#dance hostesses

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Hostesses at the Savoy Ballroom, Harlem, 1938.

Until 1943, the Savoy Ballroom was renowned for its “hostesses”— attractive, well-dressed and well-mannered young ladies in the employ of the ballroom, who could teach you the latest dance steps or simply give you the pleasure of their company on the dance floor . Dance partners for hire were sometimes called “taxi dancers” and could be had for 25 cents for three dancers. The hostess booth in the Savoy was by the stairwell.

Photo & text: PIC magazine via Welcome to the Savoy

[barbielore]

Happy St Patrick's Day, Barbie!

I have very limited knowledge of St Patrick's Day, as an Australian with no Irish family - so I will leave any discussion of the significance of the occasion to those who know better. However, let's look at some Barbies.

As a part of the Holiday Hostess series (of course) Mattel released a St Patrick's Day themed Barbie, called "Shamrock Celebration".

Shamrocks do in fact feature very heavily in her garment -on her plaid skirt and around her neck, as well as in the buckle of her hat. Just in case the design was too subtle, she has "Happy St Patrick's Day" written on her apron.

Her accessory is a pot of gold, which I suppose is a little more Barbie-friendly than, say, a pint of Guinness.

This is not, of course, the only Barbie to depict Ireland or Irish culture. As part of the Dolls of the World line, for example, there were a number of dolls - Irish Barbie, Princess of Ireland Barbie and Irish Dance Barbie.

It is worth noting, of course, that Festivals of the World Irish Dance Barbie does not depict St Patrick's Day - she depicts a step-dancer at a Feis.

The Legends of Ireland series depict myths and legends of Irish culture, though to be honest I don't know how accurate any of these are. I do know that they are beautiful.

There were a number in the collection, ranging from Silver Label to Platinum Label.

[todayisafridaynight]

I know I JUST apologized for the Yokoyamaposting, but as Anon wishes, other favorite moments:

Mineposting at 5am just like me frfr

He had a dream where he "danced wildly" with Hijikata (I believe this is in reference to Wild Dancer, but incredibly funny mental image). He says "It's terminal... (T . T)"

Apparently, one-third of the applicants to the hostess auditions were men, because the guidelines don't specify any particular gender. So a GNC man made it to the first live audition (although unfortunately wasn't a finalist), and Yokoyama said if he were a real hostess, he'd request him. He notably did not say anything like that even to the actual hostesses who auditioned

He's talked about being excited to read BL manga, and his "favorite manga character of all time" is OG Depraved Bisexual Tokai from Sanctuary (having picked it up it's really obvious which characters Tokai inspired, but the most obvious one right off the bat is that Ishioda looks exactly like him lol)

He has apparently "consulted the fujoshi(?) [question mark his] on the team" about eyebrow-raising scenes, and was met with "a barrage of surprising answers." He said it's not intentional on his part, but he figures he shouldn't try and make it intentional, since the more he tries the more he feels he's missing the mark. So he has tried...?

there's a lot to unpack here but i think my favorite bits of these is having 'honorary fujoshis' in office to ask about the Suspect scenes in your game

[souvboa]

Cosmo Legend with DJ Souv and Kirle Thursdat August 24th 2023 by Souv Boa Via Flickr: 🌴 Unleash Your Inner Beach Beast at Cosmo Beach Club! 🌊 Get ready to ride the sonic waves with DJ Souv and Hostess Kirle as they turn up the heat! 🎧🎉 Where: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Le Ranch/227/93/22 📅 When: August 24, 2023 ⏰ Time: 10 a.m. SLT We're dialing up the global beats from all corners of the world, all styles, and all times. 🎶🌐 Let your hair down, kick off your virtual sandals, and dance like nobody's pixelated! Grab your sunscreen and join us at the party hotspot. Don't just be there – be the life of the SL beach bash! ️🎊 Let's make this event legendary – see you there, ready to make waves! 🎵 Kirle Adamski and Souv Boa

[akkivee]

made a bingo card the day we got the anime japan announcement so some spaces wound up announced beforehand lol but i would have had a bingo!!!!!!!

[dirt-str1der]

Hate the hostess date minigame so much its like watching kiryu try to get a girlfriend and backing out at the last second at every pass , its actually so painful because he will say some extremely forward shit and then be like just kidding. Or he’ll flatter someone relentlessly and then just watch silently as they work themself into a frenzy its so cruel but theyre always such good sports about it

[gonzodangerfeels]

Guy wanted to waste a half hour in court trying to explain his positive cocaine test was only because he had been fucking a crackhead all weekend, and certainly not because he had been smoking crack with her. Oh no. No sir, not him.

[hostes-manager]

🇰🇷SOUTH KOREA 🇰🇷

📍VACANCY: HOSTESS

⬇️ TERMS ⬇️

💳SALARY - Salaries from 2,000,000 won + the rate of 10,000 won an hour + tips!

The salary is paid once a month, the rate for working hours is once a week.

S/p from $ 3,000 per month

🔷 RESPONSIBILITIES:

The main duty is entertainment with guests, namely:⠀

- To meet the guests of the institution;

- Communication with guests, you can use an interpreter;

- Sing karaoke;

- To drink drinks, you can refuse, but not to offend the guest;

- Monitor drinks, create a festive atmosphere, play board games;

📆Work schedule: from 19:00 to 05:00. 2 days off per month.

🛏ACCOMMODATION: in the apartment for free. Everything is within walking distance (hypermarket, metro, club)

✅CONTRACT TERM: minimum 2 months.

✈️CREDITING OF AIR TICKETS is POSSIBLE🎫 - ADDITIONALLY, they meet at the airport.

✅MAXIMUM SECURITY

No pitfalls , hidden responsibilities , deception !

Sex, exits and other things are strictly prohibited

Transparent working conditions !

❗️Entry by electronic permit K-ETA

To enter, you need to get a K-ETA permit (we help with registration). The permit is issued online within two days, for citizens of the Russian Federation

on K-ETA it is possible to work for 2 months (with the possibility of departure and arrival for another 1 month)

💯Full information support of the manager before departure and throughout the entire stay in the country

Do you want to submit a questionnaire to karaoke clubs❓write to telegram - @hostes_manager ✔️

[adoreddestiny]

Hiiiii <3

I love your works sm they're so cuteeee

Can I request a situation of the boys' reaction to having to share a bed with you, and when they wake up the next morning they've ended up cuddling you in their sleep? I feel like Xavier could literally end up on top of you, Rafayel might take your arm captive or have his head on your chest, and I feel like Zayne might end up holding your hand, hehe.

Tysmmmmm, take careeee! <33

ೃ⁀➷ ONE BED? NO PROBLEM — xavier, zayne x gn!reader

"What do you mean there's only one bed available in the room?"

ೃ⁀➷ zayne

zayne doesn't seem to mind when you glance back him from over your shoulder. he raises an eyebrow, silently waiting for you to continue with check-in. you let out a sigh, taking the silver key that the hostess hands you.

after inviting you to a medical conference, you didn't expect to be sharing a hotel room with the stoic man. a fresh waft of steam escaped the bathroom door as you opened it. zayne seemed to be busy with his work once more, sitting at the desk by the large-paned windows with his head buried in his laptop.

his hair stuck to the back of his neck and tiny droplets of water occasionally dripped from the strands. striding over, you hovered over his shoulder a moment. his hands stop their movements and he turns his head curiously.

"are you heading to bed now? we will have to be up early tomorrow," he says.

"oh yeah," you say, glancing to the bed behind you. he follows your gaze before returning to his work.

"if you prefer to sleep on the bed, i can sleep at the desk," he says, tone as even as ever.

you shake your head immediately. sure, you seemed to find him napping in his office more than once, but it didn't seem right to offer him space on such a large bed. "no, i don't mind if you take the bed too."

zayne's fingers stop their animated dance across his keyboard once more and he stares back at you with the same unreadable expression. for a moment though, he seems almost amused with your answer.

"alright," he murmurs, pulling his glasses off his face and shutting his laptop off, "then, let's head to bed, shall we?"

you're not sure how your heart can handle itself so well as you lay in bed. the soft sounds of the city seep in from the closed windows and darkness confines the two of you. the bed is large enough for you both to have your own space but you can't help but find yourself conscious of his presence just mere inches away from you.

does he feel just as nervous? can he somehow hear your heart through the reckless silence? your questions go unanswered as you succumb to sleep.

zayne does his best to keep himself from turning around. his back faces you as he attempts to calm his heart. he's a gentleman and he shouldn't attempt to hold you simply because you're laying beside him.

but as he hears the sound of your soft snoring, he turns around. his eyes settle on your sleeping figure. the soft moonlight stark against your skin as you sleep without a care in the world. zayne reaches a hand out; his fingers grazing your cheek for a second before pulling away. would it be wrong of him to simply wrap his arms around you, pull you close? so close that he could hear the sound of your heartbeat against his and your breath against his neck?

he doesn't have time to rationalize it before he's reacting instinctively. your body feels warm against his. just a second longer he assures himself that he'll let you go and things will go as they always have been tomorrow morning.

but when morning comes, sleep encourages him to hold you a little closer. the sweet scent of your shampoo fills his lungs as he slowly awakens. you're shifting beneath the sheets as well, burying your face in his chest with a satisfied sigh.

ೃ⁀➷ xavier

you stare out the window of your apartment. from the bathroom, you can hear the muffled roar of the shower head. you’re certain xavier had everything he needed. towel, shampoo, whatever else he wanted. but it was the sheer idea that he was here in your apartment of all places to sleep over that was making your nerves twist.

but what were you supposed to do when your poor neighbor had texted you about some issue with his apartment and was literally ready to sleep on the streets? so now you were taking him in like a wet dog in the rain.

your thoughts were interrupted when the bathroom door opened. a seething wave of steam flooded into the bedroom as xavier walked out. he was already wrapped up in his hoodie and sweatpants with a towel tossed lackadaisically over his sopping wet hair. speaking of a wet dog you supposed….

“sorry if i took too long,” he says, voice soft and warm from his hot shower. he scoots over towards you, still not attempting to dry his hair.

“you’re fine,” you say quickly, “do you need a blow dryer?”

he blinks softly before shaking his head. a singular droplet of water cascades down a strand of hair. you raise an eyebrow, patting the spot on the bed next to you.

“if you don’t dry your hair before you sleep, you’ll get sick,” you scold. he doesn’t pause regardless of his answer, plopping down in the mattress. it allows you to each up and peel the towel off his head. “i’ll dry it for you, turn around.”

he doesn’t protest, but there’s an amused look in his eyes when he leans his head forward for you. your hands make quick work of the slowly drying hair. you’re somewhat mesmerized by the sheer softness of it. as you finish, your hand cards through his scalp.

he takes your wrist gently. a gentle thump in your heart resounds. “we should head to bed right?” xavier asks.

and when the two of you are laying in the stillness. the sounds of your breathing intermingle amongst each other and the beating of your hearts sync.

xavier’s eyes are closed. his eyelashes are long. you can’t help but admire them. your hand slowly reaching out to close the distance between you two. it rests against his cheek, soaking in the features of his apparently sleeping expression.

then in his sleepy haze, his arms wrap around your waist as if ushering you closer. pressed up against his chest, you can inhale your own shampoo swimming through his own natural scent.

“xavier… are you awake?”

silence greets you, but xavier’s hold around you gets a little tighter.

ೃ⁀➷ rafayel and sylus coming soon…

[ahqkas]

the faint sound of childish giggles carried down the hall, like little chimes dancing on the breeze, pulling you toward your daughter’s room. her laughter always had a way of making the vast wayne manor feel alive, softening its towering walls and echoing halls. with careful steps, you approached the partially open door, peeking through the gap to see a sight so tender it made your heart squeeze.

inside, BRUCE WAYNE—the man known to the world as gotham’s brooding guardian—was seated on a tiny chair at a tea party table, his frame nearly comical in comparison to the delicate furniture around him. the tiny wooden chair creaked faintly under his weight, and his knees were bent awkwardly to fit beneath the table, but he didn’t seem to mind. across from him sat your little girl, her back straight, her head adorned with a glittery pink tiara that rested slightly crooked over her dark curls. her chubby hands clutched a porcelain teacup painted with tiny roses, a perfect match to the set laid before her.

bruce’s expression was one of quiet concentration, though his lips twitched with a trace of a smile as she poured “tea” into his cup from her plastic teapot.

“careful, daddy,” she instructed, her voice laced with the exaggerated seriousness of a hostess managing an important event. “it’s very hot.”

the man nodded solemnly, lifting the miniature cup delicately with two fingers, his every move deliberate as if this tea party were as crucial as a meeting in the batcave. “thank you, princess,” he replied in that low, smooth voice of his, though it softened into something warmer and sweeter. he brought the cup to his lips, pretending to take a slow sip. “hmm. the best tea i’ve ever had.”

your daughter beamed at his praise, her cheeks puffing with pride. “it’s chamomile,” she announced confidently, as though she had a mastery of teas far beyond her years.

“ah, chamomile,” bruce said with mock seriousness, setting the cup back down carefully. “you’ve outdone yourself this time. you might even be better at making tea than alfred.”

“better than alfie?” she gasped, eyes wide as saucers.

bruce leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “don’t tell him i said that. it’ll be our little secret.”

she giggled so hard she nearly tipped the teapot, her whole body trembling with delight.

from your position at the doorway, you pressed a hand to your chest, feeling a warmth bloom there that was almost overwhelming. this was a side of bruce wayne that no one else got to see—the man who had battled his way through gotham’s darkness, who carried the weight of a city on his shoulders, sitting at a tea party and calling his daughter princess like it was the most natural thing in the world.

and to you, it was.

[emilys-bangs]

So I loved to see you are taking requests for tooth rotting fluff and I’ve been thinking, what an established relationship in which Emily gets super jealous when someone’s flirting w r and instead of being mad or sad, she just responds by getting extra touchy and really wants to make you believe that she loves you better and louder and softer than anyone else could? (You obv already know) this is super random so sorry if it’s not your vibe lol

nuisance | e.p

Tags: established relationship, fluff, jealous / possessive emily, a gross man, no use of yn, use of petnames

Word count: 0.9k

This is absolutely perfect, tysm for requesting <3

A soft laugh tumbles from your lips as Emily whispers in your ear, idly profiling the dining guests from your place at the bar. She’s standing next to you while you sit on the plush stool, two drinks in front of you as you wait to be seated.

She’s chosen the perfect place. The restaurant is lit up with the warm glow of candlelights, soft music playing over the clinks of cutlery and the hushed conversations of couples. Emily is wrapped up in a burgundy dress, the satin kissing her pale skin in a way you’re almost jealous of. Her voice is soft, her fingertips softer still as they skim your arm and leave idle goosebumps in their wake. 

You feel almost sickeningly in love; your heart is just on the cusp of racing, your cheeks heated with a warm glow at the tenderness of her attention. It’s a rare opportunity, to see her like this—dressed up and relaxed and oh so gentle, her eyes shimmering with the love you know is reflected clearly in your own face.

“And that guy,” she murmurs, subtly tilting her head to the suited man sitting in the corner, “oh, he’s a piece of work,”—you giggle and her eyes soften, her lips tilting upward in a smile—“his suit looks like Armani and that’s definitely a Rolex, so you know he’s a lawyer. Pity, their egos are sky—”

“Excuse me?” Someone interrupts. You and Emily both turn in the direction of the voice, expecting to see the hostess.

It’s not her. A man stands in front of you, the determined look on his face informing you of his intentions before he even speaks.

Emily’s arm curls around your waist. “Can we help you?” Her tone is pointed and sharp, edged with irritation you know only you can hear—apparently she sniffed him out, too.

The man ignores her. His eyes slide to you; the unabashed hunger in them makes you stifle a disgusted shiver. “Can I buy you a drink?” He leans against the bar, dragging his gaze over your body.

“I already have one.” You say flatly, “In case you didn’t see.”

“He’s too busy looking at you to notice it,” Emily’s voice turns warm as she hooks her finger under your chin and gently brings your eyes back to hers. Her fingers tighten on your waist, the darkness of her eyes as intense as a black hole as her thumb ghosts over your bottom lip. “I don’t blame him, chérie,” she breathes, her words now for you only, “have you seen yourself tonight? You’re breathtaking.” Her fingers gently rake through your hair, careful not to mess it up.

A shiver dances down your spine. Cheeks hot, you tilt your chin upward. 

Getting the hint, Emily leans in for a kiss, not before you see the smug smile on her lips. Surprisingly she’s soft, caressing your lips gently, reverently, instead of kissing you with possessive intent. Somehow it makes you love her impossibly more, and you sink further into her kiss before an annoyed ahem breaks you out of your daze.

You turn to the man with a scrunch between your brows. “You’re still here?” You ask, fighting to keep a straight face when Emily snorts. She hides the sound in your forehead, her lips gently pressing against your temple. The hand on your bare arm distracts you, and as she draws circles on your skin you barely notice the napkin that the man slides across the bar, his number written messily on it.

“If you ever change your mind from that,” he sneers at Emily, her responding scoff dripping with derision, “call me.” 

He has the audacity to smile.

Anger flares in your stomach. “Watch your fucking—”

“That’s sweet.” Emily interrupts before you throw a punch. “I don’t think you want it though, do you, amor?” She trails her knuckles down your cheek, her eyes still hot with jealousy. The low murmur of her voice almost soothes the fire in your veins.

“No.” You say, twirling your chair to properly face her. Her nimble fingers cup your jaw and you lean into her hand, raising your voice so the man can hear you. “You’ve got a lighter on you, haven’t you?”

Emily grins. The dimples in her cheeks make you smile back, even as the man sputters behind you.

“Emily Prentiss?” The hostess comes by then, giving you an apologetic smile. “Your table is ready.”

“Just in time.” Emily doesn’t spare the man another glance as she holds out her hand for you. You take it, smiling as she carefully helps you down from the stool. Her fingers thread through yours and you turn to grab your phone.

Ever in tune with you, Emily squeezes your fingers. “I’ll get it, my love.” She murmurs, grabbing your phone and hers, as well as her purse. With the barest tips of her fingers, she grabs the napkin and tosses it into your half-full wine glass as the man gawks.

You laugh softly as Emily turns and gently pulls you to your table, both of you steadfastly ignoring the hot set of eyes behind you. She drops your hand when you reach the table, only to pull out the chair for you, a sparkle in her dark eyes.

You grin at her brightly. 

Emily feigns confusion. “What?” She asks, her brow arching.

“I love you.” 

A slow smile spreads across her lips. Emily grabs your hand, gently kisses your knuckles and leaves behind traces of her lipstick. 

“I love you, too.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

[onlyhereforthestories]

Mimosas and Friends (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Day 19! I like the idea of this one but not sure I like how it has turned out. I am not going to lie i had to get some help with the secret santa gits and the mimosas!

The morning sun peeked through the frost-covered windows, casting a warm glow across your living room as you rushed between the kitchen and dining room, setting out the final touches for the Christmas brunch. Holiday music drifted softly through the apartment, mingling with the scents of cinnamon, warm syrup, and fresh coffee. You could feel the holiday spirit bubbling within you as you arranged a plate of croissants and pastries, making sure everything looked perfect.

“Need any help in here?” Alexia’s voice drifted from behind you. She appeared in the doorway, wearing a soft green sweater that matched her eyes, her cheeks slightly pink from the chilly morning air.

You smiled, appreciating her festive choice. “Yes, please! Can you bring out the fruit salad and maybe set the glasses? I think that’s all that’s left.”

She gave you a playful salute, grabbing the fruit bowl and placing it in the centre of the table, adjusting the dishes with a small jiggle as she danced to the music. Alexia had been excited about hosting brunch for your friends all week, even coming up with ideas for a holiday mimosa bar and picking out little decorations to give the place an extra cozy feel. The kitchen table was decked out with poinsettias, mini holiday wreaths, and sparkly gold place cards. You were so proud of what you had both done, it was simple, warm, and perfectly festive.

“Everything looks amazing,” she said, glancing around with satisfaction. “Do you think we went a little overboard with the decorations?”

You laughed, nudging her lightly. “It’s Christmas! I think it’s just the right amount of overboard.”

Alexia’s eyes sparkled as she gave you a quick kiss on the lips, lingering a little longer than you expected before pulling back. “I’ll start the coffee maker so we’re ready as soon as they get here. You know how much Mapi and Marta need their caffeine.”

Just as she pressed the start button, you heard the buzzer. Your friends had arrived, and the excitement of the holiday gathering filled you both as you headed to the door together.

Mapi, Caro, Frido, and a few more friends stepped inside, bundled up and cheeks flushed from the chilly December air. They greeted you with hugs and exclamations over the decorations, the inviting warmth of the apartment, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting from the kitchen.

“Oh, this place looks incredible!” Mapi said, wide-eyed as she took in the setup. “And you even set up a mimosa bar? That’s it, you two are officially the hostesses of the year. And you must host every time, me and Ingrid well, Ingrid would never be able to beat this on her own.”

You couldn’t help the burst of laughter that came tumbling out when Mapi stumbled forward from the hit to the back of her head she received from Ingrid. You really loved your friends, and you were so glad you could all make this day happen around your busy schedules.

You exchanged a grin with Alexia as Frido helped herself to a cranberry-orange mimosa, raising her glass in appreciation. “To Christmas brunch with the best hosts!” she said, grinning.

“To Christmas brunch!” everyone chimed, clinking glasses before settling around the table, diving into the spread of pastries, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit.

Everyone settled into the tightly packed dining room, exchanging excited chatter and laughs as they filled their plates. The warmth of the food, mixed with the holiday décor, brought an unmistakable festive energy to the room. Frido and Mapi were already diving into the mimosa bar, experimenting with cranberry juice and orange zest to create their own “perfect holiday drink.”

As everyone settled in, you and Alexia took your places side by side at the table, watching as your friends tucked into the meal you’d both worked so hard to prepare. You couldn’t help but feel a glow of pride at the satisfied murmurs and eager “Mmm” sounds that filled the room.

“I have to say,” Mapi spoke through a mouthful of French toast, “this is the best decision we’ve made all month. Top-tier food, top-tier company.”

“Oh, and don’t forget top-tier decorations!” Patri teased, reaching over to pinch one of the mini wreaths adorning the table. “I love that you two went all out. It feels like we’re in some kind of cozy Christmas movie.”

Alexia laughed, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “What can I say? I don’t do things halfway,” she replied, giving your hand a gentle squeeze under the table. “Especially not when it’s Christmas.”

As the conversation drifted to light hearted topics, everyone sharing stories of past holiday memories, you took a moment to just look around the table. Friends sharing laughs over gingerbread pancakes and eggnog-flavoured lattes, plates of pastries disappearing under happy chatter. It was exactly the kind of holiday moment you’d envisioned when you and Alexia had decided to host this brunch.

“Alright, holiday confession time,” Mapi announced, setting her fork down and pointing at each of you in turn. “What’s the best, or most embarrassing, Christmas present you’ve ever received?”

Alexia groaned playfully, glancing at you with a mock-warning expression. “Do you really want to go there? Because I’ll tell them about that Christmas sweater.”

“Oh, please do,” Claudia jumped in, her eyes widening with anticipation. “I want details.”

You shook your head, trying not to laugh. “It wasn’t that bad!” you protested, though the memory of the sweater, a handmade creation from a well-meaning relative, was enough to make your cheeks burn red.

“Oh, it was legendary,” Alexia said with a laugh, leaning back and giving your friends a vivid description of the neon-green monstrosity with flashing LED lights and a battery pack. “She wore it to my family’s Christmas dinner and accidentally leaned back, setting off the lights. Everyone thought it was intentional. It was iconic.”

The table erupted into laughter, and you covered your face, smiling despite yourself. “Okay, fine, you’ve got me. But what about you, Alexia? I distinctly remember a certain singing reindeer hat…”

Mapi and Patri’s curiosity was instantly piqued. They leaned forward, and with an exaggerated sigh, Alexia explained how her sister had once gifted her a fuzzy red hat with antlers and a button that, when pressed, played a very off-key version of “Jingle Bells.”

The light hearted exchange continued, each of you sharing funny or sentimental memories, creating new ones together as you teased and laughed over your food and drinks. Someone switched the playlist to a mix of holiday classics, and you all joined in on an enthusiastic, but slightly off-key, rendition of “Last Christmas,” singing with your whole hearts as if you were on stage rather than around a breakfast table.

As the plates emptied, Alexia got up to refill the coffee pot, catching your eye with a gentle smile. She paused, watching you for a moment as you leaned across the table, laughing at something Mapi said. She placed a soft hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“This turned out even better than I thought,” she whispered, her voice low enough that only you could hear.

You smiled back, heart warmed by her expression. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

With a quick wink, she moved back to the coffee station, and you turned your attention back to your friends, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you.

After a few more rounds of coffee, and even a spontaneous and slightly competitive mimosa-mixing contest, everyone leaned back in their chairs, looking happily full and relaxed.

“Okay, I have an idea,” Alexia announced, standing up and grabbing a small basket from the counter. “It wouldn’t be a proper holiday brunch without a little Secret Santa action, right?”

Your friends perked up, exchanging surprised and excited glances as Alexia handed out small envelopes to each person. Earlier in the week, she’d put together little “gift vouchers,” fun little coupons that each friend could cash in for things like a coffee date, a game of football, or even something silly, like “One Free Favor (No Complaints Allowed).”

She handed one of the envelopes to you last, a secretive smile on her face as you opened it. Inside was a handwritten note in her familiar scrawl: “One day of your choice, anywhere you want. I’ll make it happen.”

You looked up, grinning, and Alexia shrugged with a playful smile. “Can’t have my favourite person missing out on the fun,” she said, her tone warm.

One by one, each person shared what they’d received, laughter filling the room as they joked about how they’d “cash in” their favours. Frido declared she’d be calling in her “Free Dinner” voucher immediately, while Mapi, in typical style, was already making plans for her “One Free Dance Session” from Alexia.

As the brunch slowly wound down, the group lounged around the table, nursing their drinks and sharing more stories, reluctant to let the day end. Eventually, as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the conversation shifted to everyone’s holiday plans and the promise to gather again soon.

After the last friend left, the apartment felt quiet but wonderfully warm, still glowing with the energy of shared laughter and friendship. You and Alexia exchanged a tired but happy look, both of you lingering in the contentment of the morning.

“That was perfect,” you said, leaning into her, your arm slipping around her waist as you both looked at the remnants of the brunch.

Alexia sighed softly, her arm around your shoulders as she pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “It really was,” she murmured. “We’ll have to make this a new tradition. Just like this, every year.”

[my-my-my]

KINKTOBER DAY 9 - Hate fucking/degradation: Sosuke Aizen x Female Reader x Kisuke Urahara

Summary: Aizen hates you. He hates you so much. It’s why he comes to all your parties, especially the one you’re having tonight, because he hates you so much, you know? He hates your cute smile, your sweet personality, your doting attention to him, and how he thinks about you constantly. He also hates you talking to Urahara Kisuke.

TW: MDNI! Modern AU. Aizen is a tsundere in this, I guess? (not familiar with the -dere types haha). Creepy Aizen, violent thoughts, implied stalking, jealousy, panty stealing, dry humping, dirty talk, hair pulling, rough sex, double penetration (vaginal & anal), denial of feelings.

Word count: 3588

Read on AO3 here.

Aizen hates this.

No, he loathes this.

He sits in your apartment seething, sipping the beer bottle you had given him, as he watches you play the wonderful hostess to Hirako Shinji and Urahara Kisuke (and everyone else).

He hates beer, but he graciously took the bottle you gave him. How could he say no with everyone around, with you batting your disgusting, stunning eyes at him, and telling him it was your favourite brand?

He wanted to pour the bottle over your head instead.

But no, the mild-mannered Aizen Sosuke was polite, kind and gracious. That would be unheard of to everyone.

Except you. You wormed your way under his skin, into his thoughts and his dreams. It was almost as if you knew what would enrage him, trick him into letting his mask slip.

There were other people in your apartment, but he didn't care about them. His eyes were on you alone, as you mingled with everyone. But every so often you would come to check on those two, specifically Urahara. Aizen narrowed his eyes when saw the faintest hint of a blush on your cheeks.

Aizen would also catch you glimpsing at him every so often, but you would quickly turn your head. You played it cool with him. He didn't like that.

He wanted to snap your neck and force you to look at him, but you danced a fine line with him instead.

Every chug of the disgusting beer reinforces how much Aizen doesn’t like you. How he doesn’t like anyone in this room, but especially you.

You wanted to throw a party for the fun of it, claiming you felt like being social, and he was the first person you asked. He frowns at the memory, recalling the way you cutely smiled as you thought of who else to invite (which was everyone he hates), what snacks you serve (foods that revolted him) and what drinks to offer everyone (alcohol that disgusted him). Your idiotic, beautiful smile irritated him. And he agreed to come over.

“Oh maybe I should invite Urahara-san and Hirako-san! That would be fun, wouldn’t it be Sosuke?” You laughed, a grin spreading wide on your ugly, lovely face.

People sit next to him, chattering away and ever the courteous person, Aizen responds. He has a reputation to uphold. He gives a fake chuckle at some inane joke a person, who he doesn’t care for, tries to make.

Another person chats with him as they talk about politics, but it’s too shallow of a conversation for his liking. Aizen hates their opinions and rather smash their face in, but he gives a polite smile and offers a mild oppositional thought. But it goes over the person’s head and Aizen is furious.

Aizen engages with more people at your party. He laughs with them, smiles at them, but he’ll catch you looking at him, a knowing smile on your hideous, angelic face.

It’s why Aizen hates you. You enjoy his presence, especially when he’s alone, away from the fawning and cooing of women and men around him. He hates how fast his mask slips around you. You manage to pull out his cold personality, where’s he’s cruel with his thoughts and feelings towards other people, where he thinks he’s above everyone.

Especially you.

It’s why he excuses himself to go to the bathroom, but instead finds himself in your bedroom. As if he hasn’t been here before.

He hates you so much, which is why he knows where you keep your clothes, your bags and your dirty laundry.  He’s staring at your hamper in disgust as he sees a black, lacy thong. Of course he doesn’t like you, it was earlier today when you bent down to grab your pen in front of him and he saw your pussy covered by the offending fabric. And you gave him that thoughtless, cute smile as if you didn’t flash him. He hates you, that’s why his cock is growing hard.

Aizen picks up the flimsy piece of underwear, seeing light, sticky residue where your pussy would be.

He isn’t doing anything wrong. You deserve this because you had the audacity to invite him over in the first place. He hates you so much, he’ll cover your ugly, sexy thong in his cum.

Aizen lets out a groan as he fists your thong over his cock. His eyebrows are furrowed, thinking about the way your ass was so round and perky, the only thing that would make it perfect were his missing handprints.

He can’t stand you, as he thinks of you finding him like this. How you’d have that stupid, beautiful smile of yours and help him. How you’d politely sit between his legs, licking the tip of his cock. Of course he hates you, it’s why he hisses out your name as his cum covers your thong, as he lays on your neat bed that smells of you.

He stares at the pair of panties in his hand, covered in his cum, as he uses it to wipe his cock clean. Aizen tucks himself in and pulls out his phone, taking a photo of his prize. He doesn’t like you, it’s why he has photos of your cum-covered blue panties, your nude-coloured bra and now your black thong.

He leaves your bedroom as it was before and makes his way to your bathroom. He’s washing his hands, grimacing at the scent of the soap. The scent reminds him of you, sweet and floral, and it infuriates him.

No one bats an eye to Aizen as he enters the room again, picking up a new conversation with someone else he can barely tolerate. He sees you mingling with Urahara again.

One pointless conversation after another, but soon people began to leave your apartment. Aizen is sitting on your couch, drinking another bottle of your favourite, disgusting beer. He watches you giggle and joke around with Urahara, as Hirako excuses himself to leave. You give him a hug, and it’s a bit too tight and too long for Aizen’s liking, but he continues chatting with the random person blathering away next to him, nodding his head to another terrible opinion.

He should have left your place sooner. He should have never come at all. Which is why he’s the last one there as Urahara leaves. Aizen can’t stand you, which is why he’s staring intently as he sees you give Urahara a tighter, longer hug.

The party is over and it’s just you and him. Aizen takes off his fake glasses and glares at you as you hum and clean your apartment. He doesn’t like you, which is why he’s helping you with the trash.

The two of you sit on the couch, and Aizen gets a whiff of your shampoo. It’s pleasant and clean and it bothers him like no other. You sigh and lean next to him, “thanks for coming, Sosuke. I know you don’t like these things.”

Aizen doesn’t say anything as he glares at you, but his body is relaxed as he feels you lay next to him. His hate for you is beginning to make him feel disoriented.

“I have a present for you for being so good today.” You give him a soft smile, and he wants to grab your face. If it were any other person, Aizen expected a bottle of his favourite wine, an actual meal he’d appreciate or a book he’d enjoyed.

Instead, you stand up and slip your hands under your skirt, handing him the lilac panties you were just wearing. Aizen’s eyes are wide as you place it in his hands, as you sit back down next to him, snuggling into his chest.

This is why he hates you. He hates this gift. He hates how you make him feel.

“What is this?” He asks, his tone pointed and laced with venom.

“My underwear. I figured you’d want to keep a pair this time.” You say, a small yawn escaping your lips as if you two were talking about the weather.

Silence echoes the room, as Aizen stares at the panties in his hand, back to you. Your eyes are drooping. You’re too comfortable around him and he’s sick of it.

He rather see you cry over his cock in your mouth, your pussy or your ass.

“You’re an insufferable woman. What makes you think I’d enjoy this?” Aizen sneers, but the grip on your panties is tight, his knuckles are white.

You smile at him, eyes drooping, “Sosuke, I think you know why. Can I watch you cum on them this time?” You cup his face and steal a peck from his lips, leaving him in shock again.

But before you can lay on his chest again, Aizen grabs a fistful of your hair, earning a yelp as he forces your head up. Aizen is furious, his eyes flaring, but you smile, giggling at his reaction.

“You should relax sometimes,” you laugh, but wince as his grip gets tighter in your hair, “you’re so nice, it makes me puke. We both know you don’t give a rat’s ass about most people.” You crudely laugh.

Aizen’s eyes flash again. He thinks about slamming your head against the wall, but brings your face close to his, smashing his lips against yours. Your arms claw at his chest as he nips at your lips, forcing you to open your mouth as you feel his tongue enter.

Then he pulls you away, the hand in your hair gone as you felt the dull pain from your scalp. Aizen’s face is expressionless as he runs a thumb over your disgusting, lovely lips.

“Were you mad I was talking to Kisuke-chan?” You give him a snicker, crawling into his lap. “I’m so sorry Sosuke,” you teased, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and kissing his bare chest.

“You’re a vile woman.” Aizen scoffs, pulling your hair again to stop your kisses. You’re being forced to look into his eyes, and he watches in amusement and disgust how gorgeous your eyes are with tears threatening to spill.

You moan into the kiss as you feel Aizen grip your hips and pull you down against his erection. Your bare pussy rubbing against the cloth, adding friction between you. He pulls away from the kiss again, and you whine, “Sosuke, you’re so mean.” You pouted, then gasp as he leans into his seat, your pussy rubbing against his erection again.

Aizen gives you a cruel smirk, “I thought that’s what you wanted, or do you want,” Aizen slightly lifts your hips, “something else?” and slams you against his erection again, earning a loud groan from you. You bite your lip and try to steady yourself against his chest, while Aizen grins at watching you struggle. “Why don’t you show me what you want?” Aizen remarks cruelly, his eyes glinting with danger.

You trail your hands down to his pants, but he stops you, grabbing your wrist and placing them on his chest again, “I didn’t give you permission to do that.” Aizen scolds you, followed by a heavy smack against your ass. You yelp in his lap. “I said show me what you want.”

Your cheeks feel hot as you adjust yourself in his lap again. You shakily lower your hips against the bulge in his pants, the feeling forcing you to moan. Then you feel Aizen’s hands on your hips again, guiding you to a steady rhythm, until you feel your orgasm fast approaching.

You writhe and moan in Aizen’s lap, as your pussy rubs across his cloth-covered erection. Aizen watches in satisfaction at the tears spilling from your eyes as you chase your orgasm. His name echoes across the room as you scream. You clutch his shirt and pant loudly, your breathing shaky and eyes watery from what just happened.

Once you catch your breath, you lift your hips and look down, “oh Sosuke, you made such a mess of your pants.” You coo, reaching down to touch him, only to be shocked that he’s still hard.

Aizen smirks at you, “wasn’t it a dirty slut that just made a mess of my pants? Or is she too cock-hungry to notice what she’s done?” Your cheeks flare red from his insults.

But before you could quip back at him, your phone rang, it was the buzzer to your unit. You quickly grabbed your phone and immediately answered it, while in Aizen’s lap.

Aizen kissed your neckline, squeezing your breasts as you answered the phone. “Oh hi! Yeah, no worries. You can come up right now.” You happily said, earning a frown from Aizen.

He narrowed his eyes, unsure of who was on the other line.

“Don’t you worry, Sosuke! We’ll still have fun, I promise.” You giggle, kissing his cheek.

Then rapt knocks were heard, as you rushed to the door. You peeked through the peephole to make sure it was your guest.

“Hi Kisuke-chan! Come right in, I’ll go grab your stuff.” You smile, pulling him inside.

Aizen fucking hates you.

“Oh, hello Aizen-san. I didn’t know you were still here.” Kisuke sheepishly laughed, noticing the disheveled look on both him and you.

You appeared with his unopened sake box, “here you go!” You said, smiling brightly at him. You leaned into him, and whispered into his ear, “but you’re more than happy to stay. We’re just about to have some fun.” You teased, before beaming at Aizen.

“I don’t want to intrude or impose.” Kisuke smiled back, “but if the hostess insists…” leaning down to give you a kiss.

Aizen stares coldly as you pull Kisuke to the seat next to him. “Oh Kisuke-chan, you’ll have to forgive me.” You pout, “Sosuke-kun gets a bit jealous.”

The two of them watch you crawl to the ground, finding yourself between Sosuke’s spread legs. With no hesitation, you pull his stiff cock from his pants, precum dripping down his shaft. You look up at him as you swallow his tip, savouring his taste. Sosuke stifles a groan, but leans back into his seat, his fingers threading your hair once again. You moan softly around him then pull yourself away, lapping at his cock as your hand replaces your mouth.

“Sosuke-kun, it’s ok to share.” You tease again, your other hand on Kisuke’s thigh. Kisuke wastes no time and pulls his erection, sliding his hand up and down before you grab it in your other hand. You fist both cocks, taking turns to taste each one.

You soon find yourself bobbing your head on Kisuke’s cock. You run your tongue over the veins of his shaft, not noticing Sosuke left his seat.

Until he licks your slick cunt. He laps at your clit in fervor, pumping two fingers inside you. As if he were a starving man, eagerly lapping at your cunt. The lewd sound fills your ears as you continue to suck on Kisuke’s heavy cock. You gasped loudly once Sosuke pushes his cock into your weeping cunt. You pull your mouth away, moaning loudly, before Kisuke taps your face with his cock. Sosuke bends down to your ear, pounding away at your pussy, “dirty slut, finish what you started.” He sneers, pushing your head back into Kisuke’s cock.

Kisuke smirks down at you as you struggle to fit him with Sosuke thrusting behind you. Before you know it, Kisuke’s slamming his cock down your throat as Sosuke relentlessly fucks your pussy, slapping your ass along the way. You whine and cry as the two men use your body as they see fit.

Kisuke pulls his cock out of your mouth, saliva dribbling down your chin and his cock. A sharp cry escapes your lips as Sosuke rubs your clit, forcing another orgasm out of you. The sound is obscene in your living room, as your pussy clenches tightly around him.

Then he pulls out and sits back on the couch. His cock standing erect, covered in your glistening juices. Sosuke pulls out a condom and slides it over his shaft, before throwing another one to Kisuke.

“I have a present for you,” Sosuke smirks, “but only if you sit here.” He says, pointing to his cock. Your eyes widen, your pussy clenching as you make your way into his lap, but he forces your back to him. You stare at Kisuke, as he slides the condom over his own cock. You begin to pant as Sosuke grabs your thighs and forces them apart, lining his cock with your ass. Your puckered hole inches away from his tip.

Your pussy was soaking wet that your juices covered your puckered hole. You inhaled harshly as Sosuke pushes his cock inside your ass. The burn was a new sensation, but he took care to rub your pussy, distracting you before he was fully inside you.

You moaned at the unusual feeling, your pussy aching to be filled. Kisuke watched in amusement, “did you get your fill? Or is that not enough for you?” He teased, a cheshire grin appearing on his face.

You bit your lip and spread your pussy lips for him, “there’s still room for one more” you murmur, circling your pussy. Sosuke started to thrust into your ass, moans bubbling out of you, “Sosuke-kun needs to learn how to share tonight.” You tease.

Kisuke laughs, “I’m happy to oblige.” Kisuke bends down to your pussy, pressing his face as he licks away, sucking on your clit as he circles a finger around your entrance. Unlike Sosuke, Kisuke’s taking his time with your pussy. The swipes of his tongue are long, but gentle, as if you were a meal he was savouring. You tug on Kisuke’s hair as another orgasm approaches, your pussy throbbing from the sensation of Sosuke’s cock buried in your ass, and the gentle touches of Kisuke’s mouth. But before you could beg for more, Kisuke gently cups your face and kisses you, his cock pushing into your pussy. The feeling was different than Sosuke’s, but you felt so full. Both men stayed still, letting you get adjusted to the feeling of both their cocks.

But Sosuke was impatient, he doesn’t want you to get familiar to the feeling and slams his hips into you. He bites your ear and shoulder, and any part of your exposed body. Kisuke kisses you in return, as he increases his pace in your sore cunt.

The feeling’s too much though, and tears spill from your eyes as your body loses itself from the pleasure. Kisuke feasts on your breasts, while Sosuke reaches to your clit and rubs it gently. You writhe in between them, chasing your orgasm.

You clench your pussy as Sosuke rubs your clit faster and harder, Kisuke’s thrusts matching Sosuke’s pace. “She has such a tight pussy, Aizen-san. No wonder you don’t want to share.”

Sosuke glares at Kisuke but says nothing.

“I c-can’t.” You babble, another orgasm fast approaching. You whine at how full they make you feel, before you cum again. Kisuke’s thrusts become more erratic, matching Sosuke’s intensity, before they both cum inside you.

Kisuke is the first to pull out, kissing you gently on the lips. Sosuke’s softening cock is still in your ass, as you squirm in his lap. You watch Kisuke tuck himself away and put back his clothes. He throws away the condom and grabs his belongings.

“Have a good night’s sleep, you two!” Kisuke beams cheerfully, waving goodbye, as if he didn’t fuck your pussy sore.

It was just the two of you now. Sosuke kisses all the bite marks he left on your body. You can’t help but wince as Sosuke pulls himself out of you. Your ass is sore from him fucking you silly and the spanking he gave earlier. You laid on the couch as Aizen got up, pulling the condom off his soft cock. “Sosuke-kun, don’t leave please.” You whined, your body completely sore from what just happened.

Sosuke stares down at you and holds the used condom over you. His cooling cum drops all over your face. Sosuke hates you and thoroughly enjoys rubbing cum into your skin. He can't stand how you look beautiful with his cum all over you.

“I’ll stay.” He says softly, scooping you into his arms. He doesn't like you, but relishes that you asked him to stay instead of Kisuke. He carries you to your bedroom and tucks you in.

“Did you and Urahara plan this out before?” Sosuke asked, in denial that he had a threesome with two people he disliked. He finds it disgusting how cute you look when you’re sleepy.

Yawns escape your mouth as you lie next to him, not registering his question. “Thank you for tonight, Sosuke” you say, sleep lacing your words, “I’ve never tried anal before.” You murmured, “I’m glad it was with you though.” Sosuke’s shocked by your words, but a small part of him reels in the fact that he was your first, not Kisuke.

“Were you planning this from the start? Have you fucked Kisuke before?” Sosuke asked, narrowing his eyes at how… easy it was to get him to fuck you.

Sosuke glared as you pulled him closer to you. You yawned loudly again and snuggled into his chest, “you think too much, Sosuke. I’m yours, nothing’s gonna change that.”

Sosuke sighs in annoyance, “I hate you so much, you insufferable minx.” But you’re already asleep. Sosuke can’t stand you but has the best night’s sleep with you in his arms.

PHEW. WOW. Didn't expect to write this one today, but here we are!! The title on AO3 comes from Sex Schön vs Sam Amant - Psycho Bitch (TW youtube link contains blood/injury!).

[souvboa]

Rooftops DJ Souv SLT 12pm Tuesday 4 April 2023 by Souv Boa Via Flickr: Hey there party people! Are you ready to salsa your way to the top of the world? Then come join us on Tuesday, April 4th at 12pm at Rooftops Club for a salsoul extravaganza! We've got DJ Souv on the turntables, spinning the hottest salsoul beats you've ever heard, and Hostess Lux will be there to keep you all entertained and looking fabulous. And let's be real, who doesn't want to look fabulous while dancing the night away? So come on up to the rooftop and let's party like it's 1979! We promise you'll have a blast and leave with some serious dance moves. And don't forget, the dress code is funky and fabulous, so leave your boring clothes at home. See you there, party animals! maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Honor/164/122/3555 Salsoul music is a genre of dance music that originated in the late 1970s in New York City. It is characterized by its use of Latin percussion and disco-style arrangements, and is often referred to as "disco-salsa." The term "Salsoul" comes from the name of the record label that popularized the genre, Salsoul Records. The label was founded by brothers Joe and Ken Cayre in 1974, and quickly became one of the most important outlets for dance music in the US. Salsoul music was heavily influenced by the disco sound that was popular at the time, but also incorporated elements of Latin music such as salsa and mambo. Some of the most famous Salsoul artists include the Salsoul Orchestra, Loleatta Holloway, and First Choice. Salsoul music had a significant impact on dance music as a whole, and helped to pave the way for later genres such as house and techno. Today, Salsoul music is still enjoyed by dance music fans around the world, and continues to influence contemporary dance music production.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

⋆⁺₊❅ mistletoe mayhem

Steve Harrington x Reader 

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: My third contribution to @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas is best described as ‘meddling and mistletoe’

Content: Sneaking around and secret relationships. Yearning! Flirting! Ghosts of sexy-time past. Supportive but annoying friends! Loverboy Steve Harrington. 

✨ bang average festive fics ✨ Dividers by @strangergraphics ✨ 

Sylvia Harrington loved Christmas. 

She loved the bright gold lights, regal red baubles and gifts wrapped in shiny paper topped elegant bows. She loved playing hostess at the Annual Harrington Christmas Soiree, when her dress always matched her husband’s tie and her son’s sweater. She loved the spectacle of it all, the champagne and the meticulously put-together canapes. She loved the praise for her perfection.

Every year, their house in Loch Nora had the best decorations in the neighbourhood - she would wager the best in town - with a huge tree on the front lawn, adorned with bright lights and a shiny star the same hue as her favourite champagne. Sylvia Harrington loved her golden life, her successful husband and her gorgeous golden son. 

But the very thought of coloured Christmas lights and non-matching tree ornaments made her stomach churn. Chintzy, tacky decor gave her hives. 

Steve had always been in awe of them, the way multi-coloured string lights danced and popped in the dark winter light. He liked how the colours blurred behind his eyes when he gazed out the car window. When Steve was eight his father called him ungrateful for asking if they could get coloured lights that year, snapping unfairly at his son before Sylvia could let him down gently. He quickly learned not to bother asking again.

Tonight, the Harrington house is an explosion of colour, and while Steve misses his Mom - he hopes that she is enjoying her shiny gold Christmas in New York - he would much rather be here, watching Max and El wrap tinsel around their scrunchies and hang bright baubles from their ears like earrings, listening to Mike bitching that this was slave labour, that Steve could decorate his own damn tree.

He would much rather be here, watching how the colourful lights shine on you as you perfect the garland running along the mantlepiece. How you throw your head back at something Lucas said, your laugh melding into the cacophony of noise and Chrismas cheer.

“Oooh, mistletoe!”

Robin’s voice cuts through his dreamy daze, louder than teens laughing and squabbling and the Christmas music drifting from the speakers. She holds a sprig aloft over her head and shares a grin with Vickie, whose cheeks heat up beneath her rosy blush. 

“Who brought mistletoe?” Dustin asks, looking up from where he has been methodically planning the most efficient use of the extension chords and outlets. 

Shrugs and shaking heads ripple around the room. No one owns up to it. It’s not like Vickie’s aunt owns a florist that she works in at the weekends. Everyone seems to have conveniently forgotten that, even Vickie herself. 

Steve catches your eye and smiles a little before you turn back to the garland, adding one more silver bauble before backing up a few steps with your hands on your hips.

“Is it too much?” you ask, seeking out Steve’s opinion.  It’s his house after all, and although he has given his friends free reign it is only fair he should have his say now that he is the man of the house. 

The garland is a little lopsided and homely, far from the primped-to-perfection monstrosity his mother would insist on.

“I love it,” he says, smiling. He joins you by the fireplace to take in the masterpiece. “You’re a natural.”

Your cheeks heat up as you feel the warmth of his body next to yours. 

Behind your backs, your friends share secret smiles. The plan had spread quickly and quietly before they arrived, weeks of planning how to get you and Steve together. All you two needed was a little push, right? It was going to be a cakewalk. (Max had full-on screamed into a pillow when Dustin called it a ‘Christmas Cakewalk’ with that shit-eating grin of his).

“Let’s hang some,” Lucas says, taking a sprig from Robin. “Max, wanna help me?”

The couple (back together after their post-Thanksgiving fight) peel away from the group with mischievous smiles, partly because of their genius plan and the rest because it’s a perfect excuse to make out a little bit in Steve’s big house. 

“I’m going to hang some over your mirror so you can kiss your reflection without shame,” Robin teases, messing up Steve’s hair as he goes back to placing mismatched ornaments on the tree. 

As everyone returns to their tasks, you catch Steve’s eye again and share another little smile. 

Within the hour, the decorating has been completed, with the addition of the mystery mistletoe strategically placed around the house. Friendly kisses have already been exchanged - Dustin kissed Vickie’s hand in the most gentlemanly way, and Steve earned himself a wet smacker on the cheek from Eddie when he arrived just as the hard work was done. 

Everyone has drawn a name for your Secret Santa gift exchange, another get-together in Steve’s house on the day before Christmas Eve. There have not been many obvious swaps, but a few whispered “who did you get?’s”

There is far too much pizza, and laughter rings throughout the cozy house. Steve looks around, sees his friends bathed in colourful light, and feels the joy that had been missing from all of those other Christmases. The big empty house is no more, lived in and adorned with reminders of each of his friends even when they are not there; character sheets and forgotten dice, scrunchies and sweaters and guitar picks. Robin has all but made one of the guest rooms her second home.

He thinks about how his mother’s eye would twitch at the explosion of colour, the noise and chaos that comes with The Party. Steve loves it. He thinks of how she would plaster on a smile and pretend it’s fine, and play hostess with the mostest while gritting her teeth so hard that her teeth might crumble.

He does not let himself think of his father’s barely contained hatred of it all, or how he would hurl insults at his idiot son and his degenerate friends. Richard Harrington was worse than the Grinch, who at least had the capacity for love in his heart. Steve was not about to let the memory of him ruin tonight. 

“Hey.” 

Steve smiles when feels the warm press of your arm against his. 

“Hey yourself.” 

Your voices are loud enough for each other, squished side by side on the sofa with your friends crowded on either side and on armchairs and the floor. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask.

Steve looks fond, still a little far away. “Just thinking. It looks good, huh?”

You look around the room with your own enamoured smile before looking back at Steve, the lights reflected in his cocoa-coloured eyes. “It looks like Christmas threw up. I love it.” 

“I love it too.”

You hear your friends quieten just enough so they can try to eavesdrop on your quiet exchange, and you both smirk. They’re not as slick as they think. 

“I’m getting a drink. You want anything?” you ask him.

His eyes sparkle with recognition before he says, “Yeah. I’ll come with.”

There are a few calls for extra sodas and more pizza, and even more furtive whispers as you leave the room.

“He likes her, it’s so fucking obvious!”

“Mike, shut up!” Erica hisses. 

And Robin hisses, “Max, did you put any mistletoe in there?”

You both manage to hold your laughter until you reach the safety of the kitchen, down the hall and out of sight. Your shoulders shake silently as you try to hold it back and not make a noise. 

“These fucking kids!”

“I know,” you giggle, warm-cheeked, “It’s kinda sweet.”

Steve double-checks that the coast is clear before taking your face in his hands to kiss you like he has been wanting to all evening. 

You need not be goaded by a plant to kiss Steve Harrington.

Beyond the taste of pizza and soda, the kiss is a sweet relief. It is a lungful of fresh air after holding your breath beneath water. It’s a blissful sip of a cool drink after a day in the sun, or hot chocolate after sledging. It’s perfect. All those hours without each other, since you left his bed this morning to help your Mom with groceries and gift wrapping, since you stepped back into his house with Nancy’s arm in yours in your cute skirt and sweater, have been absolute torture.

Your hands settle on his ribs, almost creasing the forest-green knit with your grip, and you smile against each other’s mouths. 

“One more,” he begs, whispering, “One more.” One more is never ever enough. 

You squeeze his trim waist and bless him with another kiss, much less frantic than that first one. His tongue against yours makes your body zing; you are hooked on him and finally, you have got your fix.

“Fuck, I missed you,” you whisper, fighting back the urge to nip his jaw and run your tongue along the barely there stubble. The urge to mark him above the collar and let the secret slip.

“I missed you more.”

Steve’s thumbs brush your cheeks, marvelling at you like the most precious treasure before you both prise yourselves apart with bone-deep reluctance.  

“I think you’re going to need to kiss my cheek or something to shut them up,” you say, piling pizza on paper plates for the teens—Margarita for Dustin, Hawaiian for El, and Pepperoni for Eddie and Max. You take another slice for yourself to keep your mouth busy, though it aches for Steve’s lips.

He gathers sodas, resisting the urge to shake up Mike’s for the hell of it - he would be the one to clean up, and his bitching is not worth it. 

“I guess I can do that,” Steve says, “I’ll try to restrain myself.” 

It pains him to keep his hands to himself, to not kiss your face and play with your fingers, to see your knee bare without his hand to keep it warm. He is beginning to ache from carrying the weight of not telling everyone how fucking in love with you he is, even though they all know it, they see it.

It was never supposed to be more than a late summer hook-up, a once-off. But then neither of you could quit each other, or bear to not spend time together after everyone else had gone home or gone to bed, back to school. Neither of you could push your long-held crushes back after they had breached the surface. So you committed to each other and keeping it quiet until you knew it would not ruin your friendship and threaten the group dynamic. But by then sneaking around was too fun to stop, too exciting to almost be caught. The fizzy feeling of keeping a secret was addictive, and you were both too good at lying. Not to each other, but to your friends. You both suppose you should feel a little bit bad about that, but being together, alone, is a balm for the guilt.

You feel the warmth of Steve behind you, his chin on your shoulder and his hips pressing snuggly against you. He is a tease, a temptress, reminding you through touch alone of the other day when he had you over the kitchen island, a day of playing house together.

“Who do you have for Secret Santa?” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck. Steve smiles when you roll your eyes at him. He bites his lip and wishes it was your mouth instead. 

“It’s not a secret if I tell you, is it?” 

You turn your head and peck the corner of his mouth. He feels seared and branded as you slip away from him, too far away to pull you back in. You can tease too. 

You wink at him, balancing plates of pizza with the skill and poise learned from your shifts at the diner. 

“C’mon, big boy. We’re going to miss the start of Gremlins.”

Steve watches the swish of your skirt, how it brushes your thighs as you walk back to the living room. The extra swing in your hips is for him, another tease. You’re staying over tonight; you will circle back to Loch Nora after bringing El and Will home. Steve has no idea about the red wine lace surprise beneath your clothes. An early Christmas gift.

Neither of you clocks the mistletoe strategically placed in the living room door (it was definitely not there when you left). The living room is swollen with baited breaths and bubbling silence as they wait for your reaction. They are on tenterhooks to see you both kiss (which should be fucking weird) and realise that you would be perfect together. 

Little do they know.

The weirdness of it all directs your eyes up to the green leaves and white berries above, slapped onto the doorframe with scotch tape.

They watch you present your cheek to him, and Dustin mutters ‘on the lips, dummy’ before getting smacked with a cushion. 

“You’re all perverts,” Steve says simply, before closing the gap to press a kiss to your warm cheek. His lips are still buzzing from how you kissed each other in the kitchen. Pizza and soda in your hands stop you from touching each, fingers itching to gently stake your claim.

You rock up on your toes to press a matching kiss to Steve’s cheek, making it shimmer with what is left of your lipgloss (there is already some on his mouth if anyone were to look close enough).

Exasperated by you both, there is a deflated feeling in the room. As if they expected an earth-shattering realisation prompted by meddling and mistletoe. 

“Can we sit down now?” you ask, undeterred by their disappointment. 

The lights are dimmed and your friends make room for you and Steve on the big squishy sofa. The opening credits of Gremlins roll up on the television as popcorn and candy are passed around and shared, soda cans are cracked open and they fizz quietly alongside the sound of chewing.

Pressed up close, with El’s feet in your lap and Robin and Vickie curled together on Steve’s other side, you have never felt so comfortable, so loved. After a little while you rest your busy head on Steve’s shoulder and feel him release a held breath. You are both sugar-crashed and tired of hiding. 

He offers you his hand, palm up on his thigh, and wears a private and pleased little smile when your fingers slot between his. You pull your joined hands into your lap, holding his big hand in both of yours. He squeezes three times and you squeeze four back, though neither of you has said it yet. 

It does not take long for your friends to notice, a ripple of nudges and mouthed ‘look!’s’ around the room, silent celebrations and barely-contained excited laughter.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Eddie murmurs, smiling to himself.

You let them have it, their faux victory. 

You will figure out how to answer their questions, how to break the news that you have been a few steps ahead of them all this whole time, and how to apologise for lying and keeping secrets. 

But for now, instead of the film, you look at how the coloured string lights shine on Steve’s face and share one of your secret smiles with him when he catches you looking. You share it with your friends too and bask in the warm glow of it all. 

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs and likes are all like little christmas gifts to me! I love you, byeeee!

[pucksandpower]

Party Girl

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Logan Sargeant x Hunt!Reader

Summary: Logan tries to save a notorious party girl from herself (or in which going wild runs in the Hunt family)

Warnings: illicit substances and peer-pressure

The nightclub’s bass thumps through Logan’s chest as the trio approaches the entrance. Lando and Oscar turn to him with matching grins.

“You ready for this, mate?” Lando asks.

Logan eyes the mass of people spilling out onto the sidewalk. “Is this really a good idea?”

“Of course!” Oscar claps him on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be brilliant. Especially with you keeping an eye on the hostess.”

“Me?” Logan’s brow furrows.

Lando nods. “You’re our designated driver tonight, so you’ll be the soberest one here. We need you to keep Y/N from going too far off the rails.”

“Why me though? I barely know her.”

“Exactly!” Oscar exclaims. “She doesn’t really know you either, so she’ll actually listen instead of brushing you off like she does with the rest of us.”

Logan frowns. “I don’t know, guys ...”

“Oh, come on!” Lando wheedles. “You’ve heard the stories about James Hunt. Partying is in her DNA. We just need to make sure she doesn’t take after her grandad too much tonight.”

With a sigh, Logan relents. “Alright, fine. I’ll do my best to keep her out of trouble.”

The two grin and clap him on the back before leading the way inside. The throbbing music and flashing lights assault Logan’s senses as they enter. He scans the crowd, quickly spotting a vaguely familiar mane of untamed waves.

You’re laughing uproariously at something one of your friends said, drink sloshing precariously in your hand. Your cheeks are already flushed, eyes bright with intoxication and mirth. A pang of concern flutters in Logan’s chest — Lando and Oscar weren’t kidding about keeping an eye on you.

Making his way through the press of bodies, Logan sidles up next to you. You glance over with a brilliant smile.

“Heyyy, you made it!”

“Yeah, uh, hi,” Logan replies, suddenly feeling awkward. “Your friends invited me to, you know, keep things under control.”

You giggle. “Under control? What fun is that?”

Taking a swig of your drink, you spin away to dance with your friends, moving your hips enticingly. Logan swallows hard, trying not to stare. This is going to be harder than he thought.

The evening blurs by in a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Wherever you go, Logan follows at a respectful distance. He rebuffs anyone trying to offer you illicit substances and intervenes whenever your friends get too rowdy.

A few times you shoot him annoyed glares, but he just shrugs apologetically. He’s only doing what Lando and Oscar asked. Besides, he reasons, better to have you mad at him than in real danger.

As the hour grows later, your movements become more uncoordinated, laughter louder and words more slurred. Logan hovers closer, concern mounting.

“Ohhh, Logannnnn,” you croon, draping yourself over him. “You’re sooo stuffy. Live a little!”

He gently extracts himself from your embrace. “I think you’ve lived enough for tonight, Y/N.”

Pouting, you turn away petulantly. Logan watches as a few of your more unscrupulous friends surround you with sly grins. Alarm spikes through him when he sees one of them press something into your palm.

“Hey!” Pushing forward, he places himself between you and them. “Back off. She’s not interested.”

You blink at him owlishly while your friends sneer.

“Who’re you to decide for her, pretty boy?”

“Someone who actually cares if she’s okay.” Logan holds his ground.

With a drunken giggle, you lean against his back. “S’ok, Logieee. Lemme have some fun!”

“No, Y/N.” He spins to face you, gripping your shoulders firmly. “That stuff is bad news. You don’t want it, trust me.”

Your eyes are glazed, but you search his face like you’re trying to understand. One of your friends makes another attempt to press the little baggie into your hand. Without thinking, Logan bats it away. It goes flying across the club, spilling white powder everywhere.

“Dude!” Your friend shouts, outraged.

Logan doesn’t give them a chance to react further. Scooping you up in his arms, he starts carrying you away from the crowd. You’re tiny and warm against his chest, still giggling faintly.

“Mmm, Logan ... gonna getcha in trouble ...”

“I’ll take my chances,” he mutters.

Pushing his way through the throngs of people, Logan finally breaks free into the cool night air. He sets you on your feet, but keeps a steadying hand on your waist when you sway unsteadily.

Up close like this, he can make out the flushed skin across your nose, the flecks of light reflecting in your warm eyes. For a moment you just gaze at each other, the sounds of the party muffled behind the club’s doors.

Then your brow furrows. “Why’d ya stop me? I was jus’ havin’ fun.”

Logan shakes his head slowly. “That kind of fun isn’t good for you, Y/N. Your friends, they ... they weren’t looking out for your best interests back there.”

“You don’ even know me!” You protest, pushing away from him on unsteady feet.

Without thinking, Logan catches your hands in his. They’re so tiny, delicate, yet topped with nails sharp enough to take an eye out. Just like the rest of you — an enigmatic mix of fragile beauty and uncompromising tenacity.

“You’re right, I don’t really know you,” he admits. “But I know that you’re strong. Braver and tougher than anyone gives you credit for. And you don’t need that junk to be the life of the party.”

For a long moment, you simply stare at him, eyes wide. Then, slowly, you nod. A few stray tendrils of hair fall across your face and Logan’s fingers itch to brush them back. He tamps down the urge.

“M’sorry I made a scene back there,” you mumble, averting your gaze.

“Hey.” Logan ducks his head to catch your eye again. “Don’t be sorry. Those people, they ...” He shakes his head in disgust. “You deserve better friends than that.”

Pink dusts your cheeks as the corners of your mouth tick upwards. “You’re sweet, Logan. A real gentleman.”

“I just call it like I see it,” he replies with a shrug.

You laugh softly then, a warm, rich sound that sends tingles down Logan’s spine. When you speak again, your voice is clearer, more sober.

“I guess tonight got a little out of hand. Sometimes I go too far trying to live up to the reputation of my last name. It’s stupid, I know.”

“Hey, we all have things we’re trying to prove.” Logan squeezes your hands reassuringly. “But you don’t have to prove anything to me, Y/N. I can already see how amazing you are.”

For a beat, you simply stare at him, eyes shining. Then, surging up on your tiptoes, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him hard.

Logan freezes for half a second before melting into the embrace, pulling you flush against him. His fingers tangle in your hair as he kisses you back with everything he has.

When you finally break apart, breathless and flushed, Logan rests his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” is all he can think to say.

You grin impishly up at him. “Now there’s a party I wouldn’t mind getting carried away at.”

Logan can’t help but laugh. Tucking you into his side, he presses a kiss to your temple. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

***

Logan jolts awake to the sound of insistent pounding on his hotel room door. Squinting against the bright sunlight filtering through the curtains, he rubs the sleep from his eyes and shuffles to answer it.

“About damn time!” Lando’s voice greets him as soon as the door opens. “Do you know how long we’ve been stuck outside?”

Oscar shoulders past Logan into the room. “Yeah, mate. Abandoning your friends at the club? Not cool.”

Logan’s brow furrows in confusion until the previous night’s events come trickling back. The party, the near miss with the drugs, getting you safely away ...

His gaze drifts to the rumpled bed across the room where you’re just starting to stir, sheets tangled around your legs. A soft smile tugs at Logan’s lips as he watches you blink owlishly.

“Earth to Logan?” Lando waves a hand in front of his face. “You still with us?”

“What? Yeah, sorry.” Logan drags his attention back to the two drivers. “Look, I can explain about last night ...”

“No need to explain why you ditched us,” Oscar interjects with a suggestive wink toward the bed. “We can figure that part out for ourselves.”

You sit upright then, the sheets pooling around your waist as you rub your eyes. “Whas’ goin’ on?”

“Well, well!” Lando exclaims with a salacious grin. “If it isn’t the life of the party herself! Get up to any ... extracurriculars last night?”

Heat creeps up the back of Logan’s neck as you glance between the three of them in sleepy bewilderment. A strangled laugh escapes Oscar’s lips as the realization hits both of them. You and Logan lock eyes from across the room, equally mortified.

“No, wait! It’s not what it looks like!” Logan splutters.

Lando claps a hand on his shoulder with a pitying look. “It’s alright, mate. You don’t have to be ashamed about finally getting some action.”

“But I didn’t!” Logan insists, running a flustered hand through his hair. “Y/N, tell them!”

Untangling yourself from the sheets, you slide off the bed — giving everyone an eyeful of the fact that you’re only wearing one of Logan’s hoodies. His breath catches in his throat because damn if you don’t look incredible drowning in his clothes.

Your bare feet pad across the carpet until you’re standing before him, fingers playing with the worn cotton hem. “He’s right, you two. We didn’t ... you know.”

Hurt flashes across Logan’s face before he can squelch it back down. Right, of course you wouldn’t want that after all the lines he crossed last night. You’d been drunk and vulnerable and now you were regretting everything, including the–

“We kissed! But it doesn’t have to mean anything,” he blurts out, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I got Y/N out of a bad situation and we may have, uh, gotten a little carried away in the heat of the moment. But she was drunk and it won’t happen again, I swear.”

An awkward silence falls over the room, broken only by Lando’s snort of laughter. “No rizz, this one.”

Logan’s jaw clenches. He knew they’d tease him about it, but he’s a grown man and he doesn’t need to take it from the likes of–

“Logan.”

Your voice is soft but it cuts through the embarrassment swirling in his mind. You take his face gently in your hands and he’s helpless but to meet your warm gaze.

“What if I want it to mean something?”

The air whooshes out of him in a surprised breath. His hands find your waist of their own accord like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Y-You do?”

Behind you, Oscar groans. “God, he’s so hopeless.”

“I think it’s sweet!” Lando retorts. “Innocent, you know? Like a puppy getting all flustered.”

Logan blocks them out, his whole world narrowing to the amused, almost fond smile playing across your lips. You nod, leaning further into his embrace.

“I meant what I said last night, Logan. You’re the sweetest, most caring guy I’ve ever met. And I like you.” Your nose wrinkles adorably. “A lot, actually.”

He blinks rapidly, certain his heart is about to burst out of his chest. “Y/N, I ... I like you too. So much.”

Laughing that rich, warm laugh of yours, you loop your arms around his neck and rise up on your tiptoes. Logan meets you halfway, melting into the heated press of your lips against his.

Catcalls and wolf-whistles finally penetrate the happy bubble enveloping you both. You break the kiss with a breathless giggle, burrowing your face into the crook of Logan’s neck.

“Oi, lovebirds!” Oscar hollers. “Get a room!”

“Yeah, we’ve already got one!” Logan shoots back, surprising himself with the retort. He winks cheekily at you and you positively beam in response, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Alright, that’s our cue!” Lando steers Oscar toward the door. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do, you crazy kids!”

The door slams behind them, leaving you and Logan alone in blissful quiet. His arms tighten around your waist, keeping you pressed flush against him. For a few heartbeats, you simply drink each other in, basking in the unfamiliar but not unwelcome feelings bubbling up.

Eventually you break the spell with a featherlight brush of your lips against the corner of Logan’s mouth. “So, was that too forward? I shouldn’t have just sprung that on you ...”

“No!” He rushes to reassure you. “God, no. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You poke his chest lightly, eyes dancing with mirth. “Not even racing?”

Logan chuckles, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Okay, maybe one other thing. But you’re definitely in the top two.”

Winding your arms back around his neck, you arch one brow mischievously. “Only top two? I’ll have to work on that ...”

His breath catches in his throat at the playful promise in your tone. “I, uh ... I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

As you lean in to kiss him again, Logan can’t help but silently thank Lando and Oscar for dragging him to that party. True, the night didn’t go exactly as expected. But he wound up with the greatest prize of all — you, here in his arms, carefree and happy and perfect in every way.

Like the gentleman his mama raised him to be, Logan vows silently to cherish every moment with you. After all, only a fool would look a gift horse like you in the mouth.

***

Adrenaline still thrums through Logan’s veins as he exits parc fermé, helmet tucked under his arm. His cheeks ache from the wide grin stretched across his face — a double points finish was exactly what Williams needed.

Alex falls into step beside him, equally elated after their impressive showing on the track today. They did good, really good. Logan can’t wait to celebrate with the whole team.

As they approach the Williams garage, a familiar head of hair catches Logan’s eye. You’re standing front and center, bouncing on the balls of your feet with poorly contained excitement. A large bakery box is clutched in your hands, the elaborate logo on the lid leaving little doubt as to its expensive contents.

Logan’s grin widens impossibly further. Of course you’d be here with treats in tow, always ready to turn any occasion into a party. His heart swells with affection just watching you eagerly await his and Alex’s return.

The rest of the team notice their arrival and erupt into cheers, crowding around to clap the drivers on the back with jubilant congratulations. You hang back, though your whole face is lit up with unabashed pride.

“Nice one out there, lads!” An engineer calls over the ruckus.

��About time we had a good points haul,” Another mechanic agrees.

Logan waves off the compliments with a bashful duck of his head. The team has been through so much in recent seasons — they deserve this moment more than he does.

“Alright, alright! Give the boys some space to breathe!” A familiar voice rings out.

You shove your way through the throngs of people, bounding right up to Logan with a brilliant grin. He has a split second to brace himself before you launch into his arms, nearly sending him toppling backward with the force of your enthusiasm.

“You were brilliant!” You exclaim, planting an exuberant kiss on his cheek that has him blushing furiously. “Both of you! I’m so proud!”

Alex chuckles fondly as you untangle yourself from Logan just enough to loop an arm around the other man’s shoulders. “We couldn’t have done it without the team’s hard work. You should be proud of them.”

“Oh, I am!” You turn your beaming smile on the rest of the crew. “Which is why I brought a little celebratory treat!”

Holding up the bakery box with a waggle of your brows, you peel back the lid to reveal a massively decadent-looking chocolate cake. It’s one of the most elaborate confections Logan has ever laid eyes on.

A reverent hush falls over the assembled group as they all lean in to get a better look. The air is suddenly thick with the rich scent of cocoa and buttercream frosting.

“Blimey, Y/N! That must’ve set you back a pretty penny!” Alex exclaims.

You wave him off with a casual flap of your hand. “Oh, please! You don’t even want to know how many races I’ve brought an expensive cake to just in case. I’m just glad I finally got to use this one!”

A ripple of laughter rolls through the crew at that. Logan shakes his head in fond exasperation, equal parts endeared and unsurprised by your extravagant gesture.

When your gaze lands on him again, warmth blooms in his chest at the open adoration shining in your eyes. You look at him like he’s the most impressive thing you’ve ever seen, not some lucky racer who simply played a tiny part in today’s success.

Liquid courage from the race still thrumming through his veins, Logan acts on impulse. Plucking the cake box deftly from your grip, he passes it off to a bewildered Alex before cupping your face in his hands and kissing you soundly.

A startled squeak quickly melts into a pleased hum as you melt against him, looping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Logan pours every ounce of his pride and affection for you into the heated press of his lips, uncaring of the captive audience for once.

Hoots and hollers finally break through the rosy haze fogging Logan’s mind. He breaks the kiss with a breathless chuckle, thumbs brushing over the delightfully flushed apples of your cheeks.

“Get a room, you two!” Alex hollers with a roll of his eyes.

The rest of the crew quickly devolves into jokes and ribbing at your expense, but Logan couldn’t care less. With you smiling up at him like he hung the moon, the rest of the world simply falls away.

“You taste like chocolate,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against yours.

The impish grin you shoot him in return makes his heart stutter. “Well, it wouldn’t be a proper party without dessert.”

An arm slings around Logan’s shoulders, disrupting the little bubble you’ve found yourselves cocooned in. He startles, having completely forgotten about the dozens of other people still milling about.

“Well isn’t this just precious!” Gaetan, Logan’s race engineer, gives him an affectionate shake. “Young love blossoming right here in the garage!”

Red blooms high on Logan’s cheeks even as your melodic giggles wash over him. He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

“We’re not that young.”

“Could’ve fooled me!” Gaetan retorts with a bark of laughter. “You two have more spark than the rest of the kids around here combined.”

Your hand finds Logan’s, tangling your fingers together as you lean bodily into his side. For a fleeting moment, he allows himself to bask in the happiness surrounding him. It’s like floating, secure in the knowledge that you’ll always be right here to keep him grounded.

“You know,” you begin softly, batting your lashes up at Logan. “This might just be my new favorite party.”

A surprised huff of laughter escapes him. But really, he shouldn’t be so shocked. From the moment he met you, it was clear you had an unparalleled zest for life. You see the joy and potential for a good time in every single occasion. It’s one of the many, many things Logan loves about you.

“Your favorite, huh?” He bends to press his forehead to yours, drinking in your radiant smile. “I’ll remember this one, then.”

Because no matter how many parties, races, or adventures you two share moving forward, Logan vows to cherish each and every one with you by his side. After all, every single moment is worth celebrating when you get to spend it with the person you love most.