietra, a smile on your face as you giggled about something she had said. the brazilian woman’s eyes landed on him, to which she looked back at you and said something before you turned to look in his direction.

he smiled when your eyes met his, “hey, did you need a ride home?”

your heart threatened to leap out of your chest, “uhm, i was just gonna call an uber, you don’t have to-“

“no, no,” he said, shaking his head, “i insist, really. it’s not a big deal.”

how could you argue with him? those pretty green eyes, that smile, the face. you simply couldn’t. it was impossible. you couldn’t see the look pietra was giving you, but knowing her, you knew it was a look that said ‘go with him’.

and do you did, the cool, crisp autumn air in london suddenly making you wish you had brought a jacket. you had wished you planned for the nightly breeze, wishing you had opted for a long-sleeved shirt for the night instead of the spaghetti strap tank top you had chosen.

as you walked to the car that was parked down the street, he noticed you shivering. he saw the way you hugged yourself, your hair moving with the breeze. his curls danced in the wind and he knew if he was slightly cold, you were definitely freezing.

he tugged off the hoodie before passing it to you, the sound of the doors to the mclaren echoing before he turned to you.

“here,” he said, “it’s a little windy out, i know you’re probably freezing.”

your stomach did backflips as you took the soft black material from his hands, “oh, are you sure? aren’t you cold?”

he sent you a shrug, “i’ll live,”

there was no use arguing with him, so instead you sent him another smile in appreciation before tugging the sweatshirt over your head. it was already warm from hugging his body, and you couldn't help the way the smell of his cologne lingered in the soft material. you had to keep yourself from burying yourself in it, the feeling of being close to him without actually being close to him sending butterflies to your stomach.

the car ride was filled with comfortable silence, music softly playing in the background. he stole occasional looks over at your figure as you looked out the window, the neck of his hoodie pulled up to your face as you watched the street lights pass by. you looked beautiful in the dim light, he couldn’t help himself.

he thought about taking the long way to your house. a simple but effective way to be able to spend more time with you. however, the thought of you being confused and questioning his actions was enough for him to stay straight at the stop light instead of taking a right for the longer way.

he tried not to look disappointed when he reached your house, parking in front of it. he wondered if your roommates were home, if you’d tell them about the fact that he drove you home.

he turned the engine off, unclicking his seatbelt, “i’ll walk you up.”

you nodded, the both of you getting out of the car and walking through the dewy grass up to the wooden door. you fished for your keys in your purse, putting them into the lock before turning to look at him, “thanks for the ride,”

“anytime,” he smiled. he meant it. and you knew he meant it. he’d come get you at anytime of the day, wether it was early in the morning or late at night, he was always going to show up.

you stood there, eyes searching his face. he was so pretty to you, the brown curls that were slowly growing into a mullet to the sparkling eyes that you loved so much. the dimples in his cheeks that appeared whenever he smiled, the slight facial hair he had managed to grow, but your favorite part was the moles and freckles that covered his skin. the ones he had once complained about, but you loved the way they scattered his skin.

you dreamt of kissing each and every single one of them.

“hey, lando! long time no see!”

you both averted your attention, neither of you hearing the door open behind you. in the doorway stood your dark haired roommate, faith.

“hey,” he smiled softly, trying once again to not look disappointed from the way your moment was interrupted.

“we’re having drinks and watching movies if you wanted to join,” she smiled, ignoring the look you were sending her way.

“oh, uhm,” he started, not sure how to answer, “it’s getting kinda late, i dunno-“

“you can crash in y/n’s room, im sure she wouldn’t mind.”

what was that supposed to mean?

you looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay-“

“he’s been gone for weeks, he’s legally obligated,” she said, reaching from the doorway and grabbing both of your arms, “c’mon, liv is making martinis.”

you sighed heavily and he laughed softly at your protest that went unnoticed by her. your other roommate, olivia, stood in the kitchen.

“look who i found!” faith exclaimed excitedly.

“oh, hey guys! just in time,” she smiled, “it’s martini and movie friday!”

lando leaned over to you as the other two talked, “they do this every friday?”

you sighed again, nodding, “unfortunately,” you turned to your roommates, “we’re gonna head up to my room, actually,”

you led lando to the stairs, ignoring the playful teasing from the girls in the kitchen, “oooh!!”

“up to your room, huh?”

you shook your head, opening your bedroom door and letting him in before closing it, “‘m sorry for them, they’re… how do i put this?”

“a lot?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“yeah, we can put it that way.”

he chuckled, sitting down on the bed as you put your things down. he looked around your bedroom, not much had changed since the last time he had been in it. the fairy lights dimly lit up the room, photos littered the walls. the desk that sat in the corner of the room kept your makeup bag and brushes, a mirror sitting in the middle.

he looked at your nightstand, a picture of you, him, max and pietra sitting on the wooden surface. it was a picture from miami, smiles on all of your faces. you stood in the middle, arm wrapped around his middle as you smiled for the camera, his trophy in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your middle.

“i’m gonna change,” you said, “i might have a pair of your sweatpants somewhere if you wanted to change.”

he nodded, “yeah, that’d be great.”

you turned back to the dresser, opening drawers in search for the pair of sweatpants he leant you one day. the same day he picked you up from the failed date. the one that left you crying outside, swearing up and down that you’d never find love. despite it being in front of you this entire time.

finally finding the black material, you handed them to him, “i meant to give them back, but i just haven’t seen you,”

he shook his head. you could’ve kept them forever and he wouldn’t have minded one bit, “it’s alright,”

you grabbed your pajama bottoms from the foot of the bed, “be right back.”

he changed into the sweatpants while you were gone, still looking around your room. he smiled at the picture of you and your roommates, clearly taken at a party. you wore the prettiest smile he had ever seen, dressed in a black off the shoulder top. it was from the same night he realized he liked you in more than just a friendly way.

the door opening brought him back to reality, his eyes landing on your figure and how you were still wearing the black hoodie he had given you earlier. it brought a small smile to his face.

you noticed his eyes on you, looking down at the black hoodie, “i swear i’ll give it back once i wash it.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, “it’s okay. it looks better on you anyways.”

you smiled, fighting the heat that was rising your cheeks but it was no use. he joined you on the bed, watching as you flipped through different things on netflix.

“you don’t have to stay, y’know,” you said, looking over at him, “if you have better things to do..”

“i don’t,” he said, turning his head to look your way, “in all honesty, there’s no where else i’d rather be.”

you sucked in a breath, your eyes dancing across his face once again. it was hard for you not to stare, not when he looked so pretty like this. back pressed against your headboard, hair slightly messy, and he looked so cozy. it made you want to wrap yourself around him, lay your head on his chest.

he did the same, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every single feature, every single imperfection that he thought was still perfect. the same ones you’d argue about, but he still always found adorable.

his voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you, “do you ever have something to say but can’t find the words to say it?”

your furrowed your eyebrows, “like?”

he licked his lips, his attention now fixed on his hands as he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. you never thought he’d be the type to get shy, almost embarrassed as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“like, i dunno,” he mumbled, “i just.. i don’t know how to put it, but ever since the moment we met, i’ve found myself just.. thinking about you. thinking about what it’d be like to cross this weird, thin, little line we’ve drawn. if we both just said ‘fuck it’ and dove head first into whatever uncharted territory we’re tiptoeing around.”

his eyes met yours again as he let out a nervous breath. you hadn’t realized you had been holding yours, shock clearly written on your face which made him shake his head.

“never mind, it’s dumb-“

“lando,”

“- i knew i shouldn’t have listened to what max was going on about-“

you rolled your eyes as he kept blabbering away, talking nonsense. your body moving before your brain could comprehend what you were about to do, only catching up when your hands met his jaw and you were suddenly catching yourself a mere few inches from his face.

it was too late now, no going back.

you pulled his face closer to yours, his blabbering coming to a halt when you pressed your lips to his. his brain short circuited, you pulling away before he had the chance to kiss you back.

“‘m sorry,” you immediately apologized, “i don’t know why i did-“

it was his turn to cut you off now, grabbing your chin and pulling you back to his lips. his thumb traced along your jaw, his pointer finger sitting underneath your chin.

you kissed him back after a second of surprise, letting his free hand reach down to grab your hip, pulling you on top of his lap. your hands threaded through his curls, nails scratching his scalp.

when you both finally pulled away, all you could do was smile. giggles and chuckles echoing through the room as you both sat breathless, his nose bumping yours as he tucked a piece of stray hair away from your face.

“so we’re in agreement then, huh?” he asked.

“isn’t that obvious?” you smiled and he shook his head, letting out another boyish laugh.

“how long have you.. y’know, had feelings for me, i guess?”

“since the minute i saw you,” he confessed, “you were the most beautiful girl in the room, a smile that would make everyone stop and stare. it’s always been you, i’ve just been too scared to tell you.”

you smiled again, heart fluttering in your chest. all the dreams and wishes you spent with him on your mind, it was all finally paying off, “it’s always been you for me, too. i thought i had been way too obvious, but clearly i wasn’t obvious enough.”

“we were both too oblivious,” he said, moving more hair from your face, “but it’s okay, we’re here now.”

you were convinced your smile was never going to be wiped off your face, “kiss me again,”

“with pleasure,” he mumbled, lips finding yours once more as you melted into him.

[gghostwriter]

Can i have a fluffy spencer x reader piece. Just something cozy where they are all at rossis maybe after a case for some team bonding and chill time. And like he is offering everyone wine and reader goes along like "i can't" bcs she pregnant? Fluff fluff super fluff pls

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff! Just fluff! wc: 0.6k A/N: Reader is not part of the BAU, hope that's alright. I had fun writing this, hope you enjoy! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗 Main masterlist

Special Diet. // Spencer Reid

Your fiancee and his team had been out on the field for three consecutive cases all over the country. Just through Spencer’s nightly ritual calls alone, you could tell how tired and stressed he was and by extension the other members. Which was why, during their second night back in home ground, you volunteered to cook them a small feast—as long as Rossi hosted it in his place, which he readily agreed to as he was never one to say ‘no’ when a culinary chef such as yourself volunteers to cook up a meal.

“So what did our local chef cook up for the night?” Morgan asked as the team sat around the laid out table by the backyard.

You smiled, placing the finishing touches on the table. “I wanted to give the Italian cuisine a break so I present to you, French delicacies. For the starters, we have here salade lyonnaise with slices of baguette—” gesturing to the mid-size plate to their upper left. “—our mains, steak frites, and yes, I remembered to make yours rare, Morgan—” a few chuckles escaped from the team members as the called out profiler sheepishly placed his hand down “—and profiteroles for dessert.”

Rossi then started going around the table with his choice of wine to match the lavish dinner you’ve prepared.

“If you weren’t engaged to Reid, I’d marry you,” Penelope gushed as she took a bite of her meal.

Emily chuckled. “Get in line, Penelope. I get to marry her first if she changes her mind.”

“You never fail to impress me, Bambina. Now can I interest you for a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon?” Rossi asked as he reached your seat between Spencer and Emily.

“Actually, no thank you,” your answer eliciting an echo of utensils being dropped on the table. “I’m trying to cut back.”

JJ leaned forward. “Our very own wine connoisseur is saying no to Rossi’s aged wine?”

“I’m trying this special diet,” you shrugged, subtly studying if any of the best profilers the FBI has to offer understood the real reason why. Based on Hotch’s small smile behind his glass wine, the unit chief had caught on quite quickly.

“You don’t need to diet. You’re petite and fit, right kid?” Morgan clarified.

The corners of Spencer’s lips pulled slightly up as he squeezed your hand in his. “Actually, she does need to stick to the diet.”

Penelope gasped, clearly appalled at the stance your fiancee had taken. “Take that back! No way you said that, Reid!”

You giggled at the affronted reactions of the team—minus Hotch and Rossi as the two older profilers clinked their glasses together at the side. “It’s fine, Penny. It’s the truth anyway.”

Emily sent a dirty look to Spencer before asking on. “What else does this special diet entail?”

“Unpasteurized dairy, cold cuts, liver, game meat, and raw sushi to name a few,” Spencer listed out loud and with each, the smile on his face grew bigger and bigger.

“Wait, isn’t that—” JJ mumbled before promptly standing up from her seat and rushing to give you a hug.

Morgan tilted his head to the side. “What? What did I miss?”

Spencer chuckled before revealing the most obvious clue. “She has to follow the strict diet for 36 more weeks.”

There was a beat of silence before shouts and squeals emitted from all ends of the table.

“You’re pregnant?” Penelope gasped.

Emily added on. “With boy genius?”

You both nodded, bringing out a printed sonogram safely tucked in Spencer’s jacket that was draped around your shoulders. It had been a surprise when you went in for your yearly check-up but it was the type of news that Spencer quickly became happy with. His own family was expanding and he couldn’t have chosen a better partner than you.

“We present to you, baby Reid!”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[mashmouths]

they were so caught up in having a woman wear pants in elizabethan england that they forgot they didn't have to involve antisemitism for historical accuracy's sake. in the witch and vampire show.

so i started this show and it just gets worse and worseeeee not only did it lift the romance subplot directly from twilight (and not well) but they also are trying to play the forbidden love angle hard in the fantasy racism vein except it's a "cross-species" relationship between the two whitest people i've ever seen in my life and there are three people of color in the whole (first season of the) show who aren't villains and it seems that every other episode (and sometimes ebery episode and sometimes twice an episode!) there is a man physically or magically subjugating a woman and i keep waiting for the big reveal at the end to be stolen from fucking rainbow rowell

[duoduotian]

i am regretting my life decisions

[fairyysoup]

i can see you

♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: The secret history of your long and arduous relationship with Steve Harrington.

aka: the 5 times you pined over each other, and the time you actually did something about it

words: 17.6k (we're NOT gonna talk about it lol)

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, flirting, making out, heavy petting, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fingering, marking, biting, steve harrington has a big dick, themes of infidelity/cheating (sort of), skipping out on dates, bad dates, steve steal-your-girl harrington, almost-kisses, jealous!steve, jealous!reader, possessive behavior, smoking, alcohol consumption, allusions to marriage but it's never actually mentioned, canon compliant, reader and steve are the same age, 5+1 things, songfic, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, pining, mutual crush, slow burn one shot, mild twist ending, begins in season two (1984) and ends in the 90s, high school, scoops ahoy era, family video era, waiter!steve, steve harrington (the eras tour), vignette, one instance of billy hargrove slander, original characters created for plot, inspired by i can see you by taylor swift, other taylor song inspo throughout bc i'm insane like miss swift

a/n: hi and welcome to ✨rose's mental breakdown✨ yes this song will be my number one on spotify wrapped bc i listened to it on a loop for five days straight while writing this. idk. anyways this is So Much and i'm tired of looking at it so if there are any mistakes i apologize. anyways whoever can point out the most taylor song references aside from the obvious titular one gets a doubloon

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

You brush past me in the hallway, and you don’t think I can see you, do you? I’ve been watchin’ you for ages, and I spend my time trying not to feel it…

Hawkins High, September 1984

He’s so pretty sometimes that it’s disgusting.

That’s really the only thing you think when you watch Steve Harrington sneak up on his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and swoop her off the ground in front of her locker. From across the hall, your locker hangs open, your body turned halfway toward them so that you can pretend that you’re not staring.

You stare a lot.

It’s not exactly the hair, you think- everyone shits a brick about his hair, for some reason that you don’t understand. Yeah, it’s nice… but you like everything else about him, too. You like how sweet he looks when he laughs. You like the way that he holds himself and the way that he looks when he puts his hands on his hips and stands around like he’s directing the traffic around him. You like how much of a prince charming he is, really. It would surprise you if he doesn’t win prom king at the end of the year. They already call him King Steve, it’s not too far of a stretch.

You close your locker just as Steve kisses Nancy, in front of god and everybody in the C Corridor hallway. Steve’s arms wrap around Nancy’s petite frame and he dips her, like they’re in some sort of George Peck and Audrey Hepburn movie. Not that the place is much of a cinematic setting, though. Down the hall, the science rooms are doing their dissection units, so the whole place smells like formaldehyde and disinfectant, and you sort of feel like curling up into one of those dissection pans and dying, yourself. 

That should be me, your brain screams. Me!!

It’s always been like this. You’ve had a crush on Steve since freshman year- the fact that he’s dating Nancy, who’s a year younger than him, doesn’t escape your jealous mind. You’ve been in classes with him for four years, you’ve admired him quietly, you’ve hoped and prayed that he somehow noticed you noticing him.

You don’t think he knows you exist. Four years- and now you’re both seniors, about to graduate, and he still doesn’t notice you. You should really stop caring, or stop trying, or stop… pining. Or something. 

You hike your bag up onto your shoulder and juggle your books in your arms. The bell rings, and quite suddenly the entire hallway erupts into pandemonium (predictable, sure, considering everyone loiters around instead of actually getting to class on time). Kids fly around you in all directions to get to their next classroom. Nancy Wheeler ducks away from Steve Harrington, avoiding yet another kiss.

God, you wish you could kiss him.

Someone slams into your shoulder from behind, muscling past you to get to science lab 5, rat central. Your binder slips out of the stack of books in your arms and clatters loudly to the ground, just as someone walks past and kicks it across the floor.

“Fuck,” you spit, chasing after it. The back of your neck feels hot. For the first time in four years, you hope to god that Steve Harrington doesn’t notice you. 

You duck around people’s legs, trying to grab at your binder, while not trying to drop any more of the books in your arms. Loose papers are starting to fall out of the binder as it skitters across the floor, and this is becoming more and more of a comedy of errors by the minute.

Your fingers just brush the corner of it before someone kicks it again. 

“Do you mind?” you snap as they walk away, not even looking in your direction. Crouched close to the floor, you don’t matter. Maybe you could count that as a blessing, considering you don’t want to be perceived right now.

You finally just throw away all dignity and crawl across the tile floor- disgusting and dirty and covered in sandy grit, as though it hasn’t been cleaned all year- to get to your binder. 

And you come face to face with a pair of white Nike’s. Ones that you know way too well, because you’ve stared at them every time they’ve passed you in the hallway. 

Nonononono- You clench your jaw and then look up, way up, to find Steve Harrington towering over you. 

He looks like he was about to just step around you, but then he notices you gazing up at him from all fours, and his hazel eyes lock on yours. You blink at each other for a second before he flushes, a pink blush breaking out on his cheeks and crawling up his neck, and he looks away quickly, but crouches down to grab your binder before your hand can land on it. 

“Sorry,” Steve says quietly, gathering up the couple papers that had started to slide out of the folders inside. You sit back on your heels, your blood rushing in your ears, mortified. His big hands gently poke the papers back into the folder as they should be before he hands it to you. “Looks like you’re gonna be late to class.”

You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”

Steve’s eyes find yours again, and he’s finally so close to you that you can admire the little bit of green in them. You’ve never been close enough to notice before.

He cracks a lopsided smile, one that he uses to charm people, you know- you’ve seen him use it on teachers and cute girls alike. “I’m always late to the party. But I get there, eventually.”

“I hope so.” He cocks his head at you. He doesn’t know the real meaning to your words- or, at least, you don’t think he does. 

I hope you don’t stay oblivious forever, Steve Harrington. I hope you get there, eventually.

You take your binder from him, but you pull your eyes away from his a bit later than you properly should. “Thanks, Steve.”

You get up and take off toward your next class, walking quickly so that you don’t come off like you’re lingering too long. But, halfway down the hall, you look over your shoulder at him.

Steve hasn’t moved, still crouched down close to the floor, with his head bent like he’s deep in thought. With his back to you, you can still see the pink flush on the back of his neck, peeking out above his collared shirt.

‘Cause I can see you, waiting down the hall from me, and I can see you up against the wall with me. What would you do? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you…

Hawkins High, April 1985

Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will. 

Maybe it was your fault for hoping that Logan Sawyer, popular prick extraordinaire, was serious about wanting to take you to prom. He seemed serious enough, stopping by your locker during passing period and leaning over you as he asked you, his mega-watt smile making you blush. You’d counted yourself lucky- you didn’t think anyone was going to ask you, and people aren’t allowed to go to prom stag.

It took Logan two weeks to find a prettier girl to go with, though. You don’t know why it hurts so much. Maybe it’s because you wanted to believe that you were someone’s first choice, but it never quite seems to turn out that way.

You wipe your tears in the mirror, scowling at your puffy, bloodshot eyes. The bathroom next to the girls’ locker room in the sports wing is completely deserted at this time- the boys’ gym class is in session now, and you’re cutting into your lunch time, but you really don’t want to have to go and cry at a lunch table, in front of a bunch of your bitchy peers, who will inevitably make fun of you for it.

Sniffling, but slightly more composed, you head out of the bathroom. The sports wing is ridiculously bigger than any other wing of the school (typical of American public schools, to prioritize sports over every other department). The wing boasts weight training rooms, dance rooms, three separate gymnasiums, and a door directly to the football field, with the locker rooms on the farthest end to allow for easy access to the field. Connecting all of these rooms is the longest corridor in the building, which seems to run for half a fucking mile.

You’ll have to walk that half mile, because in order to get to the cafeteria, you’re gonna have to traverse the entire building. You might not get to eat much today, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. Maybe Mrs. Marshall will be kind enough to let you snack on a granola bar in your next class period.

Halfway down the long hallway, you feel the angry sting of tears behind your eyes again, and your face screws up in frustration. You stop, turning halfway back toward the girls’ bathroom, wondering if you should just go back in and allow yourself to cry some more.

Suck it up, you think to yourself, smacking at your tear stained cheeks. He’s not the guy you really want to ask you to prom, anyways.

You press your fingertips into your eyes to relieve the sting of tears, taking a deep breath. Being in high school is driving you crazy. At this point in the year, the teachers have given up teaching, the students have given up learning, and you’re basically just biding your time in a glorified babysitting service until you can inevitably grab your diploma and get out of here. You can’t wait for that time to arrive. 

A door opens further down the hallway, in the direction of the cafeteria. You wipe your nose once and keep moving in the direction you were going, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, standing in the middle of the hallway having a breakdown.

Moving forwards, you keep your eyes on the ground. Once you hear the door that had been opened slam shut again, you figure that whoever it was has moved on down the hallway, and you lift your eyes again. 

They have not, in fact, moved on. And you suddenly have the urge to turn and fucking run back into the girls’ bathroom, because Steve Harrington is bent over at the drinking fountain, directly outside the boys’ weight room.

What the fuck, what the fuck. You suck on your teeth, trying not to falter in your stride. Maybe he hasn’t seen you, and you can just pass him up. It’s fine, he hasn’t seen you crying. 

Your mind backtracks to the beginning of the year, you fumbling your binder all the way across the hallway and ending up right in front of him, crawling toward him. Looking up at him and probably, most definitely, making him really uncomfortable.

You have English class together, where you sit at the desk closest to the door. He comes in late almost every day, so he passes by you every time. Some days he looks at your desk. On good days, he meets your eye. But he hasn’t spoken to you since that day in September, and you really shouldn’t hold out hope that he will. 

You definitely don’t want him to notice you when you’ve been crying, your face is a mess, your hair is limp and you look bedraggled. You just want to fade into the background of your next class with whatever snack you can get from the cafeteria snuck into your bag, so you can stress eat it without any guff from a teacher (like you aren’t 18 and capable of deciding when you are and aren’t allowed to eat).

You keep your eyes down. If you don’t look at him, he doesn’t exist.

Except, Steve Harrington always exists, in the back of your mind, and in your periphery. He is impossible not to notice, as per usual. He really just draws the eye like a magnet. Try as you might, your eyes keep flicking up to take stock of him. 

He’s wearing a uniform gray P.E. shirt and gym shorts that don’t leave a lot to the imagination, and you fixate on his thighs more than you should. He has sweat dripping down his neck, wetting his hair on the sides of his face and the seam of his shirt. It shouldn’t be attractive. He shouldn’t be attractive. With his face a mess. And his hair limp, and looking bedraggled. Truly, you make a priceless pair, being the only two people in the hallway.

We’re perfect for each other, a voice says in your head. And you manage, for the first time in an hour, to crack a smile down at your shoes.

He finishes getting his drink at the fountain, and you figure that he’ll just go back into the weight room and not see you. But, of course, luck is not on your side.

Steve Harrington looks at you. And you look away, quickly, acting like you hadn’t been staring at him. And in your periphery, again, you see him stretch his arms over his head, and then turn and lean against the cinderblock wall beside the door to the weight room, with his hands on his knees as though he’s catching his breath.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

He does it so casually, and with the way he’s sweating and his face is flushed, you’re sure that he probably does just want to take a break before going in and lifting more weights. But something in the back of your mind says that the maneuver was too purposeful, immediately after he laid eyes on you. 

It could just be wishful thinking on your part. You heard through the grapevine that Steve and Nancy Wheeler broke up in a nasty way just before winter break, and it doesn’t seem like he’s been interested in anyone since. He hasn’t dated anyone, hasn’t flirted with any girls or showed up at any parties. Nancy must have really broken his heart.

You know too well what that feels like, right now.

Nearing where he leans against the wall, you keep your head down and you plan on just passing by without any acknowledgement from him, same as it ever was. If he’s still carrying a torch for Nancy, you’re sure that he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’ve nearly convinced yourself of it.

But then you hear your name called quietly, and it nearly makes you jump. You look over at him, thinking you’re just hearing things, but you look directly into a pair of hazel eyes again, and you feel yourself rocketing back in time to September.

You didn’t even think he knew your name.

You slow to a stop. It would be rude not to stop, right? “Uh… hi, Steve. You good?”

Steve Harrington looks you up and down, while he leans against the wall and breathes a bit heavily, like he’s out of breath. He peers at you through long eyelashes, looking impossibly inviting despite everything; the setting, your appearances, the way that you feel like dissolving into a puddle right in front of him. “Yeah, great. You?”

He’s scrutinizing your face now. You shrug, since he’s already seen you, and there’s no way to pretend you weren’t crying thirty seconds ago. “I’m fine. Just being dramatic, don’t worry about me.” 

“When people say not to worry about them, it usually means that you should,” Steve muses. He looks coy, like he’s speaking from experience. 

You sigh, stepping forward to get your own drink from the drinking fountain. “Logan Sawyer called off our date for prom.”

“Oh.” Steve pauses for a few seconds, watching as you bend down and take your drink, more silent than he usually is. “I mean… that really sucks. I’m sorry. But… Logan Sawyer?”  

“Yeah.” You wipe your mouth, and then wet the ends of your fingers and use the cool water to rub at your stinging eyes again. When you’re done, you lean up against the wall beside him, letting your back settle into the cinderblock.

“The guy’s a fucking douche.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, I mean it, I think it’s a good thing you’re not going to prom with him. He’s really shitty to girls.” You look up at Steve, who’s watching you with his arms crossed, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “I mean, the only guy worse than Logan is probably… I dunno…”

“Billy Hargrove?” 

Steve laughs. Actually laughs. You’ve wanted to make him laugh like that for four years. His cheeks turn crimson and he grins down at his shoes, snickering like there’s way more to the joke he’s laughing at than you even know about. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s gotta be the worst.”

You chuckle, albeit with a sadder tone than he has. “Well, I’m not going to prom with either of them. So, I can count my blessings. I guess.”

Steve frowns, and he looks like he’s going to say something else, but you’re already turning away, not wanting to continue the depressing conversation about your lack of dates. Especially not from the one guy who you desperately want to go on a date with.

You get a few steps away before he takes a step after you, saying, “Wait. You, uh-”

You stop, and look back at him. He looks dumbfounded, his arm outstretched like he was going to try to grab you if you didn’t listen to him. When you frown, he steps back against the wall, bringing his hand up to run through his hair. 

Oh . That’s a nervous tick. You know it, because you’ve watched him do it more than once in English, in front of the class during a presentation.

Steve looks down at his shoes, his brow scrunched in thought. He looks like he’s really trying to find the right words to say. In your head, a hopeful part of you imagines what those words could be. ‘Will you go to prom with me?’

Finally, he looks up at you resolutely. “You’ll find someone to take you to prom. I’m sure of it.” He nods a little, like he’s reassuring himself that he said the right thing. 

You can’t help the smile that springs onto your face. It’s incredulous, of course, but he can’t know that. Keep trying, baby. You’ll get there, eventually.

“Thanks, Steve.” It’s the second time you thank him in the course of the year.

But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

Prom Night, May 1985

The dress you’re wearing is sleek and a lot simpler than some of the more popular styles on the dance floor, but you like it more than you care to admit. You’d just grabbed it off the rack at Macy’s, and beyond that you didn’t want to go all-out for prom. It turns out that your lab partner, Gavin Connelly, needed a date, too. So, you’re here with him, because you knew that if you missed prom, you would probably regret it.

Except, well.

Gavin, stoned out of his fucking mind, is sitting at one of the tables, nursing a cup of punch, looking like he’s two seconds from falling asleep. You’ve taken to making the rounds and saying hi to anyone you can call a ‘friend,’ because you’re tired of just loitering next to him. Something tells you he didn’t want to even be here.

The speakers are playing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ and couples are swaying on the dance floor in a Bonnie Tyler-induced haze. At a loss for people to bother, you wander back over to your date to find his head plastered to the white table cloth. 

You glance to the guy sitting next to him, a kid with glasses who you don’t recognize but who seems to know your date, because he’s just patting Gavin’s back. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, no, he’s dying.” The kid shoots you a sarcastic smile. 

You nod, pressing your tongue hard to the roof of your mouth. “Well, if he wakes up, tell him I’m getting some air.”

Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.

Your heels, which are killing your feet already, click loudly on the tile hallway floor as you exit the gym. The table where you can check your bag and coat are located at the other end of the hall, where everyone is supposed to enter through the door to the football field.

You can hear voices from the far end of the hall, and Bonnie Tyler’s voice fading out the further you get from the gym. You might never be able to hear that song again without thinking of your ruined slow dance opportunity.

As you pass by, someone coughs off to the left and you turn your head to see Steve Harrington, black tie and all, loitering in the shadows. You stop a few feet from him and squint into the dark.

You can’t believe it. He always seems to show up at the worst times. “What are you doing, skulking around?” 

“I’m not sulking.”

You snort, stepping into the shadows with him. “No, skulk- like, sneaking around?” 

“Well, I didn’t mean to sneak-” he looks over his shoulder at the gym entrance. “I’m just getting some air.”

“Funny,” you murmur. “I was just about to do the same thing.”

He eyes you, a lot like he did a few weeks ago in this same hallway, further up toward the other end of it. He takes in your hair, styled painstakingly to ‘perfection,’ or as close as you could approximate it, and your off-the-rack department store dress. You suddenly feel like you aren’t as pretty as you thought you were at the beginning of the night. 

But then he meets your eye, and all those insecurities fade into the back of your mind. He’s smiling at you, and that can only be a good thing.

“So, uh…” Steve leans back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, “You found someone to take you?”

You press your lips into a tight line. You don’t really want to think about your date right now, but- “Gavin Connelly.”

“Who?”

You laugh, kicking the heel of your shoe against the ground with a soft clack. “Yeah. God, I wish I didn’t know him right now.”

“Why, what’d he do?” Steve sounds perturbed. You look up to find him scowling already.

“Oh, he just ate a pot brownie before he picked me up and passed out at one of the tables.” You finish with a tired giggle, shrugging at Steve as he peers at you with an annoyed expression. “Who did you bring?”

“Kelly Palmer.” 

You know Kelly. She doesn’t say much, but she’s gotten a scholarship to a big art school. “Do you like her?”

“Yeah, she’s nice,” he says mildly. Unconvincingly.

You can understand the subtext. She’s not Nancy. When you look at his face, he seems tortured in the low light coming from down the hall.

“Guess I’m oh-for-two,” Steve adds after a pause. “Last year’s prom, Nance and I didn’t have such a good time, either.”

You nod. It seems like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry,” you offer. You don’t know the ins-and-outs of Steve and Nancy’s relationship, aside from watching them suck face in the hallway five paces from you for a year and a half. “Prom sucks. High school sucks. These can’t be the best years of our lives, trust me.”

“Yeah, I hope not.” 

“I just can’t wait to get out of here, you know,” you grumble, allowing your sour mood to come out a little more than normal. It seems like Steve is just really good at getting you to let your guard down. “I’m planning to go to Chicago for college. This is all just… you know, it’s just the starting point. What about you, any big plans?”

“Dunno. I didn’t get accepted to any schools, so I’ll just be getting a job here in town until something better comes along.” Steve shifts, his heel hitting the wall behind him. He looks disappointed when he says, “I think I made too many mistakes.” 

You frown, chewing on your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gives you a heavy look, like he’s gearing up to say something important, something game changing- and then his gaze softens. 

“You’ve got an eyelash.” He gestures to his own eye, like it’ll make you understand exactly where the loose one is on your face.

“Oh.” You falter, lifting your manicured hands and wiping at your undereyes. “Did I get it?”

“No, uh- here, I can-” Steve tentatively reaches forward, and you step toward him to let him touch your face. 

Steve Harrington is touching your face.  

His fingertip brushes your cheekbone, so featherlight you would barely feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of everything that he said or did. His touch glides across your cheek and toward your temple, and then he seems to keep it there, his hand hovering just over your skin.

Reflexively, your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder. You’re inches from Steve’s face, your eyes falling to his lips.

You could kiss him. You could live your fantasy, right now.

Steve’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, and then he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. He doesn’t say that you look beautiful. He doesn’t say it conditionally, like it’s just for tonight. You are beautiful. Even when you’re crawling on all fours after your binder. Even when you’re crying, and your hair is limp, and you look bedraggled.

“Steve…” you whisper, inching closer to him. 

“STEVE??!”

You jump away from him like he’s burned you, and peek around the hall corner to see Kelly Palmer standing outside the gym looking up and down the hall, searching for him. She looks lost, and sad, like he must have ditched.

She looks an awful lot like you just did, coming out of that gym.

You feel Steve’s hand where it had fallen to your wrist, dragging your attention gently back to him. You take his hand and squeeze it once, giving him a tight smile. 

“You brought her here for a good time,” you say with your bravest smile. “Just don’t pass out at one of the tables on her, okay?”

Don’t be a douche. Don’t be like Logan Sawyer. 

Steve swallows, and gives you a short nod. You think he finally got there.

You give a soft pat to the lapel of his suit jacket. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

He touches your arm one final time before he slips around the corner, just as Kelly turns to go back into the gym. You watch him walk away, and you think to yourself, That’s the last time I chase after Steve Harrington.

Wherever there is, it’s not with you.

Steve loops his arms around Kelly’s waist and lifts her, earning a thrilled squeal as the silver taffeta of her dress glints blue in the light from the gym. You wait until they’ve disappeared back into it before you turn and high-tail it toward the coat check table.

And we kept everything professional, but something’s changed, it’s something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it’s best if we move fast and keep quiet…

Starcourt Mall, June 1985

“Come on, it’s ridiculously hot outside,” your best friend, Shelly, groans as she pulls you along by the wrist. “I can’t believe they only have one ice cream place here.”

“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”

“Ice. Cream.” You know better than to argue with her.

Scoops Ahoy has a novelty nautical theme that makes you want to both laugh and break down in tears when you see it. The PA is playing a cutesy rendition of Drunken Sailor on accordion, and you think that if you keep looking at the striped wallpaper behind the counter, you might get literally seasick. In the mall. In landlocked Indiana. 

Or… is it landlocked if it fronts Lake Michigan? It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in Chicago in two days, anyways.

You let Shelly drag you along until you look towards the front counter, and you see something that nearly makes you trip and face plant into Shelly’s fresh perm.

Even Shelly pauses. “Is that who I think it is?”

It’s something about the stupid little sailor’s cap and shorts, and that he’s so, so pretty in it, you think. It’s also something about how you have the perfect vantage point to watch him try and fail to flirt with the girl that approaches the counter to order. You’re enamored with him. There’s no other way to describe it. 

You have half a mind to run away, after what you promised yourself on prom night over a month ago. You’d done good, you didn’t search for him in the halls, you ignored him in your last couple of class periods with him. You’d even been in the bathroom when his name was called at graduation. 

But, here he is. Steve Harrington, absolutely obliterating his chances of getting a date with the girl ordering a sundae ahead of you. 

Honestly, you don’t know what you’re waiting for. Maybe an invitation? A sign from god that today’s the day that you’ll make a move? Or maybe this is just a test of will.

You stop resisting Shelly’s attempts to drag you along, and straighten your spine. You can do this. Four years’ worth of pining won’t make a difference in whether or not you order a strawberry ice cream cone.

He’s even prettier up close, his rosy cheeks framed by sunkissed, wavy hair. When he sees you he stalls, going a bit wide-eyed and then seeming to realize he’s supposed to do his job. He leans heavily against the counter. “Ahoy, ladies! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain, Steve Harrington.”

“Uh-huh.” You stare at each other for a long moment. “How much do they pay you to recite that script?”

“Absolutely nothing, I do this for pure enjoyment.” You’re almost sure that he doesn’t. He pauses, a hand poised on his hip. “Too much?”

“I’d dial it back just a smidge. Maybe keep the ahoy and the captain thing and toss the rest.” 

“Noted.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on you. “I thought you were going to Chicago?”

“I leave the day after tomorrow,” you shrug. “Still time for me to burn the place down, you know.”

“Well, I’m glad you stopped by,” Steve chuckles. “I could show you where the gas line is, then we’d all be in trouble.”

“Oookay.” Shelly gives you a curious side-eye, and then turns back to Steve. “Well, I’ll have a U.S.S. Butterscotch with a chocolate dipped waffle bowl, if you don’t mind.”

Steve tears his eyes away from you long enough to grin at Shelly. “Coming right up. And for you?”

You freeze, glancing up at the menu. It’s written in an infuriatingly cutesy code-language that you have to decipher. “Um. I’m still deciding.”

“All right, then. Just let me know, when you’re ready.” 

Steve slips away to make Shelly her sundae, a heaping pile of ice cream and butterscotch syrup that looks like the fast track to a heart attack. You alternate between trying to comprehend the menu and being distracted by Steve in that stupid sailor’s uniform.

The script on the menu may as well be written in a foreign language. Blackbeard’s Delight. Treasure Island Turtle. U.S.S. Sherbet. The sizes are even harder to understand. Fathom. League. Nautical Mile. You don’t have the capacity to decipher it- your eyes are seeing the words, but your mind is traveling back to prom night, and feeling Steve’s finger on your cheek as you gear up to kiss him.

“Are you ready?”

“Mhm…” It takes you a second to zone back into the present moment, where Steve is standing in front of you, on the other side of the counter, waiting to take your order. He waits, with a patient smile on his face, while you blink dumbly at him.

What did you say? What did he say?

“I… um.” You’re sure you look completely out of it. Your eyes flick nervously up at the menu, that you still can’t fucking read. Shelly’s already gone to sit down with her sundae, the traitor.

“It’s kind of hard to understand, isn’t it?” Steve says quietly after a moment, dropping the phony customer service charade. “I hate it. I think we should just be able to say what our favorite ice cream flavor is and be done with it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still squinting up at the menu. Blackbeard’s Delight: blackberry swirl with blueberry syrup and a gold doubloon. “The fuck is a doubloon?”

Steve snorts, and reaches under the counter before bringing back a handful of gold foil-covered chocolate coins, which he dumps into your outstretched hand. “You want more? We get them wholesale.”

“I’m good,” you giggle, juggling the chocolate coins before they go cascading to the floor. “I think… I don’t… I don’t understand a thing on that menu.”

“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” He leans forward to ask you, like it's a secret. Just between the two of you. His head bent a little to peer at you closely, so close that you can count the freckles on his skin.

You glance over your shoulder. Shelly is seated by the far wall, under a painting of a kraken, giving you an indignant look. When she notices you looking, she mouths an emphatic, ��LET’S GO!’

“Don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, and Steve affects his gravest expression as he nods. “Strawberry.” 

“A classic,” he grins. “Fan of sprinkles?” 

“I can dig a few sprinkles.”

“Perfect. I think we have something up your alley.” He grabs a scooper out of the bin and twirls it once, just to show off. “Sex on the Beach.” 

“What?” You don’t remember seeing anything about that on the menu.

He glances up to smirk at you before shrugging. “It’s strawberry ice cream with peach syrup. You’ll see.”

You keep an eye on his hands behind the glass partition, watching them put two scoops of strawberry into a medium sized carton. Completely unable to rein in your thoughts before they get away from you, you’re thinking about how good they would feel under your shirt. You follow a treasure map of freckles trailing up his arms, disappearing under the blue sailor’s shirt he wears. You want to kiss every single one of them.

You finally reply, “I guess I have to put my faith in your professional ice cream slinging abilities.” 

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Steve mutters sardonically as he squirts peach syrup across the two scoops of ice cream, giving it a golden sheen. “I’m the king of cream.”

You purse your lips as it takes Steve a second to realize what he just said. When he does, he snaps his head up to meet your eye in horror. 

He opens his mouth to take it back, but you shake your head, holding back laughter. “Don’t ruin it.”

“I think it’s pretty much ruined already.” He turns crimson, blushing down at the half-made sundae as he rapidly shakes yellow sprinkles onto it. “I was doing so good, too.”

“Who says you aren’t still?” You give him a cute smile when he looks up through his lashes at you, still arranging toppings on the sundae. You’re not sure what happened between prom and now to change him so much, but it’s almost as if he’s… goofy. He’s less concerned with appearances, he’s more laid back and willing to make fun of himself. 

You like it a lot. 

You watch him plop two maraschinos onto one ice cream mound, and wedge a candied orange slice into the other, inverted, to look like a setting sun. As he passes it over the counter to you, he says, “Here you go, one Sex on the Beach. On the house.”

“What? No, I couldn’t-”

“I mean it. For overlooking my stupidity,” Steve insists. He gives you a meaningful look when he adds, “A million times over.”

“I’m not overlooking anything when it comes to you, Steve,” you tell him fondly, and drop one of the doubloons into the tip jar. It’s gaudy, gleaming artificially gold in the middle of the crumpled up dollar bills. “Hang onto that. You might be able to cash it in for a kiss someday.”

Steve blinks rapidly, leaning across the counter as you walk away. “After you come back from Chicago, right?”

You look over your shoulder, and you wink at him.

When you finally stop in front of Shelly, and you use your plastic spoon to dig into the adorable sundae that Steve crafted for you, you remember that you’d gone up to the counter with every intention of ignoring Steve and acting like you didn’t even know him.

You winked at Steve Harrington. You said you’d kiss him. You think back to the girl who was so afraid of Steve even noticing her, almost a year ago, and wonder where she went.

You look down at Shelly. She’d graduated a year before you, so she wasn’t there to witness every blunderous interaction you’d had with Steve in school. You never told her how in love you were with him.

Now, she looks up at you coyly. “So. Steve Harrington, huh?”

“Shut up,” you grunt, looking up and out at the food court outside of the Scoops Ahoy storefront. “As if you know everything.”

“Are you gonna try to make something out of that…” she gestures vaguely with her spoon toward the counter, “before school starts?” 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say honestly, still poking at your sundae. “Anyways, I leave too soon for anything to really happen. What- I screw him tomorrow and then fuck off forever? It’s just wishful thinking, probably.” You finally take a bite of the ice cream, just to punctuate your sentence.

“Hm. Probably. How is that?” Shelly nods at the ice cream in your hand. “Looks pretty.”

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You’re being honest. Something about the peach syrup with the strawberry base literally evokes the flavor of a sunset. “They should give him a raise.”

Humming, Shelly stands and takes her half-eaten sundae. She nudges you in the direction of the door. “C’mon. We’ve gotta eat these before the next showing of The Breakfast Club.”

Steve watches you and your friend leave, with the wistful gaze of someone who just watched their greatest opportunity walk away from them. He never knew that it was possible to hate an entire geographic location, but he really wishes Chicago would get blown off the map in the next 24 hours. 

The wooden partition doors slam open, and Robin’s head appears in the window to the kitchen. “The cream king? Do you want me to actually hurl?”

“I said, ‘the king of cream,’” he groans, digging his knuckles into his eye sockets. “Kill me, Robin. Load me into the freezer. Bury me at the fairground.”

“You think you’re valuable enough to displace that much ice cream?” Robin rolls her eyes, and with another loud thwack, her white board appears in the space behind her. “We don’t make anything called Sex on the Beach. This is a family establishment.”

“I made it up.” 

Robin coos, “Aww. Be still my heart. You love her to the point of invention.” 

Steve whirls around. “Love? Who said anything about love?” 

“I did.” Robin uncaps her dry-erase marker and draws a tally mark under the side that reads, you rule.

“Uh, Robin,” Steve snaps, pointing at the board condescendingly. “I think you put that on the wrong side. I fucked it up.”

“Dingus. Please. As much as it makes me gag- and you know I gain immense pleasure from counting how often you screw up- I could practically hear her heart eyes.” She sets the white board down, begrudgingly. “I think you found the only girl alive who’ll find all this-” she waves her hand at him, “endearing. Who was she? Some ex of yours?” 

“If only,” Steve sighs, shaking his head. When he turns back to the counter, his eyes land on the single chocolate coin glinting in the tip jar.

He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.

You won’t believe half the things I see inside my head. Wait ‘til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet…

Family Video, March 1986

The air conditioning nearly blasts you backwards into the parking lot. You don’t know why they need it blasting so hard at 7pm, in the middle of March. It’s not like it’s the height of summer- your spring break takes place earlier than the local school’s, but it just means that you get to beat the crowds when you come home to visit your family.

Of course, they love to send you to run errands. You end up picking up the groceries, and the housewares, and, on this occasion, the choices for family movie night. 

This Family Video’s selection isn’t necessarily as extensive as the ones in Chicago, but it’s good enough. You enter the store, and it dumps you directly in front of a cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates about to flash you. Family friendly entertainment, and all.

The TV in the corner is running the final scene of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly- Ennio Morricone’s score plays dramatically into the empty store. There’s no one behind the counter currently, so you pull the list of videos your extended family members had all requested. The Breakfast Club. Camelot. The Birds. Pretty general selections for your family, but it seems like you’ll have to hunt them up on your own. 

You’re wandering down the romance aisle, since The Breakfast Club was nowhere on the new releases or comedy shelves, when someone finally emerges from the back room. You see a flash of a head moving toward the front counter from over the top of a rack, and you take it as your chance to ask for help.

“Excuse me? Do you guys have any copies of The Breakfast Club, or-”

You stop short, choking on your words. Steve Harrington turns around to look at you, carrying a stack of VHS tapes perched under his chin, and holding a folded up piece of paper between his teeth.

You stare each other down for a second, before Steve gracefully spits the paper over his shoulder and onto the counter. “Hey, um… long time, no see?”

“I’d say.” You tilt your head. Funny how quickly your eyes will hone in on his lips, like searching for a target every time. “We always seem to run into each other like this. What happened to the ice cream gig?”

“Starcourt burned down,” Steve says, plopping the stack of VHS tapes down on the counter beside the paper he spit out. “Right around the Fourth of July, last summer.”

“So, right after I last saw you?”

Steve smirks to himself before he turns back to you. “Yeah. Like, a week or so after. Did you manage to burn the place down, after all?” 

“I wish.” 

You pause, taking the time to size him up. It’s amazing what the better part of a year will do to someone, inside and out. With a striped shirt and green vest, he looks much more relaxed and casual than he had at Scoops Ahoy. His hair’s a little longer, his eyes a little darker as they rake over you, in return. 

You’re a little bit desperate to see what’s going on in his head, if it’s anything like what’s happening in yours.

You wish you could say that you tried to seek him out when you got back to town- a year ago, maybe you would have. But you’d pretty much given up on the idea of him, moving up to dating college boys who don’t string you along, who don’t wait until the last minute to finally try their hand at flirting with you. If he ever passed through your mind, it was with the attached hope that he’d found greener pastures than Hawkins, Indiana. Foolishly, you hoped that as long as you told yourself that he’d moved on, it would be true. And then maybe what could have been wouldn’t matter anymore.

You’d stepped back into Hawkins after half a year of college, the graveyard of all hope in your happily ever after, and you hadn’t even thought of Steve Harrington. Except, seeing him now, everything comes flooding back. All the days spent pining over him. All the close brushes you’d had with finally getting the ending you wanted. 

You have to be honest. “You look good, Steve. You always do.”

Steve chuckles, tilting his chin down as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his light wash jeans. “Better without the sailor costume, right?”

“Aww, I liked the sailor costume.” You step closer so you can whisper, “I thought it was sexy.”

Steve peers down his nose at you, drawing himself up to tower above you at his full height. He tries to look unaffected, but you can see his ears glowing pink beneath wisps of golden highlights. “Watch it. You’re gonna give me an ego.”

“We don’t want that, do we?” You unfold the list of movies you’re here to collect, holding it up to him between two fingers. “Got any of these movies?” 

Steve reads the short list, and nods to himself. “I know we have Camelot, but I’m not sure about The Breakfast Club. Let me check in the back?” 

“I’ll be here.”

“All right- don’t get up to any trouble, though. I’ve got my eye on you.” He points at you coolly, feigning an authoritative expression. He tries to hide his smile, but the creases around his eyes give him away. 

“I hope you do.” You try to appear casual as you breeze past him, but you have to fiddle with your jacket collar to hide their shaking. Still, you feel the sweep of his gaze on you like rays of sun on your skin. It frightens you how easily you can fall back into the old back-and-forth routine you established in high school- how he gets you to say things you never meant to voice, but that live in your head effortlessly. 

Steve watches you disappear down the drama aisle before he takes in a huge breath of air and bolts toward the back room. Any and all coolness he was performing disappears like so much smoke. Slamming open the door, he nearly shouts, “Do you have a doubloon?!” 

Robin startles, swinging around in her seat, looking away from her computer screen. “A what? Why are you yelling?”

“A doubloon, a f-fucking-” Steve looks quickly over his shoulder, out the door, and starts hunching over as he whispers, “a chocolate coin. Like one of those ones we had at Scoops, remember?”

“Why do you want a chocolate coin?” Robin squints at him. “Stop crouching like that, you look like Nosferatu.”

Steve hisses through his teeth, and he’s got a frantic edge to his expression that Robin doesn’t like. “Okay- remember that girl, the one who showed up at Scoops that time, and you gave me my one and only ‘You Rule’ tally?” 

“No.”

“Great. Well, she’s here, and she told me if I gave her one of those chocolate coins she’d kiss me.” Steve shoves his hands through his hair, mussing up the already disheveled style. “Please, Rob, I can’t let her get away again. I’ve done it, like, a thousand times already.” 

“Okay, Romeo,” Robin humors him, turning around in her seat. “So you’re saying this babe, who I very much don’t remember because you always struck out while we worked at Scoops, told you that if you bribed her with chocolate she’d kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t think she was maybe joking?” 

Steve opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Truthfully, he hadn’t. He’d overlooked the idea that, after everything that had happened between you, you might just be joking about kissing him. 

“You know you could use your actual charm to get a girl to kiss you?” Robin dips her chin, shaking her head like it’s obvious.

Steve frowns. As if he hasn’t already tried that. “Do you have any chocolate coins or not?”

Robin sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those things since we worked at Scoops. Sorry, bud. You’re out of luck.” 

“FUCK!” Steve’s hand smacks the door as he heads out of the back room, making Robin scowl after him. She shakes her head as she turns back to her work.

Back out on the sales floor, the credits to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly have finished, and white noise fills the empty space. Steve turns in a circle by the checkout counter, searching for you among the aisles.

Where did you disappear to, this time? A part of him dreads the answer. He was the one who fucked everything up- he shouldn’t have chickened out when he had the chance. He should have asked you to that fucking prom, but he was too scared to commit after what happened with Nancy. 

If this is his last chance, he needs to make it count. 

He coughs into the dead air, and says, “Looks like we’re all out of The Breakfast Club.” There’s a disconcerting amount of silence that leaves him cold, almost certain that you’ve left already, for the last time.

Then, you appear from behind the red curtain to the adult videos section.

Oh.  

“Everything okay?” you ask sweetly as you approach, holding a couple tapes that you must have picked up while you shopped around. “I heard some yelling back there.” 

“Oh, yeah. Just, uh… shelving issues.” Steve backs his way behind the counter. He repeats, “Sorry, I couldn’t find the movie for you.”

“I heard. I’m not worried about it.” You plop the tapes that you did find on the counter. “It was nice of you to look for me. Thanks, Steve.”

“Always.” Steve starts scanning your tapes; it looks like you managed to find the other films on your list, along with one for yourself. From the adult section. 

You watch in amusement as you can see the cogs visibly turning in Steve’s head, while he stares at the front of the porn video you picked. Spring Break Sex Party II. Not that you’d ever seen the first one, but the cover of this one was suggestive enough- a bunch of drunk people naked on a beach, lying in a great big pile. Looks like fun, in your opinion.

You always love seeing Steve blush. The prettiest shade of pink colors his cheeks before he glances up at you. “Should I ask…?”

“It’s the closest thing to getting a Sex on the Beach, here.” 

Steve chokes, and he scrambles for a response to that. “I- I was gonna ask for an I.D.”

“You know we’re the same age,” you deadpan.

“Y-yeah. I, uh- I know… I know that.” He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly shut.

You wonder if this is what you looked like to him, that time in the hallway when he loitered by the fountain to talk to you. “Breathe, Steve.”

A blast of laughter leaves his mouth before he can swallow it. If only you knew how hard it actually is, to act like he’s not just fucking melting right in front of you. When he hangs on every word you say, and every other thought he has is about how badly he wants to tell Robin to get lost and take you in the back room. You don’t know how much he’s fixating on your curves and how they’d feel against him, how much he wants to taste every inch of your body. He’s practically vibrating in place with all his pent up frustration, and you’re here buying porn, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Steve clears his throat, shakes his head. Christ. “Okay, well. You know that this is a sale item, it’s not for rent. You can return it within 10 days as long as the packaging hasn’t been opened.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” He’s still nodding as he puts it into the bag with the rest of your rentals. 

“Are you always this affected by people buying from the adult section?” you ask mildly. 

“Nah, usually I don’t care,” he replies without thinking. 

“Good to know that you care about my taste in pornography,” you tell him with the most shit eating grin on your face, taking the bag from him. “I’m flattered.”

He makes a clumsy noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. He’s right back to working at Scoops Ahoy, fumbling every attempt at flirting, losing his cool at the sight of a pretty girl. It’s… humbling.

He’s sure Robin would say that he can always use more humility.

“It was good to see you again, Steve.” And just like that, you’re sand slipping through the cracks in his fingers. 

Desperately, he tries to block the flow, closing his fingers around you in an attempt to keep you in his grasp. “Do you- uh-” He lurches forward, white-knuckling the counter like his life depends on it. You turn back towards him, an eyebrow raised at his sudden outburst. 

You’re back in the school hallway, senior year. Crying over Logan Sawyer. Harrington is up against the wall by the drinking fountain. You want him to just say the words and ask you to prom.

“I mean… if you have the time, while you’re in town… do you want to go for a cup of coffee? With me?”

“Oh, Steve.” You sigh, and it’s the most heartbreaking noise he’s ever heard in his life. Soft sand, falling through his fingers, disappearing back the way you came. He already dreads your answer before it comes. “I wish… you know, if I had come in here and met you about a week ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I have to catch the train back to Chicago tomorrow. My break’s almost up.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I’m just glad that you didn’t completely miss me, at least.”

“Right, of course.” Steve smiles back at you, feeling more like an idiot the longer this drags on. He’s like Sisyphus rolling that rock up the fucking hill. “I… I’m glad I got to see you, too. Maybe next time.” 

Oh, it hurts. It hurts way more than you thought it would, to have to turn Steve down- after all the years pining for him through high school, after the time you turned him away when he would have kissed you. You think about kissing him, now. He would let you do it- he’s asking you out, and he looks so sad that you’re saying no.

You could. But wouldn’t it make saying goodbye this time even harder than it already is?

“Yeah. Maybe next time,” you tell him. You don’t want this to hurt more than it does. You truly hope there’s a next time, another year down the line when you run into him over winter break. Maybe you’ll find him at the Radio Shack. 

Steve watches you leave, once again. Fumbling his chance, again. When the door swings shut behind you, Steve bends at the waist and drops his head against the countertop. 

Typical Harrington. Late to the party, miss the girl.

“Well. That was… really painful to listen to.” Robin emerges from behind one of the shelves, crossing her arms. Gently, she adds, “On the bright side, I don’t think the chocolate coin would have mattered.”

Steve picks his head up, and he thwacks his forehead back down onto the counter.

And again.

And again.

And I can see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission. Hide away, and I will start behaving myself…

Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991

You shake your umbrella out as you step into the warm foyer of, quite possibly, the most upscale restaurant you’ve ever set foot in. The carpet is deep, blood red, the walls a dark chestnut wood. The white covered tables are each spotlit within the otherwise dark dining room, and the atmosphere is flavored by soft piano and the quiet din of hushed voices. 

You had been hesitant to accept Theo’s invitation to dinner- he seemed too stuck up for your taste, but when Shelly introduced you to him, you had to admit that the name of the restaurant piqued your interest. Sur La Table. Chicago’s premiere Michelin Star restaurant. 

As you hand your umbrella over to the coat check clerk, you’re greeted by a smiling hostess. “What’s the name for the reservation?”

“Um… Theo Bowman. I believe he’s already here?”

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.” 

Theo stands as you’re shown to the table. Tall, with dark hair and a wide smile, he reminds you of someone you knew once, but you just can’t seem to place it. Then, when he towers over you to shake your hand, standing far closer than necessary, you’re able to pick it out from the recesses of your mind.

Logan Sawyer.  

“You look nice,” Theo says pleasantly, and you chalk up your initial comparison to nerves, on your part. You don’t often let friends set you up on dates, so you’re a little bit out of your element as it is.

As you go to sit down, you admit, “I was so glad when you picked this place, I’ve always wanted to eat here, since I moved to Chicago.” 

“It’s not the nicest place I’ve been,” Theo shrugs, taking the seat across from you.

Your smile falters, for a second. “Oh, no?” The water has already been brought to the table, you guess while he was waiting for you. You take a long drink.

“Nah, I’ve been to Le Bernardin, in New York. That’s fine dining.” Theo waves his hand at the upscale dining room. “This is… okay.”

“I see.” You lift your menu, hoping that he’ll do the same.

“Yeah, New York is so much nicer than Chicago, in my opinion,” Theo continues, fiddling with his napkin as he talks. “There’s a lot more to do. Have you ever been?”

You hope this is just his nerves talking. “No.” 

Theo keeps talking as you stare at the menu in front of you, at a loss. It’s an a la carte menu, clearly, but extensive and all in french. Salade de poires pochées. Coquilles Saint-Jacques Gratineés. Filet au poivre vert. You’re scrutinizing the fine print of what all the dishes include when your waiter steps up to the table. You know when it happens, because Theo finally stops blathering about New York. 

You break your eyes away from the menu to glance at the server’s waistline, at eye level with you. He wears a crisply pressed suit and tie, his hands clasped in front of his belt. 

“Good evening sir, ma’am,” the server says in a hushed tone, to keep the volume of the dining room down. “Welcome to Sur La Table. I’m Steven, I’ll be serving you this evening. Before we begin, are there any questions about the menu?”

You peer up into the darkness to try to see Steven’s face. He’s standing just outside of the spotlight over the table, only able to be dimly lit from the indirect light reflecting from the tablecloth. Once your eyes adjust, they lock onto a pair of familiar hazel ones.

Oh my fucking god.

It’s got to be fate, or kismet, or some force of nature that keeps bringing you together like this. Steve Harrington’s face hasn’t changed in five years. Maybe he looks just slightly older, a little more filled out in his suit and tie. His hair is a bit shorter at the back but still that same shade of golden brown, neatly groomed and tidy for the formal atmosphere- but you can see it being tousled on his off days, still flopping across his eyes in waves. And those are the same lips you dreamt about kissing, the same eyes you admired in the school hallway, the same nose that you always wanted to grind o-

“No, I think we’re ready to order,” Theo announces, louder than necessary. You throw your gaze at him, your eyebrows raising despite your best efforts to remain calm. 

Is he really going to order for you? Just like that?

“Well, I was going to ask-” you begin, wanting to get a little more specification on how the filet is made, when Theo cuts you off.

“It’s okay, I speak French,” he insists. Not that it makes a difference to what your question was.

You press your lips together in irritation and glance at Steve, who looks back at you stoically. You wonder if he recognizes you like you do him- it’s been long enough, and you’re sure that you look a bit different than you did the last time you saw him. And then you notice the creases around his eyes.

He’s playing it off well enough, sure. But Steve is doing that same look that he did there in the Family Video five years ago, trying to pretend that he’s not affected by you, swallowing back his smile. He sends you a knowing look that says, What a fucking douchebag, am I right?

Suddenly, this date just got way more entertaining. You give Steve a minute roll of your eyes, only enough for him to notice. Tell me about it.

“We’ll start with the Bordeaux,” Theo is already reciting to Steve as you settle back in your seat. Steve pulls a little notepad out of his jacket pocket and begins writing. “For an appetizer, the coquilles. Then for the main, I’ll have the canard montmorency, and she’ll have the mignons de veau.” 

You watch Steve’s hand pause as he’s writing, and he looks to you. He raises his eyebrow, saying everything he needs to with the one gesture. Is that what you really want? “The veal?”

“No,” you say, digging your thumbnail into your palm, where it rests on your lap. “Actually, I wanted to ask about the filet. What brandy is the sauce made with?” 

Steve smiles, leaning a little bit closer to you. “We use Courvoisier.”

“Great. I’ll have that, please.” 

Steve nods encouragingly at you. As he jots down the order, he says, “Wonderful. I’ll get this to the kitchen for you, but before I can bring you the wine, I’ll just need to see the lady’s I.D.”

“Are you serious?” Theo snaps. 

“It’s all right,” you murmur, hiding your face as you dip your head to fish your I.D. out of your clutch. “He’s just doing his job. Right, Steven?”

Steve meets your eye as he takes the card from your hand. “You can never be too careful.” You watch him smirk as he looks over your I.D., his eyes lingering on your name for a second before he hands it back to you. If there was any doubt in his mind that you are who he thought, it’s gone now. “Interesting. We’re the same age.”

You laugh. Probably a little louder than is respectable, but you can’t help it. Leave it to Steve Harrington to remind you of the time you bought porn from him, while you’re on a date. 

You watch Steve write something else on his notepad, and rip the page out before folding it up. He tucks his notepad into his pocket as he says, “I’ll get this started for you. I hope you enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, Steven,” you offer just as he starts to walk away. 

Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your chest as you turn back to your date. Theo looks disgruntled, but he just lifts his water to his lips.

“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”

“Marketing manager,” Theo says, with a click of his tongue. “For Bowman Wine & Spirits.”

“Oh,” you nod. “No relation, I suppose?”

“My father owns the company.”

“Right.” God, help me. 

Across the dining room, Steve watches you over his shoulder. His jaw sets as he sees you, the girl of his literal dreams, sitting across from some idiot who doesn’t even know that you don’t order for your date without asking her what she wants first, you fucking weasel. 

That’s all right. You seem to have the situation under control, for now. Steve watches you calmly sip your water, staring at your date but not listening to a thing he’s saying. 

Steve sighs. He’s never been much of a schemer, but he’ll just make sure that you won’t leave with this guy if you don’t want to.

His fingers brush the note in his pocket, and he pinches it just as he passes the front of house manager, Taryn. Without breaking stride, he slips the note into her hand, heading toward the back hallway and down to the wine cellar.

As Steve passes by, Taryn unfolds the note he slips her, and raises one eyebrow at the request he’s written.

I can see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note saying, “Meet me tonight.” Then we kissed and you know I won’t ever tell…

Overall, you enjoy Sur La Table immensely. The restaurant itself, anyways. The wine is wonderful. The atmosphere is great. The food is exquisite. 

You’re about to jump the waiter’s bones. 

Theo got his second wind sometime after the scallops arrived, and you think he hasn’t paused for breath since. You’ve been calmly eating your food, while Theo tells you literally everything about himself. It’s the best case scenario you can see happening on this date. You enjoy the food, mumble a non-committal acknowledgement now and then, and Theo entertains himself with his own voice the rest of the time. 

You’re gonna kill Shelly for setting you up with him, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. 

Right now, you’re focused on finishing your glass of wine while he talks about camping, of all things. 

“So we got up into the Rockies,” he’s telling you, gesturing with his hands like it’ll make you more engaged. “We ended up freezing our keisters off. No joke, I have frostbite scars.”

“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”

“No, are you listening? I mean, it was terrible. We couldn’t move for, like, two days. And when the snow stopped we were so tired and cold, we almost died.”  

You knock back the rest of your wine with one gulp, and say with a sticky voice, “Wow. A near death experience must have been really scary, I’m sorry.”

Theo frowns. “No- I mean… It wasn’t… it wasn’t near death-”

“You just said-”

“It was more like a serious inconvenience, you know. But we pulled through. I wasn’t scared. A little snow isn’t gonna kill me,” he laughs incredulously. “It was just-”

Theo stops as Steve approaches the table. You catch him giving the back of Theo’s head the most murderous look imaginable before slowing to a stop and plastering an easy customer service smile in its place. “How did you find everything this evening?”

“It was fine.”

“The food was wonderful,” you tell Steve reassuringly. Your date, on the other hand…

“Yeeeah, could we get the check, please?” Theo asks, finally looking up at Steve. 

You watch Steve’s brow twitch, such a small movement you could have imagined it. “Certainly. But first-” from behind his back, he reveals two white gift boxes and places them on the table in front of you and your date, respectively. “We like to give each of our customers a signature chocolate truffle, as a token of our appreciation.”

Everything in you aches. “Oh, that’s nice. Thank you so much.” You look down at the box in adoration, thinking for a second that it might be the only time in your life that Steve Harrington gives you something similar to a ring box. 

“I’ll be sure to have our hostess come through with the check,” Steve adds delicately, making a gracious exit. His finger just slightly brushes your arm as he passes by- a dangerous move, but one that nearly electrifies your entire body at the single touch. You shiver as he says, “Have a lovely night.”

You watch Steve walk away from you, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You want to chase after him. The 18 year old you, who almost kissed him on prom night, is trying to claw its way out of your skin and bolt after him. 

When Steve disappears from view, you have nowhere to look but at your date. Theo opens the white box in front of him and pops a neapolitan colored truffle into his mouth. “Well, that was underwhelming.”

You don’t want to watch him chewing anymore, like a cow gnawing on grass. You sigh, running a frustrated hand across your forehead, and flip open the box in front of you. The top of it rears up like a clam shell, and you freeze, your fingertips suddenly sticking to the sweat beading on your brow.

You don’t have a neapolitan truffle- you have a single golden chocolate coin. You stare at it in shock for a second before you even notice the note pasted to the lid of the box. 

Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat yours?” Theo asks suddenly, as the hostess approaches holding the check. 

Your eyes snap up just as your heart shoots back up into your chest. “I think I’m gonna save it for later.” You flash him a smile as you close the box swiftly and shove it into your clutch. “Do you mind if I hit the bathroom real quick?”

“No, go ahead. I’ve got it.” Honestly, it’s the kindest thing he’s done for you all night. You might have to thank him some day. 

Once you’re out of your seat, you chase after Steve like a shot. Around a block of tables and into a tiled corridor, you walk past the kitchen doorway just as another server comes backing out, carrying a tray of dishes. 

There’s a door at the end of the hall, labeled exit. You never actually thought you’d be escaping a bad date through the back door; the notion was too clichéed, you thought that sort of thing only happened in movies. But you find yourself nearly running past the men’s and women’s bathrooms, until your hands slam down on the bar of the back door and thrust it open into the wind. 

The rain has picked up, more of a downpour than a light drizzle now. In your haste, you’d left your umbrella and coat with the coat check. Not that it would have been at all discrete if you’d gone to collect it before running towards the bathrooms. 

The door clicks shut behind you, and you gaze around in the dark. The alley behind the restaurant is only partially lit by a yellow street lamp, making it even more difficult to find him than it was in the dining room. “Steve?”  

You catch movement in the corner of your eye, and turn in the direction of the street lamp. Steve stands up from where he’d been sitting on an overturned crate- apparently the only accommodations the restaurant staff gets during a smoke break. The rain has already soaked into his hair, messing up the tidy style and turning it stringy, falling across his forehead, shining gold in the yellow light. He takes one last puff of the cigarette in his mouth before tossing it into the gutter, and he looks at you. 

He sees you. And it’s all you’ve wanted since the day he first walked into your geography class, freshman year of high school. There’s been some kind of a magnetic pull between you two for years. Something keeps bringing you together, it’s just never been the right time. Until now. 

Finally, you’re running towards him, and Steve’s arms finally come around you, pulling you against his body. Your hands find the back of his neck just in time for his lips to crash against yours. 

You had lost count of the amount of times you watched him kiss other girls in the hallway in high school- not just Nancy, but any and every girl he attached himself to (for a while, it seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind who he was dating at any given moment). All you knew was that it was never you, and you wanted it to be so desperately that it consumed your mind half the time. He looked like a good kisser, and you fantasized about going up to him and testing that theory for yourself.

But you never expected that his lips would slide over yours with an urgency that you could feel through to your very core, probably even more desperate for your kiss than you are for his. Steve’s fingertips press into your body through the thin fabric of your dress, holding you firmly to him like he’s afraid you might disappear on him again if he doesn’t absorb you completely. Your mouth opens with a soft gasp, and Steve’s tongue against yours tastes like tobacco. 

It happens so fast that you can’t even think- and you don’t really want to. You’re tired of thinking everything through, finding reasons upon reasons why it’s not a good time, why it’s a bad idea, why it won’t work. He moans into you, grabbing the side of your face as he stumbles with you to the wall, pressing you up against the side of the brick building. 

You meet his moan with a whimper of your own as his hand slides down over the curve of your ass, and he hikes up the skirt of your dress to grab at your skin with abandon. There’s a ferocity in Steve’s kiss that you don’t know what to do with, like he’s trying to stake a claim to you right there in the rain, with no one around to see it happen but the moths in the street light overhead. Not that he needs to- he’s already got you. You already chose him. 

Steve gives you room to breathe with a soft sigh, his forehead resting against yours. “Been wanting to do that since high school,” he admits, just loud enough for you to hear, before pressing a featherlight kiss just beside your mouth, and again to your cheek.

“Y-you fffucking-?” you gasp when he latches his lips around a sweet spot on your neck and sucks. “I had such a huge crush on you, Steve.”

“I know. I- I should have- I should…” Steve drops his head against your shoulder and groans when your nails rake against his scalp. “Fuck.”  

He grinds his hips up against yours, biting your lip as the hard length of his cock presses up against your core. “Gonna fuck me in this alleyway, Harrington?” 

“I’m seriously considering it,” he growls into your ear. His lips find yours again with a passion, his hand holding your jaw still. A hot breath escapes him, pouring over your skin and making you shiver. You’re lightheaded, so close to just letting him do it, too, when the back door of the restaurant swings open. 

Steve still takes a second to pull away, a little too absorbed in kissing you to really care who sees him do it. If he had his way, he’d have everyone see that you’re his- that you belong with him, and have for a long time. He finally glances over his shoulder to see one of the cooks, Liam, walking off in the direction of the employee parking lot.

“Where did you get the fucking doubloon?” you whisper into his ear, sounding so fucking adorable that Steve can’t help the lovesick look he gives you. 

He brushes his nose against yours. “I sent my manager on a treasure hunt.” You giggle, pressing your forehead up against his, and he can’t help but chuckle along with you. “I wanted to give you one at Family Video, that time.”

“I know,” you say, and he pulls back to look at your face. “I heard you yelling at your coworker in the back room.” 

Steve snickers and turns red with embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his rain-soaked hair, a content smile on your face as you feel him grin against your skin and shake with laughter. “Take me home, Steve.”

You don’t have to ask him twice.

What would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you make me want you even more…

The drive to Steve’s apartment downtown is made with light conversation and the heavy, heavy weight of his hand on your thigh, creeping up further with each mile. But aside from the implication of sex hanging in the air, it’s as easy as breathing, chatting about the night with him. Shitting on Theo.

“Did you notice the way he said coquilles,” Steve murmurs to you at a red light. “I thought he was gagging on something. He was just trying to impress you, you know.”

You grunt. Could’ve tried a little harder. “He didn’t even like them. He said he didn’t like shellfish,” you laugh in return as you lace your fingers through Steve’s. “Why the fuck would you order scallops, then?”

“The price.”

“The price.”  

It’s sweet, talking to him all the way to his apartment building, just catching up like old friends. He tells you that he’s going to culinary school now, and he’s been working at the restaurant for a little over a year, just to pay the bills.

“Culinary school? Really?” you say, with a note of awe in your voice. 

“Turns out I’m really fucking good at cooking,” Steve chuckles. “Who’d have thought? Maybe someday I’ll stop waiting tables and work back there in the kitchen.”

“I can see it,” you tell him softly. “I can see you being the world’s best chef. Three stars and everything.”

He scoffs, but a pink blush creeps up the back of his neck. “You have too much faith in me.” 

“Those are fighting words, Harrington.” You wag your finger at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”

“You just want me to cook you something,” Steve tuts.

“Absolutely, I do.” You consider him for a moment, in the passing light of a streetlamp. “Am I that transparent?”

Steve tilts his head to eye you meaningfully, and he smirks. “Always have been, honey.” His thumb rubs a little circle on your thigh that has you squirming in your seat.

The first thing you see of Steve’s apartment is the kitchen, and beyond that the dormant living room, but you don’t get that far before you’re sidetracked. Steve throws his keys onto a drop station by the door, and pins you up against the refrigerator before you can even think to ask where to put your shoes.

Your clothes are still damp, your hair still pasted to your clammy skin. Steve’s lips are attacking yours and his hands are grabbing at everything he can touch, but it’s still not enough. He’s not able to feel all of you at once, and it’s driving him insane with every passing moment.

Steve roughly yanks his suit jacket off, throwing it onto the tile floor beside the kitchen island. “Lay down.” 

“What?” you whisper to him as he kisses your neck, guiding you away from the side of the fridge. “Here?” 

“Right here,” Steve states, not joking in the slightest. You wobble on your feet as you kick off your heels, but his hands on your hips keep you steady. “Been waiting too long for this- can’t wait anymore.”

“I- wwhuh-?” you gasp as Steve kneels in front of you, and your knees buckle involuntarily as he lays you down across his discarded jacket. Your hands grab his shoulders as you tumble backward, taking him with you. 

He face-plants into your stomach with a noisy, “Oof.” Cackling, you run your fingers through his damp hair, as he laughs and shoves his blushing face further against your torso. Steve litters your stomach with kisses, giggling against you with a note of nervous energy. He’s adorable.

You pet your fingers down the side of his face and he leans into the touch. “Can’t even wait long enough to take me to the bedroom?”

“Well, I would have fucked you in the alley,” Steve points out as his fingers breach the hem of your skirt and find your panties. He tugs as he says, “Be thankful I even got you home.” 

Your cheeks burn hot. You fidget, trying to press your thighs together to abate the throbbing ache between them. “Careful, baby. You’re starting to sound desperate.”

Steve pauses, his hazel eyes lighting up when they lock on yours. “Call me that again,” he requests, pressing a kiss to your ankle as he pulls your panties off your feet. He tosses them over his shoulder, but you don’t see where they land as he continues peppering kisses down your calf.

You hold his gaze. “Baby?” His eyes flutter, his lips parting as they drag up toward your knee. “You like when I call you that?”

“I like when you call me anything,” Steve admits. “But as long as you call me that, it means I’m yours.”

Your breath stutters in your chest. Steve Harrington is yours. It doesn’t matter if it’s just for tonight- what matters is that you have him now, and he wants you just as badly.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he murmurs quietly against your skin, his voice crackling with brimming need. He’s flushed, his cheeks pink and his hair drying in tousled waves over his forehead the longer he drags this out. 

Nodding your head, you reach down to lace your fingers through his, where they’re bunching your skirt up around your hips. “Yes, Steve.” Always have been.  

He turns his head and sucks a spot on your calf, just below your knee, resting your ankle over his shoulder. Still, despite your desperation, you nervously keep your thighs pinched together.

Steve tuts, “C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta spread your legs for me. You wanna let me see that pretty pussy, right?” 

Still clammy and cold with rain, the air on your exposed skin makes you shiver almost as much as his sweeping hands do when they gently part your thighs. You let go, let him take control as you still and keep your eyes focused on his face, because looking anywhere else would remind you that this is real, and not a dream.

Steve sighs, “There she is. Y’gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” He bats his pretty eyes at you in a way that makes your heart stop dead in your chest. He can’t keep his mouth off of you, even for a moment, his lips and slight stubble dragging across your skin as he says, “Been wanting to forever, you won’t even believe-”

“Please, Steve,” you start to beg before he even finishes his sentence. “Please, my god, I- I just- I just want you so much-”

“Sh-sh-sh-shh.” His tongue licks wet and hot against your inner thigh before he whispers, “I’ve got you, baby. M’not going anywhere, I’m staying right here ‘til you cum.”

You’re instantly hot all over, your blood fucking boiling beneath your skin and your wet dinner dress. Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he yanks you toward his face, the fabric of his jacket beneath you audibly zipping along the kitchen floor. 

Steve dips his head, and his mouth closes over your cunt right at the same moment that yours falls open with a moan that won’t come out, because you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. The noise stalls right at the beginning- your lungs stop working and you can’t seem to get them to start again, because Steve’s tongue is everywhere, dripping wet and gentle on skin that’s way too sensitive to handle it right now. Your hips try to jerk away from him in resistance, but he slams his hand down on them, holding you hard and still against the tile floor, his shoulders pushed up against the backs of your thighs to keep them open. 

Steve takes a break just long enough to grin evilly up at you, because he’s been waiting for five years to tell you to, “Breathe, sweetheart.”

“Fffffuck,” you manage to spit out finally, your voice cracking on the word like it didn’t even really want to put in the work to make it happen. Your breath comes back into your lungs all at once, rapid firing with a dozen moans for punctuation. Steve’s lips quirk against you, and he rumbles a noise of satisfaction against your pussy that makes you jolt in his hold again. “Steve…”

He pulls off of you with a slow, slow stroke of his tongue over your clit, making you whimper high and tight in your throat. “That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers, his breath fanning across your slick cunt, his left hand leaving your hip so that he can drag his knuckles teasingly through your swollen folds. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so right.”

Two long fingers sink into you with ease, stirring the need in you to have him just simply destroy you. You moan loud, your hand shooting out and wrapping around the leg of a bar stool for the kitchen island beside you. 

“Poor thing’s just so sensitive, huh?” Your head arches backwards against the floor, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as he curves them with practiced accuracy. Steve’s voice is a deep murmur, distant thunder rolling over your nerves, “Relax for me, honey. You’ve waited long enough, just let it happen. Let me give you what you want.”

His lips shine when you look down at him, your hand reaching to run through his hair. Stifling a whine that threatens to come out when he kisses your clit and bends his fingers within you, you stutter out, “J-just want… I- ha-ah! Just want you.”  

Steve purrs. “I know.” The crisp white fabric of his shirt scrapes against your thighs, almost rough in comparison to his tongue flat on your pussy. You can hear the wet, salacious sound of his fingers pumping into you, pulling you toward the edge of oblivion. He hisses through his teeth, shaking his head slightly. “God, I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Y-you-?” you manage a laugh, scraping your nails along his scalp lightly. “You’re lucky? You have n-no… fffucking idea-” You cut off with a sob when Steve wraps his lips around your clit, sucking long and hard enough that your leg twitches, your heel dragging up the back of his pristine white blouse. Your breathing picks up just as all your muscles lock down tight. “Jesus Christ-”  

“There you go,” Steve praises as your orgasm shakes your body, your hand gripping his hair so hard that he groans softly into your damp skin. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, lewd wet noises picking up and echoing through the quiet kitchen. “That’s a good girl. Mmm , felt so nice to let go, didn’t it?”

You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that- you’re still twitching, coming down from your high as he pulls his fingers from your spasming cunt and sucks them into his mouth. The pause gives you a gentle reprieve, sinking back onto his suit jacket beneath you. Then, his mouth finds your pussy again, his tongue delving deep into your entrance and laving up to your sensitive clit. 

You gasp, throwing your hands down into his hair. “Steve-?!”

He moans in response. “Just needed to taste you some more, honey. Taste so fuckin’ sweet, I can’t get enough.” Steve relents, crawling up your body to hover his face over yours. “Still wanna see the bedroom?”

You nod excitedly, your hands finding his smiling face and stroking the hair away from his eyes. With a gentle kiss of his wet lips to yours, Steve gathers your still-wrecked body into his arms and carries you into his bedroom. 

He’s struck by how blissful you are as he sets you down on his bed, so soft and inviting. He encourages your arms up, his hands finding the zipper of your wet dress and finally, finally, pulling it over your head so that he can see you. All your curves and edges on display for him, after all this time imagining what he couldn’t see with the naked eye. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve repeats what he told you all those years ago at prom- he meant it then, and he means it now. Maybe even more this time, now that he’s not a stupid teenager, now that he finally has his head on his shoulders. 

You shiver against him when he unclips your bra- black lace that matches the underwear sitting in his entryway. A possessive part of him rears up, knowing that you’d worn them to a date with some asshole who couldn’t treat you right, even for one hour of the guy’s miserable life. Steve dips his head and kisses your breast, so much softer now than he was before, feeling your heartbeat against his lips.

“Hey.” You gently tug him by his tie, loosening it and his collar. You look into his eyes, and his heart melts. “Where’d you go just now, sailor?”

Steve blushes, his eyes flicking down as you remove his tie and start unbuttoning his blouse. “Just thinking...” he trails off, eyeing you thoughtfully. “Just thinking I could have missed you again if I wasn’t careful.”

“Mmm,” you hum, your hands smoothing up his chest and over his shoulders to get his shirt off of him. It drops to the floor with a whisper. “I don’t think so. I think this was meant to happen, eventually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You scrunch your nose cutely, in a way that makes Steve’s pants tighten even more uncomfortably across his hips. “We’ve run into each other too many fuckin’ times, baby. Karma’s on our side.”

He laughs. “Karma.” He shakes his head as he undoes his belt.

You quirk your brow at him as your hands fiddle with the fly of his suit pants. “Don’t believe me?” 

Steve grunts, shifting to lean over you. “I’ll believe anything you say when you’re taking my pants off, honey. I’m easy that way.”

Your nails rake through the hair on his chest- you can’t keep your hands off of him now that they’ve got him. You trace over two blotchy scars, one on either side of his torso that mirror each other. “What happened here?”

He blows a puff of air out of his mouth, rounding his cheeks as he shrugs. “Some… animals decided I looked really tasty, at one point. I know, they aren’t very pretty.”

Steve’s brushing over it like it’s nothing. You search his face, and you decide to do the same. “Actually, I think it’s kind of hot.” You drag your hand up to lay flat over his chest. You whisper conspiratorially, “Plus, I think you look really tasty, too.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Y’gonna bite me about it?”

“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”

Your gaze falls indiscreetly to his cock, hard and flushed, glistening with precum and curving up toward his stomach. Girls talk, especially when they’re all trying to one-up each other; you knew that he was big. You’d heard the rumors. You’d seen him wearing those tight fucking jeans all the time, and you didn’t have to have much of an imagination to figure it out.

Still. It’s… a little overwhelming. You reach out a tentative hand, lightly wrapping your fingers around his base. They barely meet. Jesus Christ.

He groans, and kisses you until you can’t speak, resting his weight on top of you until you sink gleefully into the mattress. There’s a smile on your lips that transfers onto his, happiness and ease still flowing between you even as he grinds his hips up against yours. 

“Ready?” Steve murmurs softly into your mouth, stealing your breath when you feel his cock slide through your folds, hot and fat.  

“Dunno,” you tell him teasingly, but there’s an edge of reason to your words. Your hips squirm and you feel him even worse, slippery with your arousal. You whine. “I think you might kill me with that thing, Harrington.”

“I’ll go slow,” he whispers, hoarse in the back of his throat, his voice already shaking. “I’ll make sure you feel every bit of it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree as you reach to line him up properly. “I’m all yours.”

Steve gives a relieved sigh as he slides into you, his head falling heavily to your shoulder. His cock aches, his torso shaking as he tries to steady himself. “Oh my god.”

“Baby,” you coo, choking on a moan when he bottoms out. He’s so thick- your nails dig into his shoulder blades as you try to remember how to breathe. It’s certainly a big stretch to try to fit him, but you can’t help wanting more just as soon as he comes to a stop. You can feel him trying to hold steady, holding himself back as though it’s the hardest thing in the world for him to do. 

Because it is. You can’t see it, the way that his brow is furrowed in concentration, his eyes screwed shut. He didn’t know it would be like this- that he’d be in danger of blowing it just as soon as he started. 

Your heel digs into his ass, and he doesn’t know if you do it purposefully, but he almost whimpers.  

You take a shuddering breath. “Please- please move, Steve, I can’t take it.”

Oh, you can’t take it? “You know what,” Steve says with a hint of strain in his voice, picking his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours, “I think you like me.”

You snort, and kiss him lightly. “What gave you that impression?”

“Y’so fucking cute.” Steve hums and sloooowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock through your walls so deliciously that your toes curl. “Could be all those times you stared at me in class-” He watches your face as he pushes forward, until his hips are flush with yours and your head arches backwards against his sheets. “Could be when you nearly let me kiss you at prom-” Out. In. Steve runs his tongue up the length of your throat, and bites at your earlobe. He whispers, “Could be that you came on my tongue ten minutes ago.”

He picks up his pace, just a bit. Just enough to have the bed creaking under you with the rhythm, to have you moaning in tandem with him- needy and high pitched, leaping from your throat into the hot, sex-charged air.  

Steve’s lips latch onto your neck, and he sucks hard. He eases up after just a couple seconds, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot, but you know what he’s just done- he’s marked you, right where you won’t be able to hide it in the morning. 

You want him to do it all over your body.

Your jaw goes slack and you’re losing all integrity. He’s even better than you imagined- sleepless nights wanting, hoping endlessly that you’d find yourself here, under him, couldn’t have prepared you for how perfect it feels. His hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning it to the mattress beside your head, squeezing with every slow and purposeful thrust of his hips. 

Steve’s cock finds your g-spot like it’s nothing, like he’s known your body for ages. He barely even has to try before you’re whimpering, raking your nails up his back and leaving long red trails behind. 

Your teeth latch onto his shoulder and you bite, probably harder than you should, but you just can’t refuse the urge to mark him the way that he’s left his mark on you. He moans, a deep and boyish sound in your ear, as you drag your tongue along his shoulder, soothing the bite, tasting his sweat. The salt and the sweetness of his skin, mixed with the heady smell of sex in the room, have you losing yourself in him.

“Biter.” You hear him chuckle dangerously, rumbling along your skin while his nose skirts your jawline. 

“You’re so good, Stevie-” you whine, hot pleasure rearing up in you like a tidal wave. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, I love- love how you feel inside me.”

Steve groans loudly into your shoulder, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You think he has a mind to bite you back- maybe he’d do it harder. You can see Steve drawing blood, when the mood suits him. 

But his hand squeezes yours, his other sweeping broadly up your thigh and hitching your leg up further over his hip. “Yeah?” His voice is rough, bordering on a growl, “What’d’ya say we stay like this forever, huh? Just like this?” 

His pelvis grinds up against yours, his pubes crushing against your clit making you gasp. Everything’s wet- your skin, his skin, the sheets. Sweaty bodies sticking and sliding against each other, your hips meeting his in the middle.

“Like this?” you gasp, your head reeling. His forehead presses against yours, and it’s just about the only thing bringing you back into focus. Steve doesn’t falter, keeping the same pace and rhythm while he watches you try to form a coherent reply. “Mm- I- I, hhuh-”

“C’mon, babygirl,” he breathes against your damp skin, “you can do better than that. You love my cock so much, you wanna keep it warm all the time? Wanna stay in bed with me forever, is that it?”

You nod fervently, your hands grabbing at his neck, his hair, his shoulder- anywhere you can touch. “Yes, yes. God, Steve, I- you’re gonna make me cum, shit-”  

“I know it,” Steve murmurs, tugging your lip between his teeth and making you whine again. Your cunt pulses around him, and he hisses, his hand slipping on your thigh. “Love seein’ you all drunk on my cock- shit, you’re so gorgeous like this.” He pauses to kiss you, making you lightheaded, making you tug at his hair. “Y’look so pretty under me, baby. Pussy feels so good, I wanna stay here, too. I can see us doin’ this for the rest of our lives, huh? How’s that sound?” 

How does it sound? You and Steve Harrington, together forever? Intertwined, knotted up with no way to lose each other, no disappearing and then reappearing years down the line?

“S’that a challenge?” you whimper shakily at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?” 

“I don’t think I could let you go, now,” Steve tells you firmly, his hand leaving your thigh so that he can grab your jaw possessively, his tongue darting out to trace gently across your bottom lip. “I’m never gonna let you go, baby.”

You wrap your legs around his waist. “I don’t want you to.”

“I hope so,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours.

Steve kisses you long and slow when you cum. You swallow his moans when he does.

What would you? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you, oh, I can see you…

You almost think it’s a dream. When you rouse in the morning, you feel like you imagined it. But you’re surrounded by the scent of Steve, of musky cologne and sweat and sex, and maybe just a little bit of hair gel stuck to his pillows. 

You flop over and stare at the ceiling. You’re alone in a king size bed, fitted with gray sheets and a few too many pillows. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your paramour is nowhere to be found. His bedroom is fairly stark, with a few little things arranged on the dresser top and clothes thrown around the floor. It doesn’t feel like a room he spends much time in, aside from sleeping and dressing in the morning.

You immediately think about what this all means for you. Whether he really meant what he said in the heat of the moment, if he really wants this to be a long-term thing or if it was just pillow talk. It doesn’t take you long to determine which one you want it to be.

There’s commotion on the other side of the closed door. You lean over the side of the bed, searching for something to put on before you just waltz out there naked. Ultimately, you pull on his blouse from last night.

You emerge from the bedroom squinting against the light in the room. The blinds in the living room are open, casting bright sunlight across the room and into the kitchen. You find Steve in front of the stove.

“Hey, there she is!” he announces happily. “Just in time for breakfast.”

Steve looks so comfortable in the kitchen, moving around quickly and efficiently, whereas you tend to blunder about. When you wander over to the island, you notice he’s already picked up his suit jacket, and laid it across the bar stool next to the one you choose. 

Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.

You grin at his back, plopping down onto the bar stool. The metal is cold against your bare ass, nearly making you squeal and jump back up. “Is it a Sex on the Beach?”

He laughs gleefully. “Nah, if only. How was that, by the way?” 

“The ice cream, or the porn?”

He turns to grin at you over his shoulder. “Both.”

He’s wearing glasses. Round wire frames that complement his face perfectly, making him look distinguished in his gray sweats and black t-shirt. Just like that, you’re spiraling. Suddenly, you’re picturing yourself being here, with him cooking breakfast in his glasses and PJ’s every morning, on and on into the future. Doing domestic shit, grocery shopping, dancing around in the kitchen at 3 am, kissing in the rain- well, you’ve already done that one.  

But you can see it. That future, with him by your side, it’s right there. You just don’t know if it’s the one that he wants. You don’t really know how deep this runs for him.

Funny what just an accessory can do to your train of thought.

“Um.” You swallow. What was the question? “The ice cream was great. Still the best sundae I’ve ever had, by the way. The porn was bullshit, I didn’t get through twenty minutes. I just wanted to make you blush.”

“Brat.” He spins around, and plates an omelet right in front of you. You watch his face, tracing the easy smile he wears. “I hope you like it- but if you don’t, you better not say anything. I don’t think I could handle the pain of your rejection.” He looks up at you, hazel eyes shining gold in the sunlight. “You’re staring.”

“I-” you blink at him. You don’t fucking say. You open your mouth to ask- you want to ask what this is, what he feels, did he mean it. Do you want to do this again? Is this serious for you? Because it is for me, if you want it. You just don’t get that far.

“You’ve been staring since we were fourteen,” he chuckles, sliding you a fork. 

That startles you. “Well,” you click your tongue. “I didn’t realize you were looking so closely.”

“Oh,” Steve shrugs, turning to place the pan in the sink. “Just since freshman year. When you read Juliet’s monologue in English class. Remember?”

You tilt your head. Vaguely. It was just a class project, where each person had to choose a Shakespearean monologue to recite in front of the class. You thought he only even became aware of you senior year.

Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee, Take all myself. 

“Are you telling me,” you say, palms flat on the counter as you peer at him incredulously, “you’ve liked me just as long as I’ve liked you?”

“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”

Your brain refuses to compute. You stare at his back, his tousled hair, and want to yank him toward you and squeeze him like one of those fucking squeaky toys that you get at the pet store. The ones the eyes pop out of.

Steve turns to you with a smirk, leaning across the counter to mirror you. He reaches forward to trace the mark he made on your neck, still tender, while mocking your pout back at you. His eyes crease at the corners, like they always do when he’s trying to be coy.

“Eat your breakfast, baby. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

(I see you, I see you, baby.)

[l-uminescent]

˚⁀➷｡˚GOD OF OLD VALYRIA ━━━ DAERON TARGARYEN X FEM! READER

synopsis: cregan stark's sister (reader) is sent to king's landing in order to find a suitable marriage arrangement. after a year however, you start to lose hope at finding a betrothed. that is, until the king announces the arrival of his youngest son daeron targaryen.

notes: hello! i have yet to see many daeron one shots or fics so i’ve decided to try. and as usual, i have aged him up to about 19/20. requests are also welcome bc i’m running out of ideas 😭

warnings: don’t think there is any apart from my rusty writing bc i have not written anything in years and most likely some spelling mistakes

word count: 1.8k

BEING CREGAN STARK'S YOUNGER SISTER PROVED ITSELF TO BE BOTH A BLESSING AND A CURSE. with the death of his wife arra, and being left with a son to raise by himself cregan struggled to find the time to find a suitable suitor to have as your lord husband as you came of age. the result of this, meant you being sent off to king's landing in hopes that the queen  consort, could provide help with finding you a husband. it's not like you minded being sent off to the capital, you were keen to explore the south after having lived in the north for the entirety of your life. but after being in the red keep for almost a year, you were becoming less and less confident at the queen's promise to your brother that she would find you a betrothed.

however, that was all soon to change with the arrival of daeron targaryen from oldtown.

it was his elder brother aemond, who informed you of daeron's arrival from oldtown after having been sent away years ago to squire for the hightower family. despite aemond's  intimidating aura and the obvious anger he holds within, you two often found solace with each other in the library as it appeared neither of you had many friends around the castle. tucked away, reading books on the history of the north, and that of the previous targaryen kings and queens, aemond often sat near, as he too enjoyed your presence as much you he.

today, he explained that there was to be a feast held in the throne room, at daeron's arrival as he had not been in the red keep for quite some time. your presence was to be required at the feast for some reason unbeknownst to you (but not to aemond's, who was aware of his mother's plotting).

rushing back to your chambers after waving your friend goodbye and thanking him for the information he told, your stomach began to knot as the feeling of nervousness took hold. you had heard stories of the youngest targaryen, of his beauty, how his silver hair fell shorter than his brothers, barely covering his eyes. you often heard gossip that the price frequently made the girls of the realm swoon if they were to ever encounter the boy in oldtown. if the rumours that circled around the red keep were to be believed, than it was also said that daeron targaryen was the most popular of the king and queen's sons. as well as his beauty, you had heard that he was an outspoken and witty boy, a skilled swordsman and returned the kindness that was given to him.

brushing away these thoughts, you began to wash  and paint you face with many creams and serums, until doting yourself as presentable to the targaryen family. you called on a maid to help you with your hair and dress. no matter the time you spent in the south, you were never one to forget your northern roots which often reflected in the clothes you wore and the hairstyle that adorned your head. black dire wolves, were subtly sewn onto your grey dress, a direct nod at your stark lineage, showing how proud you were of it and your hair was twisted and braided until it reflected that of what you so commonly wore in winterfell.

as the maid finished helping you ready, the nervous feeling once again made home in the pit of your stomach. deciding it was time to make your  way to the feast, your hands found themselves fidgeting with the rings on your fingers that were lovingly gifted to you by your mother father and brother, (family heirlooms that once again showed your pride of the north) in an attempt to calm your anxiety.

you still could not fathom where this sudden wave of nervousness came from. you had met the other two targaryen boys, even the three velayrons that had moved away to dragonstone a mere week after your arrival,  and this skittish demeanour was nowhere to be found back then.

taking a deep shaky breath and swallowing, willing your hands to stop fidgeting you walked through the doors to where the feast was to be held, making a beeline straight to where you usually sat. ignoring the piercing glare of a pair of indigo eyes that you were unused to, you bowed to the king and queen before taking your seat, still refusing to meet  the eyes that looked upon you intently.

"it is my greatest pleasure to announce the return of my youngest son daeron" king viserys announced. even in his sickly state the pride he had for his youngest son was not mistaken, making it painstakingly obvious who the favourite child was (second to rhaeynra of course.)

as he continued, you could not help but notice the soft look alicent had gave you. you had heard the rumours of how unkind the woman was before your arrival yet, she did everything in her power to make you feel comfortable during your stay. almost as if this was her second shot at motherhood.

you did not need to wonder for long what she had meant by the look this time before viserys continued his speech. "and to announce his betrothal to the lady of house stark."

at that moment you did not care if the shock in your face was evident  as your mind raced at a hundred miles an hour at the news. feeling your heart pump faster, a bright crimson appear on your cheeks as the entire table had turned to look at you. the  embarrassment at the attention you faced had soon turned to rage at the thought of your brother cregan not warning you of the news to have allowed yourself to mentally prepare. you cursed your brother for that. yet it soon faded and was once again replaced with anxiety as you remembered the boy beside you was the man you were now betrothed to.

you could not help the thought of this being failing marriage, one that was doomed from the start. your northern customs differed heavily from that of the royals in the south and you were afraid that it would offend your betrothed. you barely knew the man, there was no telling that he was as kind as you had heard, for all you knew one simple argument and he could feed you to his beloved dragon tessarion.

willing yourself to calm down, you took a shaky breathe before twisting your head to the side, finally allowing yourself to look at the boy that had been the cause for your nerves the past few hours. you had to hand it to the gossips of the court, the boy was handsome. with a sharp jawline and piercing indigo eyes staring into your plain ones you felt your face heat as his eyes continued to hold yours. taking in his features you noted that his hair, fell perfectly to his eyebrows, and a small scar ran down the left side of his lip. he was absolutely mesmerising. you had always been skeptical at the idea of targaryen's being closer to gods than men, but in that moment you believed.

daeron targaryen looked as if he was a god from old, straight from valyria.

you found the knot in your stomach grow and tension find it's home in your shoulders at this revelation as you struggled for words to say to your betrothed,  feeling unworthy in the presence of true targaryen beauty. your belief of the old gods wavering in favour of the valyrian ones, every time your eyes caught his.

you only prayed he was as kind as he was good looking.

━━━━━━━━━━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ━━━━━━━━━

"mother, i will accompany lady stark back to her room." it wasn't until the meal had ended when you had heard his voice for the first time. if you weren't nervous before than by the  gods you were now. with your heart rate elevated your fingers found the rings adorning your hands again, fiddling with them as you stood to be guided back to your chambers by the youngest prince. his voice perfectly matching the god like features of his face, melting like honey as every syllable reached you ear. you were truly enamoured with the targaryen boy.

with a bow to both the king and queen you and daeron had left, an awkward silence following as the words you wanted to say dying on your tongue every time you glanced out the corner of your eye at him. once again, blood rushed to your cheeks as the boy turned to you. "you don't have to be scared of me you know, my lady." he smirked. by the love of the gods, you prayed the answer that left your mouth did not make the embarrassment you felt worsen.

"i believe i have a right to my fear, my prince, seeing as your dragon lays only a hill away from where we stand."

at this, daeron let out a laugh, wondering where the shyness from the feast had gone. "well my lady, tessarion isn't as scary as she seems. maybe one day we shall go out riding."

"i would like that indeed my prince." you returned, smiling at the thought of him allowing you to meet his most precious creature. you had always wondered what a dragon had looked like up close, let alone to ride. the mere suggestion of it showed that maybe this marriage wasn't doomed after all. "well here is my chambers. thank you for walking me back."

the two of you turned to face each other now, allowing you to take in the entirety of his face. and by gods you were even more starstruck than before. in the torch lit corridor of the red keep, he seemed even prettier — truly a god of old valyria.

"goodnight my lady." daeron breathed out, seemingly as entranced as you were with him. the piercing indigo roaming about your entire face as he believed you would disappear if he even for a moment looks away. he had encountered many beautiful strangers in his time at oldtown, had read many history books that described creatures as beautiful as gods and angels. yet no matter how many detailed accounts he had read of valyria, how enchanting those who had lived before the doom were, and how he had inherited this fairness from his ancestors , in that moment he swore he had never met anyone as more beautiful as you. how you took pride in where you came from with the northern rings and stitching on your dress. how your hair was held with clips that were clearly heirlooms of the stark family. he was in awe.

"goodnight my prince." you whispered, pressing a small tender kiss to the side of his porcelain skin before turning to your chambers.

to daeron targaryen, you too were a god of old valyria

[lenny-link]

In regards to the SU x TF2 AU:

I have been racking my brain over here trying to understand the decision to make RED Spy a ruby and BLU Spy a sapphire. Nothing about his portrayal seemed to line up with canon depictions of rubies or sapphires, and RED Spy's gem isn't even faceted like a ruby. Also the obvious joke of making him a Bixbite, like the corrupted gem who was a giant crab, seemed obvious. Then it dawned on me.

He's a color-change sapphire, isn't he? That's why his RED version has a sapphire cut despite supposedly being a ruby? And also potentially why he's the only one we've seen RED and BLU variations of (though I get the impression that's also so one can be paired with Scout's Ma and the other with Engie) when all the others have been RED(-ish) isn't it? Or am I completely off base with this theory?

i LOVE your theory i wish you shared your thoughts before i elaborated the ‘lore’ of the au

but since ive had lots of questions about details id like to mention that:

1. i originally had not planned to make any story behind the su au, so if there’s things that dont make sense, don’t align with canon and stuff, it was not planned soo im working with what i have :p

2. i was hoping no one notices the mistake i made of swapping the gems ruby/sapphire lol its because at first i had drawn Blu(sapphire) Spy in that page, but i thought it was confusing since there was RedSpy x Scout’sMa and Scout next to him, so i just changed the colors and i didnt change the gem bc i was lazy :P

3. the main reason i put both Blu/Red Spy was to create fusion, i thought to add an extra merc with a blu color would be cool for the fusions that isnt from ClassicTeam, and idk i couldn’t think of a better merc to have as a pair than Spy and i thought there is more potential with 2 Spies to work on a story than any other merc idk

(yes i didnt put garnet as the fusion so as not to make confusion with Demoman being a Garnet, and we don’t have an Amethyst anyways so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

4. it is IMPOSSIBLE to align each TF2 character with a SU character, there’s nothing in common between the two medias whatsoever, so the dynamics that im gonna be making for the TF2 au are gonna be a bit mixed, for example: RedSpy and BluSpy having Ruby/Sapphire’s dynamic (kinda), but also they have the same dynamic as Rose/Pearl, for the part where Red would go with a human (Scout’s Ma) and Blu would be jealous (just like pearl), HeavyMedic also would be having Ruby/Sapphire dynamic (the part where they fuse for the first time just like Ruby/Sapphire in the show, im still working on comic about this btw)

5. also im mixing with well TF2 canon story + trying really to make an original story too, soo its a whole mess ik :p im trying just bear with me ^^"

but thank you for pointing that out, it makes me happy knowing people actually pay attention to details thats super fun! ill make sure to not miss any details next time! :D

[catboybiologist]

I'm 3.5 months in progesterone. Did it make my boobs grow? Let's look at some data!

So. This data has problems, of course. I've added disclaimers at the bottom. This isn't science, this is personal curiosity.

But anyways.

My HRT progress has been in three distinct stages:

1, sublingual pills, with on and off spiro. Suppressed T, E struggling to get up. Month 0-7

2, Injections, no progesterone. E goes to appropriate levels very quickly and fluctuates within cis female ranges. Month 7-13.

3, all that plus progesterone. Month 13-16 (current).

For the purposes of simplicity, lets look at breast growth only.

Let's take a look at some of those sublingual numbers:

All in freedom units, bc I hate myself.

I mean hey, not bad! There was absolutely some growth and breast bud formation as well. I pretty clearly got to tanner 2 here. But there's an obvious, clear plateau in growth. We can see it graphically as well:

Ignore the blue line, that's different data (waist:hip)

So what broke the plateau? Well.

The blue measurements are taken when I'm on injections and good levels, and the green one is as well (it was my progesterone start date). Apologies for the data jumping around, there were gaps. Also worth noting that I was ~20 pounds lighter on that final measurement.

So after plateauing with sublingual, my E around 100, the only thing that broke through that barrier was dropping spiro, switching to injections, and keeping my E at 200-400.

It is at this point I added progesterone (data in green).

holy FUCK

I genuinely would not have believed it myself if I didn't have pictures, as well as measuring myself now, and also y'know. Lived all of this.

Lets see that graph, shall we?

You can so clearly see the three stages here. The sublingual plateau, the injection bump upwards, and the progesterone fucking moon rocket. The gap in data is when I was backpacking- on injections, no prog. I think the drop in my W:H is also because of the weight I was losing.

Also yes, linear regression is kinda stupid here. I was just curious.

Anyways. I think I might be plateauing again, just based on how my breasts have felt a little less sensitive recently, which is also what happened on my sublingual plateau. But its absolutely wild to see what progesterone (probably) did in such a short time.

So in conclusion:

Yes. Absolutely. And so did injections, and proper levels.

When I encourage people to take an active role in their transition, this is what I mean. Keep track of your levels. If you're plateauing, think about what might be happening. Make sure to coordinate closely with your doctor. Amazing things can happen because of it.

Disclaimers and admissions of data sloppiness below:

This data is sloppy, and rounded to the nearest half inch most of the time. I've also fudged it based on what I reasonably thought was error in retrospect- eg, at one point I thought my underbust had shrunk a tiny bit due to variation in fat and coastal cartilage, but it's all just flickering between 35.5 and 36", so I just put it all at 36 bc that's likely more accurate.

The measurements don't really cleanly correspond to clothing measurements- I've been doing it wrong since the beginning, and kept doing it wrong for consistency. don't infer my cup size based on this lol. This is for internal comparison and trends.

The rounding also makes it more susceptible to "jumping", and there's several instances where a rounded down data point to a rounded up data point makes a more dramatic leap than it would in practice.

And of course, I'm measuring myself, this is one data set, yadda yadda. It's gonna be sloppy.

But yeah. The trends are clear enough that I hope they can be taken as trends at least, even if they're not exact numbers.

[astonmartinii]

HI! Hope you are well! I have no clue if you are taking requests or not, but if you are, could you maybe do a smau with carlos sainz x ferrari!reader? Where the reader is part of the ferrari family, and when her father passes away, she will take on the company? And like, all of the tifosi love her loads, bcs she's just lovely to them all no matter what, and they see carlos slowly 'fall in love' with her then soft launch their relationship, and it turns out they had been dating for ages? If you can, ty!!

are you going to be my girl? | carlos sainz social media au

pairing: carlos sainz x fem ferrari!reader

it's not a HR violation if you were dating before she became your boss and it's not nepotism if it's her company.

yournameferrari

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 872,309 others

yournameferrari: first race weekend, let's go girls 🏁

view all comments

user1: i am SCARED i am weirdly optimistic 🤔

user2: i have faith, the article about her and the whole new team... she's cooking

carlossainz55: excited to take her out for a spin

yournameferrari: lets keep all the spinning for the doughnuts at the end of the season please

carlossainz55: i'll try my best, no promises though

yournameferrari: okay stop commenting on my post and get ready to drive, you're wearing my name

carlossainz55: let me know when you want to wear mine

user3: yall it's not even been one race and carlos is flirting with his boss, they weren't lying f1 drivers really are fearless

sebastianvettel: feels like just the other day when you first visted the garage, you'll smash it!

yournameferrari: thanks seb! can't wait to see you again, give hanna and the kids my love

user4: i love that she's 23 but literally talks like a grandma

user5: the stress of ferrari does tend to age a person

charles_leclerc: forza ferrari ❤️ we'll make you proud

yournameferrari: i have all the faith in the world in you boys

user6: a ferarri owner who actually publicly supports the drivers? i've prayed for times like this

user7: ahhh i met her this weekend and she really loves the tifosi like she spent so long with us and signed as much as she could

carlossainz55

liked by yournameferrari, landonorris and 893,209 others

carlossainz55: great weekend all round, happy to be back on the podium - thank you to y/n and all the team for building us a car we can win in !!

view all comments

user9: don't shoot me but did we all see the way carlos was looking at y/n on the podium

user10: bestie i hate to tell you but there was like 100 ferrari workers at that podium he could've been looking at literally any of them

yournameferrari: you boys made the ferrari name proud this weekend ❤️

carlossainz55: couldn't have done it without you and the team

yournameferrari: you're too kind, take pride in your own achievements

carlossainz55: only if you celebrate with me

user11: are we witnessing the smooth operator in real time?

user12: it's like seeing a unicorn in the woods

landonorris: congrats chilli 🌶️ are we all celebrating or is it just you two?

carlossainz55: all of us? why wouldn't it be everyone?

landonorris: no reason ....

user13: maybe it's because carlos' eyes pop out of his head like a looney tunes whenever he's around y/n ferrari

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc

carlossainz55: you realise i get the notifications when you guys like comments, right?

landonorris: well my PR team wouldn't like it if i commented it myself

carlossainz55: i wonder if there is a reason for that 🤔

user14: carlando domestics in the comment section we are so back

scuderiaferrari

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 803,451 others

tagged: yournameferrari

scuderiaferrari: no race this weekend? we'll give you a #️⃣ asky/n to give you your ferrari content this weekend!

view all comments

user15: what is your favourite race?

yournameferrari: besides the obvious choices of imola and monza, i really enjoy suzuka and spa !

user16: who is a driver you would've loved to have managed?

yournameferrari: the obvious answer is michael schumacher, but i also would've loved to work with seb and kimi and jean alesi!

user17: how do you feel about taking over ferrari so young?

yournameferrari: it's definitely daunting, especially when no one really knew i existed. i was scared when it came to the staff overhaul as they had been there for so long and i was scared that it would massively backfire, but so far so good.

user18: tbf it's been a long time coming

user19: what would you do if you weren't owning ferrari?

yournameferrari: to be honest, ferrari and motorsport is all i have ever known, but, i also enjoy most other sports like football, ice skating and golf. but outside of sport i would've loved to pursue writing, i love poetry and essays!

user20: GOLF? cue carlos sainz in 3...2...1

carlossainz55: let's go for a round after my next sim session ⛳️

yournameferrari: only if you're ready to lose

user21: i am having ... feelings about this pairing

user22: how do you feel about charles' music?

yournameferrari: i always think it is good to have another passion, especially with how all-consuming formula one can become. i personally love charles' music and will often put it on when i do yoga or read (though my favourite is AUS23)

charles_leclerc: thank you y/n !!!

user23: is this *rubs eyes* an owner with a good relationship with the drivers???

f1gossipgirl

liked by user28, user29 and 4,130 others

tagged: yournameferrari, pierregasly

f1gossipgirl: AWKWARD MOMENT ALERT 🚨 y/n ferrari had harsh word for pierre gasly when they crossed paths in the paddock. gasly, whose dangerous driving put carlos sainz in the medical centre, seemed shocked that ferrari would have a problem with him. sources in the paddock said that ferrari admonished the frenchman, "you have a lot of gall in the media gasly, everyone saw how dangerous that was, you can't blame your own shortcomings on alpha tauri or adrian newey now. keep your car away from my drivers or we'll have a real problem." oop. allegedly gasly only replied with a wink and a "anything for you sweetheart" which caused y/n to storm off and knock his shoulder on the way past. who is in the right?

view all comments

user30: THAT'S MY OWNER RIGHT THERE

user31: y/n owned gasly

user32: not only was he dangerous on track he's also super disrespectful off, y/n is expressing her concerns over her driver who could've been seriously injured and he just flirts with her ???

user33: pierre is super in the wrong here but also it's so refreshing to see someone in management actually have the drivers back

user34: gone were the days of begging ferrari to even appeal penalties

user35: my friend was in the paddock and apparently vasseur had to hold sainz back after he was told about what pierre had done

user36: the way he's more mad that pierre disrespected y/n than nearly killing him

user37: idk why she's getting involved, no need to talk to the drivers like that, you're the owner, know your place

liked by pierregasly

user38: something insidious about the man liking a comment telling a woman to know her place 🤨

user39: he acts the victim in every situation and yet HE is the common denominator

user40: after ^^^ this whole mess i need carlos to scrap pierre

user41: i feel like he actually would that man is in love with y/n lol

yournameferrari

liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari and 903,451 others

yournameferrari: happy summer break everyone !! going into the break leading the constructor's championship lead is amazing but we aim to finish the season with both trophies back in maranello. see you in zandvoort x

view all comments

user42: A MAN?

user43: i was delusional to think that a young successful and smart woman wasn't cuffed :(

sebastianvettel: are you still planning to swing by switzerland?

yournameferrari: we'll be there!

this comment was deleted

yournameferrari: i'll be there!

user44: girl we saw that

user45: the way she posts her soft launch but deletes a comment that says she might bring him to visit seb?

user46: visiting seb is a big deal tbf

user47: the way carlos HAS to have her notifications on mans was here after 30 seconds

user48: has better reaction time for y/n's instagram post than a race start 😭

carlossainz55: working on my swing, ready for our round of golf

yournameferrari: get ready to be humbled

carlossainz55: if you're as pro as you say i may have to upgrade us to crazy golf

yournameferrari: as long as i get the red ball

carlossainz55: deal

user49: are we FLIRTING 👀 ???????

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, yournameferrari and 703,458 others

tagged: yournameferrari

carlossainz55: took a break from swimming to get my ass whooped by my boss on the golf course

view all comments

user50: oh the fit - Y/N CAME TO PLAY

landonorris: just how bad was the whopping? before i propose a paddock golf tournament

carlossainz55: she'll ruin the sport for you it's not fair

landonorris: you didn't put up any sort of fight?

carlossainz55: i TRIED but as soon as i saw the custom clubs i knew it was over

yournameferrari: i have a confession, i was literally on my college golf team, i had a lot of practice sorry x

carlossainz55: so you're basically a professional? that's comforting

yournameferrari: not really a professional but a very dedicated amateur

user51: babe you literally won the national championship at stanford stop playing with this man

yournameferrari: oops? 😬

user52: right, i don't mean to sound crazy, but i have a theory. the third pic looks very familiar to me, is it a lake in switzerland? the switzerland one SEBASTIAN VETTEL lives in and that y/n ferrari said she was going to visit this summer with someone?

user53: i fear you've made a point

user54: as much as they'd be literally the hottest couple in the world ... is it not a bit weird for carlos to date his boss? like... also what does this mean for potential favouritism?

user55: i get those concerns but we've already seen this season that decisions have been made both ways. unlike the binotto era ferrari actually are making the two first drivers thing work

user56: based on what y/n has said in the past i don't think she'd favour carlos because of a relationship, i think she's too ruthless to potentially sacrifice points to benefit her potential boyfriend

f1

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 1,239,861 others

tagged: carlossainz55

f1: the smooth operator is back to winning ways with his win under the singapore lights. it was a double podium for ferrari and a DNF for sergio perez means that ferrari are constructors champions once again!

view all comments

user60: Y/N FERRARI THE WOMAN YOU ARE AND HOLY SHIT HER AND CARLOS KISSING DID SOMETHING TO ME

user61: we really went from xavi and not having any tyres to proper professionals and the WCC trust the WDC will be coming back home soon

carlossainz55: tifosi, we'll get the big one next year ❤️

user62: CONSTRUCTOR CHAMPIONS AND YOU BAGGED Y/N FERRARI U WON AT LIFE

landonorris: so you made me find out with everyone else? i see how it is

carlossainz55: sorry landito, didn't intend for anyone to find out just yet but i guess i got a little carried away..

yournameferrari: a little?

carlossainz55: sorry but i've been good all year and finally got the win and the championship i couldn't help myself (you also looked so good sorry)

yournameferrari: i guess i can give you that (you're also very sexy post-race)

charles_leclerc: well i for one am super happy that i never opened the door when i heard a suspicious sound coming from y/n's office

yournameferrari: omg delete please i stubbed my toe i swear !!!!

charles_leclerc: no one is believing that i'm sorry

carlossainz55: we've never done anything untoward on ferrari property

landonorris: untoward? who are you?

carlossainz55: my gf is super duper college educated and it's rubbing off on me

landonorris: AHAHAHA RUBBING OFF

yournameferrari: 🤨

landonorris: sorry.

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, yournameferrari and 1,034,510 others

tagged: yournameferrari

carlossainz55: suprise ! i guess it wasn't to be just ours forever, but i love you y/n and will give everything to you and your name x

view all comments

user62: boyfriend in the first slide and girlfriend in the others he's so real

yournameferrari: i know this secret was hard for you to keep so i'm proud of you regardless, i love you 🫶

carlossainz55: honestly any time anyone in the paddock flirted with you i thought i would explode

yournameferrari: i've seen your dm requests, spare me

carlossainz55: but now they know, i can unleash all of my pictures of you and i can flex on everyone

user63: dream threesome list just got a new update

landonorris: first slide for me i know that's right

carlossainz55: i am forgiven for not telling you about my relationship? the two years were tough

landonorris: TWO YEARS?

carlossainz55: your tone sounds kinda off

landonorris: you can shove your first slide up your ass 👍 TWO YEARS?????

carlossainz55: tbf i couldn't really announce to the world that i was dating the woman who would someday become the owner of my team

landonorris: give me three business days and i'll be okay

scuderiaferrari: parents ❤️

charles_leclerc: happy for you guys but never ask me to take pictures of you again x

yournameferrari: you did such a good job though!

charles_leclerc: unless i see a photographer bonus in my contract i will not be third wheeling for free

yournameferrari: noted (you're not getting the bonus)

charles_leclerc: it was worth the try

yournameferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 1,035,556 others

tagged: carlossainz55

yournameferrari: what a crazy first season. i am unbelievably proud of the boys and the team, we'll bring both championships back to maranello next season ❤️

view all comments

user64: she is everything i want to be

user65: tbf after last season i never thought we would win a race this season and her overhaul and ruthlessness has actually changed the game. also her and carlos are super cute

carlossainz55: i love you and thank you for our season. here's to the best winter break with you

yournameferrari: finally you can spend christmas the ferrari way

user66: how do we also get an invite to this christmas.. do you have any brothers? cousins? uncles?

carlossainz55: you're so so so beautiful, pretty, bewitching, ravishing, stunning and irresistible

yournameferrari: i love you too handsome

carlossainz55: can you also humble my dad at golf please and thank you

yournameferrari: we'll go doubles for the sainz golf tournament and have NO MERCY

user67: someone tell y/n the season is over and that she doesn't need to ruin sainz snr's christmas on the golf course

yournameferrari: the ferrari name never rests sorry not sorry

user68: yeah yeah the constructor championship finally came back to ferrari but this relationship is the real win from this season

user69: carlos finally found someone as old money as him

user70: and is actually old money, babes has that ferrari money

carlossainz55: i can retire early and be the house husband

yournameferrari: you will not retire early i expect you to be kicking it in that car until you're at least alonso's age

carlossainz55: but after that i can be the house husband a HAB?

yournameferrari: to your hearts content :) no one prettier i'd want on my arm x

note: hope you enjoyed i was BATTLING the writers block on this one lol. but i hope this is what you were looking for

[darkst4lker]

a bed full of snakes is a warfield. // harry potter.

slytherin!harry potter x slytherin!reader

plot: ever since your first year, when you and harry entered slytherin, you've been rivals. always wanting to be better than the other, always fighting, always teasing each other. the problem is that you're so alike, you can't stand each other. until one night harry wakes up from a nightmare, and you help him calm down.

tw: rivals to lovers, mentions of violence, trauma, a nose bleed, sixth year, half-blood prince events, harry is the same harry as always just maybe a little more arrogant bc y'know, he spent five years in slytherin. fluff, angst, nightmares. low caps on purpose. draco and harry get along here.

notes: english is not my first language, but i hope you enjoy anyways. sorry if there's any mistakes.

horace slughorn lessons weren't an easy ride for someone who doesn't know potions. luckily for you, you were one of his most talented students like you were once for professor snape before he started teaching defense against dark arts.

in fact, you were so good at potions that you couldn't possibly believe how on earth harry james potter could be standing in this class and being the best one at it when a year ago he was a failure at this subject.

there was a part of you that was livid by the fact that he was succeeding at the only field you always surpassed him, because you and harry had a tendency of making a nasty competition out of the rest of subjects. but, there was another side of you that was about to explode out of excitement.

you sure loved a good competition, and harry provided that for you and you for him every single time since the two of you entered slytherin five years ago.

it became sort of a symbiotic relationship because he stimulated your arrogance and thirst for success like no other person in your life, it was a hunger you both carried driven purely by the need of being better than the other.

yet, the problem between you and harry was probably the fact that apart from being in an eternal competition, you two fought like if you were at war. draco malfoy, a friend of both of you, hated to be in the same room as the two of you at the same time and so did harry's bestest friends: ron and hermione. you and harry knew how to be awfully insufferable.

well, at least that's what everyone thought until that day.

it was a quite beautiful and warm day outside. the sky was clear as you were leaving slughorn class after being surpassed (again) by harry. at this point it was getting tiring to always lose to him but not even harry could ruin that day for you.

as you walked out of the classroom friendly grabbing pansy's arm, you saw him: his green eyes always standing out, his messy uniform and the way his skin appeared so soft to the touch. you dismissed the thought quickly as harry's look went to yours, and a cocky smile appeared in his lips as he approached you and pansy.

“guess you'll need to settle for the second place.” harry said, obviously teasing you. hermione and ron came chasing after him making obvious that he went out of his way to mess with you.

an annoyed sigh left your lips, it was almost funny to see how harry ego became bigger after every class because it meant that you would surely enjoy much more the moment you finally archived to bring it down.

as you looked at him, his eyes made you shiver a little. the bastard was pretty as a sin, and charming as a snake, but he always forgot that you also knew how to behave like a snake too, and finally your mouth opened to answer him.

“can't live without me, can you?” you answered, an arrogant smile placing itself on your lips. “just wait until i figure out how you managed to cheat in slughorn classes, and i will become his favorite like i was with professor snape.” you added, firing back at him with a determined expression.

“oh, please (y/n). the only reason you were snape's favorite is because he literally hates me unprovoked.” harry joked and you got instantly irritated. “and don't pretend you aren't obsessed with me either.” he said, obviously teasing you.

you looked at pansy, who seemed a little desperate to flee from your encounter and you released her arm letting her go silently. then your eyes went right back at harry.

“for merlin sake, potter.” you said, rolling your eyes at him. “you scared her.”

“no, you scared her.” harry answered, crossing his arms. “you're the one who gets all worked up when i tell you the truth.”

“what on earth are you talking about, potter? you were shit at potions all these five years until months ago, don't get arrogant on me.” you mimicked his actions, crossing your arms too as the words left your mouth.

“yeah sur-...” harry was obviously about to fight you back, until hermione voice interrupted him, making you both remember that you weren't alone.

ron stood back from the encounter clearly tired of your rivalry, and hermione by the other hand seemed in a hurry.

“harry, please we need to go or we're going to be late for herbology.” she said, annoyed. “by the way, hi (y/n).”

“hi granger.” your voice came out friendly. “please hold your dog leash tighter the next time.” you added, a mocking tone on your words as you looked at harry.

you and harry's friends weren't exactly «besties» but you did not hate each other at all. not after what you did for harry in third year.

you had proved that you cared for harry deep inside when a dementor made him fall of his broom breaking it in the process and you stayed by his side for hours before he woke up and even bought him chocolate frogs. hermione and ron didn't understood why you asked them to not tell harry, but they did what you requested out of respect and you disappeared before harry opened his eyes.

and that was your little secret, one you intended to keep forever.

how could you not? knowing that would only make him more arrogant that he already is. also, is not like you did that because you liked him anyways, right?

i mean, he's insufferable, but you didn't wanted him to die by any means. it scared the shit out of you even thinking about the possibility.

in fact, it frightened you so much that you were fighting for him to be safe even now, but he doesn't need to know yet. no one had to know.

except for, of course, dumbledore.

“if im a dog then what are you? a kitten?” harry answered clearly irritated and hermione pulled him by the ear to get him off your neck and dragged him the other way, leaving you with an heated answer stuck in your tongue.

but even if harry's words had made you furious, they also had a clearly effect on you.

“bye, (l/n)” ron said as he followed them, clearly enjoying not being the one scolded by hermione for once. his words brought you to reality again.

as harry left unwillingly with hermione and ron, you stood there for a second. the corridor was almost empty, and you heart was beating subtly faster than always.

was this something normal? when did you started to feel like this?

you didn't knew at all, sometimes it was like you felt this since first year without noticing. yet, this emotion you didn't wanted to acknowledge was really starting disturb your peace.

it seemed harry potter always managed to ruin your day.

hours later, you found yourself laying on your bed. the green sheets embraced your body comfortably, trying to induce you into dreams, but it was impossible.

you were wide awake in the pale moonlight crossing the water covering the windows of the slytherin girls dorm in the dungeons. a sigh left your lips, as you rolled in bed trying to find the exact position to finally catch sleep but instead you heard the door of the boys dorm opening and closing. then steps and a calm sob.

this was not the first time you heard this in your time on hogwarts and you knew what was it, but all these years you were too coward to go out and do something about it.

it was harry, and you knew that he had one of his horrid nightmares.

you decided this was the last night you wouldn't go out and help him, because even if he was annoying, irritating and a bastard, your rivalry had its limits.

as you stood up in your black pajamas, your heartbeat got faster. what were you going to say to him?

for once, a part of you decided it didn't matter.

so when you opened the door, you saw him sitting im one of the sofas of the common room, crying quietly, his face slightly red and with a nose bleed that was getting worse and worse, staining his neck and his pajamas.

you almost ran to his side, casting a quick accio charm with your wand to get an elegant green hanky with your silvery initials embroidered in one of the corners. a gift from draco that you haven't got to use until that night.

harry looked at you almost in shock as you sat on the sofa with him, but he stayed silent, sobbing without making almost any sound. he seemed surprised to see you there but he seemed to calm down a little when you grabbed his face sweetly and used your hanky to carefully try to clean the blood from his face, holding it to his nose.

your fingers got stained with his blood, but you didn't seemed to care.

“hold it in place” you almost whispered, talking to him like he was a crying child.

he subtly nodded, tears still coming out from his eyes.

your fingers approached his cheeks, wiping his tears away even if they would keep coming out. then, while seeing his face, you remembered the photo of james potter in his seeker uniform on the quidditch shelf on one of the hallways in hogwarts. yet, when you eyes met his, another iconic photo came to your mind.

the portrait of lily evans in slughorn's shelf. her loving eyes were the same ones her son had inherited, the constant vestiges of her life were alive in harry and spoke through him like an ocean of sweetness.

you didn't knew why you paid so much attention to harry's parents photos, but something had drawn your curiosity and through the years it became more and more real what everyone thought:

“you really look exactly like your father.” your voice came out, still in a whisper while grabbing his cheeks. “except for your eyes.”

you didn't added what everyone said next, because harry knew it all too well.

he leant against your hands, accepting your touch and a sad smile came out his lips, genuinely moved by your words. words that even if he had heard them a thousand times before, for some reason, he never expected to hear them from you.

and that made his heart skip a beat.

“thank you.” harry managed to say. your soul felt almost wounded at the sadness in his voice, the voice of a dying man, a dying boy, that once had survived death but it kept chasing him over and over again.

and while you fought him on daylight, now you wanted to protect him under the watery moonlight coming from the windows.

“don't mention it.” you answered. your hands didn't moved from his face, now caressing it tenderly.

“please don't tell-...” he was going to say, but you interrupted him.

“i won't tell anyone, you don't have to worry.” you said as you got closer to him. “i never did.”

of course you wouldn't tell a soul. as much as you loved your slytherin mates, you knew that a bed full of snakes is a warfield, and being a lot of them the sons and daughters of death eaters they were surely going to eat harry up with rumours and mean insults.

and, every other time you had heard him come out of his room at night, you always kept it private because being a snake meant surviving at any cost, even if that meant feasting on your own kin to keep yourself alive. slytherin was about enduring, about succeeding.

and those were qualities that helped harry in the many times he had to face tom riddle, slytherin made him understand the dark lord much better but the cost was the constant fear of becoming him, of not being capable of surviving, of transforming into an omen.

“it was one of your nightmares?” he nodded after you muttered the question, taking one of your hands to hold one of his.

“it was about the night my parents died.” harry confessed. the tears had stopped for a moment, but a couple of them left his green eyes. “snape taught me occlumency to keep voldemort out of my head, but i keep having nightmares.” he explained, his voice too calm for someone that cried a lot just minutes before.

you looked at him, his burden becoming extremely palpable to you. the curse of being an unwilling child forced to fight a war that he didn't started, and that he didn't wanted.

you didn't thought much about what you were doing when you took off his glasses, put them on the small table beside the sofa and pulled him into a tight hug, one of your hands in his back, the other on his nape, caressing him.

harry cried on your shoulder, and you tried your best to make him feel held.

“it's okay, let it all out.” soft words left your lips, reassure him. “im here”

he hugged you back, almost desperately. like if he hadn't been comforted in a long time.

“im here, harry i will help you. you're not alone” you said and you instantly regretted it, knowing your words probably blew up your intent of not revealing the secret you've been keeping from him.

as you both broke the hug, harry spoke.

“help me?” he asked, clearly in disbelief. “why would you ever help me?” he asked you, a smile escaping his lips through the tears as if you just told him a joke.

you sighed. it was time to reveal your secret.

“because even if i love to fight with you, i don't want to see you die.” you confessed, you words in a seriousness harry had never heard on you.

he went silent for a moment, suspecting you had something say.

and it was true, because when the year started you parents began to pressure you to become a death eater. a destiny you would quickly share with draco in no less than a couple months.

but you knew way better than that, and in fear of having to do something awful or worse (having to hurt harry) you ran to dumbledore and explained him everything.

albus received your confession with open arms and offered you a way to help harry: joining the order of the phoenix and act as a double spy under the tutoring of severus snape who also acted as a double spy.

you were forbidden of sharing most of that information with absolutely anyone, but here you were, about to confess in front of one of the people you hated the most.

or maybe you loved the most.

because who would put their lives on a stake for a person in who they don't believe? for someone you don't love?

the most beautiful sacrifices are made out of love, out of adoration.

and maybe and just maybe, you loved harry potter.

the realization came to you suddenly, as he waited for an explanation while looking at you.

yet, a realization came to him too.

“(y/n), what did you do?” harry asked, his eyes widening for a moment. “what did you do?” his voice was soft, yet desperate.

“there's a lot of things im willing to do for you.” you admitted, trying to dismiss his question one last time.

“for salazar, please tell me what did you do.” he pleaded, scared that you could be in danger.

something cracked on your insides because facing his desperation, how could you deny him all your secrets?

“i've joined the order.” your answer struck him like a punch straight on the face. “my parents want me to become a death eater, so i spoke to dumbledore. i'll be a double spy.”

harry face went from having a sad expression to a surprised one.

“but how? why?” he desperately grabbed your hands, you thought his eyes had a hint of fear in them but you dismissed it. “you can't just do that for me, you're sacrificing your life if voldemort finds out.”

“i'm doing it happily, harry.”

“but why?!” harry exclaimed, then he remembered that everyone were sleeping and closed his eyes in frustration. “we were fighting this morning, tell me why would you do this?”

“you don't understand.” you said as his hands grabbed yours tightly.

“you can't say that after saying all of this to me, (y/n).” he answered, obviously getting annoyed. “i don't want you to do this.”

“i think i love you harry.” you admitted, looking at him in the eyes. “i did it because i love you, i was just too stubborn to admit that to myself. i sat by your side in third year when you passed out and fell off your broom because i love you. i bought you chocolate frogs that time because i love you, i beated the shit out of crabbe in fourth year because i love you and he said some blood purist shit about you.” you confessed, looking at him, your voice getting weaker with every word said. harry smiled at the last sentence, now understanding why you did that to crabbe in fourth year. he had thought all this time that it had been just a discussion between both of you that escalated. harry remembered your wounded knuckles, and something inside him trembled. “all i ever did was because i love you, even when i fight you.” you finished, your eyes about to tear up a little.

the realization was too hard for you to handle, knowing he probably didn't liked you back.

you both were tearing up, his nose bleed had stopped long ago yet some stains of blood were in his clothes and in your fingers.

your hanky rested on the sofa, your eyes were on his like it was the first sip of water you got on a whole lifetime.

“remember that time in fourth year i approached you with ron, and i stayed silent for like a whole minute im front of you and then fleed?” harry asked, smiling sweetly towards you. you nodded in response, clearly remembering the awkward encounter. “i wanted to invite you to the yule ball, but i got scared.” he confessed. “and then you ended up going with draco so i started picking on you the whole event because i was jealous.”

a laugh escaped your lips as he spoke, you could have never imagined his intentions and now here he was, erasing your fear of harry not loving you back.

“i think i love you too.” he continued. “this is weird tho, i never thought we would be speaking of this”

“yeah, you're right.” you answered, taking your hand out of his to give him a friendly punch on the arm. “how i will get used to be all sweet with you when we're always insulting each other?”

“we'll get there someday.” harry said, chuckling.

a brief silence came between you both as your eyes explored each other's faces, and in a moment he just stopped thinking and made a move.

harry grabbed your cheeks and pulled you to steal a kiss from you, it was sweet yet you felt his subtly swollen face because of the tears, a little taste of blood because of the rest he had on his lips, your own tears finally running free. both of you weren't exactly experienced on kissing, but you managed to keep it loving.

it was the kind of kiss you never thought you and harry would give each other. the intoxicating embrace of a hidden love that somehow managed to survive all these years to finally bloom.

a kiss soaked in a infinite mantra of sacrifice, of purity, of unconditional love. the kind of love you're willing to die for.

yet, the kiss was brief and tender. when you both broke it, your cheeks were subtly pink and his were too.

“this is a good start.” you whispered close to his face, finally accepting the feelings inside your heart.

“yes, it is.” he smiled at you, and then it seemed like an idea crossed his mind.

there was a brief moment of silence before he spoke again.

“if you're going to be a double spy, you'll need to be trained.” harry said. “i can help you practice. it frightens me to think of you dying.”

his offer made you giggle, and you nodded.

“okay.” you answered. “i can help you with potions in return.”

“i mean, i've been managing as you already know, but i don't understand a single thing of what im doing so i could really use your help.” harry confessed, smiling. “you see, i found this book on my first class, it has notes to get every potion right.” he added. “and a spell i desperately want you to learn if you're really going to risk your life like that.”

you leant against his shoulder intertwining your hands.

“im up for it, what's the spell called?” you answered as he leant his head against yours.

harry didn't answered right away, he struggled in his insides to share the information, but now he felt safe with you.

you both didn't had a clue of what was going to happen or if you were going to be together right away. harry needed time, you needed time and all these confessions after years of fighting non stop were confusing the hell out of you. yet, a war was coming and you were going to play a dangerous part on it.

and knowing that you had already made your big move on the board to help keep him safe while putting you at risk, harry realized you really could use knowing his secret.

« a secret for a secret » he thought, thinking on your confession.

when he finally answered, his voice sounded serious but the intention of helping you was there.

his words were dripping honey, the kind of honey someone has inside when they want you to be safe. when they love you so much, they are willing to die thousands of times for you too.

“sectumsempra.”

I HOPED YOU ENJOYED IT!! im a sucker for slytherin!harry so im planning writing more things of him in the future!! ♡

[oceansblvds]

petals ; coriolanus snow

pairing ; coriolanus snow x reader

words ; 1.7k

about ; "The harshness and brazen demeanor that enveloped him when you were around seemed to melt away with time, this certain activity that the two of you engaged in became more of a delightful reprieve than something to do to release tension."

warning(s) ; smut, fingering, p in v sex, not edited, just a short blurb kinda?

authors note ; hello! this is me putting myself out there as a snow writer bc im obsessed with tom blyth. so anyways. please feel free to request fics or headcanons or blurbs! i hope u enjoy :)

Life in the Capital was nothing but lavish for you. 

With your family’s status, extravagant balls were somewhat a staple in your life, along with all the beautiful shoes that you wore as you walked your way into the academy, or the five star meals you were allowed to eat every night. You didn’t know how to be poor, it simply wasn’t in your blood to have anything less than what your life offered you. And that was incredibly obvious for the way that you held yourself in the presence of others. Having been groomed by your mother and father to be the perfect heir to their fortune, they didn’t expect anything less than you. You were beautiful, you were intelligent, and you knew how to control a situation and a conversation as if it was the back of your hand. 

And that simply aggravated him. 

He wasn’t sure when it had really started, this loathing for you. Perhaps it was when you purposely had him suspected of cheating on a test when you two were in your first year of the Academy, or perhaps it was the fact that you knew that he hadn’t cheated, you were simply intimidated by his intelligence. Wherever you stood academically, Coriolanus was always on your heels, just behind you clawing at your back to get ahead of you in anything. And sometimes he did manage to do better than you, and that was when he felt the most happy around you. When you were an absolute mess, a stupid look on your face as you tried to come up with an excuse as to why you didn’t do as well as him. Oh, that was where he was happiest. But he hated you, he loathed you. At least that’s what he told himself in the midst of his obsessive fixations about you, how he would sit alone in his bed at night in his run down home and think about the fact that you were probably eating your second meal of the night and you were going to sleep in silk sheets that got changed every single week. 

And that simply aggravated you. 

How he always assumed that the only reason why you were as intelligent as you were was because of your family. You didn’t know that he was actually secretly poor, but regardless of it, the Snow's wealth had never reached the high peak that yours did in the past. That much was obvious, you could see it in the way that he dressed himself that he was lesser in status. And you took every opportunity to remind him of it, every single breath that was spent around him was an insult, a jab, trying your best to get into his head. And he did much of the same. You two hated each other, it had always been that way and it would always stay that way. 

That was, until the two of you had been paired up for a project together. Something about how to better raise attention for the Hunger Games, how to make them more enjoyable. You two had been at your house when you prepared for it together, the slight arrogance in your heart not even noticing the way that he had completely dodged all your questions about working at his place. It had gotten late, and despite the normal amount of bickering between the two of you, the bickering turned into a crude form of flirting. He said that your mouth could be used for such better things rather than to insult him the way that you did, and you were desperate to prove to him wrong. You wouldn’t fall for the flirtations of Coriolanus Snow, you were so sure of it. But soon enough, his lips were on yours and your clothes were on the expensive carpet of your room and you two had your limbs tangled in the silk sheets. A month passed, and like clockwork, the two of you would end up with each other with your clothes off. It didn’t matter the reason or the place, it always happened. 

He pushed you into the cold, almost sterile lab table, muttering something under his breath about how he only had a few minutes before he needed to go to lunch. You laughed, the sound getting cut off by his lips placing themselves on your own, like they always did. His kisses were bruising, like he was trying to prove something, and maybe he was. The harshness and brazen demeanor that enveloped him when you were around seemed to melt away with time, this certain activity that the two of you engaged in became more of a delightful reprieve than something to do to release tension. You paid no mind to it. 

“Then you better make those few minutes worth it,” You whispered, taking note of the footsteps that you could hear from outside the door. This wasn’t the first time that you had snuck around in the University, but every time it did fill you with a sense of urgency to get things started lest the two of you be caught. 

Coriolanus let out a chuckle. “I always do.” His lips pressed to the skin of your throat, teeth grazing against your pulse point before sucking on it loosely, enough to make a mark for only a moment. 

Cheeky. You thought to yourself, your hands finding refuge in his blonde hair, certain tufts of it retaining the curliness that you had known them to have during your time at the Academy. You pulled him closer, ever so closer, like you didn’t want to let him go. His hands helped to lift you up onto the lab table, your legs opening and his body slotting in between them, a perfect practiced dance. The University uniform was much more relaxed than the Academy’s was, a low cut black skirt making for easy access during these moments in between classes and lunch. His hips grinded against yours for only a moment, a gasp escaping your lips that was captured by another searing hot kiss, enough to know that he was telling you to be quiet. He continued to kiss you as his hand came down under your skirt, fingertips ghosting against your inner thighs before reaching where you wanted him most. 

He was met with a wet, sticky mess, an after effect of the fact that the two of you hadn’t fucked in over a week. Despite all of his brain power wanting to tease you for it, he found himself keeping this as a silent victory, the pad of his thumb coming in contact with your clit, slipping one finger in and curling it. You arched your back forward only slightly, already conveying the message that you wanted him inside you already. “Patience,” He whispered. 

You whined. He was the one who wanted to go to lunch anyways, and now he was stringing you along? You had half a mind to fight back, but the words died in your throat as he added a second finger, slipping in almost effortlessly. He continued to pump them in and out at a languid pace, his left hand holding your waist so that you couldn’t move. He was keeping the rhythm, not you. All the while his thumb kept rubbing against your clit, making you a squirming mess in his hands like putty. 

“Coriolanus,” You breathed. “Come on, please.” 

He hummed in response, acting as if he didn’t hear you. But he did, because soon enough he was withdrawing his fingers, hands working to free himself from his neatly pressed pants, his cock springing free in a matter of seconds. You wrapped your hands around his neck, his face coming into the crook of your own as he guided himself towards your entrance, the tip of his cock grazing as if to tease, before sheathing itself in. Once he bottomed out, he already started a fast rhythm, giving you little to no time to adjust. but you were so needy you didn’t care, not one bit because he was making you feel so good that you wished for this moment to last forever. and you were already so wet and willing, Coriolanus couldn’t wait a second longer. 

If he was tired from staying up all night to finish homework and studies, he didn’t even show it. Coriolanus fucked into you with such a frenzy that it was almost animalistic, which made you wonder how much energy this man possibly had. What you didn’t know was it was your moans what were spurring him on, your moans that kept him going. And you loved it so much that you couldn’t think straight. all you could do was try and keep yourself still, words stringing together into barely put together sentences of oh fuck yes and that feels so good. It was a moment of such pure bliss that you didn’t even feel yourself start to clench around him, noticing it finally when you felt every inch of him scrape against your willing walls, bringing you closer to that cliff into a sea of pleasure that only he could give you. What finally made you break was the groans that he was making, which were hot and heavy and like heaven to your ears that you knew you would be playing on repeat before you went to sleep tonight. 

His hand slipped between your legs, pressing up against your swollen clit and that was it. You were sent into a state of pure, fucked out bliss as you came around him, your moans being muffled by the shirt he was wearing, your mouth pressed against it to try and stifle all your noises in the moment. With a few more demanding thrusts, Coriolanus was spilling himself inside of you, a groan of contentment falling from his lips as his head dropped to your shoulder. Your legs were still wrapped around him, shaking from the change of pace, relishing in the moment that the two of you were sharing together. You barely had any time to refocus yourself before he was pulling out, a few remnants of his cum dripping out of you that you saved by pushing your underwear back into place. 

“Lunch better still be in the cafeteria,” He spoke, zipping up his pants and latching his belt. “If it’s not, you’re buying dinner tonight.” 

You cocked your head to the side. “Dinner?” Usually you two would never go out together. But before he answered, Coriolanus had already left the room.